Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  “I’ll e-mail Dad tonight. He’ll remember.” Michael hurried after Reid. “See you after practice, Mom!”

  Mark grunted as he walked by.

  Elise turned the chicken soup to simmer and stepped to the kitchen window. Dusk cast a golden glow over the backyard. This was her witching hour; when the boys were small, it was the time of day when they fell apart, when fathers with normal jobs were coming home to save the day. But Elise had been on her own to play another game of Stratego with them or to turn on the television so she could make dinner.

  Mark stood in the doorway.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a walk.” He wore his black sweatshirt.

  “Where to?”

  “Just around.”

  “I need to talk with you first.” She covered the soup. “Mr. Jenkins said you haven’t turned in an assignment for the last two weeks.”

  “He’s a creep.” Mark slouched against the counter.

  “Mark, the issue is your assignments.”

  “He sits at his desk and surfs the Web while we read.”

  “That’s not the issue, either.”

  “How can I respect a teacher who does that?”

  “Why don’t you turn in your assignments after you do them?”

  Mark shrugged. “I hate English.”

  “That’s not the point, either.” Elise poured herself a glass of water.

  Mark opened the cupboard and pulled a handful of animal cookies out of the bag.

  “It’s too close to dinnertime.”

  “Nag, nag, nag.”

  “What will it take for you to turn in your assignments?” Elise leaned against the counter.

  “Tell Mr. Jenkins to stop surfing the Web. Shouldn’t he be grading papers or something?” Mark said with a full mouth.

  “Shouldn’t you be turning in papers for him to grade?”

  “He doesn’t grade anything anyway. If he likes you, he gives you an A. If he hates you, you get a D. Or an F.”

  “Michael turns in his work.”

  “He likes Michael. Everyone likes Michael. And Michael gets A’s.”

  Mark stuffed another cookie in his mouth and grabbed three more. “Bye.” He spit crumbs with the word.

  “We’re eating in thirty minutes. As soon as Michael gets home from basketball practice.”

  Mark slammed the back door.

  Elise yanked the lid off the pot and grabbed the salt and frantically shook it into the soup. That kid. She headed down the hall to the study. Three new e-mails. The first from Mark’s science teacher.

  Mark hasn’t turned in an assignment all week. He’s been staring out the window. I sent him to the office today.

  Great.

  The second e-mail was from Ted:

  Michael, so good to get your e-mail. Didn’t realize you had a Hotmail account you could use at school. Decided to send this home so Mom could be in on the conversation.

  You are AB, so you can’t give to Pepper. Mom actually has B blood, and so does Mark. The Rh factor, the positive or negative, doesn’t matter when it comes to donating a kidney. Mom would have to be tested extensively, because having the same blood doesn’t necessarily mean a match. It is very complicated. Mark is too young to donate a kidney.

  Mom said that all of you are going to Patrick and Rebekah’s for Thanksgiving and that Grandpa will be there too. That’s great. I’m happy that our family is becoming friends with the Grahams.

  How is basketball going? I miss you. Please give Mom a hug. Tell her I’ll call later.

  Love, Dad

  Elise hit Delete. Thank goodness Ted had sent it to her account and not Michael’s. All she needed was for Michael to obsess about her donating a kidney to Pepper. What was Ted thinking? She had two kids, a house, and cars to manage. Were her kidneys even fit to donate after all the painkillers she had taken through the years? Did the drugs damage her kidneys? Did the drugs she took while she was pregnant damage Mark? Were his problems her fault?

  She logged off the computer. At least this deployment was better than usual. She had been sleeping for the most part. She stayed up too late, but she hadn’t had the perpetual insomnia and sleep deprivation that had sent her to the edge before. And her back hadn’t seized up like so many times in the past.

  Now if only Mark would pull his act together.

  Elise spread the next several photos from the box on the table. John hadn’t said anything more about going to Germany with them at Christmas, and she had avoided bringing it up. She didn’t want to tell Ted that she would rather his dad not go.

  “Neuschwanstein Castle,” Michael said, leaning against the table.

  “Do you remember?” He’d only been four.

  He nodded and pulled out a chair.

  “And this is Hohenschwangau Castle.” Elise pointed to the next photo.

  “I remember that too.”

  Mark walked through the room and held his nose. “Not Germany.”

  Michael crossed his arms. “I still don’t get it, Mark. Why did you hate it so much?”

  “Get lost.” Mark punched Michael in the arm and sauntered out of the room.

  “Mark!” Elise jumped to her feet.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mom. It didn’t hurt.”

  Elise sat back down. She was too tired to go after him. “It’s time to get ready for bed. I’ll be up to check on you in a few minutes.”

  “I have a question first.” Michael scooted his chair back. “What’s going on between Grandpa and that lady with the white spiky hair?”

  “Sandi?”

  Michael nodded. “They were sitting together at the game, and Pepper said that all of us are going to her house for Thanksgiving—Sandi too.”

  “I don’t think anything is going on. I think they’re just friends.”

  Michael shook his head. “I think something is going on.” He headed up the stairs.

  Elise straightened her back as she flipped through photos of the boys posing in front of a set of armor; the boys wearing lederhosen, ready for a Volksmarch; and all four of them standing in front of the Rhine River on a fall day, the leaves of the trees along a stone wall bright orange and scarlet.

  They had invited Maude and John to visit them in Germany. Ted had even offered to pay for the tickets, but they had declined. Why hadn’t they come then instead of John wanting to go now? Maybe it was Maude who hadn’t wanted to travel. She had been well then, or so they thought. She had heart problems at the end, unusual for a woman in her early sixties. She’d always been a little uptight; perhaps flying scared her.

  Now John felt he could go. Still, she wanted it to be a family vacation. Maybe they could go back to Europe with John in a year or so. He could meet them in Seattle, and they could all fly together.

  They would spend Thanksgiving with John at Rebekah’s this year. Wasn’t that enough?

  Elise put the photos back in the box. She would e-mail Ted about his dad wanting to go with them, but she would wait to say anything about Sandi. Hopefully that would blow over. She logged on to her computer and opened Outlook; she had an e-mail from Ted.

  I talked with Dad this evening. He’s decided not to come to Germany at Christmas.

  Could John read her mind? Or had he decided he would rather spend Christmas with Sandi?

  Rebekah spun around in her kitchen, the skirt of her dress twirling around her legs. She loved Thanksgiving. She bumped into Patrick, who stood at the island arranging raw vegetables.

  “Sorry, honey.”

  Patrick frowned.

  “Please don’t be grumpy.”

  “I’m not.”

  How could anyone be grumpy when the robust smell of the turkey roasting permeated the house, accented by the sweet smell of the candied yam casserole as it warmed on the stovetop? “You are. What’s bugging you?”

  “Let’s see. Pepper needs a kidney, you have a new business, and there’s a cougar stalking our farm.”

  “What are you talking abou
t?” Rebekah took his hand. “We haven’t seen the cougar for weeks and weeks. It’s long gone.”

  Patrick pulled his hand away. “We’re in a bad spot. You’ve totally minimized all of this.”

  “No.” She pulled the meat thermometer from the drawer. “I haven’t.”

  He crossed his arms. “It feels like everything is falling apart.”

  “Come on, Patrick.” Rebekah stabbed the turkey’s thigh with the thermometer. “God has given us each other, a wonderful family, this farm. You have a good job.”

  “We’re here!” Sandi opened the back door and hurried in, followed by John.

  “Hi there.” Rebekah hugged them both. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

  “You look so pretty.” Sandi set her pie container down on the kitchen table. Rebekah looked down at her brown and burgundy paisley dress, mostly covered by a frilly apron Pepper had given her for Christmas last year. Sandi wore big hoop earrings and a sweater with a red and orange turkey that looked like a second-grade art project.

  “Patrick.” John shook the younger man’s hand. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” Patrick dipped a carrot stick in ranch dressing. “Have a carrot.”

  A dog barked. “Did you bring Bear?” Rebekah asked.

  John nodded. “He likes being out in the country. I didn’t take him hunting this year. I thought a day on your farm would make him happy.”

  “We’re happy to have a dog around. I keep meaning to get one.”

  Patrick shook his head.

  “Patrick, every farm needs a dog. You said so yourself, for protection.”

  “I know, but that was before life got so complicated. Who has time to train a dog now?” Patrick dipped another carrot.

  Rebekah nudged Patrick with her hip. “Why don’t you go get Reid and pass a ball around?” That would be good for Mark and Michael when they arrived. They could all play football until the turkey was done.

  “It’s raining.” Patrick sounded like Eeyore.

  “Hardly.”

  “What’s with hubby?” Sandi asked as Patrick yelled up the stairs for Reid.

  “He’s worrying. Again.”

  Reid thundered down the stairs, and John headed to the front door. Sandi took the lid off the pie container.

  “Is that Dutch apple?” Rebekah asked.

  Sandi nodded.

  “My favorite.”

  “I know.”

  Bear barked. “Have you told Patrick about going to Nevada?” Sandi pushed up the sleeves on her sweater.

  “Shh.” Rebekah opened the oven door again. “I can take only so much of his doom and gloom.” That wasn’t the entire reason she hadn’t told him. She didn’t want to hear his reasons for her not going. How else was she going to find a kidney?

  “Rebekah, don’t get your—” Sandi began.

  “Sorry we’re late.” Elise came through the back door, carrying a big crystal bowl. Mark followed her.

  “Not a fan of football in the rain?” Sandi asked Mark.

  Mark grunted and headed toward the dining room.

  “Hi, Mark.” Pepper’s voice was followed by the clatter of a plate. “Want to help set the table?”

  “Is it getting pretty wet out there? Should I call the guys in?” Rebekah called after Mark as the door swung shut.

  “They’re fine under the trees. Mark is just ignoring his grandfather, that’s all.” Elise set the bowl on the counter and brushed a strand of wet hair from her face.

  “What happened?” Rebekah shut the oven door.

  “John came by yesterday with a load of wood for our fireplace and asked Mark to get off the couch and help unload the truck.” Elise crossed her arms. “Mark told his grandpa to shut up.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yikes is right.” Elise peeled off her wool coat and hung it by the door above the pile of boots. She wore a powder-blue angora sweater set and tan linen pants. “Mark wouldn’t budge.”

  “Elise, how awful.” Rebekah put her arm around her friend.

  Sandi sighed. “Good thing that John decided not to go to Germany with you at Christmastime.”

  “John, will you pray?” Rebekah clasped her hands together.

  “Dear God, we thank you for your blessings on this Thanksgiving. Thank you for family who are friends and friends who are family. Bless this time we have together, and please protect Ted while he serves you overseas. Amen.”

  Rebekah took a serving of potatoes and passed them on to Elise. “It must be so hard to be away from Ted on holidays.”

  “This will be the last. We’ll be with him for Christmas.” Elise looked suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Because we’re going to Germany!” Michael added.

  “Sounds like the trip of a lifetime,” John said, spooning cranberry sauce next to his turkey. “That will be great for all of you.”

  “You should come, Grandpa.” Michael scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate.

  Mark coughed.

  John shook his head. “Thanks, Michael. I don’t think that would be best right now.”

  Mark snickered. Elise concentrated on ladling gravy onto her potatoes.

  “How come we never get to go anywhere?” Reid asked.

  “Because your sister needs a kidney transplant.” Patrick repositioned his water glass.

  “Honestly, Patrick.” Rebekah passed the candied carrots on to Sandi.

  “We never went anywhere before she needed a kidney transplant, either.” Reid’s silver knife clattered on the antique china plate.

  “We went to Arizona last Thanksgiving.” Pepper raked her fork through her potatoes.

  “That doesn’t count. It was just to see Grandma and Grandpa.”

  John cleared his throat.

  “Oh, sorry, Mr. Shelton. I didn’t mean anything by that.” Reid blushed.

  “Yes, he did.” Mark snickered again.

  “Knock it off, Mark.” Michael reached around Pepper and thrust the basket of rolls into Mark’s chest.

  “Rebekah, is your china a family heirloom?” Elise asked. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It came from my grandparents’ ranch.”

  “That was back when farms made money.” Patrick speared a sweet pickle.

  “It was a ranch, not a farm.” Rebekah grimaced and then clapped her hands together. “Do over. Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. I’ll start.” She sat up straight, Reid rolled his eyes, and Pepper heaped gravy on her potatoes.

  “I’m thankful for the scrapbooking store and the new friends it has brought our way.”

  Sandi sat tall. “I’m thankful to be here. It’s been a long time since I’ve been part of a family, let alone two.”

  John smiled across the table. Sandi blushed just a little.

  “Your turn, Mark.” Rebekah nodded at the boy.

  His head bobbed. “What are we doing?”

  “Saying what we’re thankful for, you idiot.” Reid shook his finger at Mark.

  “Reid, stop it.” Rebekah scowled over the centerpiece of minipumpkins and gourds.

  “I’m not thankful for anything.” Mark grinned.

  “Come on,” Pepper said. “You have to be thankful for something.”

  Mark tilted his head. “I’m thankful that we’re moving to Seattle next year, away from Forest Falls.” He shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, smearing gravy across his upper lip.

  “I’m thankful you’ll be in Seattle next year too.” Reid put his elbow on the table.

  “Reid.” Rebekah moved the centerpiece so she could see him better. “That’s enough.”

  Bear began to bark. Pepper jumped, scraping her chair against the floor, and rushed to the window. “He’s running across the field.”

  “Maybe he sees a deer.” John craned his neck.

  “Pepper, come sit down.” Patrick waved his fork around as he talked. “I would like to have one civilized meal this year.”

  “Bear is going toward the forest. He just jum
ped the fence!”

  “Come on, Pep. Back to the table.” Rebekah cut her turkey.

  Pepper sat down. “What happens if Bear finds the cougar?”

  John swallowed and then said, “He’ll tree it. A decade ago people could hunt cougars using dogs. Now it’s illegal.”

  “Will he hurt Bear?” Reid asked.

  “No.” John passed the broccoli salad to Michael. “The cougar will just stay in a tree until Bear goes away.”

  “What if Bear doesn’t come back?” Michael asked.

  “He’ll come back. He’ll be fine.” John smiled at his grandson.

  “But Bear won’t hurt the cougar?” Pepper asked.

  John put down his knife and fork. “What’s the big attraction to the cougar?”

  “He’s gorgeous. Big eyes. That fawn-colored fur. And he’s so fast.”

  So much for the I’m-thankful game. “I wish we had a dog like Bear,” Rebekah said.

  “How about if I loan him to you?” John put his fork down. “As long as Bear likes it here, and until the cougar issue is resolved.”

  “He kind of looks like a raccoon, like he’s wearing a mask, even though he’s a dog,” Pepper commented.

  Rebekah shook her head at Pepper. “Well, he’s nothing like a raccoon. He’s not going to climb the tree outside your window.” Rebekah turned to John. “I can’t let you loan him to us. Bear will miss you.”

  “I’ll come visit him. I’d feel a lot better, especially with Elise and the kids riding.” John smiled. “Besides, he makes Sandi sneeze.”

  Rebekah put the last of the china away and collapsed in her desk chair. Maybe Pepper’s grandmother had e-mailed. She turned on the computer and then noticed the light blinking on the answering machine. They’d missed a call. She pushed the button.

  “Wednesday, 3:45 p.m.” Yesterday afternoon. No one had checked the messages last evening. “Hey, Rebekah, it’s Jamie. I just got off the phone with your insurance company. The appeal worked. Pepper has been fully reinstated. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Rebekah clapped her hands together. “Patrick!” She ran into the dining room and then up the stairs. “Patrick.” He sat at the computer next to Reid. “Jamie figured out the insurance.”