Someday Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Roll out, I guess. Or…” She scrubbed her scalp. “I can’t think clearly yet.”

  “I should have brought the coffee up. I’ll put a fresh pot on.” Angela found herself humming as she went back down the stairs. Stopping at the floor, she stared at the east wall. Humming. She hadn’t been humming since she couldn’t remember when. Years ago? Possibly.

  She assembled cookie ingredients and was just starting to cream the butter and sugar when the mob descended. All right, so it was only one little kid, but the energy and noise generated equaled that of a pretty hefty mob.

  Miss Priss hopped up on a counter stool on her knees and draped her top half across the counter. “Isn’t G’ma gonna bake cookies?”

  “Yes, she is. She’ll be out shortly and she’ll take over.”

  When Lynn entered the kitchen, Angela abandoned the thought of baking cookies and just watched Lynn as she worked with her granddaughter. No, she wasn’t working with her at all; she was playing with her, teasing, being teased, helping, being helped, loving, being loved.

  The whirlwind departed a few hours later.

  “I now know what being a grandma is like.” Angela set the dishwasher to running and turned to Lynn.

  “That was a pretty good intro, but wait until you have them all together. Now that can get wild.” Lynn snapped the lid on the storage container full of cookies, some decorated with raisin faces, others with chocolate chips, red sugar sprinkles and variegated sprinkles. “She loves decorating cookies.”

  “What a cutie she is.”

  “True, but you didn’t get a full dose of herself when in true princess mode. I read her the story of the princess and the pea one time, and all I could think was how appropriate. However, she can fish with the best of them and bait her own hooks, but she needs help sometimes getting the hook out. An outdoorsy princess.”

  What would Angela’s grandchildren be like? Would she ever get any? While Gwynn and Charles had married, neither couple had mentioned starting their families and now she found herself wishing they’d get started. Now there was a major, major change. Major change! Angela really was becoming new.

  Oh, how Judith dreaded this! To be honest, thanks to Tom’s coaching, she did not feel completely overwhelmed anymore by math. But today incompletely overwhelmed was no help at all. She slid into her plastic chair that was designed to keep students from falling asleep in it, laid her pack at her feet, and stretched her shoulders.

  Here came Dr. Stern, the bubbly math prof. Derailed by half a dozen students waiting for her at the door, she answered questions, nodded, answered more questions…Come on, Dr. Stern, we’re losing time here.

  Today was their first formal examination, and Judith would need every moment she could squeeze out of the hour. She opened her blue book and looked at it. A blue book. How long had it been since she’d seen one of these?

  She got out four neatly sharpened pencils. Overkill? Not if you are so nervous that you break three leads. And she still had one pencil in her pack on reserve. She wrote the date, her name, and her ID number on the line on the cover.

  Dr. Stern fiddled with her laptop. The overhead projector kicked into gear, and after a brief search (lower left corner of the screen), the title slide came on.

  First exam

  10 questions, 10 points each

  Copy each question to your bluebook

  Judith would have made bluebook two words there, not one. And she giggled when she realized she was editing her professor’s slide. She hunched her shoulders and dropped them down, tensing the muscles, letting up. Here goes nothing.

  The questions flashed up, three to a slide. Judith copied carefully and had time to double-check that she’d gotten it all exactly right.

  A girl’s voice called, “Dr. Stern! We haven’t studied logarithms yet.”

  The professor snapped back, “This is advanced math. You’re supposed to come in here knowing what they are and how to deal with them.”

  And thanks to Tom, who had drilled her on them, Judith did!

  The screen went dark and Judith set to work, doing the problems she knew that she knew (including the one employing logs), then going to the tougher ones. She rejoiced that calculators were legal and she could punch the equations into her—Tom’s—graphing calculator.

  Moments later, Dr. Stern called, “Time. Close your books and pass them to the left.” The hour was gone, the whole hour! Judith had hardly touched one of the questions at all. And then Dr. Stern sent ice water through Judith’s veins by calling her number. “Stay behind, please; I want to talk to you.”

  Oh no, now what?

  The professor’s proctors carried the books forward and stacked them on the table beside the lectern. Judith waited until most of the others had filed out, then walked down to the lectern with feet made out of lead and encased in concrete.

  “You asked me to remain behind.”

  Dr. Stern smiled. “Thank you. Find your book, please. They’re stacked in general order, front, middle, back.” She turned to address another student’s question. By the time Judith dug out her blue book, the long line of students had dissipated.

  Dr. Stern took her book from her hand and went through it, page by page, silently scanning each question. Nothing in her face betrayed what she was thinking. She could be a good poker player. Maybe she already was.

  She flopped the book onto the stack and leaned forward on the lectern, both elbows. And she smiled. “Miss Rutherford, I was all prepared to ask why you thought you could handle this course. You failed the first two weeks and barely squeaked through the third. But I see you’ve scored at least seventy-five on this exam and probably higher. My aides grade the tests and we give partial credit, so you should come through this in the upper third of the class at the very least. I take it you’re being tutored.”

  “I am, by a man who really should be teaching math. He works miracles.” And pours good footings.

  “Please understand I’m not denigrating you in any way by saying this, but your performance today is indeed a small miracle. You’ve come a long, long way.” She stood erect. “Keep at it, please, Miss Rutherford. And incidentally, would you pass the word to your tutor that I will be looking for aides next semester? A good teacher would be a godsend.”

  “I shall!” Judith’s heart sang. “Thank you, Dr. Stern! Thank you very much.”

  The professor turned away to address another student’s question, so Judith left, her heart still singing. When was the last time it sang? She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. When? The last time she was in college, all those years ago, and she aced world history.

  Other pedestrians were pointedly walking around her, so she kept going to one of the memorial park benches and sat. With the sitting, she realized that thought made her howlingly angry. Her parents had been wealthy enough to hire the necessary help; Judith could at least have completed her bachelor’s degree before devoting years to Rutherford House. She could be stepping right into master’s level work now instead of starting out at the beginning again. Her parents had wasted her life and her brain and her dreams. They had minimized her, made her a servant, not because they could not afford servants but because—why? Why do this to their daughter? The fury burned.

  But wait. Perhaps she had to reach middle age before she could appreciate success. She could at last pursue a dream, and she was in fact pursuing it. And succeeding against all odds. Even in math. Now there was a major, major change. Major change! Judith really was becoming new.

  She stopped by Miller’s Feed on the way home for some glass eggs. Why? To mess with her little chickens’ minds! Yes, Judith Rutherford, high society dame, was psyching out poultry. She had read that you can put glass eggs in nests where you want your youngsters to lay when they start laying. Judith also picked up some laying mash, for her kids were getting to that age.

  She stashed the mash and eggs in the corner of her garage bay and walked into the house. It was quiet. Very, very quiet. Angela had said so
mething about stopping at the grocery store on the way home. But where was Lynn?

  She walked into the kitchen and stopped. Lynn was sitting on a stool, staring at her coffee cup. Miss Minerva sat on the counter beside her. This was not good; Lynn always chased the cat off the counters. So Judith did it and headed for the coffeepot.

  So far, Lynn had not said a word. This was not good, either. Her cheeks were wet.

  Judith paused beside her. “What’s wrong?” No answer. “Lynn, are you all right?”

  Lynn looked up from studying her cold coffee. “Today is the anniversary of Paul’s death.” She sniffed, then grabbed for a tissue from the box always kept on the center island. “I handled this last year all right; I mean, I cried a lot, but that’s to be expected.”

  “And today?”

  “Today—today…” She shook her head. “Not today. I am so furious I could…I could…” A steely jaw and flashing eyes supported her words.

  Judith gaped. “Furious about what?”

  Lynn glared through her tears. “Paul! He left me. I know this makes absolutely no sense. I know it was an aneurysm. But surely if he’d gone to the doctor, they could have found something. If he weren’t dead, I swear I’d kill him.” She glared at her hands. “I can’t stand this. I don’t want to live the rest of my life without him. I want to go back to before. Before I get all the way awake, I reach across the bed and…and…” She kept shaking her head, as if it were weighted. “And he’s not there, and he will never be there again. And…” Tears rained down her face.

  Judith came around the island, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and laid her cheek on her friend’s head. “Go ahead and cry. Someone told me that tears are healing. Sometimes I get so mad at my father for all those years he robbed from me. I hate him.”

  “My mother always said not to hate anyone—how can you hate and love at the same time?” Lynn pulled a couple of tissues out and mopped. And blew and mopped and reached for more.

  “I know I can hate and love; actually, I’m not sure of the love.” Judith moved the box closer, pulling out one for herself.

  “He left me! He was only fifty-four. Far too young to die yet.” She crossed her arms on the granite and leaned into them. “Sometimes I wonder how I can go on without him, and then I ask, what are my choices? How could God do this to us? One of the church women told me, ‘God must have needed a plumber in heaven,’ and I wanted to deck her.” She blew again. “Paul was such a man of God, like the Old Testament talks about a ‘strong man of God.’ Doesn’t the world around here need that kind of man instead of hauling him off to heaven?” She was practically screaming. Judith pulled her in closer.

  “What!” Angela stood in the doorway, two bulging totes in each hand. “What happened?”

  Lynn sobbed and gulped. “Sorry.”

  “Lynn is being a normal human being. A grieving human being.”

  “Ah. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.” Angela abandoned all four totes, lowering them to the floor, and stepped in beside Lynn. “Lynn, I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”

  Judith did not release her hug when Angela wrapped an arm across Lynn’s shoulders. With her free hand she reached across to the tissue box and pulled another, handing it to Lynn. Lynn muttered something and blew, sobbed, her shoulders heaving.

  And then Angela stepped behind Lynn and began massaging her back, working her shoulders.

  Lynn covered her face with her hands for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and sitting erect. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, don’t be.” Angela stepped back. “It’s not only normal, it’s healthy.”

  “Your massage felt good. Thank you.”

  “I used to calm the kids down with that. I had forgotten I know how to do it.”

  Judith stepped back as well. “Shall I help you put groceries away?”

  Angela shook her head. “Nothing frozen, and the fridge stuff is okay for a while. They can wait. Let’s just sit and unwind.”

  Lynn drew a deep breath, blew her nose, shuddered a sob, and stood up. “That would be nice. Let me get my knitting.” Lynn headed for the sewing room.

  Judith hurried to her room and returned with her laptop. “I’m doing homework, Angela, surprise, surprise. What will you do?”

  “Read. Relax. I’m having to learn to relax all over again.” Angela waved her book. “I started this today; it’s quite good. Lynn’s bookshelf has some great ones.”

  The three settled into the two leather easy chairs, with Judith on the sofa, where she opened her laptop and went into her file. Lynn’s knitting needles sang a song of their own, and Angela draped one leg over the arm of the chair.

  Presently, Lynn said, “I really am angry at him. With Paul. I didn’t realize that.”

  Angela laid her book in her lap and looked steadily at Lynn. “You angry at him or at God?”

  The knitting needles paused; Lynn studied her a moment. “Good question.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  You’re going to church with me?” Lynn’s smile nearly cracked her face as Judith strolled into the kitchen, wearing a skirt and blouse.

  “I said I would eventually, and I guess eventually arrived.”

  “Me, too. Can’t be left out.” Angela made a direct line to the coffeepot. After the first sip, she smiled. “What do people do without coffee?”

  Lynn snickered. “Some drink tea, you know.”

  Judith added, “Energy drinks. The students buy junk food up the kazoo. My lab partner does diet cola. Lost without it.”

  “Like me without coffee?” She picked up a piece of coffee cake from the plate on the island and leaned back against the counter, cupping her hand to catch any falling crumbs.

  “We leave in ten minutes.” Lynn stared at the dog. “Do we dare leave you in the house?” Homer looked up at her, his tail wagging his whole hind end. “I don’t really want to clean up any messes, you know.” More wagging, then he plunked his rump down and lifted a front paw.

  Angela shook her head. “I say the mudroom. Safer that way.”

  Lynn nodded.

  “Don’t you lock the doors?” Judith asked when they were loaded in the SUV and heading toward town.

  “No, we’ve never had any problems, and with Homer, I doubt we would.”

  “We didn’t used to either, but after some houses were robbed, the authorities strongly suggested everyone start locking their doors. I even started locking my car.” Angela put her sunglasses on and buckled her seat belt. “So easy to forget when I am riding, I always remember when I am in the driver’s seat.”

  “About the other day…,” Lynn said.

  “So you had a grieving time. What of it?”

  “Well, sometimes I still cry in church. Just thought I’d warn you.”

  “At least you go. I quit going, which is far worse. If we can’t cry in church…” Angela heaved a sigh. “But that’s the way it is. People with their happy faces on and afraid to show how they hurt. My church, it was especially that way. Do you realize that saying There, there, don’t cry is basically invalidating the crier’s very real sorrow?”

  “Someone said we shoot our wounded,” Judith commented.

  They parked next to Maggie’s SUV and made their way to the front door, where greeters were smiling broadly and handing out bulletins. Lynn introduced Angela and Judith to everyone around as her housemates, and they filed into one of the back rows.

  “Pastor Evanson is our senior pastor. Norm Nelson, our assistant, is on vacation right now.” She handed each of them a hymnal, realized they both had picked up their own hymnals, and put these two back. They had both commented on her constant (and irritating—although they didn’t actually say that, they sure implied it) mothering of mature women. Would this simple gesture, handing them a hymnal, count as overmothering?

  But Lynn didn’t have a chance to ponder the question because the service began with the opening hymn. The service flowed as always, including the children’s s
ermon with the kids gathered around Pastor Evanson, making everyone smile.

  Pastor stepped into the pulpit, prayed, and then smiled out over the congregation. “Today we continue our study of forgiveness. We’ve talked about how God forgives. He not only forgets, but He moves our sin away as far as the east is from the west. Jesus died so that we are forgiven. Past, present, and future. He forgives us. So what, then? Who are we to forgive? Those who harmfully use you. Sin never happens to just one person; yes, our sin affects us, but it also injures those around us, the Bible says unto the third and fourth generation. Selfish creatures that we are, we think what we do won’t hurt others.

  “Families are destroyed when family members refuse to forgive each other. Marriages are destroyed when husbands and wives bear grudges and do not forgive. You will be destroyed if you do not forgive, for it will eat away at you like a cancer. Christ offers us the free gift. Turn to Him, tell Him everything, and accept His love and forgiveness, then go out and forgive others—before it is too late. Amen.”

  As they all filed out, Lynn introduced the two to Pastor Evanson as he greeted folks at the door.

  He shook hands warmly. “So you have moved here to stay?”

  Angela nodded. “Tentative at first, but yes, I think so.”

  “Welcome to Detroit Lakes, and we would be pleased to become your church home. You couldn’t find a more lovely place to live than the Lundbergs’.”

  “Thank you. I agree as to the beauty. And the family.” Angela smiled back at him.

  He shook hands with Judith. “You look familiar. Have you been here before? Rutherford, did you say?”

  “Yes, and if you’ve been to Rutherford to the Rutherford House, I was probably your hostess.”

  “Seems I heard your father died.”

  “He did. The house is becoming a living history museum, my father’s dream.”

  “Well, welcome. Thanks for coming.”

  Lynn led the way out toward the car. “Paul and I used to go out for brunch after the service. You interested?”