Someday Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I would rather go home, sit on the deck, and study, if that’s all right with the two of you.” Judith climbed into the backseat, leaving the front passenger side for Angela. “From now on, I’ll bring my schoolwork and I can study while you two brunch.”

  “And no one needs to cook dinner because we have plenty of leftovers. Every woman for herself.” Angela settled in and pulled down her seat belt.

  Lynn watched behind a moment and eased out into traffic. “I know one thing I want to do—go sit on the dock and dangle my feet in the water. The kids are gone for today, so it should be relatively peaceful, at least compared to most weekends.”

  Angela tipped her head back. “I wonder if Homer left us enough ripe strawberries for shortcake. I caught him eating them the other day. If so, I will make shortcake and…”

  Lynn chimed in, “And I will go pick the berries.”

  Judith giggled. “And I will eat it as soon as it is ready. I know there’s whipped cream in the fridge. There’s something really special about the first strawberry shortcake of the season. We had berries in the back garden for years, but as we cut staff, that was one of those things that fell off the list.”

  “Well, we have gardens now. I’ll fix that lettuce salad for supper.”

  Angela cackled. “And here we are planning our supper.”

  “But not dinner,” Judith reminded her. “On our own.”

  They let Homer out and laughed at his vociferous and tail-beating welcome before opening the doors to the deck and heading for their rooms to change clothes.

  Alone in her room, Lynn stared in the mirror. I am enjoying life again. I did most of the time, but in spite of that crash the other day, I love having sisters around; at least they are beginning to feel like that. With everyone splitting up the chores, life is just easier. This house is alive again, too. Thank you, Lord God.

  After they ate, Lynn headed out to pick the strawberries. Homer tagged along, nose to the ground. He found the first strawberry. She watched him pick it carefully. If he would have closed his eyes in bliss, she would not have been surprised. A thread of pink drool gave it away. When he nosed for the next one, she ordered him out of the berry patch. “We need enough for shortcake, you big goof. Go find your bone.”

  He wandered off and she bent to the task, the sun hot on her back but her face protected by a wide-brimmed straw hat. They’d have enough for jam in a couple of days, but today she barely filled the bowl. On the way back to the house, she found Homer lying in the shade by the hammock where Angela lay reading a book. His gnawing the bone made her smile. “Good book?”

  “Very. You should know, it is off your shelf.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’ve read it.”

  Angela held it up so she could see the cover.

  “I like her. I usually pick up all of hers. Maybe I’ll read it after you finish. Once the garden starts I don’t find much time for reading.”

  Angela wagged a finger. “The shortcake is on the rack on the counter. Have you noticed that sometimes the bread is on the floor?”

  “I have, but…”

  Angela stared at the oblivious dog. “I think he’s doing it. I walked in the kitchen and he looked up from snarfing bread like he knew he was guilty.”

  “You think he could reach the countertop?”

  “We should set up a motion-activated camera.”

  “Right.” Lynn washed and hulled the strawberries, got out three dessert plates and forks, whipped some cream, and put it all on a tray to serve. She was just opening the screen door when a book slammed against her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “I hate math! The prof explained it, the grad assistant explained it, Tommy explained it, and I still can’t get it! Why did I ever dream of doing something that requires math classes?” Judith slammed her head against the back of the lounger.

  Lynn dug her phone out of her pocket and handed it to her. “Tommy is number three on the speed dial. Let him help you.”

  “That’s not fair to him, spending so much time on a hopeless cause.”

  “Hit the button; let him make that decision.”

  Judith glared up at her and snarled sarcastically, “Yes, Mo-ther!” When Lynn started to laugh, she glared harder. “Really, Lynn, your extreme mothering is wearing very thin.” She pushed the button, left a message, and handed the phone back. “Satisfied?”

  Was she really that bad? Even the boys called her out on her mothering mode at times. “Yes. I apologize for slipping into mother mode.”

  Judith took a deep breath and shook her head. “I apologize, too. I guess sometimes I need someone in mother mode.”

  “If Tommy can’t help you or doesn’t have time, we’ll find you a tutor.”

  Judith looked up at her, a half smile curving her lips. “You realize you just said ‘we’?”

  Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess. Why?”

  “Because I’ve not had anyone in my life for years who not only said that, but believed it.”

  “Well, you got an older sister here who can be bossy but who sure means well.”

  Judith reached up a hand and Lynn took it. They smiled at each other, then Lynn leaned over and hugged her. “We’ll beat this thing. If I can stand entering stuff in the computer, you can tough it out until you get it and then there’ll be no stopping you.”

  That night after supper and shortcake, the three gathered on the deck in what was becoming their nightly ritual—stargazing. Tonight a breeze and several citron candles would likely keep the mosquitoes at bay enough to not drive them inside.

  “Your pastor sure lays things out plain. No nonsense, here it is.” Angela swirled her glass, setting the ice to tinkling.

  “True, that’s typical of the way he preaches,” Lynn answered. “Sure made me squirm.”

  “You’d have thought he’d been reading my mind. I hate Jack and there is no way I can forgive him.”

  “When we said the Lord’s Prayer was when it hit me. ‘Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.’ How can as be such a big word here? I mean, I’ve heard all this who knows how many times but…”

  “But sometimes it just whacks you upside the head?”

  “Something like that. I’ve always thought I was a very forgiving person. I don’t bear grudges. Another verse that says ‘quick to forgive and slow to anger.’ I thought I was doing pretty good with that.”

  “And then what?” Judith asked.

  “And then I had that meltdown and I had no idea I was so angry at Paul, and at God for taking him away.” She released a deep sigh into the breeze. “I mean, I know he’s in a better place, he got to go home to heaven, but the bottom line is—I want him here.”

  “Sometimes I would wish that I could turn back the clock to the before,” Angela said.

  “Before what?”

  “Before Jack got so steamed up about changing our lives, becoming successful, lots of money, all that garbage.”

  “Were you happy then?”

  “I thought I was, but looking back, he wasn’t.”

  “Looking back,” Judith chimed in, “all those years with my father so angry. He was a kind and loving man until the accident that crippled him. At least I remember good times when I was little. Melody and I played memory lane. We had lots of good times to talk about.”

  “I’m wondering if we are all caught in that trap.”

  “Of not forgiving?” Angela slapped at a mosquito. “Gotcha. Die, sucker. That ‘sucker’ is literal, of course.” She trailed a hand on Homer’s head and he quit snoring.

  Minerva chirped at the screen door and Lynn got up to let her out. “Come along, Your Highness.” Back on her lounger, she picked up her almost empty glass and swallowed the rest. “I really do want out of anger.”

  “That’s part of grieving, they told me after my father died. One of the stages.”

  “But you are supposed to go through the stages, not get locked on one. Here it is two years later and look wha
t it did to me.” She stared up at the sky. Lord God, show me how to let go of this and forgive Paul.

  Angela was staring not at the stars but at infinity. “At least Paul didn’t do it deliberately. Jack did.”

  Lynn asked, “But what if you actively decided to forgive him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can or if I even want to. At this point I’d much rather get even. Or just walk away.”

  “True. Sometimes I feel like a little kid, screaming ‘but it’s not fair.’” Lynn stroked the cat, who had settled on her lap.

  “My mother used to say that there are no promises that life will be fair,” Judith murmured. “I understand that now, sort of, I guess. Still…”

  “I wonder…” Angela’s voice sounded distant. “I wonder if I really can forgive Jack. I have a feeling that he doesn’t care how I feel, but…”

  Judith snorted. “He’s a selfish jerk who reneges on his promises.”

  “I know, but look how my life has changed. Had he not initiated a divorce, I’d still be locked into being a person that I don’t even like. Trying to be someone I am not. I tried to be what he said he wanted, I really did. And I was good at it.” Her voice dropped. “But it wasn’t me.”

  Frogs chorused from the lake. A fish splashed. A dog barked somewhere in the distance across the water.

  “Such peace. Lord, I do want to forgive Jack. I don’t want to carry all this hurt and anger anymore.” Her eyes brimmed over and her nose ran. She dug a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose. “Help me, please.”

  Judith wagged her head. “You guys make me almost wish I could forgive my father, but there’s just too much. Twenty-five years! More. He ruined my life. I’m an old woman without a past and without a future.” She shuddered. “No. I can’t do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I love canoes!” Angela came slamming in the back door. Her wild arrival startled Judith, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Lynn, so much she almost spilled her coffee. “Well, maybe not love. But like.”

  Phillip entered behind her. “She didn’t do too badly, either. She’s finally getting the hang of it.”

  Triumphantly, Angela held out a stringer with three fish, each about a foot long, and laid them on the table.

  Judith frowned at them. “Those are trout?”

  “Walleyes.” Angela pointed. “See how the two dorsal fins are arranged? Trout only have one fin there and an adipose fin near the tail—a little fleshy tab, not a fin with spines.” She sat down, too.

  Phillip flopped into a chair. “Fly-fishing can be pretty frustrating even for people who fish a lot, so we went after walleye.”

  “Phillip,” Angela said, “thank you so much for taking me out! If it isn’t something to do with real estate or makeup, I don’t know anything about it. This is all new to me.” She looked at Lynn. “It was amazing.”

  Phillip was smiling. “Our whole family enjoys fishing; glad you do, too.”

  Lynn added, “Phillip has been canoeing and fishing since he was five. He’d better know what he’s doing.”

  “Five?” Angela sighed. “I never realized until just now how much Charles and Gwynn missed out on. Jack and I were always so busy…” Her sentence died unfinished.

  Her children missed out? Judith thought, I missed out, too! On so much!

  Lynn stood and crossed to the sink. “Now comes the interesting part. Bring your fish to the sink, Angela.”

  Phillip hopped up. “Oh, gee! Look at the time! Gotta go. G’night, Mom! Judith.” He rushed out.

  Judith watched him go. “What precipitated that?”

  Lynn laughed. “He absolutely hates to clean fish. I’m afraid I spoiled him.”

  Yeah, right. That generous young man is spoiled. Judith walked over to the sink, too.

  “This is a filleting knife; very sharp and no serration. If the restaurant is fancy enough, they’ll serve your fish with the head still on it. Our house is not fancy.” Lynn slipped her knife in behind the gill covers and cut off the head with crunchy, squishy sounds.

  Our house was fancy. The cook served some fish with the head still on. Judith was in an alien world all right.

  “Then we remove the internal organs. We stick the point of the knife in here and carefully cut open the belly. It isn’t going to ruin anything if you accidentally cut the intestines, but it’s nicer if you don’t. Like this. See? And we clip out the anus here.” Lynn had obviously cleaned a fish or two. She flicked the knife and it did just what she wanted.

  She handed the knife to Angela. “Your turn.”

  As Angela performed surgery on her other walleyes, Judith thought, Could I do that? Yes, she could. The sorrow was that Cook never let her in the kitchen. She was always too little, even when she was approaching age thirty.

  Come to think of it, she felt sad for Cook, too. The grumpy old woman spent her whole life and career—her whole career!—serving in the Rutherford House kitchen. She was good, very good. She could have been a major hotel chef or owned a restaurant. Why did she spend her whole life cooking for the Rutherfords? Not making that much money, either—Judith knew; she kept the books.

  “If it’s a fish this size, I usually just butterfly it. Catch a larger fish, and I’ll show you how to fillet it.” Lynn demonstrated with one fish and Angela butterflied the others. They applied a rub, wrapped the fish, and put them in the refrigerator. Dinner tomorrow.

  Judith spent part of the next day simply reading, a luxury that until now she had not permitted herself. In fact, she had not yet finished the Galveston hurricane book, and this was the best part, too. The author remarked that a disproportionate number of women and children died. Well, yes. Men could swim in street clothes. Even women who could swim wouldn’t have much luck in a raging storm, trying to swim in ankle-length wool skirts. And her thoughts pleased her. She was reading analytically, a good habit for doing well academically.

  Around noon, Lynn went out to deadhead the roses and dahlias. Judith studied. After lunch Lynn went into town to the grocery and hardware store (and took Homer along—“we don’t want Homer to think that every time he gets in the car, it means a trip to the vet’s”), and Judith thought about her furniture. She’d made a formal study space, but her desk was too far from the window. She wanted more natural light. And over by the window here…someone knocked.

  “Come in!”

  Angela stood there grinning. “Let’s go fishing.” She was still glowing, like a child on Christmas morning. “That was a wonderful time last evening, fishing for walleye.”

  “I’ve never done that. Or paddled a canoe.”

  “It’s not that hard, really! I can show you. Half an hour or so, not long; I know you have to study.” She sobered. “Besides, I just got a call from my lawyer.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Not about me. Jack has not sent the money to buy his half of the house, so the lawyer hired a private detective to go nosing around a little. A woman named Marillee—I had to get my lawyer to spell that—wrote the check for his latest mortgage payment and now he’s put her name on the deed as a co-owner.”

  Judith wagged her head. “That creep!”

  Angela brightened. “Anyway, I’m going to put all that behind me and just go fishing. That’s very scriptural you know. When Peter was so upset, he said, ‘I go a-fishing.’”

  Judith laughed. Several times she had wondered how they could possibly help Angela. Well, here was an opportunity. She’d move furniture later. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Angela gathered up her fishing equipment and they walked down to the dock.

  The T dock was fairly large, maybe twenty feet by twenty feet. The canoe lay upside down on one side of it. Tied up on the other side, an inflatable rubber raft with a small motor on back bobbed in the water.

  “Phillip showed me how.” Angela gripped the edge of the canoe and flipped it over the side. It plopped into the water. Judith saw that it was tied to a ring in the dock and the paddles were
lying under it. Well, at least that part seemed simple enough.

  Cautiously, Angela crawled in and settled herself on the rear seat. The canoe only wobbled a little. “Pass me the tackle box, please, and the paddles.”

  Judith handed her the tackle box, the rod, and a net. “Why three paddles? There are two of us.” She handed all three in.

  “In case you accidentally lose one and it floats out of reach. You have an extra.”

  “Speaking of safety. Aren’t we supposed to wear life jackets?”

  Angela thought a moment. “I don’t know where they keep them. Not in the mudroom.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. We’re not going out very far. Untie us, please.”

  Judith did so, tossing the rope into the front of the canoe. Then she climbed into the boat but carefully, reluctantly, as Angela had done, stepping in the middle only. The canoe moved beneath her feet too much; she didn’t like this feeling. No matter. She was in. She sat down on the forward seat and picked up a paddle. “Which end goes in the water?”

  Angela laughed. “That’s about how much I knew about it, too.”

  Judith wondered how you were supposed to turn corners with this thing. But then the beauty of the moment seized her and she forgot about turning corners. The lake lay flat and glistening before them, with only a few wind ripples to give it texture. The sun skipped in and out among clouds, and the patterns of clouds and sunlight on the water were new and wonderful and constantly changing. And look! There was a loon way out there. A loon! Judith was not looking at it from her world onshore; she was in the loon’s world now, a dream she’d had forever.

  Behind her, Angela baited her line and cast it out. Judith laid her paddle across her lap and simply drank in the quiet beauty. Serenity. But this was a more peaceful serenity than what she had known at Rutherford House. It took her a few minutes to figure out why. At the house, she was always listening for the bell her father rang when he wanted something. Always. They had spacious, well-tended gardens and lovely rooms, but she could never just sit in them and enjoy the quiet. There was always that bell, an unpleasant expectancy; peace could always be shattered at any moment.