The Second Half

by Lauraine Snelling

“Well, one bump on the head that swelled up during recess, two little girls crying for their mommies, and one teacher with a migraine who had to go home, and, ahem, Jakey. Other than that?”

  “That’s all?” He shook his head as he snagged his now-full glass off the counter and grabbed the dishcloth to go out and wipe down the table. “Thanks for the drink, hon.”

  He must have worked the stiffness out down in the woodshop. Breakfast that morning had been a rather silent affair, even though they’d apologized to each other later. But asking for forgiveness and totally letting go were two different things. Especially since she was going ahead with the project.

  “Here, you butter one side; the grill is hot enough.” She could hear the kids outside telling Grampy about their morning. While she did sandwiches on the grill, Marit got out the paper plates and napkins, then poured the chips into a bowl. “Plastic glasses?”

  “Please, raspberry drink is already made in the fridge. Call the kids to wash their hands.”

  “Grampy is taking care of that at the faucet outside.” She pulled a tray from on top of the fridge and started setting supplies on it.

  After lunch, the cousins left. Ken nodded to his grandchildren. “Once you get the lunch stuff hauled into the kitchen, you two can come help me in the garden for a while and let Grammy have some time off.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him, then smiled a thank-you. From her upstairs window a while later, she heard him below.

  “I cut the handles off these hoes so you can manage them more easily, so now we are going to learn how to use them.”

  “In the garden?”

  “Right. This is a faster way to kill the weeds.”

  Mona went back to her project, and when she had it all finished and packed in her briefcase, she straightened up her office and headed downstairs, curious as to why it was so quiet. She found Ken and Jake asleep in his recliner and Mellie reading out on the deck, curled up in a chair in the shade with Hyacinth on her lap and Ambrose stretched out snoring in the sunshine.

  “What a marvelous idea. I think I’ll go get my book, too.”

  “This is such a good story.”

  “Glad to hear that. You want something to drink?”

  “Raspberry ice.”

  Mona was going to remind her, “please,” but for some reason didn’t. How can I take time to read when I have so much to do? Mona banished the thought, sliced some cheese to go with crackers, and set them on the low table between the loungers out on the deck. Then fetching her book, she sank onto the lounger and took a sip. “Ah, bliss.”

  “Thanks, Grammy.” Mellie grinned at her grandma. “I like just us.” And she tucked a piece of cheese between two crackers. She handed that one to Mona and fixed another, then the two bit in—and giggled.

  That night when Ken had his tools all packed and ready to go out the door, Mona kissed him good-bye. “Have a good time.”

  He nodded with a smile. “I will.” He hugged both kids, who grinned up at him. “And no popcorn, you hear?”

  As he went out the door, Mellie shouted, “We’re not having popcorn, we’re having kettle corn. And a movie!”

  Tuesday morning, Ken left the house at four thirty to go fishing.

  “Catch lots,” Mona mumbled as she drifted back to sleep.

  The alarm clock, her blessing and her curse, woke her at six thirty. She would be making her presentation today to the preschool board; better get up and get going. She heard the children downstairs already, so she dressed quickly, wearing black slacks and a cream tank, with her pink jacket ready to slip into just before she walked out the door.

  Mellie was pouring milk as Mona entered the kitchen. “We were hungry.”

  “Is this going to be enough for you?” She eyed the counter, cluttered with the milk carton, the chocolate syrup dispenser, the peanut butter jar and peanut butter smeared in odd places, the cracker box, lots of cracker crumbs, both the strawberry jam and the grape jelly, and half a loaf of bread.

  “We get a snack at Bible school.” Mellie finished spreading strawberry jam and slapped her peanut butter and jelly sandwich together.

  “Grampy told me to behave better, but I don’t like cats. He said I should suck up and take one for the team. What does that mean?” Jakey took a bite of his cracker with peanut butter.

  Mona had never really used that particular reference. So she made up something. “It means to behave even when you don’t feel like it or even if you don’t like cats.”

  “Is Grampy taking us to Bible school today?” Jake licked his fingers off.

  “He said he’d be back.” Her purse and briefcase waited right on the chair seat. Come on, Ken, you said…But she knew that at times if a wind came up or something, fishermen did not get back when they planned. She checked the clock. Five more minutes was all she could give him. She was just herding the kids to the SUV when he parked right beside her.

  “Come on, kids, jump in. Sorry, we had to wait to load the boat.”

  “Thanks for making it. See you later. My appointment is in half an hour.” She always liked to arrive at least ten minutes early and sit in the car to collect her thoughts.

  “I’ve got fish to clean so we can have a fish fry for supper.”

  “Sounds good.” She waved them off as he backed out. At least now she wouldn’t be rushing to get there on time. Here she’d thought the years of juggling kids, jobs, and VBS were over. Little did she know. But it was only for a year, right? They could manage for a year. When school started, they’d get in a routine and she’d have more hours to work on her business. Lord, You know that I really want to do this project. You said to ask for what I want, and You would answer. Please let me do well today.

  She turned into the church parking lot to see that construction was well under way on a building on the back part of the property. One story, lots of windows, and a breezeway connection to the main church building. If that was for the preschool, this church had gotten behind the idea and supported it fully.

  Getting out of her car in the visitor’s parking slots, she followed the sign that said OFFICE OFF TO THE RIGHT. A receptionist looked up when she entered the room.

  “If you are Mrs. Sorenson, the group is meeting right around the corner. I’ll show you the way.”

  “I am, and thank you. Is that building under construction for the preschool?”

  “It is. The first block in what we hope will be a private school here on our campus.”

  “That’s a big dream.”

  “God honors big dreams.”

  Oh, I hope so!

  She stopped in front of a door where laughter could be heard from the room inside. “Here you go. They’re expecting you.” She opened the door and ushered Mona inside. The ladies were seated around an eight-foot table with coffee cups and crumb-decorated napkins in front of each.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” Carole Bergstrund rose to meet her. “The coffee is ready, and there’s still coffee cake if you’d like.”

  Mona declined with a smile. Right now she didn’t feel that feeding the butterflies would calm them down any.

  Mrs. Bergstrund introduced the five women, and Mona smiled a greeting to each. “Please, we saved the head of the table for you. Can I get you anything? Water even?”

  One woman smiled and said, “We’re so glad you’re here. Can’t wait to hear what you have to offer.”

  Mrs. Bergstrund nodded. “Since I already gave them your background, why don’t we get right to it. We have another presenter coming in an hour and a half. Will that be enough time for you?”

  Swallowing her surprise, Mona smiled and nodded. “I have packets for each of you so we can all be on the same page in our discussions.” She handed them to Carole to pass down and took her seat. “I need to start with a couple of questions. First of all, are you still on track for registrations starting November first and grand opening on January fifth?”

  “Construction is a wee bit ahead of schedule, and all the in
terior furnishings are on order. One of our women”—Mrs. Bergstrund pointed down the table—“is an interior decorator, and she is handling all the interior furnishings. This is just as exciting as building a new home.”

  Another woman added, “Meeting all the city codes is one of the major hurdles, but there, too, we are on track.”

  “That’s marvelous. If you’ll open your packets to the first page, I have included an overview of all the stages of marketing and promotion. In all actuality, those are two separate fields but often combined. That includes a timeline. Now, all this is up for discussion, so if you have any questions, please ask.” When they all nodded, she launched into her well-planned introduction. Mona knew they were following her from all the head nodding and notes being written on the pages. She concluded in fifty minutes and asked again for questions, although they had felt free to ask during the hour.

  “I have one,” the interior designer said. “I thought you were a one-woman office, and this looks like a heavy load. How can we know you can meet your deadlines?”

  Mona kept a smile in place while the thoughts galloped through her head. What kind of question was that? Almost rude really. “I have never missed a deadline in the four years I’ve been in business. I listed some references on the last page if you would like to check on my performance.” After fielding a couple more questions, she went into her closing remarks. She touched on the contract that said the increments she expected to be paid in, pointed out the references, and smiled at each of the women. “Thank you for the opportunity to prepare this for you.”

  “Fine job, Mona,” Mrs. Bergstrund said, and they all nodded. “So very professional. We have two other presenters today, so we’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve made a decision, which will be within the next couple of days.”

  She thanked them again and headed for her car. She’d done her best, and now it was in God’s hands. As she backed out of her slot and headed toward the street, she reflected on one thing she had done absolutely right: avoided the PowerPoint and provided hands-on material that they could refer back to. She believed God was in charge, of course, but it would be hard to keep from second-guessing all she’d done. Another one of the character traits she was trying to overcome.

  Ken was at the outside table and faucet set up just for fish cleaning. “How did it go?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t realize they were having other companies give proposals today, too. That was a bit of a shock. I left my packets with them; I included some pretty original ideas in that, which someone else could put to work.”

  “Second-guessing, eh?”

  “I guess. Trying not to. I really realized how bad I want this when they said there were two others. Wouldn’t it have been more ethical to mention that up front?” She went on to tell him about the building and the dreams for more school room. Standing back far enough to not get splashed, she finally ran out of information.

  He dried off his hands. “I’m going up to change. I’ll pick up the kids. Do we need anything at the grocery store?”

  “I thought Marit was bringing them home.”

  He grimaced. “She called and asked if I would pick them all up; something going on there that she had to deal with.”

  “So I need to make lunch for all five, right?”

  “Well, six. She should be here before too long.”

  Mona dragged herself up the stairs. Right now she would like a few hours to herself to unwind and make any notes in case they did hire her. Or rather, to be prepared when she needed to begin the project. Think positive, Mona, not negative! No Monday-morning quarterbacking. You said you were leaving this in God’s hands, so do just that!

  Why was it so much easier to say than to do?

  That night after the kids were in bed sleeping and she’d located the flashlight that Mellie snuck under the pillow, she and Ken were enjoying a cup of tea before bed when the doorbell rang.

  “Who could that be at this hour?” Ken looked at her blankly as he got up to answer the door. Her stomach churned a bit. She got up and followed behind. He checked the peephole and opened the door.

  “Sir, are you Kenneth Sorenson?” The man wore the army dress uniform with official-looking epaulets and a broad spectrum of medals on his chest. Another man in uniform stood beside the first, but he wore a clerical collar and a cross.

  “I am. How can I help you?”

  “May we come in?”

  “Of course, sorry, no idea where my manners went.” Ken stepped back and ushered them into the entry.

  “Is this your wife?”

  Ken waved a hand. “My wife, Mona.”

  The fellow dipped his head toward her and returned to Ken. “Major George Paget, U.S. Army Special Forces. Is Captain Steig Sorenson your son?”

  “Yes, he is. What is this about?”

  Mona started to shake so hard her teeth chattered. She crossed to stand by Ken, who put his arm around her.

  “I regret to inform you that Captain Steig Sorenson has been listed as missing in action.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Would the scene never stop replaying in her mind?

  Mona gave up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and got up carefully to let Ken keep on sleeping. Good thing someone could sleep around here. She felt like the sandman kept dragging more sand through her eyes as she stuck her arms in her summer robe and picked up her flip-flops to put on downstairs. With a sigh, Ambrose rose from his bed and padded down the steps beside her.

  Fixing tea rather than coffee in the hopes she might be able to go back to sleep eventually, she settled into her recliner. Hyacinth had given up the comfort of her spot on the foot of the bed and now leaped up to nestle beside her. Ambrose sighed again, then settled on the floor beside the chair. Protected by her armed guards, Mona sipped her orange spice herb tea and let the scene play again. The ringing of the doorbell, the two men entering, the horrendous news they had to deliver. The chaplain reminding them, perhaps three times, that he would be there for them. To call him with questions. He would be the liaison between the military and the family. After they left, she and Ken were more shell-shocked; the grieving and fear had yet to attack. The worst had happened. No, not the worst; at least there was a chance that Steig was still alive. MIA, they had assured her and Ken, was just that. Missing in action. They would let the family know immediately of any change.

  Then the horrors took over. Steig lying dead somewhere, Steig bleeding and horribly wounded, Steig as a prisoner of war, being tortured like they had seen of prisoners online and on TV. The tears started in a trickle but soon nearly drowned her. Lord God, protect my son. Please let him live and bring him home to us. Like all tears, they eventually stopped, and after mopping them up, she rested her head against the cushions. Ambrose licked her hand, a whimper more than a whine of consolation, his tail gently fanning the air.

  She tried constantly to avoid imagining scenarios. They almost always turned ugly and fed her tendency to depression. Sometimes they even triggered her depressions. She couldn’t help it; they wouldn’t banish. And now, of all times, she must avoid depression. Those two little children needed her like never before, and she would be useless to them if one of her major depressions hit. Lord, help me!

  By now her tea was cold and she felt chilled, her only warm spot her tummy, where Hyacinth had curled up. “Lord, how will I bear this, this nightmare of all nightmares?” With a start, she realized she was nearly shouting. “Sorry Lord, but how will we tell the children? When will we tell them? What am I supposed to do? Tell them and send them off to Bible school? Help us.”

  Surely the news would not be on TV or the Internet yet, but it would be soon. Steig was a local boy—in fact, something of a local hero. The reporters might even show up on their doorstep soon. She couldn’t let the children learn accidentally. She would call Marit, too. But not in the middle of the night. Three a.m. Hyacinth got up, and Mona dug in the basket beside her chair, pulling out a crocheted afghan, and threw it over
herself.

  Would going back up to bed work, or would she just wake Ken?

  Lord, what are we going to do?

  Seek my face. The words seemed to float in and around her.

  “I am seeking Your face. I know of nowhere else to turn.” The tears burned again.

  Trust me. Are you going to trust me?

  “Right, trust You. Who else can I trust? You know I have always put my children in Your hands.” She reached for her Bible that always lay beside the lamp. Flipping to the Psalms, she turned to Psalm 91, but the tears again blurred the words. Her memory took over. My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust. All she could say or think was Lord, I trust You. Lord I trust You. The phrase dark night of the soul seemed perfectly clear right now.

  “How will I get through this?”

  A very present help in time of trouble…where was that? A psalm. She thumbed back through. There. Psalm 46:1. God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble.

  A sob caught in her throat and made her cough. “Oh, Lord God, let it be so. Help me!” Hyacinth purred against her leg. The warmth of the afghan penetrated and, between the exhaustion, the comfort of the words, and the hour, calmed her enough that she drifted off.

  She woke to the fragrance of coffee brewing. The cat and dog were both gone, most likely to their dishes in the kitchen. Six thirty. How had Ken gotten to the kitchen without her waking? When she tried throwing off the cover, she knew why. Not only her mind but her body did not want to respond. She recognized the feeling—total exhaustion. How could it be? She’d not done anything physical. Besides cry. That inner voice reminded her it woke up when she did. Or probably had never gone to sleep. She forced herself to her feet and, wrapped in the afghan, made her way to the kitchen.

  Ken turned from pouring his coffee, handed her the full mug, and reached for another. They sat down at the table, both propping their elbows to hold the mugs up to sip.

  The silence got too heavy to carry. “I figured we’d call Marit at seven. She should be out of the shower and dressed by then.”