Night terrors? She knew nothing about them. Obviously Steig knew something about them. She would also add that to the list of things to ask Steig on Skype Thursday. But how many other problems and dangers did she simply know nothing about? They lurked out there, scowling ghosts of ignorance about things she had to know.
What if the night terrors everyone was so casually dismissing were actually symptoms of a much deeper problem? They were frightening, for Mona as well as for little Jake. Maybe Jake, being the most vulnerable person in this hideous situation, was crumpling beneath the weight of worry and abandonment. And what if there was nothing they could do for him to keep him from crumpling completely? Or turning to drugs when he got older, as so many do? Or any other self-destructive behavior…?
What if Angela decided to reenter the picture? Steig said she could not reach the children legally, and besides, she preferred her new life with the lowlife she had latched on to. But what if that lowlife walked out on her or if she walked out on him even? Then she might crave the affection children can provide. And if she had the resources to mount a legal fight…after all, she was the mother, and the courts seemed to prefer seeing mothers regain their children.
Mona and Ken weren’t getting any younger; the health of either one of them could implode at any moment. Could Ken carry on alone if Mona were hospitalized or bedridden? Could she, if it were Ken who cratered?
“No, Mona! Look what you’re doing!” She said it out loud.
Intense worry usually opened wide the barn doors to depression. Her states of severe depression had all begun with runaway worrying, and as it always turned out, the worries and fears had been groundless.
But these fears were not groundless. These what-ifs had a solid basis in reality. Things like this happened all the time; just listen to the news for a day or two.
She needed to nip these worries in the bud. But they would not nip. Already they had planted themselves into her thoughts with roots of iron. Probably they were not new; probably they had been at the back of her mind all the while, growing. Growing. And now suddenly they were exploding.
Activity. She had to get active somehow. But it was the middle of the night. She got up and padded softly, barefoot, to the children’s bedroom door to peek in. Ken was stretched out in Jakey’s bed with Jakey nestled tight against him. They were both sound asleep. She closed the door.
Hyacinth meowed a question as she walked to the kitchen. How do you tell a cat that you’re teetering on the edge of a dangerous bout of depression? She set her vial of pills out to remind her to take it in the morning. Maybe it was time to see the doctor.
She quietly continued down to the basement, to her corner of the basement, turning on the light. The basement never got too hot and never got too cold. A single vent in the ductwork that sent warmth from the furnace up to the rooms was enough to keep the basement fairly comfortable in the winter. In summer it needed no help.
Mona stood beside a punching bag now. It was not the same hard, heavy regulation bag Marit had used, a huge beast that seemed to be made of wood. This punching bag was softer than regulation and had more give to it. It was made for a child or an older woman, not a powerful young man or woman.
When the high school faced a lawsuit if it didn’t afford equal opportunity to both girls and boys, the school board said, in effect, “All right. We’ll open all the classes to both boys and girls. You watch; the girls will all still take girl courses and the boys will still take boy courses. Nothing will change.”
The first semester the new rules took effect, Steig defied that attitude by signing up for cooking (“Nothing will change, huh? Besides, I’m going to be baching it for years after high school,” he said; “I’m going to want to eat well”). Privately to his dad, he added that taking cooking with eighteen pretty girls, and he the only boy, didn’t sour the pot at all.
And also in defiance, Marit took up boxing. Ken seemed somewhat dazed that his own daughter would…would…but Mona was tickled. She even bought Marit a punching bag and gloves so that she could practice in the basement.
Marit, in turn, had purchased this for her mother a few years ago so that Mona could vent frustrations. Would this help ward off worry and depression? Marit hoped so; Mona desperately hoped so.
Now she slipped into the gloves, tightened her fists, and poked the bag. She jabbed it with the other fist. She upped the pace, punching, punching harder. She must be quite a sight, balanced on the balls of her bare feet, in her pajamas. So what?
The bag moved away from her, trying to evade her punishment. She soon had the rhythm going, though. Puppa, puppa, puppa, puppa, puppeta, puppeta, puppeta, puppeta…
She broke a sweat now. Her brain was still trying to worry, but it was having a harder and harder time keeping track of all those fears. When all else failed, the punching bag was saving her. In half an hour or less, worn-out, she would go back upstairs and crawl into bed and fall asleep.
But the fears and worries would still be there; they would return. They always did.
Chapter Fourteen
The only time Mona managed to pull a complete surprise on him was that party Saturday. And it was a lulu. Ken smiled to himself, bringing back the many memories. He sat in the Adirondack chair out by the fresh dirt pile Mona planned to spread on the garden. The kids were tackling it with buckets and shovels. And he thought of the beautiful chest, his gift. Jakey was a little too young yet to introduce to whittling and carving or building furniture, but perhaps Mellie might get interested.
And if his instincts served him correctly, Mona was planning another surprise of some sort. Most likely, it would have something to do with the getaway to Green Lake they had talked about. He would keep an ear to the ground. He loved the cat and mouse they had developed over the years—she planning surprises, he detecting them in advance. But then, maybe she did not love it nearly as much as he did.
“Jakey, put that down!” Mellie swatted her brother’s knuckles hard, making him drop a handful of dirt. He yowled, got up from his dirt pile, and came running to Ken. Ken gathered him in and settled him on his lap. Good grief, the kid was dirty.
“Mellie, come here, please.”
She got up and came over to him.
“Who said you could boss your brother around like that?”
“Mah— Our mother. She said I’m oldest so I have to take care of him.”
“From now on, Grammy and I will take care of him. Not you.”
“But she said I have to. She doesn’t have time.”
“Mellie, listen to me. Grammy and I are taking over. You do not—”
“But he was going to eat it. The dirt.”
“If he actually eats dirt, you tell us. You do not yell at him, and especially, you never hit him, ever, nor is he allowed to hit you. No hitting.”
“But he might eat dirt.”
“I understand. We’ll be his caregivers and worry about his diet. You don’t need responsibility like that yet. You just concentrate on being a little girl.”
“He’s not supposed to eat dirt.”
Ken deepened his voice. “Grammy and I, Mellie. Not you. Understand?”
Pouting, she wandered back to the dirt pile.
Ken gave the boy an extra hug and put him on his feet. “Jakey, as dirty as your hands are, sticking your finger and thumb in your mouth like that is equivalent to eating dirt. I suggest you shouldn’t.”
Jakey stared at him. “Uh kwivel?” he asked around his fingers.
“What?”
“Wha’s uh kwivel?”
“Jakey, please take your fingers out of your mouth. They’re dirty and I can’t understand you.”
He popped his fingers out of his mouth. “What’s uh kwivel?”
“Uh kwivel…? Oh, equivalent. It means the same.” Down inside, Ken sighed. He was accustomed to talking to academics, not small children. He was going to have to considerably alter his vocabulary.
“Oh, okay.” He returned to the dirt pile.
>
“Ken?” Mona called from the porch. “Telephone.”
He got up and headed for the house. Was this part of some sort of ruse? He was getting too suspicious. He smiled at her and said, “Thank you,” as he accepted the phone. “Hello?”
“Ken? Sandy. Ken, I’m really sorry to disturb you, but I have knots here I can’t untie. Could you come in for half an hour? It shouldn’t take any longer than that.”
“Certainly. I’ve been handling my grandson, so I’ll have to wash up first. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks, Ken. I’m really sorry.”
Now what? He was retired; he could look sloppy at last. Still, he tidied himself up a little—what the kids called business casual—in case he had to meet with muckety-mucks. Sandy sounded distraught.
He climbed into the car and started for Stone University. What kind of leverage did he have, anyway? Probably not much anymore. And Dale and John seemed relieved that he was out of there. Maybe now they were trying to drive Sandy out. Would they ever do such a craven thing? In a New York minute.
He parked in what had been his usual spot and headed inside. How fortunate that Sandy biked to work; her reserved space was available today. He pushed through the doors into his old, familiar office.
“Oh, thank heavens!” Sandy leaped up from her chair. “Here. I’ll show you.” She hustled over to the side table where she had papers laid out. He watched over her shoulder.
She picked up a letter from the provost’s office. “Damien filed a formal grievance claiming his credentials were better than those of the appointee. Me.”
“We pretty much knew he was going to do that.”
She nodded. “So I called the legal department, and they said his grievance has standing.” She was studying his face, looking for hope.
He thought about this a few moments. “Because Damien is the sort who would do this, I prepared a little in advance. We have sixty days to respond. I’ll get Gerald on it. I think we can squelch the grievance and justify choosing you.”
“You think. You don’t know.”
“No, I never know what the legal department is going to come up with, or the board, for that matter. But if you are replaced by Damien, we can kiss funding good-bye.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s why I took the job. Ken, I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“You’ve been doing it for years.”
“The paperwork, not the thinking. The planning. Smoothing out wrinkles.”
He gestured toward the other stacks of paper. “What else do we have?”
“Remember Jasmine, that girl who needed financing?”
“The Kiwanis Club pledged to pick up her tab.”
“That’s the one. Well, Kiwanis says they sent a check, and Greg says Stone never got it, so they’re withholding her grades. But she’s applying for an internship and needs her transcript.”
“Did you call the bank?”
“They won’t talk to me. I’m not authorized.”
This one he could handle. He walked over to her desk, picked up the phone, and punched in a number from memory. “One ringy-dingy…two ringy-dingy…” The old Laugh-In. Their guest one week was Billy Graham, and at the end, they gave him space to make his Gospel pitch. He smiled at the thought.
“Greg Thorsen, how may I help you?”
“Greg, Ken Sorenson here. I need a favor.” He put the phone on speaker so Sandy could hear.
“Anything for the good buddy who saved my butt by taking over my Sunday school class. What can I do for you?”
Ken explained the situation. Greg asked him to hold for a few minutes. Ken muted the phone for a moment. “Greg is a fellow church member and a good building contractor. I helped him out of a tight spot once. He’s also the local Kiwanis president.”
“I’ll bet you don’t realize how valuable your many connections are. I don’t know anyone in Kiwanis, and you know everyone in all the service organizations.”
“I’ll have to make you a phone list of people who could be helpf—”
“Ken? I just talked to our treasurer, who has the inside scoop. The check never cleared, and the university is assuming that Miss Pine intercepted the check and kept it. Theo is going to cut a new check and stop the old one. Do you have Jasmine Pine’s address and phone number? We can ask her to pick it up and hand deliver it so that she can get her transcript out of purgatory.”
“Wonderful. Jasmine and I both thank you, Greg. She’s an excellent student who simply needed a little boost. All As except two Bs. Magna cum laude.”
Sandy had already pulled Jasmine’s record. She handed it to Ken, he passed on the information, Greg and he chatted a moment, and they hung up. She wagged her head. “So simple if you know whom to call.”
“You had several other things on that table. Let’s get them done.” He stood up. “Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, please put together a file of all the correspondence between us and Damien and another file with his full dossier.”
“I’ll do that today. All right, here’s that Fisher boy who got arrested last month for possession, remember?”
When Sandy said she had knots she couldn’t untie, she had been understating it. Ken was unable to untie all of them, but they took care of most. Sandy was so apologetic, too. But she was learning quickly; she would do fine once she found her footing. He finally got out of the office at past three.
He was ravenously hungry. He could go home and Mona would…No, she was busy. He sat a moment at the wheel, one foot on the ground. He got out and went back into the building.
As he approached Dale’s office, Dale was just coming out. He looked at Ken; his face fell, and then he carefully arranged it into a smile. “Surprised to see you here, old friend.”
“I’d like to talk to you a moment.”
“I’m sorry, I have a meeting in just a few minutes; perhaps tomorrow.”
“Library board over in Sutton. Yes. You meet there every month. I’ll walk you over.”
Dale sputtered, but what could he say? Ken fell in beside him, and they left the building together.
Better make this quick. “Sandy is handling things well; I stopped by there, of course. But she has a much heavier workload than she ought to have this early in the summer. I was looking at some of the things she is doing, and quite a bit of it looks like make-work. Things that are not really necessary or that should be done by other departments. Things I never had to contend with.”
“I don’t know how that could be.”
“It couldn’t be that you and John are dumping your problems on her, trying to overwhelm her, could it?”
“Of course not.” Dale walked faster.
“John should have taken care of the problem with Jasmine Pine. Instead he plopped it on Sandy’s desk. There are several other tasks of like nature.”
“I’ll speak to John, but I don’t think…uh…”
Ken pushed harder. “I filed that injunction for two reasons. One is, I want to keep the department intact with a head who knows the students. The other is so that you know I will use legal leverage whenever I have to.”
Dale stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “Are you threatening me?”
“By no means. I’m pointing out realities.” Ken kept his face relaxed and pleasant, even though down inside he was boiling. Yes, Dale knew what was going on and was no doubt a party to it. Better than most people, Ken could read body language; it was necessary for understanding students and avoiding being scammed by those who thought they saw a money tree with low-hanging fruit.
“Well, I don’t…” Whatever Dale was thinking, he left it unspoken and started walking.
“Dale, I have inside information.” That was nothing more than Ken’s reading of Dale’s body language. “You are trying to force Sandy out so you can put Damien in. To the detriment of the department, to the detriment of the many students who so desperately need the department. I am not going to let that happen, Dale. You can cooperate wi
th the department and work with Sandy as you worked with me, or you can learn the hard way. It is your choice. Enjoy your library meeting.” He stopped.
Dale stormed on up the steps into Sutton. Congratulations, Kenny, old boy. You just made an enemy.
No, not really. Ken probably always had that particular enemy, but the enemy was just now showing his true colors. He turned aside to the student center.
No one was in the food court now; the spring students had left and the summer students had not yet arrived. In fact, about half the food kiosks were closed. The Thai booth was open. Pad thai would taste mighty good just now. Or he could go home, build a simple sandwich, and relieve Mona of their babysitting chores. Or…
He just stood there, uncertain. He could untie knotty problems, but he could not direct his own footsteps. Were these child-rearing responsibilities going to be more than he could handle?
Chapter Fifteen
Are you sure you can handle all this?” Ken was leaning against her office doorjamb, watching Mona juggle three folders, a legal pad, her phone, and a split computer screen on a desk that wasn’t big enough to handle all that. Maybe she should get a bigger work surface. Ken had that side table in his office, and it came in so handy.
Mona paused and stared at him. “Why not?”
“Because we have children now. This looks like a really big, complicated project, and while you don’t have a lot of others going right now, maybe it’s because God is trying to keep us sane.”
“So we are to give up our lives because we now have two children?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Ken, this is what I do, and I’m very good at it. I know I’ll have to pace myself more, but things will lighten up when school starts…” She rolled her lips together. “I know I can handle it all.”
“But I guess what I am really asking is if this project will be the best for all of us right now.”
She studied the floor a moment. “It will keep me sane.” She looked up at him and half smiled. “And that is kind of the same thing.”
The Second Half Page 13