Someday Home (17 page)

Lynn's eyes suddenly went wide. “Did you open your window?”

“I did.” Both women leaped to their feet, one to charge down the hall, the other up the stairs.

“Check Judith's room, too, please,” Lynn called.

Angela did so, even though she felt ridiculously invasive to be entering someone else's private quarters. What if someone simply walked into hers? If she trained the children in one thing, it was to respect others' property. But Judith's window stood wide open, ready to welcome the rain. Angela closed it and was impressed with how smoothly this wood-framed window operated. Excellent construction.

A howl from downstairs called her back. She found Homer cowering behind the sofa, whimpering and shaking. When the thunder crashed again, he howled so mournfully she called him out, sat back down on the sofa, and brought him up into her lap, petting him and crooning comfort. “Poor guy.”

Lynn was out on the porch, simply standing there, head up and eyes closed, inhaling deeply. She came back in. “Dog's afraid of thunder and lightning.”

Lightning lit the room again and the thunder crashed right overhead. Homer yelped and tried to dig into the couch. Lynn laughed. “No, boy, you can't do that. Come on, it's all right.” She sat on the other side of him and rubbed his back. More mothering. Now that Angela was attuned to it, she could see Mother in much of what Lynn did.

Lynn said, “I think there is something we can give him to make this easier. I'll ask Herb tomorrow.” The rain continued, the wind churning the lake into a sea of whitecaps. The dock bobbed on the power of the incoming waves.

“I don't think we'll be canoeing tonight.” Lynn leaned over and clicked the switch on the lamp. Nothing. “Well, good thing we have a gas stove, because right now, we have no electricity. The lightning must have struck somewhere close enough to take it out. If you have your computer on, go turn it off and your cell phone.”

“I've never seen a storm like this over water. How utterly beautiful.”

“Especially when we are in a solid house, wired to not burn down if lightning strikes. I'll get the fire going; the chill sure comes in fast, too.” She looked down at the dog in her lap, who was now snoring softly. “Wore him out.”

A chirp from the kitchen and Miss Minerva strolled into the room, tail straight up, and, ignoring the dog, she leaped up on the sofa and settled in Angela's lap. Homer raised his head and slid over the side onto the floor.

The rain still drummed on the roof, heard from even that high above them. Once the fire was snapping and crackling, Homer went to lie on the braided rug in front of it. The women moved over to the two recliners in front of the soaring stone fireplace and Minerva climbed back in Angela's lap.

“Looks like you've made a good friend.”

Angela smiled. “You don't mind sharing?”

“Not at all.” Lynn dug into the quilted bag beside her and pulled out her knitting. The click of the needles, the soft crackle of the fire, and the rain drumming on the roof and the windows—so homey, even if Angela's home was never quite like this. She realized now that when she showed a house she referred to as homey, it was not often like this.

Was this crying jag a turning point of some sort? Or a step in the right direction, at least? Angela would have explored that thought further but she fell asleep.

V
isiting the cemetery was not Lynn's favorite part of Memorial Day, mostly since Paul had been buried there. But honoring the family ancestors was not a problem. She'd been out at dawn to cut the lilacs, both purple and white, and now the house was filled with the fragrance. She picked enough to leave one bouquet at home on the kitchen counter. When Phillip arrived, he helped her load the buckets in her SUV and drove them to the cemetery. They weren't the first ones there. Since the gates weren't locked, people came when they wanted.

They greeted the other early birds and stopped at the earliest family plot, where they placed jars of lilacs on each of six graves. At the next, where the immediate generation before Lynn lay, they set out five jars. She and Paul had purchased the lot adjacent to his parents, but his sister had already volunteered to decorate those graves, so she moved to where Paul's marker lay.

“You know why I don't really have trouble coming out here, unlike a lot of people I know?” Phillip asked.

“No, why?” She arranged the vase with lilacs and turned from the rear of the car.

“Because they're not here. Their bodies were buried here but they are not here. And when I think of the celebration that went on in heaven when Dad went home, I'm glad for him.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “But sometimes I miss him something fierce, and that's what's hard to handle.”

“Me, too.” Like right now. She and Paul used to do this together. She sniffed and set the vase in the stand. Her last lilacs went on the small grave next to Paul's. She knelt there and rubbed the grass clippings off the marker. Amanda Lynn Lundberg, who at six months had died of crib death. Lynn stared down at it. “I am so certain God has a special place for little ones like this. Just think, she was a year younger than you, so she would be…”

“Thirty. You've been through a lot.” He helped her to her feet and kept an arm around her shoulders.

“We never expect things like this to happen to us. I mean, there we were with our little son who was the cutest little towhead you ever saw and this beautiful baby girl. Healthy, laughing, she stole everyone's heart. Well, both of you did. We have that one portrait of the two of you.” Lynn inhaled the potpourri of spring, the fragrance of lilacs, newly mown grass. “Life changes in an instant and we have no control over it. The amazing thing is that God holds us even closer when the pain is so devastating.” She tissued away the errant tears.

“And then Dad died, also unexpectedly.”

“But at least I knew then about grieving. The process wasn't such a shock. And I knew that when God got me through the first one, He wouldn't fail me this time either or any time.” They strolled back to the SUV. “Now let's put these leftovers on some graves that no one ever decorates.”

Back in the car on the way home, Phillip asked, “You have your stuff ready for the parade and picnic?”

“Pretty much. Just have to load the cooler and pack the basket.”

“Is Angela going to come?”

“I hope so. She said possibly.”

“What about the shindig later tonight?”

“Well, it will be at our house, so how can she miss that? We agreed before beginning this project that the house is to be used for family stuff.”

When he parked the SUV and opened the door, they could hear Homer barking along with a howl thrown in for good measure. “Glad that dog is working out. See you in a while.”

A bit later, Lynn tapped on Angela's door. “I'm leaving for the parade in fifteen minutes. You said you wanted to go along.” No answer. She pushed open the door to see the mound of human still in bed. She stepped inside, walked silently over to the bed, and leaned in close, watching Angela's breathing. She didn't seem ill, just sleeping heavily. Lynn left.

Her phone rang as she returned to the kitchen.

“You ready, G'ma?” Miss Priss bounced, even on the phone.

“Got the cooler and the picnic basket all loaded, so anytime.”

“Yay, Mommy says ten minutes.”

“Okay, sweetie, see you then.”

“Can Homer go along?”

“Not today. We'll take him out with other people in smaller doses first. Big crowds like the parade might scare him.”

“Oh, bye.”

And big crowds it was. They never tried to park downtown because it was easier to find on-the-curb seating farther along the parade route. They found their usual tree in front of a friend's house, unloaded the car, and Phillip drove off to park.

“I can hear the band!” The little girl jumped up from the curb where her two brothers and two cousins sat. Travis had his long-distance squirt gun at the ready. All had bags to pick up the candy to be tossed from all the floats.

“You go sit down before someone grabs your place,” Maggie said after a flash hug from her daughter.

“G'ma, you could sit with us.”

“That's okay, I'm right behind you. Curb sitting and your grandma aren't the best of friends anymore.”

Her pixie face wrinkled. “You don't like parades?”

“Sure I do, just like lawn chairs better than curbs.”

“There they come!” The boys all jumped up as the mounted sheriff's posse led the way with the flags flying above them. The huge U.S. flag half covered the rider in the blowing wind. The horses jigged, and spectators along the way stood with their hands over their hearts, including all the children. The Detroit Lakes High School band marched behind the horses, separated by a clown with a pooper-scooper.

Lynn felt her eyes go liquid as they always did when the flags went by. She mopped after she sat back down.

“Me, too,” Maggie whispered.

After the high school drill team led by girls with spinning batons, the veterans still able marched while the trailer with the oldest of the veterans, some in wheelchairs but all in uniforms, returned the salutes offered by many of those along the way. Every time she saw them, as the numbers grew fewer, Lynn and so many others called out “thank yous” over and over. Part of her gratitude was the safety of all her men. Her father had never shared his experiences of the war in Korea but returned home a wounded hero and now was one of those no longer in the parade. Tom was still troubled by his experiences on active duty a few years ago. He chose not to march, and when she glanced at him, he watched respectfully but was not cheering and waving like his boys.

“Here he comes,” Travis hollered, and hoisted his water gun. A clown on an adult tricycle pumped up a water gun to spray kids and anyone else who got in his way. He zigzagged back and forth, bringing shouts of laughter and screams of “eek.” Travis raised his gun. The clown laughed and the two dueled it out. Travis ran out of water to end it.

“You need a bucket and a pump,” the clown hollered as he passed.

Lynn wiped her face. “How come I got so wet?” But she knew why. The clown in the crazy outfit was none other than Herb, the veterinarian. He loved dousing everyone.

Those on the floats for the organizations in town threw out candy, and the kids scrambled to fill their bags. The historical society wore prairie clothes of the early 1900s; the various class floats tossed candy; and everyone bantered, shouting insults back and forth, making everyone laugh. The swim team float looked like a big fish; the 4-H clubs had chickens and sheep along with kids; and two kids walked behind dragging their reluctant, head-wagging steers by lead ropes. A beautiful team of Clydesdales pulled a handsome buggy with a silver-haired couple, her with a parasol to match her lavender dress of the late 1800s, while the man sported a splendid frock coat and black top hat.

Two other bands marched and more horses and riders; various tractors, some huge and current, some old but restored; vintage cars with the drivers often wearing clothes of the period; and convertibles with the royalty followed by classic cars with the dignitaries. The parade closed with more horses, a pooper-scooper, and the skirl of bagpipes played by three men in full kilt regalia.

Lynn sighed. “I love parades like these.” She took another swig from her bottled water. She hugged the little girl leaning against her knee and laughed at the boys playing and shouting with their friends from across the street. “I think you need your face washed,” she said to Miss Priss, who had obviously been eating red candy, clutching her bag of goodies.

“We better get to the park if we want a table.” Phillip started folding up the chairs. “I'm parked two streets over. Come on, guys, grab a chair.” They joined others, lugging their stuff and heading for the cars.

“You should have had your panel truck in the parade, good advertising,” someone yelled.

“If they don't know us by now…,” Tommy hollered back.

Lynn climbed into the SUV. Memorial Day parades were all so alike and yet every one different. Two years ago she sat on the parade route with Paul. That was two years ago. What would next year's be?

The town's picnic, too, was unique and yet the same, just like all other picnics. Lynn enjoyed the food, the camaraderie. Two years ago Paul scooped egg salad and ham salad out of the tubs onto the rolls and doled them out. And he refereed the pickup volleyball. This year it was Phillip. Cherished memories, vanished times.

But in late afternoon as they arrived at the house, her house, with her children and grandchildren, she knew she had no reason to mope. Look at all she possessed!

“Sorry I didn't get up to come along.” Angela looked up from the kitchen table as Lynn carried the cooler and picnic basket back in.

“You missed a great parade and picnic. Detroit Lakes goes all out for Memorial Day. One of the best parades ever, too.” Lynn set her stuff on the counter and leaned over to pet the dog, who was dancing at her feet. “Did he wake you needing to go out?”

“No, I finally just woke up for the first time feeling like I was awake, like I finally had enough sleep. Makes no sense at all.”

“I'd say that might be a step in the right direction.”

“How can I help you get ready for tonight?”

“Well, the beans are in the oven.”

“I know, I could smell them and stirred them.”

“The hamburgers are all ready, hot dogs, too. Josie is bringing a relish tray and the hamburger fixings. I need to take the buns out of the freezer.”

“I can do that.”

“No, the freezer in the garage. We have both a chest freezer and an extra refrigerator in the garage.”

“Okay, I'll get those.”

“We set up everything on the counter and the tables on the deck. Unless the weather turns and we add another table in the big room.”

“How many people are coming?”

“Oh, twenty or so.”

“That's a crowd.” Angela left to get the buns from the freezer. When she returned, she set three fairly large bags on the counter. “All these? You made all these?”

“Well, took me a while, but once you get known for something, you kind of have to stick with it or people get disappointed. Tommy has his secret recipe for the hamburgers and…”

“If you tell me someone makes the hot dogs, I'll…”

Lynn laughed at the expression on her friend's face. “I could say we bought them from a special place in town, but we didn't. The kids don't like his sausages as well as the regular kind, and most adults would rather have the burgers anyway. Sometimes we do a sausage cook-off, often on the Fourth or Labor Day. People bring the ones they made. I tell you, that is something.”

“I've heard of chili cook-offs but not sausage. You want these left in the bags?”

As people arrived, the table was covered with dishes; the desserts were set up in the dining room; and chips, dip, veggies, and such began to cover the counter, too. The kids grabbed from the center island and all ran outside; the women gathered around the counter munching while they chatted; and the men took over the deck, helping themselves to the soft drinks and beer in the coolers lined up along the railing.

“Stay out of the water!” Phillip hollered to the kids heading for the lake. “It's too cold yet.”

“He says that every year,” someone murmured with a chuckle. Lynn introduced Angela to all the guests, and several of them hauled platters of burgers and hot dogs out to the table pulled up near the barbecue. When Phillip yelled, “Come and get it,” and handed the hot-off-the-grill meat to be taken into the house, everyone gathered around the counter. Phillip said grace with everyone joining the amen.

Two years ago, it was Paul.

Phillip waved an arm and pointed. “Okay, kids first and then you all take the kid tables down on the grass. Do not feed the dogs. Okay? Mom, where's Homer?”

“In the mudroom. I'm not sure how he'll handle this many people. We'll bring him out on a leash after supper.”

Lynn's mind could not help reflecting that last year Paul grilled the wieners and held Miss Priss on his lap while she devoured her hot dog bun, licked up the ketchup, and then ate the meat.

She joined Josie, who had taken Angela under her wing, and some of the others at one table. “Whew. We didn't run out of food.”

“Not yet,” someone said.

Someone else cackled. “You never run out of food at the Lundbergs'. They would be horrified. Lynn might collapse from the shock.”

“Oh, honestly!” Lynn wagged her head. “I know it is not my mission to feed the whole world, but when folks come to my house, I just don't want them to go away hungry.”

“And take home plenty of leftovers.”

“G'ma?” Travis showed up at her shoulder. “When can Homer come out?”

Phillip happened to see the exchange. “Let your grandma eat, for Pete's sake.”

“Later, but you have to keep him on the leash.”

“Okay.” And off he charged.

When most people were done with the main food, someone made the rounds with a black trash bag, collecting the used plates.