George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  “I’m excited,” Sara adds.

  “Congratulations, my sweet Sara,” Ali shouts.

  Those two have a special relationship. Sara is always especially grateful for Ali’s attention. In response to the congratulations, Sara leaves the microphone and runs over to jump into her Aunt Ali’s arms.

  “Such good news tonight,” I say into the mic. “Anyone else have something to share?” I ask, looking at Duke and Jen.

  They glance at each other and Jen blushes. Duke waits for her, but seems ready to shout the news from the rooftops the second his fiance gives the okay. Ali is too preoccupied with Sara to notice, but Isabel Madera does. I guess it makes sense. She’s a physician who treats pregnant women. She is trained to spot the signs. She places a hand down gently on Jen’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze for support.

  “Alright,” Jen says to Duke. “I’m ready.”

  He smiles broadly, then takes her hand and lifts it high into the hair as he escorts her to the microphone. Ali cocks her head to one side when she sees them up there together. She looks puzzled. I guess Jen was right about Ali not noticing anything the other day at lunch. Or, at least, she didn’t realize that Jen is expecting.

  “What’s this?” Ali asks, looking at her friend. Jen smiles and winks, then places her hand gingerly on her lower abdomen. Ali’s own hands shoot up when she gets it. One covers her eyes and the other covers her heart. “Oh, Jenny,” she mouths as tears well up in her eyes.

  “My fiancé and I have a bit of news to share,” Duke begins. He takes a long, deep, joyful breath then raises his clasped hands up as if giving thanks to the heavens while tears fill his eyes.

  “We’re pregnant!” Jen blurts out.

  The group of us erupt into the loudest, happiest cheers of the evening as Ali runs to embrace her friend.

  “That’s the best news yet,” I say. “Huge congratulations to you two.”

  “Thanks, man,” Duke says. “I’ve dreamed of being a father for as long as I can remember. And you know, we have an obligation to fill out that basketball team you and Ali started.”

  We all laugh happily.

  “I thought something was off with you, Jenny,” my wife says. “Is it morning sickness?”

  “Yes,” Jen says. “Terrible morning sickness. It’s a good thing I’m not teaching any classes at the college this summer. I’m barely making it through each day without staying in bed all the time.”

  “How far along, if you don’t mind sharing?” Marjorie asks.

  “It’s early,” Duke says. “Baby Hale is due in March. Just in time for March Madness. I’m telling you, this is a basketball baby.”

  Jen pushes him away from her playfully and shakes her head from side to side as the crowd laughs and claps. Duke is a character.

  “Mid-March,” Jen confirms. “Right around St. Patrick’s Day.”

  “What a beautiful time of year to welcome a baby into our circle,” Ali says.

  Ethan and Leo skip up to Jen and hug her, then they pat her belly gleefully.

  “There’s really a baby in there?” Ethan asks.

  “Yes, there is,” Jen confirms. “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet though.”

  “It’s a girl,” Ethan proclaims.

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  Jen looks stunned.

  “I just do,” Ethan says, then shrugs his shoulders and runs off to do some more dancing. “It’s in my thinking,” he adds from a distance.

  “How about that?” Ali says with a smile.

  “We’ll know soon enough. An ultrasound is scheduled for next week,” Duke says. “Although I’m not sure if they can tell the baby’s sex this early.”

  “Usually not this early, but soon,” Ali adds.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Jen says to her friend. “We need to compare notes.”

  “We’ll do it, Jenny, my dear” Ali replies. “I look forward to it so very much. I’m going to be right here for you for anything you need during this pregnancy.”

  When it’s time for a new song, the band takes a cue and moves on to something more sentimental. They’re good. Their rendition of Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder begins and Duke takes the mother of his child to the dance floor area for a slow dance.

  I don’t waste any time scooping up my beautiful bride and joining our friends on the dance floor. Roddy and Marjorie join us, too, followed by Nicky and Luis. Ethan and Leo move amongst us doing their own made-up dances as Sara follows along behind them as best she can. Malcolm still seems a little shy as he stands next to his dad watching us, but he’s beginning to perk up. Liam has shifted Will back down to his hip and is swaying back and forth with him while they watch the dance floor together. Will looks like he’ll be ready to go to bed soon. Isabel stands nearby, and she and Liam are chatting. Everyone seems happy. I know I am. What a fabulous evening we’re having. I can’t get over all of the wonderful news. It’s better than I could have conjured up in my wildest dreams. I wish Mom had been here in time to make her announcement with the others though. I hate that she’s missing this.

  When we’ve danced up a hearty appetite, we sit down to dinner on the screened porch out back overlooking the lake. We all fit comfortably at the two long farm tables Ali has placed side by side. They’re decorated with blue and white plates, shiny silverware with wooden handles, and twisted burlap napkins. The catering team serves us an array of scrumptious dishes including lobster, crab legs, and scallops, along with corn on the cob, brown rice, and vegetables on the side. Wine continues to flow as we partake in the deliciousness.

  We talk together and we laugh. We congratulate each other on all of the good things happening. The sun starts to set as we finish eating, so we light tall candles to add to the ambiance then place them amongst the bouquets of flowers while we wait for dessert. The setting is absolutely gorgeous. We pose for pictures together and snap them with our smartphones. Then we walk down by the lake and gather in Adirondack chairs around the outdoor fire pit as our conversations grow deeper. The kids play in the grass nearby until the little ones conk out in our arms.

  Later, we put the youngest kiddos to bed, then revisit the dance floor to cap the night off with more choreographed moves. Just as I suspected they would be, Taye and Malcolm are remarkable dancers. They show off a number of dance numbers, and we enjoy watching them. We take turns performing routines, but we let Taye and Malcolm have more turns than anyone else because they’re fantastic at it. Once us old folks begin to get tired, Malcolm offers to teach Sara what he knows and the two of them happily move around in front of the musicians for what feels like hours more. We pull up chairs to watch them as we continue to chat and enjoy each other’s company.

  Before the musicians pack up and go home, they ask us what song we’d like to hear for the last dance of the night. They tell us to make it special. Ali and I look at each other and hold each other’s gaze for a minute as we think about what to choose. Then we turn towards the band leader and, in unison, request the same song: The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra, for our dear departed John Wendell.

  We don’t dance. Maybe it’s because we’re tired. Or maybe it’s because we know something better is coming. Instead, we begin to sing out loud together. Ali and I begin, then Roddy and Marjorie join in. Soon all of the adults are lending their voices for an impromptu sing-along in my grandfather’s honor. It’s imperfect and perfect all at once. I know John Wendell would have loved it. I hope that he somehow hears us, wherever he is. I hope he knows how much he’s cherished. And how much he’s missed.

  Once we’ve sung our hearts out, capping the night off in the most meaningful way, Isabel, Duke, and Jen leave to head home, while the rest of us turn in.

  As promised, Marjorie and Roddy keep the boys upstairs and I make love to my wife once more. We fall asleep exhausted from the party, but in a state of pure bliss. It seems like every little thing in our world is going to be alright.

  3

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nbsp; Safe Keeping

  It’s a bright, beautiful morning when Ali and I wake up to the sounds of Roddy cooking something in the kitchen. I say a silent prayer of thanks to the powers that be for allowing us this simple pleasure. I didn’t mention it to anyone, but in the back of my mind, I was nervous about getting through the night without incident. The last time we had a big group celebration with guests staying here at the house, we were rudely awakened to the intruder breaking into our house and trying to take Ethan out. Maybe I have a bit of PTSD from that experience. I’m still rattled by the fact that I wouldn’t have gotten there in time to save my boy if it hadn’t been for the dream about Dad and the mysterious yell which no one heard but me. I’m tremendously, sincerely grateful for whatever supernatural aid allowed for the save. But a part of me is afraid because it feels outside of my control. What if something else happens and I can’t make the save on my own. I can’t help but wonder if supernatural aid is a reliable safety net. This kind of thing is new to me. My inclination is to record and keep data, yet I know enough to realize that’s not the way supernatural aid works.

  When Marjorie hears us talking in the bedroom, she knocks on our door to ask if little Will can nurse. It’s nearly ten o’clock now. We’ve slept in. Ali pumped enough breast milk to get our baby boy through the night, but supplies are dwindling and he’s getting hungry. I’m still in the buff, but Ali’s decent, thanks to a white cotton sleep shirt she put on at some point during the night.

  “Good morning, lovebirds,” Marjorie says when we tell her to come on in.

  She’s probably calling us lovebirds in reference to our frequent lovemaking sessions. Surely, she knows that some intense lovemaking took place last night given the sexy dress Ali was wearing and the fact that Marjorie and Roddy kept the boys upstairs with them overnight. But I can tell the reference makes Ali uncomfortable. I’m not sure how Ali ended up so private about sex, given the fact that her parents are essentially a couple of old hippies. But somehow, she did. She doesn’t like any public discussion of our sex life. I, on the other hand, would make love to my wife right out in the open if it wouldn’t offend anyone. I have zero issues with the world knowing how much Ali and I enjoy each other sexually.

  “Hey, Marjorie,” I say. “Good morning.”

  “We made it,” she says, winking at me. “All is quiet and peaceful in the Davies-Hartmann household this morning.”

  Marjorie has her long, red hair tied back behind her neck. She’s wearing short sleeved, silky pajamas which are silver with white polka dots and trim. She looks radiant and beautiful for any woman, not just a woman of her age. I’m struck by how close the color of little Will’s hair is to his grandmother’s. Those recessive genes make for striking colors, at least in this family.

  “That’s spectacular news,” I say as I sit up, situate a pillow behind my back, and tuck a dusky blue quilt from the top of the bed around my waist.

  I love that Marjorie is so intuitive. I have much to learn from her. I really appreciate her being connected and in tune. I almost feel like she’s a secret weapon with superpowers. I’m a big comic book and superhero fan, so I can’t help but think about the X-Men when I see someone who seems to have an extraordinary ability. Maybe my mother-in-law is our very own mutant of sorts.

  “For sure, Mom,” Ali adds. “Bring me my sweet baby.”

  She sits up in bed and situates pillows on her lap for little Will to lay on. She’s still tired and sounds a little groggy.

  “Are our guests awake yet?” I ask.

  “Just us and your kiddos so far,” Marjorie replies as she hands the baby to Ali. “But I’m sure the smell of Roddy’s scrumptious breakfast will drag the others out of bed soon.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I say.

  Marjorie turns to leave the room, but I have something I want to tell her.

  “Hey, Marjorie,” I begin. “You’re good with dreams.” Interesting how that came out as a statement rather than a question.

  “Sure,” she replies. “Do you have one you want to share?”

  Ali looks at me curiously. I would have told her about my dream first, but haven’t had a chance yet. I know she won’t mind if I tell her and her mom at the same time.

  “Yeah, it was strange,” I say. “I don’t dream much at all, really. I rarely remember my dreams. But I remember one I had last night.”

  “Okay,” my mother-in-law says, sitting down on the foot of our big, king-sized bed to listen.

  Will is nursing away happily, smiling and looking up at Ali as he fills his belly and she gently strokes the silky, red hair on the top of his little head.

  “It was really simple,” I continue. “Which is part of what makes it seem strange to me.”

  “Okay, go on,” Marjorie says.

  “Much like in the dream about Dad from the night of the break-in, there wasn’t much setting or backdrop. It was just me on a deserted, two-lane road in the middle of the woods.” Chills run up and down my spine as the words leave my mouth.

  “What were you doing there, George?” Marjorie asks.

  “I was looking for Ali,” I say.

  “What?” Ali asks, looking a little concerned.

  “Yeah, I was calling out for you,” I say, turning towards my wife.

  “Why were you looking for her?” Marjorie says, sitting up straighter now and looking more serious than she did a few minutes ago. I wonder if I should be worried.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I just know I needed to find Ali and I couldn’t.”

  “That’s kind of unsettling,” Ali says.

  “Well, the strangest part is that, from somewhere off in the distance, I thought I heard Ethan’s voice calling my name.”

  Neither of the ladies in my life says a word. They’re processing and trying to make sense out of this.

  “Is that all?” Marjorie asks. “Anything else you can remember?”

  “That’s it,” I say. “I don’t know where I was. It kind of looked like Ithaca, but I can’t be sure. And I have no idea at all where Ethan’s voice was coming from. I wanted to get to him and comfort him, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. I just heard his voice. I thought it might be my imagination. And I knew I needed to stay focused on finding Ali.”

  “Gosh, Georgie,” my wife says.

  “I know,” I say. “Weird, right?”

  Marjorie looks like she’s choosing her words carefully.

  “I’ll go ahead and say it. This is probably something that shouldn’t be ignored,” she states for the record.

  “Should we be alarmed?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t go as far as being alarmed,” Marjorie replies. “Sometimes dreams are just dreams without any deeper meaning. We’ll keep it in mind, but otherwise, I don’t think you need to concern yourselves yet.”

  “Yet?” Ali asks, lifting little Will and leaning him on her shoulder to allow any air bubbles he may have gobbled in a chance to escape.

  “Well, I just mean that we’ll remain aware,” Marjorie clarifies. “And we’ll be ready to connect the dots if we receive information which may be related. That’s how I handle intuition anyway. It’s the best advice I can give.”

  “Should I look it up on the internet or something?” I ask. “Aren’t there a slew of dream interpretation sites out there?”

  “No need,” Marjorie says. “Most of those are utter rubbish, in my opinion. Intuition is relevant to the person or persons experiencing it. There’s no catalog or directory which can explain matters of the sixth sense.”

  “Okay, then,” I say. “I just wanted to let you know, Marjorie, in case you thought it was important.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she replies. Then, after a deliberate breath, “George, have you been back to see Dr. Epstein since Will was born?”

  This is the first time she’s asked. It’s been six months.

  “You know,” I answer. “I haven’t. He tried to follow up, but I guess I’ve been putting it off.”

&nb
sp; “Did you discuss hypnosis when you met with him?” Marjorie inquires.

  This is my chance to tell them about the past life memories. No better opportunity than now. And no better audience. Marjorie could compare my experience to her own. And, of course, Ali should be one of the first to hear that I remember, with absolute certainty, that she and I lived together and loved one another in Ancient Greece. Just like Ethan said.

  “We did discuss hypnosis,” I say simply.

  “Did you tell him how Ethan made statements regarding what sounds like a legitimate past life memory?” my mother-in-law asks, respectfully.

  She’s not trying to intrude. She genuinely wants to help. Before I can answer, Roddy appears in the doorway. He has Leo on one hip and Ethan on the other. All three of them are smiling big and looking proud.

  “Good morning, family,” Roddy says cheerfully.

  “Good morning,” we say back.

  “Two very helpful boys we know made pancakes, eggs, and bacon for everyone,” he announces.

  “Come and get it!” Ethan says enthusiastically.

  “Yeah, come ‘n’ get it!” Leo parrots. I swear, that boy thinks the sun rises and sets with his big brother.

  “Good job, babies!” Ali says. “Did you make enough for all of our guest?” They look up at their Papa Roddy to be sure before they answer. He lowers his eyes and nods assuredly.

  “Yes, Mommy,” Ethan says. “Plenty for everybody.”

  “Come ‘n’ get it!” Leo says again.

  “It’ll be brunch,” Roddy clarifies.

  “How can we say no to that?” I ask, smiling at our boys. They’re growing up so well.

  “Alright then,” Marjorie says, taking little Will back from Ali and walking towards the bedroom door. “Let’s give Mommy and Daddy a chance to get dressed, then we’ll meet up at the big dining room table.”

  I nod at Marjorie to let her know we’ll finish this conversation later. Once she and the boys exit and close the door, Ali and I quickly get out of bed in order to join them. I jump in the shower since I can get in and out within ten minutes or less. I figure I might as well go ahead and get ready for the day. Ali has a much longer and more intensive process for getting ready, so she decides to wash up a little for brunch and then wait until after we eat to go through her full routine. The people staying at our house right now are our closest friends and family members. No one will mind if Ali isn’t runway ready on this lazy Sunday morning. The funny thing, though, is that my wife always looks drop-dead gorgeous. Even when she hasn’t done her hair and makeup. She’s a true natural beauty. Her quiet confidence and steady presence surely add to the effect.