“Okay, kids, I’ve worried all the way so far, and I certainly didn’t intend to. Let’s go back; it’s my turn to have supper.” They both looked up at her as if they understood every word. Her mind took off again. How would the two kids do with the two animals? What if someone was allergic? That thought made her almost choke. At least they were not bringing in pets that needed to be integrated. She had a feeling from something said one time that Angela did not tolerate pets. Or perhaps she was the allergic one. Please, Lord, no allergies. She did her poop-scooping job and dumped the bag in one of the trash cans along the path. Walking again, her inner monologue picked up even more forcefully. What could she do to gain some more clients? What a dumb idea; maybe God was trying to protect her with a light client load until their house settled into some kind of routine. One thing would be different from when she was raising kids: Ken would be home to help.
But he wanted to travel, not all the time, but a couple of times at least. And she liked the idea; get away so he was not tempted to try to help his department. Not that it would be his department after Friday. That led to her running down the list of things for the celebratory dinner on Friday, not that she was supposed to have any responsibilities for that. Now you’re worrying about things for which you have no responsibilities! Stop it! But really, the surprise party on Saturday was all her ball game. Lord, please change the weather patterns around so we can have it at the park. Sometimes she hated watching or even glancing at the weather maps.
She unclipped her phone from her waistband and hit Marit’s number. “What will the children do if it’s storming on Saturday? There is an outdoor area where we can barbecue, but…”
“I have it covered, Mom. I told you I would.”
“But they’re supposed to go fishing early.”
“Magnus made arrangements for something else; not sure what, but he is good at that, you know. All is under control.”
“I’ll be so glad when this weekend is over…”
“I’ll have five kids; going to be a fun time at our house.”
“Maybe we better just cancel.”
“No! Everything is under control.”
Mona sank down on the second step leading to the deck. “Be a miracle if I don’t have a nervous breakdown over all this. The mess in Dad’s department might be the straw that breaks this camel’s back.”
“Mom, that is not your problem! Stop worrying!”
“It is mine since it’s bothering your father. He’s not sleeping, therefore, I’m not sleeping well, and this thing with Steig.” She blew out a breath. “I gotta remember that this is no surprise to God, so He has a plan.”
“Be nice if He clued you in.”
“Yeah, it would, but…” Her stomach rumbled. “I better go eat.”
“Kinda late, isn’t it?”
“I was hoping your dad would get home, and after he called, I took the twins here for their walk and now I’m starving. Thank you.”
“Wish I could help you more.”
“I’d say you are doing a hefty share. Bye.” She clicked off the phone and hauled herself upright. Now to decide what to have. They mounted the steps; she hung up their harnesses and both animals headed to the kitchen for a drink and a treat. Creatures of habit, that was for sure. After washing her hands, she stared into the refrigerator. Leftover chicken casserole, leftover meat loaf and half a baked potato, a salad with chicken on it, a ham sandwich with chips—why did none of that sound good? She pulled out the casserole, the easiest to fix, then slid it back on the shelf. Surely a sandwich. But all she had was white bread. Ugh. Back to the casserole. While her bowl was heating in the microwave, she dug in a box for some crackers and poured a glass of lemonade.
“Okay, kids, the porch or the family room?” Did she want to watch the river or the weather channel or one of the cooking shows she had saved? Food on a tray, she stopped in the family room and, tray on the table, sank into her recliner. Ken did not particularly like cooking shows, so she’d watch one now. She flicked through the list to Pioneer Woman and clicked on the longest-waiting episode. She’d learned to keep a pad and paper at hand in case there was a recipe or a tip that she’d want to remember. Tray on her lap, she kicked the recliner back and settled in.
After all, this might be the last evening she had alone in who knew how long, if ever again. Only a year. You will have children here full-time for only a year, maybe even six months. That is not a lifetime.
Tristan und Isolde. Steig’s song.
Eagerly she thumbed the phone on. “How far are you?”
“Halfway up Iowa, and I really need to stop. The kids can swim off some of their energy at a motel, and I can sit on a recliner with a glass of iced tea and watch.”
“Bad?”
“Not really, I know I could push on, but…maybe I’ll even go swimming with them.”
She could hear him thinking that this might be his last chance to play in a pool with his children for a long time.
“Anyway, we should be there early afternoon tomorrow if we leave at five. Today they slept until after eight.” Even his voice sounded weary.
“Thanks for letting me know. Dad is still at work, so you can guess what is going on there. Say hello to Melinda and Jakey for me.”
“See you tomorrow. Oh, by the way, she wants to be called Mellie. Wait. Mellie wants to talk to you.”
She heard, “Me too, me too,” before Mellie’s voice sparkled, “Hi, Grammy, we get to see you tomorrow.”
“I know, we’re all ready. Ambrose will be so happy to see you.”
“Jakey doesn’t like dogs much.”
Oh, great. Mona closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “Why?”
“Mommy said dogs are icky and give you germs.”
“And cats?”
“He doesn’t like them much either ’cause they scratch.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to teach him that Ambrose and Hyacinth are good friends and not like lots of other animals.”
“I love ’em both. ’Member when Ambrose pulled me and Arne in the wagon and we got dumped out?”
“I do, we all laughed so hard and poor Ambrose couldn’t figure it out. We’ll have to see if we can get him to do that again.”
“I have my bike and Jakey has a three-wheeler. Daddy said we can ride on the path by the river. Do you and Grampy have bikes?”
“No, but that is a good idea. You ask him about that, okay?”
“Daddy says I got to hang up; we just turned in to a motel. I love you, Grammy.”
She heard another “Me too, me too,” as the phone clicked off. So Angela passed her fear of animals on to at least one of her children. And there was a Norwegian elkhound at Marit’s house. They’d better turn Jakey into a dog lover real quick. She texted Steig’s message to Marit and added, Stopping in Iowa. Jakey doesn’t like dogs and cats.
A few seconds later, one appeared on her phone. Guess we’ll have to take care of that. Have I ever mentioned how not sorry I am that she left?
Mona hit the smiley face icon on her phone.
She took her tray into the kitchen, put stuff away, and brought the last load from the dryer so she could sit on the sofa and fold while she watched another episode. Perhaps she should put the Ree Drummond cookbooks on her Christmas list. Ken was always asking her what she wanted for both birthdays and Christmas. But when the time came, she could never think of something. Not that she had a lack of lists anywhere.
When ten o’clock chimed and still no Ken, she went upstairs to get ready for bed. Of course, there was no chance she’d fall asleep until he got home, but reading in bed was about the only thing that seemed appealing. Concentrating took more effort than she had to give. Ken’s song. Thank you, Lord.
“I’m just leaving the office.”
“Don’t stop. I’ll have something ready for you here.”
“Keep it simple; not sure I have the energy to lift a fork.” He paused and she could hear him start the car. “I finis
hed the reviews. Tomorrow we interview through the first run.”
“Good for you. See you in twenty minutes. Meat loaf and baked potato.” She knew those were his favorites.
“Okay. Thanks.”
She texted Marit. On his way home.
Marit was a night owl like her mother used to be. Good. Give him a sleeping pill.
Night.
Downstairs she set up his plate and set it in the microwave, fixed a small green salad and a glass of lemonade, and the tray was ready. Letting the animals out for their final run of the day, she stood on the back porch and listened to the night sounds. Frogs from their fountain and the marsh by the river, crickets, and was that a wood thrush’s fluting song? Sure enough. They seemed to be arriving earlier these last few years. A great horned owl hooted. Sometimes a pair nested in that old pine tree, in the big hole about ten feet up. Mona could teach the kids to watch for the babies.
So much to share with grandchildren. Melinda, Mellie, was old enough to learn to crochet. Grammy needed to add to the craft supplies kept in two drawers in the family room. Rainy-day activities. Car lights turning into their driveway. “Dad’s home!” Both animals ran to her side, or rather Ambrose ran and Hyacinth did her regal stroll, tail straight up.
Mona went inside to start the microwave.
“Thank you,” Ken said a few minutes later, when he sat down at the table.
“If you would rather eat in your chair.”
“No, this is fine.” He bowed his head for grace and then propped his elbows on the table. “How are Steig and the kids?”
“Stopped for the night.”
“Good, I was concerned about his pushing on through tonight.”
“How…” She stopped when he raised his hand, as if stopping traffic.
“I do not want to talk about work, okay?”
“Sure.” She sat down on a chair across from him. When had she last seen such purple shadows beneath his eyes? He appeared to have aged ten years in the last three days. His usually straight shoulders curved. Was his hand shaking, too? She watched to see if the tremor continued. Was he that tired or was something else going on physically? Surely not. She snagged her mind back from galloping off in a terrifying direction. Worry! More worry! Why could she not control the urge to fret about things that did not come to pass? And yet, usually her husband was the poster child for a healthy sixtyish man. In fact, no one could believe he really was sixty-four. Even the doctor who had known them for twenty, no twenty-five years, had to check his medical chart.
He pushed his half-full plate away. “Sorry, I just need to go to bed.”
“With a serotonin tonight?”
“Doubt I need it, but good idea.” He pushed back his chair and used the table to help him stand. “Thank God only two more days and then I am done.” He didn’t even bend over and pet Ambrose, who sat beside him, chin on Ken’s thigh. Tail down, the dog followed him up the stairs.
Please, God, get him through the next two days.
Chapter Eight
How’s Dad?” Marit’s voice sounded too cheerful for this time of the morning.
“What are you doing up already?” Mona could smell the coffee. She had set it to start at six.
“Arne woke up with nightmares, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. Is he up?”
“I think he’s already left. I went back to sleep.” Mona trapped a yawn. “And no, I’ve not heard from Steig.”
“He left at five. Said to let you know, he didn’t want to wake you. What time did Dad get home last night?”
“Ten forty-five, almost too tired to even eat.”
“And back again before seven?”
“He looks terrible.”
“I could strangle Dale and his ilk.”
“A slow, painful death like tied to an anthill would be better.”
“Mom!” Marit snorted, then chuckled. “Are you going back to bed?”
“No. Too much to do.”
“Like what?”
“Baking chocolate chip cookies…”
“Because those are Melinda’s favorite?”
“She wants to be called Mellie.”
“Oh, really. Wants no part of her mother?” Melinda was Angela’s middle name.
“I think so.”
“We will certainly oblige. Bye.”
Mona moved down her to-do list with the precision of a marching squad, answering the phone, passing on messages, with her headset in place and her hands dropping cookie dough on the pans, mixing more dough, and writing notes when needed. Shame she didn’t get this much done every day. All the while her mind flitted between concern for her son and then her husband.
A text from Ken. Steig says he’ll be there at 2:30.
She stared at the screen. Why did he text his father and not her? Had something happened he didn’t want to tell her about? Were they all right? More worry! Stop it! She checked the clock. One hour and ten minutes.
What was most important that still needed doing? Down her list. Nada. She pulled the last pan from the oven, turned it off, and slid the peanut butter cookies on the rack to cool while she washed all the utensils. With the big rosemaling tray of both kinds of cookies and the Rice Krispies bars in the center of the island, she headed upstairs to change clothes. Her pants were wearing floured handprints in spite of her apron.
Two twenty. Steig was remarkably punctual. If he said two thirty, it was rarely two twenty-nine or two thirty-one. Well, perhaps not that punctual, but close enough. Back downstairs to set glasses on the island along with napkins. Ambrose barked his “Dad’s home” welcome at the moment he heard a car drive into the garage. Along with the two four-footers, she stepped into the garage as Ken was climbing out of the car. “You came home early. I can’t believe this.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she hugged him close.
“I couldn’t miss greeting the kids, I just couldn’t. So I said I’d see them tomorrow and left.”
“You really did?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He reached down to thump Ambrose on the ribs and greet Her Highness.
The sound of a car turning in their driveway brought them and the animals outside.
Steig honked the horn. Ambrose leaped and barked. Hyacinth headed for the door to the laundry room, and Mona gave up trying to sniff back tears. She locked her arm with her husband’s, and together they waited for the SUV to roll to a stop.
“Grammy!” Mellie squealed, and bailed out of the car almost before it stopped rolling.
“Mellie, be careful.” Steig shook his head as he smiled at his parents. Then he leaned in to unlock his son from the car seat. He swung Jakey up in his arms. “See, you remember Grampy and Grammy. And that’s Ambrose who is so excited to see you both.”
Jakey locked his arms around his father’s neck and buried his face in his shirt collar. “No! No dog!”
Steig hugged his dad with his spare arm, and Mellie switched from Mona to her grandpa. Mona patted Jakey’s leg as she hugged her son.
“You are really here and all right?”
“We’re good, Mom. And seeing you makes good even better. Jake…” He stopped and, looking into his mother’s eyes, shook his head. “It’ll take time. Overload with too much change.”
Keeping one arm around Steig’s waist, she decided to give Jake whatever space he needed. “Surely you can hear the cookies calling from the kitchen? There’s a whole big tray.”
“Chocolate chip?” Mellie grabbed her grandma’s hand and swung it as they headed for the kitchen. When Mona nodded, Mellie cocked her head. “And Daddy’s Rice Krispies cookies?”
Mona nodded again. “And I heard that a certain little boy likes peanut butter cookies the very best. Now, who do you think that could be?”
Steig jiggled his son. “Who is it that always wants peanut butter cookies?”
“Jakey likes peanut butter on everything.” Mellie spread her spare arm wide.
“Uh-uh.” Jake looked up at his dad. “Not eggs.”
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Ken snorted, making them all laugh as they trooped through the garage and into the kitchen. “I wouldn’t like peanut butter on eggs, either.” He made a face and reached for a cookie. “Here, Jake, see if this one is okay.”
The little boy studied it and half turned his head. He looked at the cookie, up at his dad, then back to his grandpa. Apparently it would not bite or poison him. He reached for the cookie.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.
Mellie scrambled up on the stool to better reach the cookie tray. “That’s lotsa cookies, Grammy.” She studied the cookies and took a browner, crunchier one. “This is the best kind.” She handed her daddy a bar. “You better eat them before Aunty Marit gets here. She can make her own.”
Mona choked on a laugh at the seriousness of her granddaughter. When had she taken over watching out for her father? After pouring the lemonade and passing around the glasses, they all headed for the screened porch. Steig tried to put Jake down, but he superglued himself to his father, cookie crumbs tumbling down Steig’s shirt. Mona set the cookie tray on the coffee table, along with the pitcher.
“Hadn’t we better start unloading?” Ken asked.
“Let’s just sit and visit for a bit. What a drive.” Steig settled Jake on his lap. “Hey, Mellie, how about another cookie for your old dad?”
Mellie looked up from petting Ambrose. “You’re not old…much.” But she fetched him two bars. “One for each hand.”
“Me, too.” Jakey reached out.
Hands on her hips, she stared at her brother. “You have to get your own.”
Steig smirked. “In some ways, Mom, she’s just like you.” He sobered. “The pictures we have of you when you were ten; you and Mellie look a lot alike. Angela resented that; that Mellie didn’t look like her, like her side of the family. Both kids.”
Staring at Ambrose, Jakey curled in tight against his father. “Go away, dog.”
“Ambrose won’t hurt you.” Mellie wrapped her arms around the black neck and got a quick lick for her efforts, making her giggle. “Don’t be a baby.”
The Second Half Page 7