Johnny grinned, they didn’t do this often enough. They both had enjoyed the bench seat in his ‘81 Chevy when they were first together.
They stopped for drive-through hot chocolates and the server smiled at them as she handed the drinks up into the truck window. “Merry Christmas! Have a nice evening.”
An ancient Ramcharger, rear springs sagging, was turning into the restaurant as they waited to exit.
“It’s Isaac!” Mary squealed. “What is he driving?”
Johnny chuckled, realizing this was the “Christmas present” Isaac had gone to Burns Lake to retrieve. Seeing Terry was behind him in her brown pickup, he turned the big Chevy and parked.
They climbed down to say hello, smiling at the unexpected meeting.
“We’re going in for sandwiches, want to join us?” Terry’s eyes sparkled.
“Sure. We can bring our drinks in for a few minutes,” Johnny replied, turning to look at Isaac’s latest project.
The women hurried away, Mary carrying their drinks. Johnny guessed Terry needed the restroom.
Isaac showed Johnny his purchase, lifting the hood to see the engine, acrid smoke rising from the oil leaking onto the exhaust.
“I’m starving, let’s go in.” He slammed the hood, cutting the tour short.
Johnny followed the Clockmaker into the restaurant and joined Mary at a table. Terry came out of the restroom and joined them after telling Isaac what she wanted.
They chatted until Isaac joined them with a tray piled with food.
“Here’s a sandwich for you, little buddy.” He pushed a wrapped package Johnny’s way and a muffin toward Mary. “And something healthy for you, Mary.”
He shivered. “Stupid heater doesn’t work. I think I’m half-frozen.”
“I wondered why you came in here so quick. Normally you would still be out there in the cold.” Mary caught Terry’s eye. “But I guess you’ve been apart for a whole two hours, just about a weekend record!
They both smiled, and Isaac put a long arm around Terry’s shoulder.
“Meeting this lady here was almost as good as finding the deal on that old 4x4. Now I have to decide who to spend more time with.”
Terry laughed.
The two had formed a real attachment, and Johnny and Mary figured it would get more serious quickly. After sharing vacation plans, and talking a few minutes about the upcoming Mexico trip, Johnny and Mary left the other couple and continued their journey.
The trip to Prince George seemed quick, their conversation centered on the last month and the changes in their lives. Mary was playing Christmas music and leaning on Johnny’s shoulder, arm wrapped around his. She marvelled at the growth in herself and Johnny since last Christmas.
“Johnny, have I changed in the last year?”
He thought before responding. Mary had learned he was not ignoring her but was taking time to form his answer.
“You have, but it’s not because you were so bad. I think you have been able to relax, now that I am being a better husband. And a better friend. I used to think you were a nag, but since I started acting more responsible, you haven’t needed to get on my case, you know? Does that make sense?”
She sighed. “It does, but I think I have grown too. Now I expect you to do the right thing, where before I expected you to do things wrong.”
He nodded. “I hate to admit it, but your mom was right about me more often than not. And she was right when she said you ‘enabled my behavior’.” He growled out, “I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true. Even though she was real mean about it, she was mostly right.”
He drove for a while as she squeezed his arm tightly.
“You know, Mary, I’m really excited about spending time with your dad and Joanne. I think we will have a good time. But when we come back, I think we should try to spend some time with your mom, maybe a Sunday lunch or dinner out.”
She looked at him and shook his arm in her peculiar way.
“That’s an idea all right. But are you sure? What if she keeps insulting you?”
“A couple more jabs can’t really hurt, can they? I won’t be blindsided if it happens, and I think we should give her the chance to see us together now. She might even like what she sees.”
Mary liked the idea. “Well, why not? Let’s give it a try. I hope it works!”
Johnny pulled in to the brightly decorated mall. There were still a few gifts to pick up for Joanne. As they looked for a convenient parking place, Johnny changed the tone of the conversation.
“Imagine what it will be like at Christmas when we have a baby, our very own baby.”
He parked crookedly, unable to see as Mary turned and wrapped her arms around him. A woman driving a minivan with three dented corners glared fiercely at the big 4x4 so rudely hogging several spaces, and swerved off to find another spot, almost denting the fourth corner on a security vehicle making its rounds.
Gifts purchased and wrapped, Mary pulled Johnny into a store filled with baby things. They were delighted and slightly awed by the choices ahead of them, and agreed their Christmas was off to a good start.
Chapter 30
Christmas Eve began with Johnny enjoying a quiet and early cup of coffee, looking out from their suite on the fifth floor. The little machine made a good brew, and he sat in the living area where he could see Mary still asleep through the open bedroom doorway and watch the weather outside, winter sky still dark, falling snow swirling through the headlights on the highway and visible in thick cones below the streetlights.
He felt refreshed and filled with anticipation. Not just for the holiday, but for life ahead. What would it be like to have a kid, to be a father? He sipped his coffee, thinking.
Johnny had very little experience with babies and small children. His uncles were his only relatives and had no children of their own, or friends with children. One day a girl in his elementary class had brought her baby brother for show and tell. The young Johnny absorbed the information his classmate shared and had been shocked to feel the soft spot on the baby’s head. He was afraid she would drop the baby and hurt it.
Sometimes his friends would be charged with caring for their younger siblings, and the mothers soon learned that if Johnny was around, their little children would be well cared for. Johnny took the unwanted responsibility seriously; no baby or toddler was going to get hurt or deserted by their older siblings on his watch.
Johnny didn’t want to admit it to Mary, but the thought of having their own child made him nervous. He had no clue how to care for one of his own. But Mary was confident, and he knew they could figure it out. He grinned. If his uncles could raise him, then he could raise a baby with Mary’s help; or rather, Mary could raise a child with some help from him.
Johnny had been raised without the conflict or correction he had seen in his friends’ homes. There was no arguing over things like food or bedtime in the Amund house; you ate, or you didn’t. Not liking something wasn’t a factor; food was food. If you missed supper, you ate more for breakfast. The salad he tried at the home of a complaining friend tasted good to Johnny, and when he had been old enough to help shop for groceries, he soon had his uncles eating lettuce salad and cucumber slaw, easy for a pre-teen to make.
This led to an extension of the potato and turnip patch, the three Amunds feeling adventurous as they planted an assortment of vegetables. Johnny had tended the large garden through his teen years. He smiled at the memory of a steaming bowl of over-boiled Brussels sprouts, the only time he remembered food going uneaten at the Amund table. The following February when the uncles sat down one evening to plan their mail-order seed list, Brussels sprouts were carefully crossed off, and Johnny had avoided the bitter little garden gremlins ever since.
From his chair he watched the snow through half closed eyes, hands clasped behind his head. The forgotten scenes from his childhood were comforting. His stomach growled, and he glanced across the dark room toward the kitchenette.
On the fa
rm there was usually a pot of oatmeal ready on the stove each morning, cold cereal as an alternative. Fresh milk was delivered weekly by a neighbor who kept milk cows. Bread, mustard, and bologna were stocked in the refrigerator and canned goods in the cupboard.
The food selection grew when Johnny began doing most of the grocery shopping, and his teachers no longer needed to keep a can opener handy in their desk, in case the quiet boy showed up with a lunch consisting of a can of soup or mixed fruit.
When he was twelve, Johnny had been given an electric bread-maker, unsold at a neighbor’s garage sale. Uncle Lars bought the supplies on the ingredient list, and after huddling together to carefully follow the directions and set the timer, the three woke early to the smell of fresh bread. Delighted with their success, from then on, they were well supplied with delicious, fresh bread from a succession of bread machines.
Lars and Nelsson Amund never asked him to do something that didn’t make sense. He put himself to bed and got up in time for school. The brothers’ rock-solid consistency was not something they could have explained, it was just the way they were.
The men were old enough to be great-uncles but had taken care to plan several events each year with the boy in mind. Summer was busy, but Johnny remembered several trips to Prince Rupert by train, where the three Amunds enjoyed a fishing charter, iced cooler containing their catch stowed in the baggage car on the return trip. Johnny remembered the view from the Via Rail dome car, and his uncles’ silent appreciation of the scenery.
Several times during the winter Uncle Nelsson had taken time off from the insurance agency and the three of them had flown to Vancouver for a hockey game. They always spent a few extra days, touring a greenhouse, factory, or other business that seemed important to Johnny’s development.
Johnny was taught to run equipment on the farm and when deemed responsible, was given his own snowmobile with which to check the cattle and run errands on the property north of town. This extension of trust had resonated deeply with Johnny, and he had cared for the little machine diligently, parking it the machine shed with the farm equipment after each use.
Johnny smiled at the memories and settled down to drink coffee and think. Yes, he had been lonely many times, but he had learned to find company in the hockey games on the radio and in the games he played alone while working on the farm.
When Mary came into his life, he had revelled in the way she held his arm, leaned on him, and looked into his eyes. He loved being near her, sitting together while driving or watching a game, or when she held his face in her hands. He did not take this for granted, even though he had never thought to express it. Now, he decided, he was going to try to explain his feelings. He wanted his kids to feel loved, to never be lonely, to have friends. He wanted to see Mary hold them, and love them, and he wanted his children to know he loved them, too.
His cup was empty again, and as he refilled it, he heard Mary stirring. She shuffled out warm and sleepy in one of his T-shirts. He handed her the cup of coffee and sat back in the chair near the window, pulling her onto his lap.
“Johnny, look! It snowed a foot, you can hardly see the truck!” When he didn’t respond she pulled back to look at him. “What, Johnny?”
Mary listened enrapt as Johnny spoke. He took his time, carefully explaining his thoughts. Silently she watched his face, cup forgotten on the end table. Tears went unnoticed as he told her things she had ached to hear, intensity of his rich voice not lost in the quiet conveyance of his dreams and hopes and maybes.
They left the hotel room much later than intended, but as Mary said breathlessly in the elevator on the way down, “Now the roads should be plowed, and we can drive faster.”
Her reasoning may have been flawed, but Johnny wasn’t arguing. He was happy to spend the day with his wife and didn’t care what time it was now, how hungry he was, or when they arrived. He knew one thing for sure; they were certainly closer in their quest of having a child of their own.
Watching the couple walk through the warm lobby and into the snowstorm, oblivious to all but themselves, one desk clerk nudged the other, “Look at her! She is actually glowing.”
“You’re just jealous, Mitch.” was the catty reply. And he was.
The trip south was slow, hours spent in long strings of vehicles following plow trucks. The big pickup riding on winter tires and loaded with half a ton of cargo handled the snowy conditions well, but not all the travelers were as fortunate. They stopped several times as wreckers pulled vehicles from the ditch.
The snow let up south of Williams Lake, and by Clinton they were cruising at speed limit, surprised at the amount of traffic on the highway on Christmas Eve. They made one more stop at a big box store in Kamloops for fuel and to fill a cooler with snacks for the several days in the cabin after Christmas. Back on the road, Johnny let out a war cry that made Mary jump.
“Hey, what was that for? Crazy man!”
He did it again, and she joined in.
“You think that’s how our children’s ancestors ran into battles? Do you think we are going to be fierce parents?”
She just laughed. “I’m sure we will! They just better not be born wearing Viking helmets!”
Driving through the evening the trip seemed too short, and with half an hour left, Mary sighed.
“Johnny, this has been such a nice day.” She felt dreamy in the warm cab. Snowflakes rushed into the headlights like moths in the summer. “And it’s only the first day of a long break.” She stretched her long legs and yawned luxuriously.
“I love you, Johnny Amund! That’s my war cry.” She said drowsily and dozed off.
“‘Pass the eggnog’ is going to be my war cry in an hour,” Johnny replied, squinting through tired eyes into the snow, the final leg of the drive dotted with small communities along the winding highway.
But the eggnog had to wait, as his father-in-law had other plans. When they rolled in at 7 pm, Al and Joanne were glad they had arrived in time to attend an outdoor Christmas Eve service.
Standing in the calm winter night with one arm around Mary, the other hand holding a steaming cup of spicy apple cider, Johnny revelled in the warmth of being with family. While the small crowd sang Christmas carols, flakes of snow drifted down, adding a welcome serenity to the hillside, and through their veil, the city lights appeared warm and friendly below.
Chapter 31
Christmas with Al and Joanne was everything Johnny thought Christmas should be. After a relaxed breakfast, they opened their presents, the conversation flowing smoothly.
Later, while Al cooked a small turkey in his new outdoor fryer, the skiff of new snow soaking up splatters of grease, Johnny made stuffing from a box. Unimpressed with the amount, he made three more boxes while Mary and Joanne were busy with a new dessert recipe.
The celebration continued while they ate the over-cooked turkey and too much stuffing and all the other Christmas treats. Later, Joanne read a familiar and hilarious Canadian Christmas story about some guy cooking a turkey, as well as a few sobering classics.
In bed that night, Johnny thought about “The Gift of the Magi,” a story he had never heard told. The story was depressing in a way, the husband and wife each giving up their prized possession to buy a gift rendered useless by their individual sacrifices. He thought of the Christmas Eve drive, the sense of love he would treasure forever. His thoughts had been on his wife, not on the pickup he had wanted so badly and worked so hard to afford, or even the expensive snow machines that in previous winters had probably captured his attention more than Mary.
He had to force himself to relax, as the regret and embarrassment of the wasted years filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame. He had never understood how close he had been to ruining his marriage, and the thought of not having what he now possessed was almost unbearable. He was grateful that he and Mary were not poor like the couple in the story and could give each other gifts that were enjoyed and useful. But he appreciated even more the way he was learning
to love his wife, and she was learning to love him too.
They had discovered years ago that arguments were just part of the package of being together and worked hard to keep mean comments or name-calling out of their disagreements. This had been a good strategy and had helped them stay together. But when Johnny recalled all the weekends he had left to spend fishing, hunting, or snowmobiling with friends while Mary was at home working, he grew tense again.
Taking a deep breath, he disturbed the sleeping Mary, who turned over, throwing an arm across his chest. He gently squeezed her warm arm and vowed to love her like he’d promised in his hastily muttered wedding vows.
The next morning, Al and Johnny met accidentally at the refrigerator to graze on leftovers at 6am and Joanne and Mary were up and around soon after, as they had made plans for a serious Boxing Day sale shopping trip. They found the men at the kitchen table watching snowmobiling videos and feasting on large plates loaded with Christmas leftovers.
The shoppers declined turkey for breakfast, eating bowls of cereal instead. They invited the guys to join them for a late lunch and Johnny was surprised how much he wanted this to happen.
Just after 7am, the ladies disappeared; as Al said, “Like lady knights in search of the ‘Holy Sale.’ Stay out of their way, man!”
Johnny washed his truck and helped Al service his snowmobiles. They loaded all four machines, protected from road slush and salt in Al’s enclosed trailer. They strapped down containers of fuel and returned to the house to load the coolers.
Both were veterans of many outdoor adventures and had learned to prepare ahead of time. In short order, steaks were marinating in freezer bags, deli salads were carefully packed, and loaves of bread were placed in coolers to prevent crushing. The Christmas leftovers were shovelled into microwave containers and almost filled a cooler of their own.
By mid-morning the trailer was loaded and ready to go and they hitched the loaded trailer to Al’s SUV, tested the lights, and then piled their snow gear behind the rear seat.
Always a Brother Page 16