Half Finished

by Lauraine Snelling

  Who turned on the AC? Another shiver brought her awake enough to realize where she was. In the living room, the sliding door open partway, good thing the screen door was locked. No wonder she was chilled. The big question, pick up the afghan from the back of the sofa and go back to sleep here or…or go to the bathroom. That always took precedence.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she glared at the sleepy-looking face. “You will now get undressed, go into your bedroom, and go to sleep in the bed!” Yes, she ordered herself to do that. Lord, help me. She whistled for Spook. He would be more than happy to sleep on the bed. He charged up the stairs and skidded to sit in front of her in the hallway. “Come on, boy, let’s go to bed.” With him by her side, she marched into the room, folded back the spread, and reminding herself to breathe, slipped under the sheet and summer blanket. “Come on, Spook.” She patted the bed, and with a grand leap, he stretched out beside her, head on her chest. “I know this isn’t normal, but tonight we start a new normal.” Refusing to let herself look around the room, now lit by moonlight, she rolled over and laid her arm over the furry body. “Good boy.” For that she got a chin lick.

  In the midst of the storm, praise Him! She’d read that somewhere. The words clogged in her throat. She swallowed. Whispering, she forced them out. “Thank you, Lord, for Spook, for getting in this bed. Thank you for Addy downstairs.” The tears welled and seeped into her pillow.

  Spook whimpered.

  “Thank you for You, Jesus. Lord God, I praise Your mighty name. You promised to be here when I call, Lord Jesus, hold me close. You said You hold me in Your hand and keep me safe. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. You said Your name is all powerful”—a song she had learned years earlier trickled through her mind—“there’s just something about that name.”

  Spook snuffled and snored. Please help me sleep, stop crying, get through. Like a sweet balm, a voice whispered in her heart and mind. “I am here, I will never leave you, you are my beloved daughter. My love never leaves and never ends. Rest, sleep in my arms where you are safe.”

  Birds singing in the tree outside her window slowly woke her up. She lay there, Spook now at her feet, and breathed in the peace of the morning. What is that fragrance? she wondered, still not opening her eyes. She felt like she was floating in warm water, like the time they had gone to Florida. The rooster crowed. What time is it? I don’t want to know. I want to float longer.

  Spook whimpered and pawed at her leg.

  “I know, you need to go out. Shame we never put in a doggy door for you.” But then Fred never minded getting up early to let the dog out, not even in the winter. He loved greeting the morning.

  For a change, thoughts of him did not make her cry. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling for her slippers. “Come on, boy. Out the kitchen door.” Standing in the doorway, she watched a pair of robins fight in midair, flapping at each other. One fled, leaving a brightly rust-breasted male the victor. He returned to a perch in the crabapple tree. The tree was showing color on the buds. She needed to make crabapple pickles again this year when they were out. Fred loved pickled crabapples.

  “Will this be the rest of my life, thinking of Fred and what he likes—liked?”

  Spook barreled past her to his dish, then stared at her with a sharp bark. “I know, your food is not in your dish. Sorry, sir. I’m falling down on the job.” She snagged a tissue off the box on the counter, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and heaved a sigh. The cat had padded upstairs from sleeping with Addy at the sound of the refrigerator door opening. Cat food, dog food, fill the water bowl, make the coffee. Build a new morning routine. So far, Amalia had taken over the morning chores. Today I am going to learn how to set the coffeemaker the night before so I can wake up to the smell of coffee.

  She grabbed her robe off the hook in the bathroom, slid her feet into her boots, and dog at her side, headed for the chicken house. She’d heard of a solar-powered gizmo to open the chicken house door at whatever time she set it. Might just be worth looking into.

  Good thing she could open the door from the outside. She’d still not been able to force herself to go into the chicken house. Today was not going to be the day. Addy would gladly feed the chickens and collect the eggs. She left the gate to the chicken yard open so they would have free range like they usually did. Surely today she would see the hens drinking out of the low bird bath. One time she’d gotten a picture of them gathered around the concrete bath. The wild birds were not enthusiastic about sharing their bath with the big domestic birds.

  In the barn, she dug grain out of the bin, dumped some in the manger for the pony and the donkey, and after throwing a couple flakes of hay in the steer feeder, poured a can of grain on top of that. “There you go, boys. Sorry to be late.” Last stop was Boss Lady, the Hereford cow, and her heifer calf, Bets. Fred had named her, after they had bet on the sex of the calf before it was born. This was Boss Lady’s first year to have a heifer, and they had planned to keep her. She was now two months old and still not real sure about those critters that walked on two legs.

  Ginny had asked Addy to come down and brush Magic and Smoky. The kids used to ride them but had pretty much outgrown them. They had talked about buying a couple of horses so they could go riding, Addy loved to ride and so did Andy. Ginny did too. Perhaps if they—she—did, it would help loosen up her hips. Something more to think about.

  The bottom of her robe was wet from the dew on the grass, but instead of going to change, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took it out on the deck, where the lounge beckoned her. Spook flopped down beside her and started licking the wet off his feet. With a plaintive mee-ow, the cat jumped up on her legs and walked up to curl in her sort of lap.

  A perfect morning like this, she and Fred would have done this same thing. But while he was doing chores, she would fix them some breakfast and they’d eat out here at the table with the umbrella up. It was bungeed closed. Amalia sat out here and must have closed up the umbrella. Fred had brought it out from the storage in the garage and inserted it in the hole. Usually she would have washed it first. Whatever good that usually did.

  She could hear her cell phone ringing in the bedroom. Get up? No. Ignore for now. She could always call back. It quieted. But after a brief pause, long enough to leave a message, it rang again and repeated the process. “All right, all right, I’m coming.”

  “Grandma!” Addy came barreling up the stairs. “Grandma!”

  “I am right here. What’s the matter?”

  “Dad called me. He said he called and called and you didn’t answer. I have to call him back if you’re all right.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. My phone is in the bedroom and I was out on the deck and too lazy to get up to answer.”

  Addy punched a number and held the phone to her ear. “Easy, Dad, she’s fine, she’s right here.” She inhaled deeply to catch her breath again, and handed the phone to her grandmother. “You talk to him.”

  “Sam, Sam, I’m all right. I was out on the deck and left my phone in the bedroom. I just figured I’d call back.”

  “For crying out loud, Mom, after all we’ve been through, how could I not hit the panic button? You promised to keep your phone with you all the time. And you are supposed to call when you get up.”

  “Did I agree to that?” Ginny tried to think when she would have said she’d call.

  “Amalia has been doing so, but since she’s not there, I guess I assumed you would do the same. And Addy…”

  “Was still sound asleep.” She glanced at the clock as Addy went back inside, disappearing downstairs. “After all, it’s barely eight o’clock. Give us a break.” She heard him suck in a deep breath. “If she hadn’t answered when she did, I was heading for the truck. If you had one of the alarm buttons you wear around your neck, I’d have known if you were in trouble.”

  She started to tell him all she’d already done but none of it sounded significant enough. After all, the chores were part of the ordinary. Well, no
t anymore. Fred did all those things before…Would her life always be defined that way? BFD. Before Fred died. And AFD.

  “I do not want one of those alarms.”

  “Yeah, well, Dad refused to have one too. He and I talked about it, or rather I talked about it and he shook his head.” The silence screamed at her.

  “Look, can we talk about this later? I would like to go get dressed and—”

  “If Addy just got up…I’ll be right over to do the chores. Or put her back on; she can go do the chores.”

  “I already did them. Well, most of them. I can’t make myself go in the chicken house.” She whispered the last words and sniffed back the immediate barrage of tears. “S-sorry. I’ll call you back later.” She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the counter so she could blow her nose. You have to stop crying before Addy comes back up. A few tears are one thing; a deluge could be scary. It was all she could do to stagger into the bedroom and shut the door before throwing herself across the bed. Spook had gone from whimper to all-out bark before it registered.

  “Grandma, are you all right?” Addy pounded on the door and rattled the knob. “Grandma!”

  “Sorry, I’m coming.” No, I’m not. I knew having her here was not a good idea. Don’t be stupid. She’s a big girl now. Let her know what is happening. She can handle it. She wanted to scream, “Shut up!” but sucked in a deep breath instead. “It’s okay, Addy, I just had a crying jag. Do not call your dad, this just happens sometimes.”

  “You sure?”

  Ginny could tell that her darling granddaughter was crying now. Go to her. Ginny blew her nose again as she crossed the room to the door. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay.” How she had managed to push the lock button when she shut the door was beyond her, but then, right now, too many things were beyond her. She opened the door and pulled her granddaughter into her arms. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But sometimes the grief just overwhelms me. Not quite so much anymore but I should have warned you. Pastor Mike said this is normal. Amalia said the same thing. I guess until you go through it yourself, you don’t know.”

  “But, Grandma, I miss him too, so much that sometimes I want to scream at God. This is so not fair. I need my grandpa.”

  “I’ve already been yelling at Him, but you know, it is not God’s fault.”

  “He’s the only one who could have stopped it.”

  “Come on, let’s go to the recliner.” She sat first and Addy snuggled in beside her like they had done for so many years.

  “We don’t fit so good anymore.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue. “Grandma, how come nobody wants to talk about Grandpa?”

  “Ah, sweetie, it’s because it hurts too bad, and they don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t either, but saying that doesn’t do any good. I just cry—and cry. But I guess that is the way of…of grieving for someone you love so.”

  Addy’s nodding head rubbed against her shoulder. “I remember when our baby died. I didn’t think Mom would ever quit crying.”

  “You were pretty little then.”

  “I know, but I’ll never forget.”

  “We don’t forget, but after a while, it doesn’t hurt so much.” Ginny sucked in a breath. “I keep telling myself, this will be that way too, but right now…”

  “Right now it seems to go on forever.”

  “Ah, Addy, you are so young to know that.”

  Addy shrugged and wiped a leftover tear from her grandma’s cheek. “I love you, Grandma. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, baby, so very much, and so does your grandpa.” Ginny reached for the tissue box and plopped it between them.

  Spook barked his high-pitched I want to help you bark and planted both front feet on Ginny’s thigh. He leaned forward to kiss Addy’s tears away and then Ginny’s. Both of them laughed, while Addy reached out and hugged the dog.

  “Sorry, boy, didn’t mean to ignore you. And you can’t get up here because I am in your place.”

  Instead, he launched himself and landed right on Ginny. “Oof. Get down, you big lug.”

  But instead he leaned forward and tried to wash the rest of her face. She pushed him away. “Okay, this is it. We all get up before I am totally squished beneath a seventy-pound dog and an almost teenage girl.”

  Addy laughed and ordered the dog off too as she pushed herself upright. “That recliner just isn’t big enough anymore. Come on, Spook, puppy treats?”

  He beat her to the kitchen.

  Ginny sucked in a breath and pushed it out. At least the tears had dried up. She stood and made her way to the bathroom for a cold wet cloth.

  “Grandma, did you let the chickens out?”

  “I did but I didn’t feed them.”

  “I’ll do that while you get dressed and then we can make breakfast, okay?”

  Ginny smiled. “Fine, what would you like?”

  “Can we have French toast?”

  “We can, and sausage?”

  “Yay!” She flew out the door, calling for Spook to come too.

  Drained was the only word Ginny could think of. Like someone had pulled the plug and all her energy had gurgled down the drain. She held the cloth up to her face, wet it again, and did the same. Sinking down on the closed toilet seat, she leaned against the tank and let the coolness trickle down her neck. Her phone, now in her robe pocket, sang to her. She checked the screen, not daring a repeat from earlier.

  “Hi, Amalia.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Getting there, why?”

  “Your voice, and Sam called.”

  “Oh. I scared him by not answering my phone.” Roxie felt bad about that now.

  “Uh-huh. He about hit 911.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “No, but he came close. The fact that he told me, that was the surprising part. You know his idea of the call button is not a bad one.”

  “Oh, for…Now that is playing dirty, enlisting my friends.”

  “I’ve thought about it. I would have gotten one had I stayed out on the farm.”

  Ginny’s head shook without her volition.

  “Where are you?” Amalia asked.

  “Sitting on the john with a cold cloth that is now warm.”

  “Bad bout?”

  “Yes, but I did manage to spend at least part of the night in our—my—bed. Spook kept me company.”

  “Bless that dog.”

  “I know. Thanks to him, I woke up to birds singing and got up and then went down to do the chores. After I fed him and the cat, of course.”

  “Did you go in the chicken house?” Amalia asked.

  “Ah, no. But I opened their door and fed the rest of the animals. Addy is down feeding the chickens now.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “Yes, we had a good talk after I fell apart—again. Amalia, I tried so hard not to.”

  “And that only makes it worse.”

  “I know. I am learning, albeit slowly.”

  Amalia’s voice soothed. “Ginny, life is not a contest to see how quickly we learn, which is an incredible gift from our God, who wants to help us grow. He never says, ‘Hurry up.’”

  Ginny blew out a breath. “Well, this seat is getting rather hard. I’ll talk with you later. Got to get dressed and Addy wants French toast.”

  “Good for you both. Later.” Amalia clicked off.

  “Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful friends and family.” She sniffed. “I take too much for granted. Way too much. Sorry, Father.”

  She was in the kitchen getting out the griddle when Addy and Spook burst through the door, the girl laughing, the dog yipping and bouncing.

  “I won!” she announced.

  “Won what?”

  “I challenged Spook to a race up here and I won.”

  He sat at her feet, tongue lolling in a doggy grin.

  “He thinks he won.” Ginny nodded at him. “You better get him a puppy treat after accusing him like that.” She pinched a large piece off the sausage for
each patty. “You can start the egg and milk to dip the bread in. I use a pie pan.”

  This time she let the tears drip. French toast and sausage was one of Fred’s favorite breakfasts. Today they would have it in celebration of him. “Make sure you pour orange juice too.”

  “Okay. Grandma, you’re crying again.”

  “Nope, just drippy eyes.” She sniffed and smiled through her tears. “Please hand me a tissue.”

  “Your hands are all greasy. You want me to wipe your nose for you?” Concern wrinkled her forehead.

  “You think you can?”

  “Grandma, I babysat the neighbor’s baby, and he doesn’t like to have his nose wiped. I’m sure you’ll hold still.”

  Ginny snorted, then burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this.” She held still so Addy could finish her self-assigned job. “Thank you. Shoot, and I can’t even hug you.”

  “Sure you can, just don’t wipe your greasy hands on my shirt.” They reached for each other, amid more laughter and tears.

  Am I crying because I am sad or because this is so very crazy? Surely the latter.

  Chapter Eighteen

  You know, this is the first time I’ve been on a date in, oh, ten years or more.”

  “Really?” Roxie leaned her head back on the car seat. “Let’s see. My husband died sixteen years ago, and the last years when he was fighting cancer for his life, we did not do any dating. So that means, if you don’t count husband-wife date nights, not that we called them that back then, I’ve not been on a date for…ah, let’s talk about something else.”

  Rich burst out laughing. “Ha! You don’t want to tell me how old you are. I am fifty-nine years old and proud of it.”

  “All right, smarty, I am fifty-four and proud of it. Turning fifty was the best birthday of my life.”

  He chuckled. “Well, how about us two old fogies going to the drive-in for milk shakes?”

  “We could never afford milk shakes; we drank Cherry Cokes.”

  “You suppose they still make those?”

  She shrugged. “I guess. Did you ever drink a Green River?”

  “Now, that’s a name I’ve not heard for a whole bunch of years.”