Someday Home (24 page)

She stashed the mash and eggs in the corner of her garage bay and walked into the house. It was quiet. Very, very quiet. Angela had said something about stopping at the grocery store on the way home. But where was Lynn?

She walked into the kitchen and stopped. Lynn was sitting on a stool, staring at her coffee cup. Miss Minerva sat on the counter beside her. This was not good; Lynn always chased the cat off the counters. So Judith did it and headed for the coffeepot.

So far, Lynn had not said a word. This was not good, either. Her cheeks were wet.

Judith paused beside her. “What's wrong?” No answer. “Lynn, are you all right?”

Lynn looked up from studying her cold coffee. “Today is the anniversary of Paul's death.” She sniffed, then grabbed for a tissue from the box always kept on the center island. “I handled this last year all right; I mean, I cried a lot, but that's to be expected.”

“And today?”

“Today—today…” She shook her head. “Not today. I am so furious I could…I could…” A steely jaw and flashing eyes supported her words.

Judith gaped. “Furious about what?”

Lynn glared through her tears. “Paul! He left me. I know this makes absolutely no sense. I know it was an aneurysm. But surely if he'd gone to the doctor, they could have found something. If he weren't dead, I swear I'd kill him.” She glared at her hands. “I can't stand this. I don't want to live the rest of my life without him. I want to go back to before. Before I get all the way awake, I reach across the bed and…and…” She kept shaking her head, as if it were weighted. “And he's not there, and he will never be there again. And…” Tears rained down her face.

Judith came around the island, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and laid her cheek on her friend's head. “Go ahead and cry. Someone told me that tears are healing. Sometimes I get so mad at my father for all those years he robbed from me. I hate him.”

“My mother always said not to hate anyone—how can you hate and love at the same time?” Lynn pulled a couple of tissues out and mopped. And blew and mopped and reached for more.

“I know I can hate and love; actually, I'm not sure of the love.” Judith moved the box closer, pulling out one for herself.

“He left me! He was only fifty-four. Far too young to die yet.” She crossed her arms on the granite and leaned into them. “Sometimes I wonder how I can go on without him, and then I ask, what are my choices? How could God do this to us? One of the church women told me, ‘God must have needed a plumber in heaven,' and I wanted to deck her.” She blew again. “Paul was such a man of God, like the Old Testament talks about a ‘strong man of God.' Doesn't the world around here need that kind of man instead of hauling him off to heaven?” She was practically screaming. Judith pulled her in closer.

“What!” Angela stood in the doorway, two bulging totes in each hand. “What happened?”

Lynn sobbed and gulped. “Sorry.”

“Lynn is being a normal human being. A grieving human being.”

“Ah. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.” Angela abandoned all four totes, lowering them to the floor, and stepped in beside Lynn. “Lynn, I'm so sorry. I wish I could help.”

Judith did not release her hug when Angela wrapped an arm across Lynn's shoulders. With her free hand she reached across to the tissue box and pulled another, handing it to Lynn. Lynn muttered something and blew, sobbed, her shoulders heaving.

And then Angela stepped behind Lynn and began massaging her back, working her shoulders.

Lynn covered her face with her hands for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and sitting erect. “I'm sorry.”

“Well, don't be.” Angela stepped back. “It's not only normal, it's healthy.”

“Your massage felt good. Thank you.”

“I used to calm the kids down with that. I had forgotten I know how to do it.”

Judith stepped back as well. “Shall I help you put groceries away?”

Angela shook her head. “Nothing frozen, and the fridge stuff is okay for a while. They can wait. Let's just sit and unwind.”

Lynn drew a deep breath, blew her nose, shuddered a sob, and stood up. “That would be nice. Let me get my knitting.” Lynn headed for the sewing room.

Judith hurried to her room and returned with her laptop. “I'm doing homework, Angela, surprise, surprise. What will you do?”

“Read. Relax. I'm having to learn to relax all over again.” Angela waved her book. “I started this today; it's quite good. Lynn's bookshelf has some great ones.”

The three settled into the two leather easy chairs, with Judith on the sofa, where she opened her laptop and went into her file. Lynn's knitting needles sang a song of their own, and Angela draped one leg over the arm of the chair.

Presently, Lynn said, “I really am angry at him. With Paul. I didn't realize that.”

Angela laid her book in her lap and looked steadily at Lynn. “You angry at him or at God?”

The knitting needles paused; Lynn studied her a moment. “Good question.”

Y
ou're going to church with me?” Lynn's smile nearly cracked her face as Judith strolled into the kitchen, wearing a skirt and blouse.

“I said I would eventually, and I guess eventually arrived.”

“Me, too. Can't be left out.” Angela made a direct line to the coffeepot. After the first sip, she smiled. “What do people do without coffee?”

Lynn snickered. “Some drink tea, you know.”

Judith added, “Energy drinks. The students buy junk food up the kazoo. My lab partner does diet cola. Lost without it.”

“Like me without coffee?” She picked up a piece of coffee cake from the plate on the island and leaned back against the counter, cupping her hand to catch any falling crumbs.

“We leave in ten minutes.” Lynn stared at the dog. “Do we dare leave you in the house?” Homer looked up at her, his tail wagging his whole hind end. “I don't really want to clean up any messes, you know.” More wagging, then he plunked his rump down and lifted a front paw.

Angela shook her head. “I say the mudroom. Safer that way.”

Lynn nodded.

“Don't you lock the doors?” Judith asked when they were loaded in the SUV and heading toward town.

“No, we've never had any problems, and with Homer, I doubt we would.”

“We didn't used to either, but after some houses were robbed, the authorities strongly suggested everyone start locking their doors. I even started locking my car.” Angela put her sunglasses on and buckled her seat belt. “So easy to forget when I am riding, I always remember when I am in the driver's seat.”

“About the other day…,” Lynn said.

“So you had a grieving time. What of it?”

“Well, sometimes I still cry in church. Just thought I'd warn you.”

“At least you go. I quit going, which is far worse. If we can't cry in church…” Angela heaved a sigh. “But that's the way it is. People with their happy faces on and afraid to show how they hurt. My church, it was especially that way. Do you realize that saying
There, there, don't cry
is basically invalidating the crier's very real sorrow?”

“Someone said we shoot our wounded,” Judith commented.

They parked next to Maggie's SUV and made their way to the front door, where greeters were smiling broadly and handing out bulletins. Lynn introduced Angela and Judith to everyone around as her housemates, and they filed into one of the back rows.

“Pastor Evanson is our senior pastor. Norm Nelson, our assistant, is on vacation right now.” She handed each of them a hymnal, realized they both had picked up their own hymnals, and put these two back. They had both commented on her constant (and irritating—although they didn't actually say that, they sure implied it) mothering of mature women. Would this simple gesture, handing them a hymnal, count as overmothering?

But Lynn didn't have a chance to ponder the question because the service began with the opening hymn. The service flowed as always, including the children's sermon with the kids gathered around Pastor Evanson, making everyone smile.

Pastor stepped into the pulpit, prayed, and then smiled out over the congregation. “Today we continue our study of forgiveness. We've talked about how God forgives. He not only forgets, but He moves our sin away as far as the east is from the west. Jesus died so that we are forgiven. Past, present, and future. He forgives us. So what, then? Who are we to forgive? Those who harmfully use you. Sin never happens to just one person; yes, our sin affects us, but it also injures those around us, the Bible says unto the third and fourth generation. Selfish creatures that we are, we think what we do won't hurt others.

“Families are destroyed when family members refuse to forgive each other. Marriages are destroyed when husbands and wives bear grudges and do not forgive. You will be destroyed if you do not forgive, for it will eat away at you like a cancer. Christ offers us the
free
gift. Turn to Him, tell Him everything, and accept His love and forgiveness, then go out and forgive others—before it is too late. Amen.”

As they all filed out, Lynn introduced the two to Pastor Evanson as he greeted folks at the door.

He shook hands warmly. “So you have moved here to stay?”

Angela nodded. “Tentative at first, but yes, I think so.”

“Welcome to Detroit Lakes, and we would be pleased to become your church home. You couldn't find a more lovely place to live than the Lundbergs'.”

“Thank you. I agree as to the beauty. And the family.” Angela smiled back at him.

He shook hands with Judith. “You look familiar. Have you been here before? Rutherford, did you say?”

“Yes, and if you've been to Rutherford to the Rutherford House, I was probably your hostess.”

“Seems I heard your father died.”

“He did. The house is becoming a living history museum, my father's dream.”

“Well, welcome. Thanks for coming.”

Lynn led the way out toward the car. “Paul and I used to go out for brunch after the service. You interested?”

“I would rather go home, sit on the deck, and study, if that's all right with the two of you.” Judith climbed into the backseat, leaving the front passenger side for Angela. “From now on, I'll bring my schoolwork and I can study while you two brunch.”

“And no one needs to cook dinner because we have plenty of leftovers. Every woman for herself.” Angela settled in and pulled down her seat belt.

Lynn watched behind a moment and eased out into traffic. “I know one thing I want to do—go sit on the dock and dangle my feet in the water. The kids are gone for today, so it should be relatively peaceful, at least compared to most weekends.”

Angela tipped her head back. “I wonder if Homer left us enough ripe strawberries for shortcake. I caught him eating them the other day. If so, I will make shortcake and…”

Lynn chimed in, “And I will go pick the berries.”

Judith giggled. “And I will eat it as soon as it is ready. I know there's whipped cream in the fridge. There's something really special about the first strawberry shortcake of the season. We had berries in the back garden for years, but as we cut staff, that was one of those things that fell off the list.”

“Well, we have gardens now. I'll fix that lettuce salad for supper.”

Angela cackled. “And here we are planning our supper.”

“But not dinner,” Judith reminded her. “On our own.”

They let Homer out and laughed at his vociferous and tail-beating welcome before opening the doors to the deck and heading for their rooms to change clothes.

Alone in her room, Lynn stared in the mirror.
I am enjoying life again. I did most of the time, but in spite of that crash the other day, I love having sisters around; at least they are beginning to feel like that. With everyone splitting up the chores, life is just easier. This house is alive again, too. Thank you, Lord God.

After they ate, Lynn headed out to pick the strawberries. Homer tagged along, nose to the ground. He found the first strawberry. She watched him pick it carefully. If he would have closed his eyes in bliss, she would not have been surprised. A thread of pink drool gave it away. When he nosed for the next one, she ordered him out of the berry patch. “We need enough for shortcake, you big goof. Go find your bone.”

He wandered off and she bent to the task, the sun hot on her back but her face protected by a wide-brimmed straw hat. They'd have enough for jam in a couple of days, but today she barely filled the bowl. On the way back to the house, she found Homer lying in the shade by the hammock where Angela lay reading a book. His gnawing the bone made her smile. “Good book?”

“Very. You should know, it is off your shelf.”

“Doesn't mean I've read it.”

Angela held it up so she could see the cover.

“I like her. I usually pick up all of hers. Maybe I'll read it after you finish. Once the garden starts I don't find much time for reading.”

Angela wagged a finger. “The shortcake is on the rack on the counter. Have you noticed that sometimes the bread is on the floor?”

“I have, but…”

Angela stared at the oblivious dog. “I think he's doing it. I walked in the kitchen and he looked up from snarfing bread like he knew he was guilty.”

“You think he could reach the countertop?”

“We should set up a motion-activated camera.”

“Right.” Lynn washed and hulled the strawberries, got out three dessert plates and forks, whipped some cream, and put it all on a tray to serve. She was just opening the screen door when a book slammed against her feet. “What's wrong?”

“I hate math! The prof explained it, the grad assistant explained it, Tommy explained it, and I still can't get it! Why did I ever dream of doing something that requires math classes?” Judith slammed her head against the back of the lounger.

Lynn dug her phone out of her pocket and handed it to her. “Tommy is number three on the speed dial. Let him help you.”

“That's not fair to him, spending so much time on a hopeless cause.”

“Hit the button; let him make that decision.”

Judith glared up at her and snarled sarcastically, “Yes, Mo-ther!” When Lynn started to laugh, she glared harder. “Really, Lynn, your extreme mothering is wearing very thin.” She pushed the button, left a message, and handed the phone back. “Satisfied?”

Was she really that bad? Even the boys called her out on her mothering mode at times. “Yes. I apologize for slipping into mother mode.”

Judith took a deep breath and shook her head. “I apologize, too. I guess sometimes I need someone in mother mode.”

“If Tommy can't help you or doesn't have time, we'll find you a tutor.”

Judith looked up at her, a half smile curving her lips. “You realize you just said ‘we'?”

Lynn shrugged. “I don't know, I guess. Why?”

“Because I've not had anyone in my life for years who not only said that, but believed it.”

“Well, you got an older sister here who can be bossy but who sure means well.”

Judith reached up a hand and Lynn took it. They smiled at each other, then Lynn leaned over and hugged her. “We'll beat this thing. If I can stand entering stuff in the computer, you can tough it out until you get it and then there'll be no stopping you.”

That night after supper and shortcake, the three gathered on the deck in what was becoming their nightly ritual—stargazing. Tonight a breeze and several citron candles would likely keep the mosquitoes at bay enough to not drive them inside.

“Your pastor sure lays things out plain. No nonsense, here it is.” Angela swirled her glass, setting the ice to tinkling.

“True, that's typical of the way he preaches,” Lynn answered. “Sure made me squirm.”

“You'd have thought he'd been reading my mind. I hate Jack and there is no way I can forgive him.”

“When we said the Lord's Prayer was when it hit me. ‘Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.' How can
as
be such a big word here? I mean, I've heard all this who knows how many times but…”

“But sometimes it just whacks you upside the head?”

“Something like that. I've always thought I was a very forgiving person. I don't bear grudges. Another verse that says ‘quick to forgive and slow to anger.' I thought I was doing pretty good with that.”

“And then what?” Judith asked.

“And then I had that meltdown and I had no idea I was so angry at Paul, and at God for taking him away.” She released a deep sigh into the breeze. “I mean, I know he's in a better place, he got to go home to heaven, but the bottom line is—I want him here.”

“Sometimes I would wish that I could turn back the clock to the before,” Angela said.

“Before what?”

“Before Jack got so steamed up about changing our lives, becoming
successful
,
lots of money, all that garbage.”

“Were you happy then?”

“I thought I was, but looking back, he wasn't.”

“Looking back,” Judith chimed in, “all those years with my father so angry. He was a kind and loving man until the accident that crippled him. At least I remember good times when I was little. Melody and I played memory lane. We had lots of good times to talk about.”

“I'm wondering if we are all caught in that trap.”

“Of not forgiving?” Angela slapped at a mosquito. “Gotcha. Die, sucker. That ‘sucker' is literal, of course.” She trailed a hand on Homer's head and he quit snoring.

Minerva chirped at the screen door and Lynn got up to let her out. “Come along, Your Highness.” Back on her lounger, she picked up her almost empty glass and swallowed the rest. “I really do want out of anger.”

“That's part of grieving, they told me after my father died. One of the stages.”

“But you are supposed to go through the stages, not get locked on one. Here it is two years later and look what it did to me.” She stared up at the sky.
Lord God, show me how to let go of this and forgive Paul.

Angela was staring not at the stars but at infinity. “At least Paul didn't do it deliberately. Jack did.”

Lynn asked, “But what if you actively decided to forgive him?”

“I don't know. I don't know if I can or if I even want to. At this point I'd much rather get even. Or just walk away.”

“True. Sometimes I feel like a little kid, screaming ‘but it's not fair.'” Lynn stroked the cat, who had settled on her lap.

“My mother used to say that there are no promises that life will be fair,” Judith murmured. “I understand that now, sort of, I guess. Still…”

“I wonder…” Angela's voice sounded distant. “I wonder if I really can forgive Jack. I have a feeling that he doesn't care how I feel, but…”