Someday Home (22 page)

Phillip grinned. “I thought we'd have raccoon stew for supper tonight.”

“Oh, gag.” Judith made a retching sound.

“You wouldn't!” Angela sounded sick already.

“He's kidding.”

“Well, lots of people think raccoon is a delicacy. Lots of meat on that one.”

“Thanks, son, we'll adjourn to the house while you finish up out here. Be careful, it could be rabid.” At his look, she raised her hands. “Just doing my mother job.”

He bent down and patted the dog. “Good boy, now we know the ladies are safe here with you on guard.”

Lynn left the light for Phillip and turned the others toward the house. “Sorry, but you live in the country now. In the city you would call animal control, but we have to take care of things out here ourselves.”

They were entering the house when they heard the gunshot, and a short time later, the truck left.

Lynn checked the clock—2:00 a.m.

“Well, I guess good night again.”

“Hope nothing sets Homer off again. He about scared me out of my wits when he leaped up and charged out the bedroom door.” Judith petted the dog. “I think you deserve a treat.” He followed her to the treat cupboard and plunked his rear immediately, tail sweeping the floor, drool hanging from his jowls.

When the others headed for bed, Lynn turned off the light and climbed the stairs. Miss Minerva looked up from her spot on the bed, yawned, chirped, and closed her eyes again. “You missed all the excitement, cat. Have you no sense of adventure?” Lynn crawled under the covers.
Lord, thank you for our protection hound and the safe chicken house. And thank you I did not have to dispatch that raccoon.

I
had the worst nightmares last night.” Angela poured her coffee and sank down on one of the stools at the center island.

“The raccoon?” Lynn held up a piece of bread. “Toast?”

“I guess. I dreamed I saw it explode and I threw up in the bushes. My mouth even tastes like I threw up.”

Lynn set the butter, jam, and peanut butter on the table. “You want cereal?”

“No, thanks. This is plenty. I need to get showered. I'm working for one of the others who needed time off. Need to be there before we open.”

The toast popped up, and Lynn laid it on a plate, pushing a knife over with it. “I have the quilters at church today; I was hoping you might go along. I think you would enjoy the group. Get to know more people.”

Angela smiled. “Next time I will.” She paused. “Lynn, I've been meaning to talk to you about something.” Lynn looked at her questioningly. “Judith mentioned that when I was sleeping so much, you came into my room to check on me.”

“Well, yes. I was concerned. We both were.”

“And I appreciate that. But I am an adult, not one of your kids. If this is going to work, you need to respect my privacy.”

“I— Yes, of course. I understand. I just wanted to help.”

“I know.” Angela smiled to ease the tension. “In fact, I do need your help with something. Have you heard of any jobs opening around here?”

“What kind?”

“I just need some money coming in is all.” Angela shrugged. This not knowing the future was getting a little heavy.

“Are you strapped?”

“Not yet, at least not when the house money comes through. Of course, it would be nice if I could figure out what I am going to do with the rest of my life.”

Lynn put two more slices in the toaster. “Check the job board at the college. And I'm thinking the library might have one, too. Not too many jobs get listed in the paper, but you can try. Come to think of it, there are classes at the college regarding re-entry women especially.”

This was good marmalade. Angela slopped a bit more of it onto her toast. “I wish they had more paying jobs at the library. I love working there.”

“Have you talked with Mary? She has more of an idea of what all is going on in this community than anyone else.”

“Good idea. Thanks for the toast. Need anything from the grocery store?”

“Milk, two percent, and half-and-half for the coffee. I have that fake stuff here but…” She made a face.

Angela bobbed her head and jogged to her room. She felt better for having addressed at least one thing that had been bothering her. And Lynn had been so nice about it, too.

She stared a long moment at the face in the mirror. “You look haggard.” She turned on the shower, and as soon as it warmed, she stepped in. If only she could wash away the lines around her eyes and the purple splotches under them. How come she went from sleeping all the time to not getting enough sleep? Wasn't there some kind of happy medium somewhere?

Once she was dressed and had her makeup on, she fixed her bed, put her laundry in the hamper, and headed for the deck. She needed a lake fix to get some kind of calm back. The breeze played with the water, spoiling the reflections, but it didn't bother the ducks puddling about near the shore. Tail feathers in the air, they nibbled on the bottom grass and plants, then
bloop
and they'd be right side up again.

Homer whimpered at the screen door, and when she didn't answer immediately, he yipped.

“I'm not staying out here, but I guess you can if you want.” She checked the gate to the steps to make sure it was locked and let him out, then returned to her elbows on the railing, gaze wandering around the lake. A couple was out in a canoe, three kids laughing in a rowboat, and the dock gently bobbed with the moving water.
Peaceful, oh, so peaceful.
She heard the screech of a hawk but instead saw the eagle floating in the thermals over the lake. Lynn said they were quite the fisher birds, but she had yet to see one dive to catch a fish.

Her cell rang, so she dug it out of her purse and thumbed it on.

“Hi, Mom?”

“Hello, sweetie. How's my favorite daughter?”

“You know Dad has been trying to reach you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Mom. I don't know how to say this. Charles and I are really upset about all this.”

“Gwynn, you're both grown-ups. You know these things happen.”

“But to other people's families, not ours! Dad says he wants to try again, rekindle the romance, and he can't even reach you. Do you have to be so stubborn? Can't you at least talk to him?”

“Gwynn, I remind both of you, I did not initiate this. I did not ask for it, did not want it. Did not file for divorce. The burden is not on me, so don't call me the stubborn one.”

“But you're the one who won't talk to him! He's changed, Mom. He's a new man.”

Angela sighed heavily. “Look. Right now I can't even talk to him. I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet, all right? As for getting back together, forget it.”
I've outgrown him, Gwynn. I see that clearly enough. And I am me again, at last, and not his artificial construct of a wife. I won't go back.

“Well, at least talk to him. Promise me you'll talk to him. He wants it so much.”

“Maybe. I won't promise, but maybe.”

“Mom…” Her voice trembled. “You two are tearing us up. Please reconsider.”

“First things first.”

“At least think about it. And talk to him, all right?”

“Thank you for calling, sweetie.”

“Yeah. I love you, Mom.” She hung up.

Well, that certainly was not a happy call. She scratched Homer's head and bent over to rub his ears. “You be a good boy now. Thanks for saving the chickens last night. See you this afternoon.”

She turned to leave and he padded along with her and back into the house. “Suit yourself.” She grabbed her purse she had left on the counter, yelled, “See you later, call me if you need anything,” and out through the mudroom door she went.

The workday went well. That afternoon when she was ready to leave, she asked Mary if she could have a minute with her.

“Of course, come on.” They settled into a corner, up in the open area of the old part of the building, the original Carnegie library. There were people at the tables on the far side of the room, but quiet reigned. “Now, how can I help you?”

“Mary, I love volunteering here and I plan to keep on, but I need a job. I would rather work here than anywhere but…Any suggestions? Lynn said you have a better sense of what is going on than anyone.”

“Well, I'm not so sure about that, but let me think. I take it you don't want to go back to being a Realtor?”

“Not in the least.”

“As for here, there are no openings right now, but I'd hire you immediately if there were.”

“Thank you.” Angela kept from fidgeting through sheer force of will.

“You have a degree in…?”

“Liberal arts. My father said it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on, and he was right, but some companies just want a degree. I took classes in bookkeeping and office management at one time after my kids were on their own, but then went to real estate school because it would be faster and I figured I'd be good at it.”

“Were you?”

“Fine, growing, getting good feedback from my boss…” She heaved a sigh.
Better be honest.
“…until a big commercial project fell through and things went downhill after that.”

“I don't want to get personal, but are you married?”

“Not any longer.”

“Ah. So you plan to stay here in our area.”

“I do.”

“Tell you what. Are you in a big hurry?”

Angela shook her head.

“Okay, then. Let me ask around. I'll keep my eyes and ears open and we'll see what comes up.” She stood. “I would love to have you on staff here. Your years of experience in the school library show in all you do.”

“Perhaps volunteering can pay off?”

“You never know.” Mary smiled.

Angela left the cool of the library and stepped into the heat of summer. They were experiencing a warm spell, at least that's what people called it; she thought it more hot. Possibly the concrete in the town retained more heat than out at the lake. Probably that's why so many people headed for the lakes any chance they could. She knew there would be a breeze on the deck, so she did her grocery stop almost at a run.

I need to get home.
She caught herself. Home. She had referred to Lynn's house as home. How had that happened so quickly? When she thought of the house she had lived in, it was surrounded by dark clouds and ugliness. Much as she had loved that house, it was no longer home. She stopped at a stop sign and waited for a car to pass. Had she divorced herself from it when she was getting it ready to sell? Or when did it happen?

Her phone beeped the text sound. Taking the ads for no texting to heart, she pulled over and hit the button.

Lynn:
ETA?

She texted back,
Ten minutes
, and pulled back on the road. The driver in the oncoming car waved at her.
Do I know that person? No, people just do that around here.
Angela Bishop, I think you have indeed found home. Now to be able to support yourself. The money from the house will not last you forever.

Lynn said to pray for and about everything.
I used to practice that more but…There was always that
but
. Lord, you know I need a job. I don't need a lot of money, but I really need to leave the house money in the bank for emergencies. I need a job with benefits, like health insurance. I need to make a list.
She turned into the driveway and her heart leaped. She would have sworn it did. She was home.

When she came into the house, she found Lynn and Judith out on the deck. Lynn waved a hand. “Iced tea is fresh in the refrigerator. Come out and kick back for a while.”

“Thanks. I need to get out of these clothes into something cooler.”

“The breeze will help that.”

She didn't bother to hang up her clothes, tossing them on her bed, but slipped into shorts and a tank top, her feet in flip-flops, and headed for the refrigerator. “Anybody want more?”

“No thanks. Did you have lunch?”

Angela thought a moment. “No, I guess I didn't. I couldn't wait to get home.” She took her icy glass outside and sank down on a lounger in the shade. “Ahhh.”

“Phillip called to ask if the two of you want to go out tonight, if the lake stays calm.”

Judith whooped. “That would be marvelous. Yes!”

Peace! Quiet water!
Angela hesitated. “As long as I don't have to get wet, I suppose so.”

Lynn smiled. “Good. That's the best way to see the loons and the eagle's nest and shorebirds, although there aren't many of those around right now. And we have kingfishers nesting.”

“And the peace.” Judith stared at her iced tea glass. “Don't forget the peace. Escape from burdens.”

Angela looked at her. “Your school is a burden?”

“Burdens are things you can carry. I am swamped. Buried, never to see daylight again. Angela, we've had two pop quizzes in precalc already; I scored twenty the first time and forty the second. And that is
with
tutoring! It'd be zero without.”

“So already you're twice as good as you used to be.”

“Those are failing grades!” she roared.

Angela shrugged. “You're only two weeks into it. I predict that all of a sudden it will click, you'll get into the rhythm of it, and you'll sail by with an A.”

Judith sniffed. “And I predict that those rosy, rosy, rose-colored glasses are blinding you so bad you'll walk into a brick wall.”

Angela sat erect and tossed her legs over the side. “Speaking of bricks, I thought I might make biscuits tonight, but I'm not going to turn the oven on. Too hot. Any requests for supper?”

Lynn said, “The salad is all made except for cutting up the tomatoes, and the chicken is breaded. It's on the middle shelf in the fridge.”

“At least it's not raccoon.” Angela shoved herself to her feet, leaving her flip-flops beside the lounger. She left the others laughing and went into the kitchen.

The wood floor felt cool to her bare feet. She got out the chicken, basking momentarily in the cold air, and brought out the bag of freshly shelled peas. She pulled the big cast-iron frying pan off its peg on the wall and dashed olive oil liberally into it from a cruet beside the stove.

The more she worked in this kitchen, the better she liked it. It was so well organized that very few changes were needed to make it uniquely hers. Rarely when she would show a house could she crow, “And look at this marvelous kitchen! Well designed and well organized. It will make cooking a breeze and getting creative a pleasure.” She could certainly say that of this one. Except for the stacks of a latest project, of course. Lynn seemed to love to make a mess.

She got three potatoes out of the drop-open root bin. When was the last time one saw a root bin in a kitchen? Only kitchens that had never been remodeled since the thirties that she knew of. And yet this kitchen had one designed right into it, and she knew the Lundbergs had built this place. Mashed potatoes? Fried? If fried, thin sliced or chunked, home-style? They already had fried potatoes in various forms several times this week. She'd mash them. With sour cream, garlic, and chives, of course. She quartered them and dropped them into the two-quart saucepan.

She oiled a small iron skillet to sauté the mushrooms and onions she chopped for the peas. As they sizzled, she started a fire under the big skillet. When the oil began to move around on the bottom of the skillet, she laid the chicken pieces in. They sizzled happily. She set a splash screen over the pan.