“Umm, well… I’d like to know how you feel about picnics,” he blurted out clumsily.
“Huh?” she answered without understanding his meaning.
“You know, picnics? Food and drink on a blanket under a tree somewhere.”
The expression on Millie’s face was a combination of confusion and surprise. Her jaw dropped, leaving her mouth slightly open while Henry’s mind raced.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve been on a picnic before right? So, I just want to know if you want to go on one… with me. A real one, you know, on a date.”
It was all out in the open now. The word date had been uttered and the official invitation extended. There was no turning back from here.
Millie was completely caught off guard by the request and could only muster a barely discernible grunt. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she had just been hypnotized. Sensing her stupor, Henry seized the opportunity to attempt to explain himself and hopefully seal the deal.
“Well, you do eat, right?” The rhetorical question brought only a weak nod from Millie.
“All right then, well so do I. How about we eat together on a blanket somewhere? You know, on a picnic.”
Millie continued to stare at him in utter silence with a blank expression on her face. She was flabbergasted and still reeling from the unexpected invitation. Finally, after she’d taken a deep breath, she managed to mutter weakly, “But it’s raining.”
“What?” Henry asked not understanding the strange response. He looked out the kitchen window to see that the skies had opened, and a deluge was pouring down on Oak Forest. It seemed that his plans, for now at least, had been derailed. Not one to go down without a fight, he quickly adjusted accordingly.
“Oh ok, right. Well, then how about tomorrow or the next day?”
Millie had now started to regain her wits and finally was figuring out what Henry had in mind. She immediately saw it as an opportunity to have some fun with him.
“So tell me, would I have to fix the food for this shindig, or would it be your treat?”
Henry had been so consumed with the idea of asking Millie on a date that he hadn’t given the actual meal any thought prior to this. Nevertheless, it was an important detail, and he thought that she had a valid point. The night of their first dinner together Millie had prepared the meal despite Henry’s protestations. Now, for what would be truly their first official “date,” he felt a repeat of the same was unacceptable.
“No, no, it will be my treat, of course,” he assured her.
“Are we talking a sub sandwich from the deli or something more?” she asked with the tone of a cold hard negotiator holding out for the best offer. Henry was unsure what to say to this since he had no clue what he was doing with regard to picnic menu planning. However, he was an expert at negotiating and had made his fortune by striking tough deals when others could not.
“I have a little something better in mind than that,” he answered coyly.
“Will there be barbecue pork sandwiches and coleslaw on this picnic?”
“Huh? I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so.”
“What about potato chips? You know the real thick, crunchy kind?”
“Ok, sure.” As he answered her, it occurred to him that he hadn’t previously understood what a key selling point the menu apparently was when proposing a picnic date to someone.
“How ‘bout root beer? You gonna have root beer?”
Now Henry was starting to wise up to what she was doing.
“You mean cold root beer, right out of a glass bottle?”
Millie smiled. “It’s just not a picnic without root beer,” she added.
“Of course. It’s not a picnic without root beer,” he agreed.
Deciding that she had tortured him enough, she opted to give in.
“How can a girl say no to all of that? Why sure, Henry, I’d love to!”
“All right then, it’s a date!” Henry declared with a sly grin as if he was the cat who had just swallowed the canary.
“Yes sir, it sure is. It’s a date.” Millie repeated his words with a wink as she brushed his left arm briefly with her right hand before turning to go back to her chores.
“You sure you don’t want some pie with that too?” he called out with mock indignation at her demands.
“Surprise me,” she tossed back playfully over her shoulder without turning around.
Henry laughed at her sassy remark. Hot damn, that went pretty well! he thought with delight as he watched her step away.
“About time; I thought you’d never ask,” Millie whispered aloud with a giggle after she had passed through the doorway and out of Henry’s earshot.
Feeling thoroughly happy about how things had played out, Henry gathered Joe in his arms and retreated to his office. Once there, he occasionally looked out to see the rain falling outside his window as he considered how to make their picnic a day that Millie would never forget.
In the afternoon, a knock at the front door and a look at his watch combined to tell Henry that the day’s mail had arrived. It was 2:01 p.m., and Lucy Dawson was on time as always. His mail carrier knew that he liked to peruse the day’s mail as soon as possible. On days when the weather did not cooperate to allow for his walk to the street, she drove up to the front door and brought it to him. Such was the character of the man that he commanded her respect. Such was the character of the woman that she gave it to him.
Henry opened the front door to find Lucy’s bright smile waiting on the other side of the glass. In her hands, she held a small stack of envelopes and periodicals along with a large package.
“Hi, kiddo!”
“Hiya Henry!” she answered back enthusiastically as he opened the storm door.
“Thanks a lot for running it up. It’s raining cats and dogs out here today,” he said, making note of the mini-tsunami that had now settled over Oak Forest.
“No problem. I had to come up either way to bring you this package.” As she spoke, she handed over the mail and the box.
“Do I need to sign for it?” he asked as he accepted the day’s haul.
“Nope, you’re all set. Gotta run, don’t want to lose time with the rain.”
Henry knew that she was referring to the impaired driving conditions and her obsession with delivering her mail on time to each of her appointed stops.
“Tell Millie and Joe I say hello!” Lucy hollered to him as she stepped into her still-running truck.
“Will do! Be safe, see you again,” he called back to her.
Following an exchange of waves, Lucy was off down the driveway and on to her next destination. After they made Lucy, they sure broke the mold, Henry thought as he closed the door.
He flipped through the assorted envelopes and magazines on the way to the kitchen but found nothing of urgency there. However, as he entered the room, the strange and unexpected package had captured his attention. He had nothing to speak of on order as far as he could recall and, therefore, no way to explain what was in his hands. Furthermore, only his name and address had been scrawled onto the brown paper that covered the box, so there was no indication who had sent it either.
“Whatcha got there?” Millie asked as she glanced up at him from a bowl of carrots she was in the middle of dicing up for a stew she was working on.
“You know, I have no idea,” Henry answered as he studied the box intently. The thought had crossed his mind that it might be some ill-conceived contact from his brother Bill, but the method and handwriting didn’t point to that. For a few seconds, Henry just stared at the box without action or commentary.
“Ain’t you gonna open it up? It’s not a bomb,” Millie prodded.
“You never know,” Henry countered in jest, now broken loose from his trance. He reached into his trousers and retrieved a small brown pocketknife that typically resided next to his silver dollar.
Millie turned to the sink to rinse her vegetables as Henry proceeded to cut open the box. As he opened the flaps, he was
as surprised as a child on Christmas morning by what was inside.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed with a huge smile.
Hearing the joy in his voice, Millie turned away from her work to see what the cause was.
“So what’s in there?”
Henry separated the packing paper inside the box and pulled a most charming antique English teakettle from it.
“Well, I’ll be damned too!” Millie declared at the sight of it. “Is that from your author friend?”
“I’m guessing so; I can’t imagine who else would send it. Here’s a note underneath,” he answered as he sat the teakettle down and reached back into the box. Upon retrieving the slip of paper he unfolded it and read it aloud to Millie and Joe, who by now had entered the room to investigate what the commotion was all about.
“Dearest Henry, Any fine gentleman such as yourself needs one of these. Besides, I decided that it was high time that Jake be introduced to a cup of tea. I look forward to our next chat and hope to see you very soon. Thank you ever so much for all of your kindness. Your friend, Anne.”
“Well, what do you know about that?” Henry declared as he admired the fine copper kettle and tested the carved wood handle for strength.
“Yep, that’s a dandy, all right,” Millie agreed as she returned to her meal preparations.
“It sure is,” Henry beamed.
“Don’t know why we need that; nobody around here drinks tea,” Millie grumbled from the stove.
“What? What’s that?” Henry asked having not been able to clearly hear what she had said.
“Oh nothing,” Millie responded with slight annoyance with her back still to him.
Henry was too consumed with the surprise to detect her agitation. He gathered the mail and walked from the room with the teakettle in hand. Noting that he had left for his office, Millie turned to see the box and packing paper still littering the island behind her.
“You want me to keep this box from your daughter too, or you want me to throw it out?” she mumbled quietly for no one in particular to hear while shaking her head. All the while, Joe looked on with curiosity. She could sense the tension in the room but didn’t understand what was happening. Unsure whether Henry or Millie offered the most entertainment at this point, she opted to stay put and wait things out.
Millie had no legitimate reason to doubt Henry’s sincerity about his feelings for Anne or his appraisal of his new-found relationship with her. If he saw this young woman as a possible daughter figure or some sort of protégé, then so be it. Rather, her jealousy stemmed from the possibility that the British author might not share the same view of things. In her estimation, it was entirely possible that Anne was consumed with him. Henry was a dashing and accomplished man. He could be both gentle and formidable. He was affluent and powerful. What is there not to like? Though there was a significant age gap between the two, Millie was well aware that many women of Anne’s generation would be fascinated by such a man. A famous and wealthy British author seemed a likely candidate to be enthralled by a great man like Henry. Millie had dedicated the better part of her adult life to him and his care. She had waited a long time for him to make a romantic move in her direction, and she was not about to give ground now to Anne Francis Wagner or anyone else.
As she sloshed a wood spoon gently through the contents of the stewpot before her, she contemplated the state of things and considered what her response, if any, ought to be. She briefly glanced out the window over the sink to her left to see that that the raindrops had all but ceased, and the skies were starting to brighten. At that moment, she knew what she was going to do.
I think I’m going to have to have a chat of my own with this author and set her straight. She started to hum melodic notes from one of her favorite hymns as a small smile began to overtake her face. The discord that had been introduced into her day by the unexpected package was soon replaced by thoughts of Henry’s romantic overture, and her mood was lifted.
She turned and picked up the box with the intent to move it outside to the “burn barrel.” This was the name Henry had given to an old 55-gallon drum that stood permanently out back near the garage. From time to time, he would use it to incinerate cardboard and paper refuse that had accumulated in the house or to dispose of stray fallen sticks and branches that appeared around the yard.
However, as she did this, she noted that Joe had taken an interest in the box. The little cat had moved from her perch on the staircase to a position at the base of the kitchen table. From there, she was keenly observing Millie’s actions.
“Say, girl, would you like to play in here?” she asked while tilting it forward. Joe’s eyes were locked onto her and followed every movement. Millie stepped forward and put the box on the floor beside her. Joe was elated and immediately jumped over the side, past the flaps, and hid beneath the packing paper. By the time she had completely nestled into a good spot, all Millie could see were her eyes and nose.
“I guess that answers that!” Millie announced with a chuckle.
Meanwhile, Henry sat in his office chair scratching down notes on a small yellow pad of paper. His newest prize and the day’s mail were off to the side, as yet unopened. There would be plenty of time to go through the envelopes, to attend to bills, and to think of tea. At the moment, he was brainstorming and consumed by thoughts about planning a picnic.
Chapter 11
An Up and Down Morning
Henry came down the staircase with light and jovial steps as Joe skipped along beside him. It was early on Thursday morning and just hours prior to his much-anticipated outing with Millie. For three days in a row, the spring weather had foiled his plans, but now the skies were clear and bright and for once it seemed that the weatherman had indeed nailed his forecast. The prediction had been for a warm and pleasant day with a high-temperature landing in the mid-70s, and by all indications it was headed for just that.
Joe sprang from the last step in pursuit of Henry as he crossed the kitchen with purpose. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and he was anxious to partake of the first cup of the day. It was to be a busy morning with errands to run and last-minute preparations and he was eager to get to it.
While he briskly glanced through the day’s edition of the Lewis Gazette and guzzled from his second cup, the telephone rang. The unusually early call surprised him, and he looked over at the clock to see that it was just past 7:30 a.m. The ringing also startled Joe, who had moved into her cardboard box following the completion of a saucer of milk. The box, since its arrival on Monday with the teakettle from Anne, had instantly become a favorite resting place for her. Noting this, Henry and Millie had decided that it could stay in the corner on the far side of the breakfast room, at least for now. Millie had rightly pointed out that Joe would be in need of a place to deliver her kittens someday, and Henry had agreed with her wisdom.
Since he rarely received any phone calls this early, Henry moved with urgency to answer in anticipation that perhaps something was wrong.
“Hello?”
“Hi Henry,” greeted George from the other end.
“Hey pal, everything ok?”
“Oh sure. Sorry about calling so early, but I knew you’d be up and wanted to catch you before Millie got there.” George was well-acquainted with Henry’s habits and knew that by now he’d typically be on his second or third cup of coffee.
“Oh yeah, you know me. Couldn’t sleep in if you paid me. It’s no problem; you just caught me off guard. What gives?”
“Well, I just hung up with our man Carl. He called me with news on Millie’s son, and I wanted to get it to you right away.”
“He’s another early bird, huh?” Henry quipped, noting that their fellow retiree was apparently cut from the same cloth as they were.
George laughed. “Yeah, for sure. Anyway Henry, it’s not good at all,” he said with a sigh.
Henry’s face dropped, and he leaned back against the kitchen sink where he was st
anding. He took a slow deep breath and pondered what he was about to learn and what the effects of it would mean for Millie.
“Ok, I hear you. Go ahead, what do we know?”
“The worst of it is that he’s dead,” George stated solemnly.
“Oh no…” Henry lamented softly.
“Yeah, Carl says he was incarcerated in a prison in Alabama, and some other inmate stabbed him to death. It was a couple of years ago.”
“Oh Good Lord, I sure wasn’t prepared for that kind of news,” Henry said with regret.
“Boy, no kidding,” George agreed. “I was hoping we were going to find out something a lot better.”
“What was he in for?” Henry asked knowing that it did not make much difference at this point.
“He stole some cars and was doing ten years. According to Carl, he had quite a rap sheet and had been in and out of trouble a lot. The people that adopted him split up when he was eight. He ended up living with his mother, but she had to work all of the time to try to support him. So, it sounds like without her around he got mixed in with the wrong crowd and dropped out of school. I think Carl said this was like the third time he’d been locked up.”
Henry just shook his head slowly with his eyes closed. This was a “worst-case scenario” and he knew it. If he delivered this news to Millie, she would be devastated. She would blame herself for giving him up for adoption and for the subsequent consequences of that decision that ultimately led to his imprisonment and death. This was not the way the story was supposed to go. This was not a burden that Henry could or would allow her to bear.
“All right my friend, thanks for quarterbacking all of this,” he said sadly. “Can you give Carl my address and have him forward me a bill for his time? Once I get it, I’ll shoot a check off to him.”
“Already did that. He’s going to send you a complete report with all of the nitty-gritty and documentation he collected on it. I sure am sorry about this, Henry. What are you going to do?” George asked.
Celebrations With Jake and Joe Page 11