The Second Half

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I know.” But right now the idea of planning and packing seemed beyond possible. “What dates are you thinking for the Chicago trip?”

  “I want to go during the week, not on the weekend. I’m thinking the third week. We’d drive there on Monday, one day for the Museum of Natural History, one for the zoo, and another for the aquarium. They opened a new exhibit, Wild Reef, several years ago. I’d like to see it. I’m looking at the event calendars to see if something else might be appealing.”

  Mona ate some more and drank her coffee. The peanut butter toast had sufficient crunch to make her mouth happy.

  “So the kids won’t be home tonight?”

  “No. It’ll be just us. How about we go work in the garden for a while?”

  “I think I’ll go deadhead the pots and the front yard; maybe I’ll get some more ambition.”

  “The leaf lettuce is big enough for salad for supper. I’ll pick and wash, and you make that dressing that’s so good.”

  Even before Mona could finish up the deadheading, Ken handed her a lovely washed leaf of lettuce as if it were a royal present. The first of the produce of their garden deserved a special celebration.

  “Are the radishes ready, too?” Mona nibbled on the lettuce. “Sure beats anything from the store.” She picked up her bucket of spent blossoms and took it over to dump on the compost heap. She hadn’t finished, but it looked better and she felt better. Maybe if she’d just gotten up and outside this morning, she might have felt better then, too.

  But thoughts of Steig bombarded her again as she made her way into the house. Lord, You said You’d protect our son. Whatsoever we ask in Your name. But now he is MIA, and I know the only one who knows where and how he is is You. This walking in the unknown is horrendous. I cannot bear it. With each step, she felt the weight of the cloud push her downward, like a pile driver on a riverbank. Leaden feet, leaden heart, leaden soul. Once inside, she collapsed on a stool at the counter. Breathe! came the voice from within. Breathe! She did as commanded. Once, twice, three times. As she felt the tension leave her shoulders, she felt herself straighten, and with the next breath, her shoulders let loose of her earlobes and a lightness of being trickled in through the cracks like sun seeking entrance through the tiniest tear in the drapes.

  She got up and fetched the vinegar and sugar from the pantry. She set the ingredients on the counter and paused for another breath. Steig loved this salad, this dressing, this time of year, Lord above, this life. He cannot be dead. God, would I not know if my son were indeed no longer of this earth?

  Blindly she poured the ingredients in the jar, tightened the lid, shook it, and set it on the counter. Carefully. Precisely. “My son is not dead. He might be missing in action, but he is not dead.”

  She removed the chicken breasts from the refrigerator, poured Italian dressing in a plastic bag, and added the chicken breasts. Supper for just the two of them. Ken could grill them all, and she would make chicken salad with the leftovers. Who was Ken talking to outside? Glancing out the window, she saw their neighbor from across the street. He and Ken used to go fishing together. Perhaps they could again.

  With supper preparations under way, she headed upstairs to check her messages and clear some things off her desk. Strange she’d not heard from Carole Bergstrund on the preschool project. They’d said they’d get back to her. Should she call or just wait? Call. She located their number, tapped it in her cell, and hit cancel. The timer downstairs was blaring.

  Mona woke that night with tears soaking her pillowcase. After mopping her eyes and flipping the pillow over, she drifted back to sleep, praying the nightmares would not return with their clouds of sadness.

  The alarm made her jump. She hit snooze and rolled over. Ken was already up, the coffee said so. Go back to sleep, get up. At least when she was sleeping, she couldn’t think.

  “Come and get it!” came from the foot of the stairs.

  “Coming.” How could he sound so cheery?

  Ambrose met her at the foot of the stairs, as if he’d not seen her for days. Hyacinth, tail straight up but for a slight bend at the tip, preceded her into the kitchen.

  “I see your court is in place.”

  She petted the dog and picked up the cat. “Can we eat out on the deck?”

  “Yes, of course. You grab the coffee mugs, I’ll put the rest on a tray.”

  Set up on the deck, she sank into one of the cushioned seats. Sunlight slid between the leaves and branches of the maple tree to dapple the fresh green grass.

  “Thank You, Lord, for food, for Your provision, and for taking care of our Steig. Bring him home to us. We thank You and praise Your name.”

  Mona sniffed and added her amen.

  “Did you bake the muffins?”

  “I did.”

  “You made the muffins?”

  “Well, Betty Crocker and I or whoever created the box.”

  Mona shook her head, took a muffin, and passed the basket. She sniffed it. “Orange?”

  “I guess. It said I could add walnuts, but I couldn’t find them, so I put in pecans.”

  Mona shook her head. “You know there is a bag of muffins in the freezer and another of biscuits?”

  “No, but I shall look next time.”

  She took a bite of the scrambled eggs. “What did you put in these? Delicious.”

  “Half-and-half.”

  “I cheerfully turn over breakfasts to you.”

  “Not so fast, this was an experiment.”

  As they sat sipping their second cups of coffee, she leaned back to look up through the branches. “We need to eat out here more. Thanks.”

  Just as Ken picked up the tray to return things to the kitchen, her phone sang. Her heart leaped in what if…then settled back into regular rhythm. Marit.

  “How come you didn’t return my call?”

  Guilt stabbed her. “When did you call?”

  “Dad didn’t tell you I called?” Her voice danced with accusation.

  “He said you were concerned and that the kids were staying overnight at your house.”

  “Are you sick or…?”

  “Felt like it, but I’m better now.”

  “Get real, Mom, the depression is back.”

  Mona felt herself stiffen. “I’m dealing with it.”

  “When do you see the doctor?”

  “Next week for my physical. Aren’t you being a bit overbearing?”

  “Someone better.”

  A soft answer turns away wrath. This didn’t sound like Marit. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”

  “Probably the same thing that is bothering you.” Marit did an audible inhale. “Sorry, Mom, but you’re scaring me. You can’t go down like last time, not with the kids here. They’re worried about you—well, at least Mellie is.”

  “What happened?”

  Her voice dropped. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “They’re there now?”

  “Uh-huh. Talk later.”

  Mona laid her phone back down. Marit was right, Ken was right, they were all right. Don’t let the depression get to you. Far easier said than done.

  “What did she want?”

  “To yell at me.”

  “Marit doesn’t yell.”

  “Felt like it. You didn’t tell me she wanted me to call her back.”

  “I told you she called.”

  “Right. I just realized I have a mammogram this morning. What’s on your agenda?”

  “Woodshop, fishing with Bert this evening. Thought I’d take Jake along, Mellie if she wants to go.”

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  At nine, she left a message for her doctor, asking for a renewal of meds. At ten, she checked in at the radiology center.

  “We have the new machine in place,” the nurse bubbled. “This is so much better than our other—3-D technology, they say it reduces callbacks by ninety percent. We can detect cancer far sooner. We’ve been waiting for this.”

  “I hope it doesn’
t squish like the old ones.”

  “Well, you have to admit our other machine was far more gentle than a few years ago.”

  “True.” Mona stepped into the changing room and slid out of her blouse and bra. Just get it over with. No one liked to be flattened between the plates. Even so, digital beat the old way.

  She stepped next to the machine, did what she was told, and breathed again when allowed.

  The technician told her to relax, checked the monitor, and came back. “I think we better do this again, just to be sure.”

  “Did I breathe wrong or something?”

  “I just like to be really thorough.”

  They repeated the procedure. Mona watched carefully to see any sign of concern on the technician’s face.

  “You should hear by noon tomorrow,” she said.

  “Really, I don’t just get a letter in the mail?” She paused. “What did you see?”

  “The mammogram will go to radiology.”

  “But…”

  The technician shrugged. “Thanks for keeping your appointment.”

  They’d always sent a letter before. A squiggle of doubt nagged at her.

  Okay. More than just a squiggle.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ken’s wolf was taking shape. Sort of. He stepped back from his bench to get a better view of his first big carving project. For the class, Brian had purchased a number of roughouts—pre-carvings, which had the big chunks of excess wood cut away already. All the carver had to do was the final shaping. Brian had a good point; it’s hard for a beginner to visualize the finished piece if it is still buried in the wood.

  Ken laid down the half-inch chisel and picked up his seven-sixteenths gouge. The hardest part, Brian claimed, was carving around the ears without breaking them.

  Why was he feeling so angry? Why was he asking that question when he already knew the answer? Mona had descended into another one of her deep funks, and it was her own stubbornness that put her there. He could not help but be upset by her refusal to lighten her load before this depression business started. She didn’t even let off steam at her punching bag; she claimed she could handle it. Well, she couldn’t. Now they were both going to end up doing damage control. He’d tried to talk to her about it when she got back from her appointment. But, as always, the discussion didn’t resolve anything. She’d gone to garden, and he retreated here.

  He gave his gouge a gingerly push behind the wolf’s ear.

  “Grampy.”

  The sudden voice in the silence made him jump; the gouge cut deep into the ear itself. Fury leaped up inside him, and he knew he mustn’t let it show. He turned. “What, Jakey?”

  The boy stood in the shop door, but it was Mellie behind him with the hangdog look.

  “She has to fess something,” Jakey blurted.

  “Jakey! You weren’t supposed to say that!”

  Obviously, his carving time was shot. It sounded like he’d better put this fire out right away. Reluctantly he laid down his gouge. “Come over to the steps there and have a seat.” He scooped up a stepstool and plunked it down in front of the stairs. They sat and he sat facing them. “Okay, now what’s all this about? Mellie?”

  She licked her lips. “I heard you and Grammy arguing.” She waited. Nothing. She went on. “I was hiding and listening. I shouldn’t have.”

  He frowned. “Is that what you’re confessing?”

  She nodded. She looked so miserable that it made him feel sad.

  “That’s not so terrible. Is there more?”

  “I shouldn’t have been sneaking. When you and Grammy are arguing, I get scared because Mommy and Daddy used to all the time.”

  Ken pondered this a moment. Realizing that Steig’s home life must have been a kind of nightmare didn’t help his sadness and anger at all. “You don’t have to be scared. It’s not about you. It’s a little noisy here, but it’s safe.”

  “But you said about the kids…that’s us…”

  Jakey chimed in, “You and Grammy don’t yell at each other, you just talk. Mellie said it was an argument, but it didn’t sound like one. She said, ‘What am I gonna do,’ and I said, ‘Grampy says always tell the truth. If you tell the truth, maybe he won’t get mad.’ And she said, ‘He’s already mad.’ So she made me come with her because you like me, and maybe you won’t spank her if I’m here.”

  “Spank her…?” For listening? “Let’s go up into the house.”

  They climbed upstairs to the kitchen, and Ken opened the back door. He called, “Mona? We have a problem here.”

  Mona came in through the door and closed it behind her, pulling off her gardening gloves. Her eyes were all red and wet and puffy. Good, in a way—crying gave vent to at least some of her doubts and worries.

  Ken explained, “Mellie here is frightened because we were arguing. I want to reassure them both that it’s all right and that it’s not about them. And we’re not going to attack them or anything.”

  She gasped. “Attack? Oh, dear, no! It’s not you. Your world is all torn up; we understand that. It’s not you.”

  “But you said…” Mellie looked so confused and forlorn.

  Ken looked at Mona. “Perhaps some ice cream will be the oil to soothe troubled waters.”

  “Good idea. I think we have some cookies, too.” Mona reached for the cookie jar.

  Mellie looked dubious as she climbed up on a stool. “Are you sure you aren’t mad?”

  Ken smiled. “Oh, I’m mad at all kinds of things, darling. But you’re not one of them.”

  It took the child a moment of concentration to figure out what he had just said, reminding him once again that he was going to have to adjust his speech. He was talking to small children, not college kids; although some college people acted like small children, including some professors.

  Mona put the ice cream carton and scoop in front of him. As he dug into the hard ice cream, she set out bowls and spoons. This pleased him. At least she was functional and not curled up in bed all day, as occasionally happened. She settled at the counter with her own bowl of ice cream. “Your grampy and I were talking about something else the other day, Mellie. And I talked to Miz Beverly on the phone yesterday.”

  “The lady at the pony farm!” Mellie brightened.

  “We set up a schedule for a series of beginner riding lessons. I put them on my calendar.” Good. She didn’t mention that when Ken and she discussed riding lessons, they agreed that the distraction would help Mellie deal with her fear for her daddy.

  Mellie bobbed up and down on her stool, pumping her fists. How could she do that? Ken envied the strength and flexibility of youth; he was starting to lose his.

  “I don’t wanna.” Jakey stared at his ice cream a moment, then took another bite.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. This is mostly for Mellie. Remember what your daddy said in his letter?”

  Ken asked, “Why don’t you want to, Jakey?”

  “Horses are big and they smell.”

  “It’s a good smell!” Mellie snapped. “And they have to be big to carry grown-ups around. Or pull wagons or things. Grammy, this is great!”

  Ken nodded. “Jake, I understand now why you don’t like horses, but cats are little and they don’t smell. Why don’t you like cats?”

  “They scratch and bite.”

  “Some dogs scratch and bite, but you like Ambrose.”

  “He’s different.”

  “So is Hyacinth. She won’t scratch or bite, and she’s little and she doesn’t smell.”

  Mona chided, “Ken, you’re expecting him to use logic. He’s five.”

  “Remember when Steig was five?”

  “You mean the commercials around Christmastime?”

  Ken smiled and explained to the kids, “When your daddy was your age, Jake, he and I would sit watching Saturday-morning cartoons, and we’d pick apart the commercials logically. He was actually very good at it. Pretty soon he was analyzing how they used a low camera angle
to make a dinky little toy look big or how kids would be shown playing with it and laughing when it wasn’t all that interesting to play with…We had a great time.” And Steig still looks at life—and commercial pitches—analytically. Ken should sit down and do the same thing with these kids.

  “Mommy says cats are dirty.”

  “Is Hyacinth dirty?”

  Jakey frowned. He studied Hyacinth a moment as she sat in the doorway grooming herself. “No. She’s clean.”

  “I agree.” Ken kept his voice casual, but inside he was jumping up and down with delight. Jakey had inherited his father’s natural bent for examining life critically. All he needed was to be encouraged in it. Ken scraped the last of his ice cream out.

  Mellie asked, “May I have some more?”

  Before Mona had a chance to argue about spoiling her appetite, Ken said, “Sure.” He wanted this teaching moment to continue. He dug out another scoopful. The ice cream was softening up slightly.

  Mellie took her bowl back. “Thank you.” She scraped off a spoonful. “Mommy doesn’t like horses, but Daddy does. But we couldn’t have a horse because Mommy would have to take care of it when Daddy deployed. I promised her I’d take good care of it, but she said no.”

  Ken agreed. “They’re a lot of work every day.” Surreptitiously, he glanced now and then at Jakey. The little boy was studying the cat when he wasn’t scraping up the last of his ice cream. Did Mona see it, too?

  Mellie stared more at nothing than at her ice cream. What was going on in that pretty little head? “I so wish we could find out about Daddy.”

  “So do we, honey. So do we.” Mona looked ready to cry again.

  “I think he’s dead. Do you think he’s dead? I mean, is that what you really think?” She looked at Mona.

  “I pray for him all the time. So does Grampy. And we both know God answers prayer. So no, not dead. I believe your daddy is still alive somewhere. I also know that God knows where he is because God watches over all of us and that He will take care of him.”

  Ken added, “And I believe that also. We both pray to God to keep him safe.”