Reunion: A Novel

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You could search for your birth certificate in their county files.”

  “I have my birth certificate now.” She bit off the words.

  “But it might be wrong, and then you’ll know.”

  Keira glanced around. “I didn’t check the dates. I know when their anniversary was. You’re right, perhaps there was a mistake.” She rose and headed downstairs. Maybe she had been making this a lot worse than it really was.

  “Where are you going?”

  “For my purse.” But when she looked on the desk where she usually left it, it wasn’t there. Had she left that at the farm? No, she’d driven home and the keys were always in her purse. Think, Keir, think.

  “Here it is,” Bjorn called from the entry.

  “How did it get there?” She never, ever left anything by the front door, always keeping that perfect since it was the first thing guests would see. Even the boys had learned that early on. The wrath of Mother would descend on whoever dumped his stuff just as he came in the front door. The back door was another matter.

  He handed her the leather bag. “What’s for supper?”

  Ignoring his question, she dug out the paper and scanned the information. The dates did not lie. She must have been conceived more than two months before the wedding. Why had she never questioned that before? Or had her mother lied again? Was her entire life composed of lies? She slid the paper back in the envelope and tucked that into the inner pocket, to have ready when she went to apply for her passport. Like her father, methodical was her middle name. Kenneth had to be her father.

  Bjorn opened the door to the refrigerator and studied the ingredients. “We have plenty of leftovers.”

  “How can you even think about eating at a time like this?”

  He leaned in closer to look behind some containers. “Would you rather we go out? I’m hungry. I put in a long day and I didn’t have time for lunch.” Pulling out a couple of containers, he set them on the counter and peeled back the lids. “Chicken soup or beef stew?”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want anything.”

  “There’s still homemade bread too, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, you cut that while I put this in the microwave. How about we toast the bread? Is there any of that Jell-O salad left?”

  How could he think of food when her whole life was falling in shattered pieces around her feet? In spite of herself, she sliced the bread and popped it in the toaster as he suggested. When the meal was ready, they sat down at the table and Bjorn closed his eyes.

  “Lord God, to whom nothing that happens is a surprise, we give you the shock that Keira is experiencing. We know that you have a use for everything that happens in our lives and that you will make good come of it. Thank you for this food so lovingly prepared. Amen.”

  “Amen,” she echoed, again by force of habit. How God could work good out of this was beyond her.

  Bjorn ate a few bites before smiling at her. “How come some things taste better after a sojourn in the refrigerator?”

  She shrugged and took a bite, just to appease him.

  “Let’s go back to the beginning. What do you know of your early years?”

  “Not a lot, come to think of it. Other than that I grew up on the farm in what I have always considered the perfect life. I was Dad’s favorite and Mother was partial to Marcus. We didn’t care, we just knew that. After all, in the Sorenson clan, the firstborn son always had a special place.”

  “Did you ever ask for stories about when you were young?”

  “I guess. I mean in family get-togethers, they’d all talk about the early years. Kenneth and his brothers got in lots of trouble at times because they loved to pull tricks on people.”

  “But what about your mother?”

  “She didn’t laugh a whole lot. And she was determined I would behave as a young lady should. Marcus could do no wrong, no matter what he did.”

  “Were you jealous?”

  She thought a moment. “No. That’s just the way it was. If I needed a lap, Dad was always there for me.”

  “No hint, ever, of a secret?”

  Keira heaved a sigh. “I’ll have to think on that. I mean, don’t all kids think that maybe they were in the wrong family by some mistake?”

  “I guess, especially when being punished.” He cleaned his plate and pushed it back to rest his elbows on the table. “It’s a shame so many of your family have already left this earth. Who do you ask?”

  “Aunt Helga is the only one. There are letters in boxes too. You know my mother saved everything.”

  “So I guess we start going through them or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you just decide this is no big deal and go on with your life.”

  “I want to know who he is.” That popped out without her considering it. But of course what if her real father was still alive? Perhaps he could answer some of her questions, especially why didn’t he marry her mother when he learned she was pregnant? Or what if her mother never told him? This was beginning to sound like a soap opera. She never had liked soap operas, and now she was playing a leading role.

  The drum started behind her eyes again. “I’m going to bed. I can’t deal with this anymore and the headache is coming back.” She wasn’t sure what felt worse, the headache or the heartache.

  Chapter Four

  It’s impossible,” Leah muttered at the coffeepot the next morning. “I can’t keep a secret like this from Marcus. Keira is just asking too much.”

  The coffeepot released its first-cup-of-the-morning aroma, signaling the completion of the cycle. She poured herself a cup and, carrying the mug carefully, returned to her favorite chair in her lair and picked up her Bible again. She could hear a shower running and assumed it was Marcus back from his morning run. He’d wanted her to go with him, but she’d begged off. The less she was with him, the less she was tempted to tell. Why on earth had she agreed to such a thing? After all, Dagmar was his mother too. And thankfully his birth certificate confirmed Kenneth was his father, just as everyone believed. She was relieved that when she gave him his certificate, he only asked if they’d found Keira’s. She’d said yes, which didn’t betray Keira’s secret, but still felt like a lie of omission. But what could she do? To tell him more than he asked would be breaking her promise to Keira.

  After a sip of coffee, really too hot to drink yet, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. But even her prayers felt stilted. Like everything else this morning.

  Thinking back to the afternoon before, she could still hear the anguish in Keira’s voice: “I don’t even know who my real father is!” They had gathered up the collected pictures and returned home. They’d not said much else.

  She heard Kirsten’s alarm and then the water turned off. Marcus must be out of the shower. Flipping to Psalms, she started at the last page. Praising the Lord for all things was easier when she read David’s lists of the things God had done for him, such as the list of all the parts of creation and the order to praise the Lord. She took herself in hand and started her own list. “Lord, I praise you for answering our prayer to find the birth certificates. I praise you for the sunrise and the bird songs, for Marcus and Kirsten and Curtis and Thomas, and the privilege of being part of your family. I praise you that I can read your Word, that I have food to feed my family.” She stared at her feet in pink-plaid mules. “I praise you that we have a wonderful home, pretty clothes to wear, and songs to sing.” A tune floating through her mind brought that one up. “Praise ye the Lord, hallelujah, praise ye the Lord…” She put her Bible on the stand beside her chair, rose, and returned to the kitchen, humming as she went. Amazing how much better she felt already.

  God would work out this mess too. After all, He said He would turn tears into joy and in all things work together for good for His children.

  She set the water to boiling for one of Marcus’s favorite breakfasts, poached eggs.

  “Mom, could you please throw my gym clothe
s in the dryer while I shower?” Kirsten called down the stairs.

  “Of course.” For someone with such gifts of organization, remembering to have her gym clothes ready the night before eluded her daughter. Whoever thought laundry would be a stumbling block?

  His outdoorsy aftershave announcing his presence, Marcus kissed her on the back of her neck. “I need to hurry. I have an appointment in half an hour.”

  She plunked down the toaster. “Eggs in three minutes.”

  Just a normal morning in the Sorenson household. All but the painful secret she’d promised not to share. He’d always thought his mother was about as close to perfect as a human could be. How would he handle the news that Dagmar had made a major mistake in her younger years?

  As Marcus went out the kitchen door, Kirsten came flying down the stairs. “Mom, where’s Dad?”

  “He just left.”

  “Can you take me to school? I have so much stuff to take along.” Usually if Kirsten needed a ride to school, Marcus dropped her off on his way to his office at the church.

  “Where’s José?”

  “He had something he had to do, so he went early.” Because José lived farther from town and worked at odd jobs as much as he could after school, he had a car and usually picked Kirsten up.

  “Sure. There’s your yogurt, I’ll get your gym clothes, and I poured your orange juice.” Kirsten had been on a yogurt kick for the last few months. “Do you want toast?”

  “No to the toast and thanks for your help. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  Long before, Leah had given up on reminding her daughter that eating too fast was not good for her and was just grateful the girl ate protein for breakfast. With the schedule Kirsten led, she needed all the high-powered food she could get. At the stop sign, Leah glanced at her daughter. Wasn’t she pale this morning? And circles under her eyes in spite of the concealer?

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes. No. You know how my stomach reacts when I’m stressed. After graduation, I’ll sleep for a week.”

  “Did you take something for it?”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry! Remember Grandma…”

  Leah smiled at the words. “I know. I know. All will be well.” She pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the school, accepted the swift kiss on the cheek, and watched her daughter sling her backpack over one shoulder and stride up the concrete walk.

  Loose limbed and graceful with an athlete’s stride, her blond hair held in place with a tortoiseshell clip, Kirsten looked the typical teen. She would be eighteen three days after graduation. She’d not mentioned anything about wanting a party but eighteen was a big milestone.

  Leah put the car in gear, pulled onto the road, and headed for home. Her baby was grown up and going away to college in the fall. What would she do now with the rest of her life? She and Marcus were about to become empty-nesters. She shook her head. As she’d already been thinking, she would most likely have to work full time to pay for all the college tuition.

  But maybe they should join Bjorn and Keira on their trip to Norway. Somehow they would work out the finances. Heavenly Father, give me a clue, please. What is it you want us to do?

  And that brought her back to the problem of the secret. Keira knew how much she hated secrets and yet she’d said it had to be this way. Leah parked the car and headed into the house to change her shoes and put some makeup on, not that she wore a lot but she felt naked without eyebrows, mascara, and a touch of lipstick. Good thing no one had seen her. After all, the pastor’s wife did have a certain image to keep up.

  Half an hour later with her armor in place, she strode down the walk to Keira’s. She’d rather be off running. She’d rather be working in her flowers. Face it, she’d rather be washing windows or scrubbing toilets than going to confront her best friend.

  The smell of something burning met her at the door. She did her usual two-tap knock and stepped into the kitchen. Smoke tendrils seeping from the oven made her grab a pair of potholders and jerk open the oven door. She snatched out a cookie sheet covered with circles of charcoal and threw it out the door to land on the grass. “Keira, where are your fans? Keira!” She turned on the fan above the stove, threw open the windows, braced the back door to stay open, and ran to open the front door to get a cross breeze. Concern slid into fear. “Keira, where are you?” She charged up the stairs and called out again. Pausing, she heard the shower running. Pounding on the bathroom door, she yelled again.

  “I’m in here.”

  “You trying to burn the house down? You forgot the cookies in the oven.” She rattled the handle. Locked. Well, why not? Nothing else was going right. “Open the door. Are you all right?”

  The water shut off. “I’m coming.” Half a minute or so later, the latch clicked and Keira stuck her turbaned head out.

  “You look terrible!”

  “Thanks.”

  “You let the cookies burn. You could have burned the house down!” Finally aware she was still yelling, not to mention repeating herself, Leah blew out a hard breath. “What is going on?”

  “Just go away.”

  “Nope. Is this about the…?”

  Keira held up a hand, the other one clenching the bath towel to her chest. “Don’t say anything more.”

  “Fine. I’ll go put the teakettle on. You get dressed and get your body back down to the kitchen. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “I’ve never learned that I don’t know who my real father is, either. I have been living a lie all my life. My mother lied to me.”

  “I know.” Leah softened her tone. “We have a lot to deal with. Just get dressed and come down.”

  “Did you tell Marcus?” Keira raised her voice as she closed the door.

  “No. I told you I wouldn’t. And I live up to my word.” She didn’t realize she’d said that aloud until Keira snorted.

  “Glad someone in this family does.”

  “Keira, this isn’t like you.” But she knew she was talking to no one when she heard the hair dryer roar into action.

  “The tea’s ready,” Leah said when Keira entered the kitchen. “And I put the last of the cookies in the oven. They’ll be out in a couple of minutes.” If Keira didn’t feel a whole lot better than she looked, tea and cookies were not going to be the usual panacea.

  “Did I really burn the cookies?”

  “Charcoal crisps. They may have welded to the cookie sheet.” Leah studied the woman slumped in a chair on the other side of the table. “Did you sleep at all?”

  Keira shrugged. “Bjorn thinks I am going out of my mind.”

  “The news was a terrible shock. So what are you going to do now?”

  “Well, to keep him happy I am going to order my passport. He said I can get the photo done at the drugstore and the forms at City Hall. So that’s where I’m going when I leave here.” Keira picked up a spoon and after adding sugar, stirred her tea.

  “You just put sugar in your tea.” The horror in Leah’s voice must have caught Keira’s attention.

  She shrugged and stirred some more. “I can’t get over the fact that she lied to me.” Keira downed her tea, made a face, and pushed away the mug. “I better get going.”

  “You better use some more concealer around your eyes and add some blush. You want your passport picture to be the real you, not the ghost I’m sitting across from.” Leah paused. “You want me to go with you?”

  “No, thanks. I know you want to work on the pictures for the book. How am I going to find out what really happened?”

  “Go through all the papers and correspondence from that time. And if I were you, I’d go have a long talk with Aunt Helga. She’s the only one who might know anything.”

  Keira gritted her teeth. “It’s just not fair that Mother died and my story died with her.” She pushed her chair back when the timer dinged. “I’ll get the cookies. You want to take some to Kirsten for tonight’s snack?”

  “Thanks.” She snatched a coup
le of cookies from the cooling rack. “You might want to just throw the other cookie sheet in the trash. Call me later.” Leah let herself out the back door and headed out to the sidewalk. Maple leaves whispered with the breeze above her, inviting her to go for a run. Everything always made more sense after running cleared her brain.

  She glanced off to the west. Thunderheads loomed black and menacing somewhere closer than the horizon. The rain would most likely be here before she got inside.

  The house was chilly since she’d left the windows and doors open. She rubbed her upper arms and stopped at the front window to see the clouds racing closer. She made her way around the house, both upstairs and down, shutting the windows to keep out the rain. Kirsten’s window was already closed and the room was neat as usual, even though the girl had almost been late to school. This thing about order was getting out of hand. Since her father was a bit on the obsessive-compulsive side, their daughter came by it naturally. About time for another talk? Awareness was always the first step for change.

  The morning flew by as Leah laid the original photos on the glass platform of the expensive copy machine they had rented just for this project. She scanned the pictures in and filed them according to topic, along with a date and names of the people in the picture. She’d place them on the proper pages and include the history when she compiled the pages. Thankfully she had been doing interviews of family members for the last few years, after she decided the family needed an accurate memory book. Some of the interviews had been by phone, some in person, and many through letters other members of the extended families had written, even back to the turn of the century. She was so thankful for the interviews she’d gotten before the older family members passed on. If only she’d worked on it more consistently… but time had flown by. Looking at the calendar was not a good idea. The days before the reunion were running out rapidly.

  Concern that she wouldn’t get it done plagued her, especially since everyone knew she always got everything done—and expected it. Working in fits and starts had obviously not been as effective as she had hoped, or she would be farther along by now. On top of that were graduation preparations and she had to do something for Kirsten’s eighteenth birthday.