Finally Home

by Lyn Cote

  “Then, see, I added my new grandma, Terri Sue, my daddy and Mommy.” Amber had drawn Terri Sue holding what must be Taco and her father and mother holding hands in the middle of the rest of the family.

  “Oh! I forgot!” the little girl exclaimed. She pointed at another couple in the corner of the large piece of paper—a man with yellow hair and large bumps on his stick arms and a woman with short brown hair who was wearing overall shorts. This pair of figures floated above a very pointed green church roof. “And here’s you and Uncle Guthrie.”

  “But, Amber, I’m not a member of your family,” Hannah objected, feeling a twitch of nervousness.

  “But if you marry Uncle Guthrie, then you’ll be my aunt Hannah. Jenna and I want you to be our auntie.”

  “Yeah!” Hunter piped up from his perch on his father’s arm.

  Several nearby parents, still strangers to Hannah, chuckled at this. Since Amber talked loud enough to be heard by any aircraft flying overhead, Hannah couldn’t hold them guilty of eavesdropping. She cringed with embarrassment. “But, Amber, your uncle and I are just friends.”

  “But we want you to marry Uncle Guthrie.” Jenna spoke as loudly as her sister. “Now that our daddy’s came back, Uncle Guthrie can get married.”

  Hannah didn’t like the direction this was leading. She shut her mouth tight and began edging away.

  Martha tried to hush the children.

  But Amber wasn’t taking direction. She put her hand on one hip. “Don’t you see? Uncle Guthrie couldn’t get married when our daddy was gone because he had to take care of us like a daddy. But now we don’t need him as our daddy.”

  Chapter Ten

  A few days later, out of the passenger window of Guthrie’s truck, Hannah gazed at the gray clouds layered over the slate sky. Her parents had finally agreed to go with the factory-made shell, and she and Guthrie were on their way to order it from the company in Prairie du Chein along the Mississippi River. A sideways glance informed her that this morning’s dreary weather matched her companion’s mood. His healthy Nordic good looks didn’t match the gloom that dragged down the lines of his face.

  How she longed to lean close to him, cradle his cheek and comfort him…. But he was unapproachable.

  Where had the real Guthrie Thomas gone? Billy’s return had flipped a switch somewhere deep inside him. Guthrie the lighthearted but stubborn had given way to Guthrie the angry and wounded. Who could have guessed—except Martha—that this side of Guthrie existed?

  As it had over the past few days, the night of Open House came up in Hannah’s mind. Poor, sweet little Amber had announced to everyone in hearing distance that she and her brother and sister didn’t need Guthrie as a daddy anymore.

  The poignant scene had etched itself on Hannah’s heart. The sensation of the moment still dogged her. Her blood had drained toward her feet, leaving her clammy and light-headed. Lynda’s face had turned a bright red. People had shifted away from them. But Billy had calmly squatted in front of his two daughters. “Amber and Jenna, I know you mean well, but it isn’t for you to tell people who to marry or not to marry. That’s between Hannah and Guthrie.”

  Between Hannah and Guthrie.

  Right now all that lay between Hannah and Guthrie was a thick buffer of thorny silence. Hannah knew that Guthrie’s anger wouldn’t get better until it was lanced like an infected wound. But how could she get Guthrie to open up? He’d shut down that evening and hadn’t taken any of the hints she offered over the intervening days. In the not-too-distant past, she’d let Edward stonewall her, and it hadn’t done either of them any good. Guthrie had to comprehend the damage anger and resentment could do to those he loved and to his own stubborn heart. This could not go on. She wouldn’t let it!

  Whispering a prayer, she faced Guthrie. “Stop the truck.”

  “What?” He squealed to a halt, quickly pulling off the road onto the shoulder. “Why?”

  She folded her arms over her breast.

  “Did you forget something?” When she didn’t reply, he demanded, “What? What’s wrong?”

  Guthrie, listen to yourself! Nothing used to upset you like this.

  He fumed at the windshield. “Tell me or I’m driving on.”

  “Guthrie, I don’t think we can go on until you are ready to talk about Billy.”

  “I’m not talking about Billy.” With a glance over his left shoulder, he gunned the truck onto the two-lane highway.

  A fleeting flashback brought Edward to mind again. Whenever they’d had a disagreement, he’d iced over like a snow sculpture. To restore peace, she’d had to wheedle and cajole. I’m not doing that again! Never again!

  This was a perfect opportunity, away from Petite, to get things out in the open. But how could she corner Guthrie? He sat quite literally in the driver’s seat.

  She stared out as the panorama of late summer Wisconsin ribboned by. Even the clouds that hung overhead like dingy sheets hiding the sun couldn’t dim the countryside’s simple beauty. Already harvested hay in huge rolls dotted the fields. There were clumps of pine trees and maples gathered in clumps along the roadside. In the highest maples, red-tinged leaves, a harbinger of the inevitable fall, highlighted the rich lingering greens of summer. A blue road sign announced, Wayside, ½ Mile on Rt.

  Aha! Guthrie couldn’t refuse her a pit stop, could he? “I have to stop at the Wayside.”

  “We’ll be in a town in just—”

  “I have to stop at the Wayside,” she repeated. “It’s urgent.”

  Though still silent, his fuming got louder. But he turned into the Wayside, a grassy, shaded place with picnic tables under shelters, brick facilities and an old-fashioned pump for water.

  As soon as he shoved the truck into park, she snatched his keys from the ignition and darted from the vehicle. She didn’t stop until she reached a dark green picnic table. She plopped down on the attached bench, her back to the table. There was more than one way to skin a cat or a pigheaded carpenter!

  Guthrie stared after her, then stormed out of his truck. When he reached her, he planted his hands on his hips. “What’s the bee in your bonnet?”

  “You are the bee in my bonnet, Guthrie.” She casually crossed her tanned legs and smiled into his stormy face. “We need to talk this out.”

  “Give me back my keys.” He towered over her, a gentle giant in blue jeans.

  She shook her head and leaned her elbows on the table. Sitting on Guthrie’s wad of keys couldn’t be termed comfortable, but she resisted the urge to squirm on the hard bench. She waited.

  He took a deep breath. “We have an appointment in Prairie du Chein.”

  “Then why don’t you sit down and we’ll get this settled and be on our way.”

  “Where are my keys?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

  “In my shorts.”

  Leaning down, he reached for her pocket.

  She didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she gave him an amused smile, the clean scent of his shaving lotion and soap filling her head. “I said in my shorts. Not in the pocket of my shorts.”

  Taking a step back, he glared at her. “Why are you doing this?”

  Her sympathy stirred, she folded her arms. Only deep love for his family and deep pain could have caused such a change in this man. She sighed. “Guthrie, I really like you. You are a great guy. You have a warm heart, and it’s as big as Wisconsin. But you are as stubborn as an old mule. Now please spend just a few minutes talking out what’s in your mind and heart about Billy coming back into your sister’s life. Then I’ll gladly give you back the keys.”

  He turned his back to her.

  She waited, praying silently for wisdom. She spoke softly, tenderly. “Guthrie, we’re friends. Your well-being is my concern.”

  Sparrows chirped around them. The din of grasshoppers created a constant background noise. Trucks sped past with their distinctive charged whine.

  Finally, Guthrie slumped down beside her.

  She touched his arm. �
�Let me help you. You’ve helped me and my parents.”

  “How have I helped you?” He sounded defeated.

  “You let me work with you—even if it starched your shorts,” she teased. “You convinced my parents to go with the factory-built shell so they wouldn’t have to stay at Lila’s for months and months. You really care about us.”

  He folded his arms and stared away from her. “I just don’t want him here.”

  Guthrie’s troubled capitulation saddened Hannah. But if any tender shoot of healing was to sprout, someone had to start the spadework in this sweet man’s wounded heart. “I’m afraid you’ll destroy your relationship with your sister.”

  “Why can’t Lynda see he hasn’t changed?” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “How do you know that? Can you look into his heart?”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Guthrie, you’re not listening.”

  He turned to look into her eyes, his forlorn gaze wrenching her heart. “Why can’t I make her see reality?”

  Again the urge to stroke his cheek, to put her concern into a comforting touch, zigzagged through her. “Guthrie, you can’t…. No one can make another person think or feel something they don’t want to. Lynda seems to be accepting the changes she sees in Billy, and she’s helping the children adjust. You’re going to have to stop pushing your own feelings onto your sister.”

  “She’s falling for a lie.”

  “If you don’t stop this, you’ll lose her.” Hannah recalled how Edward’s inflexibility had pushed her further and further away. Until they had moved so far apart, at last, nothing good that had connected them remained. “That would kill you.”

  A pause. Then he nodded, but his neck moved like it hadn’t been oiled in a while.

  “So talk to me,” she pleaded. “You told me some of why you don’t like Billy. And you’re right—what he did was awful. But you’ve got to get rid of your anger and start at giving him a second chance. I can tell my dad thinks Billy has experienced a true change of heart, and my dad isn’t usually fooled.”

  “People like him don’t change.” He spoke as though each word had to be dragged up from deep in his soul. “He’ll just end up hurting them again.”

  “Guthrie, with God’s help people do change.” She pursed her lips, then continued, “I know you want to protect your sister and her children, but you’re not God.”

  “I don’t think I’m God.”

  “You do if you think it’s in your power to prevent your sister from being hurt. You can’t. If Lynda wants to let Billy begin to act like a father to his children, that’s good—even if it poses emotional danger to her and the kids.”

  “I thought Billy was in the past. I didn’t expect to see him again.”

  Again the memory of Lila’s mention of a funeral, of Guthrie’s dad nagged her. Did she dare bring this question up now? A glance at Guthrie’s bleak expression told her no. “Give him a chance.”

  “I’ll try.” Abruptly, Guthrie stood up.

  His sudden agreement didn’t sound genuine. Was he agreeing just so they could get on to their destination? Or had some little part of him decided to give Billy another chance? She looked up, studying his honest blue eyes, which plainly warred with his clenched jaw. But she could only take Guthrie’s word. She wasn’t God, either.

  “Keys?” He held out his hand.

  She rose, and the bunch of keys fell out of the right leg of her pale pink shorts and made a tinny chink on the concrete. Bending, Guthrie snatched them and started across the green grass.

  She trotted at his side, or tried to. “I’m glad you’re going to give Billy a second chance.”

  Guthrie jogged toward the truck. “Come on. We’re going to be late for our appointment.”

  “I’m glad you are giving him a second chance because we’re double-dating Saturday night.”

  “What!” he bellowed, swinging back to her.

  “Gotcha!” she teased, then went on more seriously, “now remember how we told my mom and dad we’d help with the singles’ party at the church this weekend? Well, both your sister and Billy said they’d come, so you need to figure out how you’re going to deal with that.”

  Looking grim, Guthrie stared at her.

  “Don’t worry.” She patted his cheek daringly. “I have faith in you. Besides, we’ll all be well chaperoned.”

  The Twenty-One Plus Night in the neat but beige church basement witnessed the first public reunion between Lynda and Billy. Hannah had agreed to drag Guthrie along to take some of the heat off Lynda and Billy—that is, give Petite something else to talk about.

  Hannah hoped this evening would be the first step in reconciling Guthrie to Billy’s return. She had done her part to make the evening a success by fixing the refreshments—a new cheese dip with a hint of jalapeños, double fudge brownies and ripe red watermelon chunks.

  Her parents had deputized Lynda and Billy to be in charge of entertainment, and they had brought Lynda’s portable CD player and a selection of CDs with songs from the fifties and sixties. Good food, classic rock, but bad vibes.

  About a dozen young men and women who were casually dressed in shorts and cutoffs and Tshirts and had known each other or known of each other for most of their lives stood around as though they’d never seen each other or the church basement before in their lives. Hannah tried to think of an icebreaker as Lynda whispered to her, “This is awful. What can we do to get everyone to relax?”

  “Good evening, everyone!”

  All faces turned to the doorway to witness Ida and Edith, wearing pink-flowered dresses, make their entrance.

  Hannah’s mouth dropped open. Lynda murmured, “Oh, my.” Glancing at Lynda’s face, Hannah saw her own shock reflected there.

  Billy hurried forward. “Aunt Ida, Aunt Edith, what brings you here tonight?”

  “Well, we’re over twenty-one and single!” Ida, with a gleam in her eye, announced. “We came to have fun.”

  “We’ve looked forward all week to the party!” Edith agreed.

  Ida gazed around at the ill-at-ease group of singles. “And look at all of you, just standing around! We didn’t think you youngsters would know anything about party games! Young people today just don’t know how to have fun.”

  “No, indeed. And see—we were right!” Edith added. “Now, Billy, you line up all these handsome young men on one side of the room while Ida and I get all the young ladies lined up opposite them.”

  For a moment, everyone merely stared at the two elderly ladies. Hannah felt their hesitance. Not party games! The twin octogenarian ladies were clearly out of place, but who could hurt their feelings by saying so?

  Evidently no one.

  Billy started calling each guy’s name, and though somewhat reluctant, all the males lined up alongside Guthrie. The females lined up facing the gentlemen.

  Having learned more about the eccentric ladies, Hannah surmised that no one present could think of a way to refuse the two dear old souls. Everyone present remembered Ida and Edith had first diapered them in the church nursery, then given them Sunday school lessons. And who among them could ever forget the ladies who gave out king-size chocolate bars and cheerful greetings at Halloween?

  When the two lines had formed, Ida rearranged the males. Hannah tried to figure out why Ida was doing this. When Ida moved Billy to face Lynda, then Guthrie opposite herself, Hannah got it. The two were shamelessly matchmaking!

  Edith came behind her sister, dispensing from a brown shopping bag red-and-white-striped plastic drinking straws and hard candies with holes in the middle like life rings. Each female received a drinking straw, each male a straw and a candy.

  When the ladies reached the ends of the lines, they turned and beamed. Ida began, “Now, there will be a prize for the couple who can be the first to transfer the candy from the gentleman’s straw to the lady’s. The straws must be held in your mouths and hands must remain behind your backs, of course, and no talking allowed!”

/>   “Oh, this is going to be such fun!” Edith tittered. “I remember we did this at our sixteenth birthday party.”

  “Hush,” Ida scolded, then continued, “if you drop a candy, you may have up to two more. If you drop more than three, you will be disqualified. Get ready, get set, go!”

  The male and female lines stared at each other. Then, folding his arms behind him, Billy put the straw in his mouth, then the candy on his straw, and stepped toward Lynda. Lynda placed her straw between her lips and tried to touch the end of her straw to Billy’s.

  Guthrie gave a disgruntled snort, but followed suit.

  Feeling ridiculous, Hannah clasped her hands behind her back and stepped closer to Guthrie. She thought she recalled doing this at a fourth-grade birthday party. She tried to aim her straw at the end of Guthrie’s. But he was too tall. She made noises and exaggeratedly nodded down, directing him to bend his head.

  He made negative sounds and flexed his knees a bit so his straw would be level with hers. She leaned forward and tried to touch her straw to his. The candy sailed down his straw. Unaccountably trembling, she tried to hold the connection. The candy slipped between their straws, shattering on the cement floor. Hannah couldn’t believe it!

  Clucking like a mother hen, Ida hurried over with another candy, which she slipped onto Guthrie’s straw. “Try again!”

  Hannah and Guthrie did. All around them was the hullabaloo of others making noises around straws in their mouths. Glancing to one side, Hannah glimpsed Ted, the auto repair shop owner, nearly on his knees in front of Becky, the youngest hairstylist from Petite’s Bizzy Bee Beauty Shop. Their candy dropped. Ted groaned while Becky burst into giggles.

  Guthrie grunted fiercely at Hannah. She gave him her attention and tried to concentrate on the end of his straw. She wished she could say, “Stop bobbing around, Guthrie, and just kneel down. Then I’ll kneel and we won’t jiggle so.” But of course, she couldn’t!

  Their second candy took its own sweet time rolling down his straw. Just as Hannah thought she had her straw firmly connected to Guthrie’s, the candy slipped between them and hit the floor.