Someday Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  Lynn wiped her face. “How come I got so wet?” But she knew why. The clown in the crazy outfit was none other than Herb, the veterinarian. He loved dousing everyone.

  Those on the floats for the organizations in town threw out candy, and the kids scrambled to fill their bags. The historical society wore prairie clothes of the early 1900s; the various class floats tossed candy; and everyone bantered, shouting insults back and forth, making everyone laugh. The swim team float looked like a big fish; the 4-H clubs had chickens and sheep along with kids; and two kids walked behind dragging their reluctant, head-wagging steers by lead ropes. A beautiful team of Clydesdales pulled a handsome buggy with a silver-haired couple, her with a parasol to match her lavender dress of the late 1800s, while the man sported a splendid frock coat and black top hat.

  Two other bands marched and more horses and riders; various tractors, some huge and current, some old but restored; vintage cars with the drivers often wearing clothes of the period; and convertibles with the royalty followed by classic cars with the dignitaries. The parade closed with more horses, a pooper-scooper, and the skirl of bagpipes played by three men in full kilt regalia.

  Lynn sighed. “I love parades like these.” She took another swig from her bottled water. She hugged the little girl leaning against her knee and laughed at the boys playing and shouting with their friends from across the street. “I think you need your face washed,” she said to Miss Priss, who had obviously been eating red candy, clutching her bag of goodies.

  “We better get to the park if we want a table.” Phillip started folding up the chairs. “I’m parked two streets over. Come on, guys, grab a chair.” They joined others, lugging their stuff and heading for the cars.

  “You should have had your panel truck in the parade, good advertising,” someone yelled.

  “If they don’t know us by now…,” Tommy hollered back.

  Lynn climbed into the SUV. Memorial Day parades were all so alike and yet every one different. Two years ago she sat on the parade route with Paul. That was two years ago. What would next year’s be?

  The town’s picnic, too, was unique and yet the same, just like all other picnics. Lynn enjoyed the food, the camaraderie. Two years ago Paul scooped egg salad and ham salad out of the tubs onto the rolls and doled them out. And he refereed the pickup volleyball. This year it was Phillip. Cherished memories, vanished times.

  But in late afternoon as they arrived at the house, her house, with her children and grandchildren, she knew she had no reason to mope. Look at all she possessed!

  “Sorry I didn’t get up to come along.” Angela looked up from the kitchen table as Lynn carried the cooler and picnic basket back in.

  “You missed a great parade and picnic. Detroit Lakes goes all out for Memorial Day. One of the best parades ever, too.” Lynn set her stuff on the counter and leaned over to pet the dog, who was dancing at her feet. “Did he wake you needing to go out?”

  “No, I finally just woke up for the first time feeling like I was awake, like I finally had enough sleep. Makes no sense at all.”

  “I’d say that might be a step in the right direction.”

  “How can I help you get ready for tonight?”

  “Well, the beans are in the oven.”

  “I know, I could smell them and stirred them.”

  “The hamburgers are all ready, hot dogs, too. Josie is bringing a relish tray and the hamburger fixings. I need to take the buns out of the freezer.”

  “I can do that.”

  “No, the freezer in the garage. We have both a chest freezer and an extra refrigerator in the garage.”

  “Okay, I’ll get those.”

  “We set up everything on the counter and the tables on the deck. Unless the weather turns and we add another table in the big room.”

  “How many people are coming?”

  “Oh, twenty or so.”

  “That’s a crowd.” Angela left to get the buns from the freezer. When she returned, she set three fairly large bags on the counter. “All these? You made all these?”

  “Well, took me a while, but once you get known for something, you kind of have to stick with it or people get disappointed. Tommy has his secret recipe for the hamburgers and…”

  “If you tell me someone makes the hot dogs, I’ll…”

  Lynn laughed at the expression on her friend’s face. “I could say we bought them from a special place in town, but we didn’t. The kids don’t like his sausages as well as the regular kind, and most adults would rather have the burgers anyway. Sometimes we do a sausage cook-off, often on the Fourth or Labor Day. People bring the ones they made. I tell you, that is something.”

  “I’ve heard of chili cook-offs but not sausage. You want these left in the bags?”

  As people arrived, the table was covered with dishes; the desserts were set up in the dining room; and chips, dip, veggies, and such began to cover the counter, too. The kids grabbed from the center island and all ran outside; the women gathered around the counter munching while they chatted; and the men took over the deck, helping themselves to the soft drinks and beer in the coolers lined up along the railing.

  “Stay out of the water!” Phillip hollered to the kids heading for the lake. “It’s too cold yet.”

  “He says that every year,” someone murmured with a chuckle. Lynn introduced Angela to all the guests, and several of them hauled platters of burgers and hot dogs out to the table pulled up near the barbecue. When Phillip yelled, “Come and get it,” and handed the hot-off-the-grill meat to be taken into the house, everyone gathered around the counter. Phillip said grace with everyone joining the amen.

  Two years ago, it was Paul.

  Phillip waved an arm and pointed. “Okay, kids first and then you all take the kid tables down on the grass. Do not feed the dogs. Okay? Mom, where’s Homer?”

  “In the mudroom. I’m not sure how he’ll handle this many people. We’ll bring him out on a leash after supper.”

  Lynn’s mind could not help reflecting that last year Paul grilled the wieners and held Miss Priss on his lap while she devoured her hot dog bun, licked up the ketchup, and then ate the meat.

  She joined Josie, who had taken Angela under her wing, and some of the others at one table. “Whew. We didn’t run out of food.”

  “Not yet,” someone said.

  Someone else cackled. “You never run out of food at the Lundbergs’. They would be horrified. Lynn might collapse from the shock.”

  “Oh, honestly!” Lynn wagged her head. “I know it is not my mission to feed the whole world, but when folks come to my house, I just don’t want them to go away hungry.”

  “And take home plenty of leftovers.”

  “G’ma?” Travis showed up at her shoulder. “When can Homer come out?”

  Phillip happened to see the exchange. “Let your grandma eat, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Later, but you have to keep him on the leash.”

  “Okay.” And off he charged.

  When most people were done with the main food, someone made the rounds with a black trash bag, collecting the used plates.

  Lynn listened in on several conversations. Angela seemed to be having a good time. Was she finally starting to heal?

  Maggie sat down beside her. “All this food makes me feel almost guilty.” She reached over and grabbed a chip from one of the bags lining the center of the table. “You did it again.”

  “Not me, it took everyone.” Lynn patted her knee. “Aren’t you getting chilly in those shorts?”

  Tommy stood at the door. “The desserts are ready in the dining room. There is coffee for those who want it, and if you see anything missing, just ask.”

  “Where’s the ice cream?” one of the bigger kids asked.

  “That’s for the Fourth of July, you know that.”

  Lynn caught Angela’s questioning look and explained, “We have homemade ice cream for the Fourth, made the old-fashioned way with hand-cranked ice-cream churns, salt
and ice, and by then the local strawberries are usually starting. Some good, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m going to have to diet tomorrow.” One of the women groaned.

  “Or not eat for a week,” said another.

  By the time the party broke up, not late because there was school the next day and jobs to return to, the kitchen was cleaned up, everyone took home some things, and Homer was stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace, snoring.

  “Welcome to holidays at the Lundbergs’ in Minnesota,” Phillip said to Angela as he carried a limp Miss Priss out the door. She had fallen asleep on the sofa.

  Angela looked around the big, empty room. “I’ve been to family parties before, but not like this. How come no one even got into an argument? And I heard the men talking politics even.”

  “I don’t know. We work together, we play together. All the kids are growing up together, and us old folks, er, older folks, you noticed there were several sets of grandparents…I guess part of the fun is that we have all ages. Not many teens here tonight. We have more younger kids. I know it can be a bit overwhelming at first.”

  “But people made me feel welcome. As if I’d lived here for years or was a long-lost relative.”

  “Good, I figured they would. I saw you talking with Betty; she’ll get you involved in something in no time.”

  “I wish I knew what I wanted to do now that I’m here. Someone suggested I volunteer at the library. I think I’ll go there and look into it.”

  “You step through the door and mention you’re interested in helping, and Mary and her troops will have you busy in no time. You ever worked in a library before?”

  “Volunteered at the school library when my kids went there. Actually, for all the years they attended.”

  “That was a few years ago.”

  “For sure, but I loved it, especially the little ones; well, that’s not true, any ages.” She nodded. “I think that’s where I’ll start, anyway.”

  Lynn leaned her head back, enjoying the quiet. “Hear the loons?”

  “I do.” Angela smiled. “Judith should be here.”

  “I always love when we’re out in the canoe and see the mamas giving their chicks a ride on their backs. Something special about the loons.”

  “I don’t know. Canoes tip over too easy. Since I don’t swim terribly well, maybe I’ll stick to the rowboat.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I hate to see you leave,” Melody whispered again as she hugged Judith good-bye.

  “I know, but maybe I’ll be back for the Fourth.”

  “No maybe about it. I’m counting on it.”

  Judith slid into her car and snapped her seat belt. “The road goes both ways, you know, and I will be in school, as close to full-time as I think I can handle in this summer of great change.”

  “Great change for sure. Drive safe and call me when you get there.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Judith waved one more time and headed out the drive. At least she had waited until traffic had let up—she hoped. She slid the first CD of the novel Melody had given her into her player and sat back to be entertained on her way west. This was a first for her, listening to a book on the trip. She wondered if the book on Krakatoa was on CD. Another first for her. Even thinking about buying an audio book.

  “Judith, you are indeed embarked on a brand-new life.”

  She stopped to potty and refill her travel mug, stopped again for lunch, and let the miles get eaten up by the novel, a historical about one of the queens of England. When thoughts of her actions at the cemetery tried to intrude, she slammed the door on them and kept her focus on the road and the story. The reader was doing an excellent job, which made the story even more enjoyable. This was almost as good as her mother reading to her. Almost but not quite.

  When she drove into the new yard—her new yard—she saw Lynn and Angela out in the garden accompanied by a big-voiced dog who welcomed her home. She realized she really had missed walking with the goofy hound by her side. She waved and parked her car in front of the new garage next to Angela’s, and once standing on the gravel, she inhaled a deep breath of clean spring air, stretching out the kinks of car sitting. Homer came barking from the garden, but when he saw her, his bark changed to a welcome whimper, yip, and dance routine. He leaped up, but when she ordered him down, he dropped to his feet and quivered all over, his tail whipping. She bent over and rubbed his ears, his head, and down his back.

  “Boy, are you shedding.” She dusted her hands to release black, white, and russet hair into the breeze, then went back to petting and talking to him.

  “Welcome home.” Angela and Lynn, still wearing gardening gloves, joined them, hugging her and petting the dog. “You have to tell us how everything went.”

  “Did you bring pictures? We have oodles of pictures of yesterday.” Lynn’s smile rivaled the sun. “Oh, I’m so glad you are home safe. You didn’t get caught in that horrid accident, did you?”

  “Sat on the interstate for better’n two hours, but I was reading and totally lost track of time. Never had that happen before. In fact, I’ve had all kinds of things happen to me for the first time.” She lifted the lid on her trunk. “Melody sent you some specialty cheeses.” As she lifted out her suitcase, Lynn grabbed the handle.

  “You get your stuff out of the car; this calls for a celebration.”

  Angela and Judith swapped questioning looks. “What for?”

  “You got home all right. We had a great day yesterday. The sun is shining and anything else we can think of.”

  Angela shrugged and reached for the box on the backseat. “They know how to throw a party here, let me tell you. I’ve never seen so much food in my life, homemade hamburger buns even.”

  “After driving in the crazy Minneapolis traffic, the quiet out here is pure heaven.”

  The two followed Lynn’s roller wheel lines in the driveway and went in through the mudroom, too. Judith left Melody’s gift on the center island and headed for her room with her purse and bag that included some books from Melody—several of them on audio—and her travel mug. She looked around her room. She’d not been fair in her description to Melody; this was not by any means a small room. She had room for her desk, a bookshelf, her mother’s rocking chair and a side table with a lamp, a chest of drawers, and her queen-sized bed. Tomorrow she would hang one of her cross-stitch projects or maybe two. And a painting her mother had given her years earlier of a little girl with chickens around her.

  Chickens. She had always loved chickens. Her mother tried to raise some as a hobby, but they didn’t last long. Her father decreed they must go, for he was annoyed by the rooster crowing. To save the chicken project, they gave away the noisy rooster, for they could not bear to eat him. Her father banished the hens anyway.

  On her way back to the kitchen, she eyed the empty hall wall. Maybe she could hang some of her things here? But to her own surprise, when she joined the others already out on the deck, she said, “Lynn, have you ever had chickens here?”

  “No. Too many wild animals who enjoy chicken—raccoons, weasels.”

  “We had chickens when I was a little girl and I always loved them. I dreamed that someday I would have chickens again. Had I stayed at Rutherford, I would have done just that.” She took the glass of iced tea and a lemon bar and sat down facing the lake. With a sigh and a smile, she leaned back and nodded. “I have a feeling that this place can become home very quickly.”

  “Why, thank you. I’m glad you feel that way. I always love coming home, the best part of any trip.”

  The three brought one another up to date; Judith told them about her excitement on the campus at Duluth. Angela announced she got up this morning at a decent hour.

  “Not the crack of dawn but I heard the school bus. Homer came in and informed me that it was time to get up.”

  “Did he really?” Lynn asked. “Oh, how did he get your door open?”

  “I must not have shut it tightly enough. But I was glad
to see him. You gotta admit getting a slurp on the nose is a rather rude awakening.” She reached down and patted the dog, who lay between them. His thumping tail echoed on the cedar decking. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

  “I have a confession to make,” Judith said a bit later.

  “Really?”

  “I’m really embarrassed to admit this, but at the cemetery yesterday?”

  They nodded.

  “I spat on my father’s grave marker.” She looked up at both of them staring at her, mouths open, eyes wide. “Sorry, I mean, I…”

  Lynn was the first to break into laughter, followed by Angela.

  “Really, you think it’s funny?” Judith stared at them, appalled both that she had done it and that she had admitted it. Then a chuckle started down in her midsection somewhere and finally bubbled out her mouth. “It isn’t really this funny, is it?”

  Both heads nodded in unison.

  “Oh, it is!” Lynn sputtered. “Might be the healthiest thing you’ve done in a long, long time.” She pointed to the lake. “Look, a flock of Canada geese landing on the water. We used to be a flyway for sky-darkening numbers of ducks and geese. We still get quite a few.”

  “Do you have a bird book?” Angela asked. “I used to know my backyard birds, but not like here with lake birds besides. I thought I saw an eagle the other day.”

  “You probably did. We have a pair that nest in a huge old snag up the lake.” She pointed off to their left. “Phillip and I hoped to go see if they were back, but that storm came up. One of the reasons we like canoeing, you don’t disturb the birds.”

  “I’m looking forward to learning how to paddle a canoe.” Judith swirled her ice and remaining tea. “Anyone else want a refill? I’ll get it.” She pushed back her chair, making Homer jump. “Sorry, Homer.” When he looked up at her, she asked, “Is he learning his name?”

  “Seems that way.”

  Judith slid open the door and Miss Minerva paraded outside. She glanced over at Homer, and in all her regalness, she jumped up on Lynn’s lap. Homer sat up, tail twitching, as the cat did her three times turn around and settle. The dog made a sound, not a whimper and not a whine, and lay back down, nose between paws, eyes on the cat.