Reunion: A Novel

by Lauraine Snelling

  Once in the office, she flipped through the pink slips to see if she could handle any of the phone calls, checked the answering machine, and went into the kitchen of the old house converted to an insurance office to make the coffee. Carrying two cups, she tapped on Bjorn’s office door and then opened it. “You two want some coffee?” At their assent, she entered and handed the men their mugs.

  “How you doing, Frank?”

  “Pretty good, under the circumstances.”

  She knew the circumstances he referred to. His wife had died two weeks earlier and he was trying to sort through all the paperwork. Bjorn had offered to help him, since the wife had been the one to take care of all the finances and bookwork.

  “That old house is pretty lonely.”

  “I’m sure it is. Good thing your family lives close by.”

  “Yeah.” He raised his cup. “Thanks for the coffee. I make lousy coffee.”

  She patted his shoulder and returned to her desk to pick up the ringing phone. Flipping open the spiral-bound desk calendar, she set up an appointment, making sure her voice sounded welcoming. Somewhere she’d heard that if you answered the phone with a smile, the caller could tell. She’d lived by that suggestion ever since.

  She wrote herself a reminder to ask Frank to supper one of these nights. Just not tonight. Could an emotional shock cause such tiredness or had that bug come back? At lunchtime she ordered in sandwiches from Swenson’s Café and kept working on the financial records. Somewhere there was an error and she would find it before she went home. But thoughts of talking with Leah kept intruding.

  Lord, I don’t know what’s going on, but she hasn’t called me either. That’s not like her. She greeted the couple that set the door chiming when they entered and buzzed Bjorn to tell him his next appointment was there. Glancing at the appointment sheet, the name didn’t look familiar. “Welcome. Are you new in town?”

  “No, we live in Uppsala. Our neighbors told us to come here.”

  “You moved to the area recently?”

  “Yes, I came home to take care of my mother.” The woman smiled. “We are Jim and June Watkins.”

  “You can go right in. Bjorn will be glad to meet you.”

  By five o’clock, she still hadn’t solved the accounting dilemma and Bjorn hadn’t returned from a house call. She ran the adding-machine tape one more time, shook her head, and went back into the kitchen to find something for the pain that now centered right behind her eyes. Surely she was just missing something. Concentrating had been difficult all day, but now the drummer was making it impossible. So contrary to her normal behavior, which was to have everything tied up in neat little bundles, she shut down the computer, cleared off her desk, and left a message on Bjorn’s cell phone that the office was closed.

  As she drove down the street to her house, she made a face. She knew why she hadn’t called Leah, but why had Leah not called her? Asking her to not tell Marcus, that really wasn’t a fair thing to do. Was she angry about that? Keeping secrets always caused a quandary, one reason why the truth was better and easier. And she hadn’t thought about the reunion all day. What would it take to cancel it? If they were going to do that, they needed to make a decision soon, before far-flung family members started buying plane tickets. But knowing them, most likely some had already bought theirs. What kind of reason could she give? She’d learned something about herself and didn’t want to tell them? Your grandmother got pregnant out of wedlock and I’m the product of that, that… Keira shook her head. No, that was no reason to cancel the reunion. She would just have to tough it out. Secrets!

  Once in the house, Keira took the Swiss steak dinner she’d frozen from a cooking binge several weeks earlier and popped it into the microwave to thaw before she put it in the oven. Setting the teakettle on the burner, she wandered into the home office and pulled open the file drawer with all of her mother’s important papers. Getting them all in order had taken her weeks, in between working and normal living stuff. Life went on. When her dad had died she had helped her mother with the paperwork, so she had an idea what all needed to be done. Notifying Social Security had been at the top of the list. The government required that any pension money paid the month the person died be returned. As if they were trying to bilk the government. The screaming teakettle took her back to the kitchen to fix her tea and put the supper in the oven.

  Back in the office, she flipped through the papers looking for anything she’d not realized was important before. She set the manila envelope in which she’d gathered birth, death, and marriage certificates off to the side. On second thought. She felt like a light bulb had gone off in her head. She laid two documents side by side and read the dates. Sucking in a deep breath, she held it and let it all out, feeling her shoulders exit from the near-permanent place that was adhered to her ears. She read the lines again. Kenneth and Dagmar were married two days after she was born. So Kenneth is definitely not my real father. But then—who is?

  Maybe tomorrow she and Bjorn could go out to the home place and search the attic for any papers and photographs; any kind of clue as to the man’s identity would be helpful.

  When Bjorn came home, she asked him if that would be possible.

  “Sorry, Marcus and I are helping with the Habitat for Humanity house. Ask Leah.”

  “That puts more pressure on her, since I asked her not to tell Marcus.”

  “I’ve been thinking, and I think you should tell Marcus about your mother. After all, he is your brother. Leah would know the best way to do it.”

  “Thanks.” She knew she failed at keeping the bite from her words when she saw his jaw tighten. Where was the understanding husband of this morning?

  “You knew we were going to help with the Habitat house construction. In fact, you talked us into it, remember?”

  “I know, but…” But then she hadn’t known how important finding those boxes was going to be. Or that they would need to go up in the attic.

  “But what?”

  “But she and I didn’t find the boxes of the old photos and… never mind.” She’d only ever been up to the attic once. It was a long time ago, and all she remembered was how it was dark and closed in and those wobbly stairs, which she didn’t care to go up again. Just pulling them down was difficult. The sign on the side said EASY PULL. Easy for whom?

  She set supper on the table and sat down, waiting for Bjorn to say grace. How could she be thankful with this hanging over her head?

  Chapter Seven

  Leah was grateful she’d not called in sick but went ahead and worked her usual night shift at the Munsford Residential Care Facility. They were too understaffed as it was. They’d had a busy night, and that kept her mind occupied. Mr. Alsworth had taken a turn for the worse, insisting that he had to go home and trying to get out the door. The fact that he’d lived at Munsford Care for a year didn’t deter him. When he took a swing at one of the nurses, Leah had insisted he be restrained and medicated according to the doctor’s written instructions. Sometimes she was glad they had a male nurse working the night shift.

  Then a woman went into cardiac arrest, and Leah called the ambulance because the family had not signed a no-resuscitation form. One son got there and was furious they had called 911, and his sister was just as angry that he was causing a disturbance. Taking care of the patients was sometimes far easier than taking care of their families.

  Little Mrs. Magnuson had been unable to sleep, so she sat in her wheelchair and, propelled by her feet, patrolled the halls, praying for those she felt led to. Leah wanted to ask her to pray for her family too, but didn’t because she didn’t want to answer any questions.

  By the time she arrived home, Leah was too tired to get out of the car. What would she be facing here? When she left for work, Kirsten had been sleeping with her face on a textbook at her desk. She’d helped her to bed and reminded Marcus of the same need. She hoped he wasn’t still sitting in his chair. She’d never seen him react to anything like this. Used to dealin
g with the crises of his congregation and others in the area, he normally sucked in a deep breath, prayed for God to work His plan, and dealt with whatever was going on. Other than his mother passing away at such a young age. That had been hard on him, but their real crisis was when Kirsten had decided to be born in a hurry and they didn’t make it to the hospital in time. Marcus helped bring his daughter into the world, and when that baby wrapped her tiny hand around his finger, he lost his heart. He had called her his princess ever since.

  How could anger and love manage to cohabitate in her body, mind, and spirit? Leah understood both of these whom she loved but that didn’t make it any easier this time. Sometimes her gift of understanding was more a trial than a blessing. She’d always been able to put herself in someone else’s situation.

  She braced her forehead against the steering wheel. “Dear God, this is beyond me. Get us through this, please. Give us wisdom and compassion and whatever else we need. Right now I could use the energy to get out of the car and into the house.” Heaving a sigh, she picked up her bag and opened the car door, a step in the right direction. When she walked through the door into the laundry room, she could hear a shower running. Someone was up and functioning. She set her bag on the table and took out the empty containers from her meal. The shower turned off.

  No one had started the coffee, and she’d forgotten to set the coffeemaker last night. So where was Marcus? Climbing the stairs, she heard the hair dryer come on. Kirsten. Marcus let his hair air dry. At the top, she tapped on the bathroom door.

  “I’m home.”

  “I’m running late. Can you take me to school? I—I’ve not heard Dad moving around.”

  “Of course.” And where is your father? “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “Yogurt and toast.”

  At least Kirsten felt like eating this morning. Leah walked down the hall to the closed door to the master bedroom. She hesitated before opening it. The bed hadn’t been slept in, the bathroom not used. Marcus always left his towel over the shower door. She blew out a tightly held breath and changed out of her basic scrubs uniform of burgundy pants and a coordinating print top with puppies gamboling all over it, and into sweats, stuffing her scrubs into the hamper. She brushed her teeth, made a face at the weary woman looking back at her, and headed back downstairs. Duty called no matter how tired Mom was.

  Marcus wasn’t in the office or the living room or the family room. Where could he be? All that was left were the boys’ rooms. Why would he be there? After Curtis and Thomas left home, she had turned one bedroom into a guest room and the other became a catch-all room. She had dreams of one day turning it into a grandchild’s room. She could picture the baby crib with its brightly colored mobile hanging above it. She always thought it would be one of the boys giving her the first grandbaby. The dream had dimmed but not flickered out when Curt and Gwen lost their unborn baby. But she’d never thought it would be Kirsten, not until she was older and married.

  Closing her eyes, Leah turned and shut the door behind her. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and hit the button that automatically dialed his cell. When it switched over to voice mail, she started to get worried. Had he been called out during the night? Downstairs, she returned to the office and inspected his desk. No note. He must have gone to the seven a.m. meeting listed on the calendar and turned his phone off. He’d always said phones ringing during church or meetings were the height of thoughtlessness.

  Still, this wasn’t like him. Had he slept all night in the chair and rushed out to the meeting without showering? Or had he gone running? She went back upstairs to check in the closet. His running shoes were right where he always put them. She could hear drawers slamming in Kirsten’s room.

  “How long?” she asked at Kirsten’s door.

  “Five minutes.”

  “I’ll have your breakfast ready to eat on the way.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Leah paused. “I…”

  “Don’t, Mom.”

  She could hear the desperation in Kirsten’s voice. Her daughter was doing all she could to hold it together and get through. The two of them were alike that way—deal with the emergency and fall apart later.

  Back in the kitchen she started the coffeemaker and got out breakfast for Kirsten. She should call Keira and find out how she was feeling. What if Keira was really sick in bed? Wouldn’t she have called if she was? How could she talk with her best friend and not tell her what was going on? Leah stared up at the ceiling, commanding the tears to dry up. Good thing she’d not counted the times she’d done that during the night. Busy had been a blessing, all right.

  “I’ll be out in the car,” she called up the stairs. “I have your breakfast.”

  Leah reached for an energy drink, remembered the caffeine warnings for pregnant women, and instead grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Thank God for nurse’s training, she thought as she headed out the door. If she had put on decent clothes she could have stopped by the church to check on Marcus, but sweats and a morning-after-the-night-shift face weren’t appropriate.

  On a whim, she clicked the garage-door opener. Marcus’s car sat in its usual place. So he’d walked to church or someone had picked him up. Was Bjorn on that committee? What committee was meeting? No further notes on the calendar. Fear fought with anger in her head. Fear for him and anger that he’d not let her know. Self-pity edged a toe through the door. Why was she the one who had to deal with everything?

  Kirsten opened the door and slid in, setting her backpack on the floor. “Thanks, Mom. I’m starved.” Biting into a piece of toast, she dug the spoon into the yogurt.

  “I thought water might be easier on your stomach than orange juice or coffee. Energy drinks are on the no-no list for pregnancies. Not good for kids, either.” Focusing on practical matters made this easier to deal with.

  “Thanks.”

  Leah checked the dashboard clock. They had five minutes to the warning bell. “Going to be close.”

  Kirsten’s cell blipped the text signal. She clicked it off, stuck it in the outside pocket of her backpack, and took a swallow of her drink.

  “Do you have anything after school today?”

  “Sleeping.”

  Leah pulled into the turnaround in front of the school and stopped at the wide walk to the front door of the two-story brick building. “I’ll be praying for your finals.”

  “Thanks.” Kirsten set the plate on the console, unsnapped her seat belt, and exited the car, swinging her blue-and-red pack up on one shoulder. The wolverine mascot symbol bounced as she jogged up the walk. The bell rang as she pulled the door open.

  “Lord, get us through this. This morning seems so normal; I could so easily pretend last night never happened.” She had three choices. Go home and crawl into bed, which was the usual thing for her to do after a night shift, stop to see Keira, or go looking for Marcus despite her appearance.

  A worm of resentment wriggled into her mind. He could have left a note. No matter how distraught he was. Or angry. Or disappointed, or maybe a better word was desolate. That’s what she had seen last night, absolute despair. A yawn nearly cracked her jaw and with that she headed home. She should have made decaffeinated coffee. Oh well, she didn’t need to drink it, just go to bed. Her stomach grumbled. She picked up the extra slice of toast that Kirsten hadn’t eaten and ate that on the way home.

  Marcus was sitting at the kitchen table when she walked in, head in his hands, elbows propped on the table. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day before.

  “Marcus.”

  He stared at her through bloodshot eyes. “You took her to school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You had a seven o’clock committee meeting this morning. I thought you were there. Where have you been?” Keeping her tone even was the result of years of practice.

  “Walking.”

  “Walking where?”

  “Out in the count
ry, past the home place, the back roads. I didn’t want anyone to stop and ask me if I wanted a ride.”

  “Did it help?”

  He shrugged. “How was work?”

  “Crazy.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “How so?”

  “You had too much to do to think.”

  “Sort of true. You want coffee?”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t make a decision, and then shook his head. “What will I tell the board?”

  “The board?”

  “At church.”

  “Why? I mean, you lost me there.” She set a full cup in front of him. “What would you like for breakfast?” What did he mean, tell the board?

  “Toast, I guess.”

  “You need some protein. How about I scramble some eggs?” She turned to the refrigerator and started taking out eggs and milk. She checked the meat drawer and pulled out the bacon too. Anything to keep the appearance of normalcy going. “Did you call in regarding the meeting?”

  He shook his head. “Never entered my mind.”

  “You want me to call and say you’re sick?”

  “Wouldn’t be a lie.” He scrubbed lean fingers through his baseball-cap-smashed hair and blew out a breath. “What are we going to do?”

  “Marcus, what do you mean ‘we’? We are going to wait and see what Kirsten decides.”

  “You mean we stand back and let her totally mess up her life?”

  She already did that. But Leah kept silent, beating the eggs with a vengeance. When she could restore her tone to neutral, she added, “She is nearly eighteen. At that point she will legally be an adult.” After cutting up bacon, she flipped it into the heated frying pan and added cream to the eggs. This morning she had no patience for the healthier food she usually served. The silence stretched, feeling brittle like early frost on a mud puddle. The bacon popped and sizzled, reminding her to turn down the burner. She turned to look at her husband.