Someday Home (27 page)

“Why did you not want that when you filed?”

“I wasn't thinking. But that's all behind me. Now I just want us to be happy again.”

“I'm happy now.”

“Oh, don't give me that, Angela! A woman can't be happy without her man.” He sat back as the meat loaf arrived. The waitress plunked ketchup down on the table and returned in a moment with the Reuben. She left.

He leaned forward again. “You need me. And I need you. The kids need us. See? Nothing more to think about.”

She picked up her Reuben and savored that first bite. The corned beef was juicy and not too salty, the sauerkraut mellow. They made great sandwiches here. In fact, she might make Reubens some night for dinner. All the ingredients were at hand in their pantry—even homemade bread.

He cut into his meat loaf. “It's not hot in the middle. I'll bet this was frozen five minutes ago.”

Of course it was. Do you think they keep their meat loaf ready for when you happen to walk in?
She checked herself.
Back off. Look for the good stuff. Forgiveness, don't forget.

The Letter. She asked, “Your mailing address is the same, right?”

“Uh, no. I'm not at the house right now.”

“Who is?”

He looked guilty, then defiant. “Doesn't matter. Soon as my lawyer works out the details, I'll move back in.”

She thought about this. Flagged the waitress and asked for tea. Thought. And thought.

Cold in the middle or not, he polished off the last of his meat loaf and sat back. “You look very librarian-ish.”

“Probably because I am a librarian.”

“Picked up some weight. Eating well, huh?”

Anger.
Quell it, Angela.
Her tea came. She took her time dipping the bag.

He leaned forward eagerly. “So what about it? When can we get back together? I was thinking maybe even tonight. I'm in that motel on the edge of town. We'll have a good time getting back together. For old times' sake. And the kids.”

She dipped the bag. The tea got darker than she liked, but she kept dipping.

“Angela?”

She kept dipping. Finally she pulled the tea bag out and leaned forward on both elbows. “You know what I think, Jack? I think you haven't changed a minute. When I said I was happy, you instantly called me a liar.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. But I was telling you the truth. I am happy now for perhaps the first time since the kids left home.”

“I don't believe you. You're all alone.”

“No, I am not. I have close friends now for the first time in many years. Friends who support me and do their best for me.” She paused. “And I'm assuming that ‘librarian-ish' is a euphemism for frumpy. Right?”

“Well, uh, er, I wouldn't call it that. Not exactly. But—”

“But I'm not ultra-ritzy anymore. No longer arm candy in your eyes.”

“That's not it at all! Look, Angela, I want us back together. What the kids want. So let's just do it instead of talking it to death.”

“And I finally rediscovered that I can think and function as a human being, a fully human human being, and not just an adjunct of you.”

“Then start thinking straight. If you—”

“Thinking straight? You'd be surprised. Now I'm going to think some more. This Marillee.” His face went blank. She pressed on. “Yes, I know her name. I would assume that she's the floozy that you traded me off for. You showed her around the house, and she liked it so much she wanted to live there. So you rescinded your offer to sell your half and asked to buy my half instead.”

“You're just guessing.”

“Now I'm going to guess you gave her half ownership of the house in return for paying the mortgage because you couldn't afford it just then. And now she's in the house and she's kicked you out. Am I right?” She watched his face a moment with smug satisfaction. “And I can see that I'm right on. No, you're not going to buy my half of the house. I think you're broke. And probably in debt. And you need me to get back into real estate and make some money to bail you out and get your house back for you.”

“Do you really…?”

“Am I wrong?”

“That's not…I mean…We…we have to think about the kids!”

“Oh, I'm sure you'll go whining to the kids about how stubborn and unyielding I am and how I'm ruining your life, but frankly, Jack, I don't give a rip. You forced me off onto a path I never would have chosen for myself, but I'm going to stay on it because I. Am. Happy!”

His lower lip trembled. She saw fury in his face that she'd never seen before. And she understood now, finally, that she had never seen it because she had always bowed immediately to his will before. This was the first time she ever opposed him, the very first time.

And it gave her strength!

He bolted to his feet and stormed out.

She stared at her tea. She was boiling inside and could not figure out why at first. Eventually she decided that it was a play of intense emotions at war with each other.

So what would she do next?

She got the Lists and the first paragraph of the Letter out of her purse, looked at them a moment…

…and tore them up into a bazillion little pieces.

J
udith came out into the kitchen. Tom was there and Phillip. Both of them were wearing jeans that were wet and muddy to above the knee. Mud streaked their clothes and arms. And both were perched on stools at the counter wrapping themselves around pieces of Lynn's latest pie. This one was peach using the peaches from that farm stand down the road. And ice cream, of course. Peach pie must be à la mode.

She slapped a paper down at Tom's elbow. He jumped. Stared at it. Grinned wide. “I
knew
you could do it!”

Phillip asked with his mouth full, “What's that?”

“Her last regular exam and she scored eighty-nine. Out of a hundred, right?” He looked at her.

“Yes, and I stand a good chance of acing the final. I was terribly afraid I'd have to take precalc over again when I started the class. Tom, you are an amazing teacher! But then, I think I already said that.” She sat down on a stool nearby.

He was smiling. “I think I heard that once or twice. And you told me when you came back from that first exam that your prof was looking for good math instructors.”

“Dr. Stern.”

“Yeah. So I made an appointment to sit down with her and we talked awhile. Actually, what it was, she asked me to explain factorials, so I did. And then she asked me to explain logs, so I did. Then she whips this old slide rule out of her desk and said, ‘Can you show me how to use this?' Sure, it's based on logs. So I showed her how it is set up and how to multiply, divide, take square roots and cube roots—you know, just the basic stuff.”

“Tom, that was a job interview!”

“And she hired me.”

Judith squealed. It wasn't a congratulatory squeal, just a disorganized, thrilled, and delighted one.

Phillip was grinning as broadly as everyone else. “He's teaching math lab sessions both winter semesters, Judith. And since he's at the school anyway, he's enrolling in the master's program. Someday this will be Professor Thomas Lundberg.” Phillip stuffed more pie into his mouth.

Tom cut himself another piece. “It fits perfectly. Winter is always slow in the plumber's shop. Repairs, yes, and broken pipes, but for some crazy reason, we can't dig for new plumbing.”

Judith laughed. “Of course. The world is frozen solid.”

Tom scooped ice cream onto his pie. “I can teach the lab sessions and do some plumbing and still have plenty of time for ice fishing. My kind of winter.” He paused and turned to look Judith directly in the eye. “You got me started. You showed me the way and even provided the door. Thank you, Judith.”

That evening Judith settled at her desk by the window and just spent some time looking out. So Tom was also setting out along a new road in life. And he credited Judith with that. Was it true? Was she a helper as well as one being helped? True or not, the thought absolutely delighted her.

The next day, her biology course loomed, her other nemesis. She had conquered one dragon, math, with Tom's help, but this biology…The biology she had learned those many years ago was not the biology she faced now. Then it had been all plants and animals, and of course, digestion and things. She had loved it. Now it was pretty much organic chemistry with a few life-forms thrown in. The structure of messenger RNA, the chemistry of foods going down and digestion going on and wastes coming out, in all the myriad animal and plant kingdoms and…What? The mushrooms and other fungi are not plants? They now have their own kingdom?

The previous session had been the last
how-am-I-doing
test before the final exam. Today she would get that test back. In theory, the test showed you your strong fields and weak areas, and of course, you would then spend your study time boning up on the weak fields before the final. But that was theory. She felt rather swamped by all of it.

She slid into her seat and flopped open her laptop. It was easiest to take notes on her laptop, then later print them out to study. Rereading notes in both electronic form and hard copy seemed to help her remember better.

Professor Thompson's graduate assistant returned the exams simply by shouting a name. That person called “yo” and raised an arm; helpful hands would then pass the test to its owner. Fairly efficient, just like Dr. Thompson.

Judith's came to her, folded in half with the grade concealed, as were they all. She opened the fold. A green-circled eighty-three greeted her. Eighty-three, B, better than she thought she would do but certainly not an A.

The doctor then began his lecture; Judith had to work to keep up as he expounded on the significance of the structural integrity of the double DNA helix and the value of apoptosis. She had no idea what he was talking about until she realized that the second
p
in
apoptosis
is not pronounced. She had read her text; now it made sense. She felt a certain heady flush of pride in working out that little factoid. The hour came to an end and she gathered her laptop and notepad (for drawing diagrams that she could not draw in Word) into her backpack. Like all the other students, she swung her pack around onto her back and stood erect. Like all the other students, she headed for the door.

Eighty-three. She would have to be content with that and hope intelligence lightning would somehow strike her before the final. And she believed in intelligence lightning like she believed in the tooth fairy.

“Ms. Rutherford?” Dr. Thompson flagged her on her way out.

“Yes?”

“I always want to learn what helps my students learn. Your scores have been rising all semester; this was your best score yet. What is making the difference?”

She thought about it. “Honestly, I don't know. A knowledgeable friend is tutoring me in precalculus. My grades in that course have come way up. Does that sort of success rub off on other courses?”

“Interesting. I wonder.”

“Also, I'm getting into the swing of college better. Into the rhythm of it. I attended UM for one year nearly thirty years ago; I've had to get used to academic life again.”

He nodded, smiling. “Are you being tutored in biology?”

“No, sir. Not that I couldn't use some.”

“You know, one of the advantages of a small college is that your professors are here to help you. All you have to do is ask.”

Judith sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “I'm not used to asking for help. I was raised to work it out myself.”

“Well, if you need help, please know that my TA and I are both happy to. Our office hours are posted in the syllabus.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Her phone binged on her way out to the car. She checked the screen:
T Lundberg
. “Hi, Tom. What's up?”

“How did you do?”

“The best so far this semester, but it's only an eighty-three.” She unlocked her car door and slung her backpack in, left the door open to let some of the heat out. “Clearly he thinks I should have asked for help a long time ago. Hey, but thank you for asking. Where are you guys working today?”

“Other side of the lake. Eighty-three ain't bad. Later.”

Not bad, huh?
She slid into her very hot car. Thank God for air-conditioning. She was waiting at a stoplight when her phone binged again. Lynn.

“I'm almost out of sugar; can you stop and get me a twenty-five-pound bag and three boxes of regular lids?”

“Sure, anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. Thanks. How did your exam go?”

“Got a B. Can you believe Tommy called, too?”
Do you know how wonderful it feels to have people who care enough to ask?

“Of course. See you soon. Oh, and we caught the counter cruiser in the act. We set him up and he went for it. Later.”

Judith chuckled her way to the grocery store. And sang her way home. She needed to call Melody tonight and catch her up on life in the west.

Homer charged up to greet her when she parked her car, his tail whirling in a circle. She had learned that language of the tail wagging; in a circle was the happiest, used for greeting those he loved. Side to side, swinging his entire hind end was a close second. He greeted most people with a gentle wag, and no wag was from severe scolding or total distrust, and then the ridge of hair on his back stood at attention. As he wagged all over, she cupped his face in both of her hands, his long ears wrinkling, his eyes dancing.

“Yes, I see you, and I say hello to you and thank you for the wonderful welcome. What have you been up to? Counter cruising, I hear.” She reached over and rubbed chest and belly. She slipped into her backpack so that she could juggle the sack of sugar and the lids with both hands.

As she reached the back door, Miss Priss shoved open the screen door. “I didn't think you would ever get here.”

“Hello to you, too. What have you been up to?”

“Helping G'ma. We picked raspberries this morning and we just made jam and we almost ran out of sugar.” The little girl danced beside her as she entered the kitchen and set the sugar by the counter.

“To the rescue. Oh my goodness, but it smells heavenly in here.” Judith gazed with admiration; brilliant red pints of raspberry jam decorated the counter, including the bowl with the skimmings in it.

“I baked that dough I had in the fridge, so we have fresh jam to spread on fresh bread.” Lynn grinned at her. “Are you a heel or a middle type person?”

“Fresh bread? Definitely heel.” She watched Lynn slice her bread loaf. “You are amazing. You stand in the kitchen, turn around three times, and suddenly there are delectable goodies. You don't even have to wave a wand. So how did you catch the counter thief?”

Lynn chuckled and opened a jam container. “It was Travis's idea. You know what paintball is?”

“Where people with more money than brains run around in the woods shooting colored dyes at each other.”

“That's it. We got some neon-green paintballs, folded one inside a slice of bologna, and laid it out on the counter. Someone snatched the bologna and exploded the paintball. Green dye all over his face.”

Judith spent a merry little while laughing. She gripped Homer's face and examined it closely. “How did you get the green off?”

“Oh, the dye is washable and biodegradable. Harmless. Wait till you see the pictures from my phone.”

“G'ma said we had to wait for you to have bread and
jam
! Pretty, huh?”

Lynn was slathering three pieces luxuriously in raspberry jam. She handed them out, the heel to Judith.

Judith started to take a bite, but Miss Priss raised a finger. “No! All at once. One, two, three.” She signaled with one hand, her bread in the other, and they all took their bites just as she said. Or rather ordered.

Lynn and Judith rolled their eyes at the instructor and kept on chewing.

“This is almost as good as the first strawberry shortcake was.” Judith vigorously brushed her fingers off on each other.

“That's going some. Is this enough for lunch, or do you two want more?”

“How are salads with raspberries on it and that leftover chicken we have?” Judith backed off her stool.

“I'll have cookies, please.” Miss Priss licked her fingers.

“Right after you have salad,” Lynn corrected. She looked at Judith. “Are you going to study?”

“My online social studies course. An original essay and three chapter reviews. The short answer being yes.”

“You go do your schoolwork. We'll bring your lunch up to you.” Lynn was smiling. “We want to encourage interest in school.” She glanced at Miss Priss.

“Thank you, Lynn. This scholar appreciates it.” She rubbed Miss Priss's head. “You make really good jam!”

“I make good cookies, too.”

Lynn snorted. “Go do your schoolwork, Judith. Miss Priss and I are going to have a brief discussion about receiving compliments gracefully.” Grandma's eyes were laughing.

Judith settled at her desk by the window. She saw quite a number of various boats out on the lake and it wasn't even the weekend. The chill of that canoe spill hit her unexpectedly. Would she ever get over it? She had seen Angela out in the canoe several times since their capsize. Phillip had taken her out a few days later and showed her survival tricks, and now Angela seemed perfectly comfortable fishing from the canoe. He had invited Judith, too, but she had demurred. She shouldn't have, but…

In a way, she envied Angela's resilience, her ability to work past horrific events. Her divorce. That accident. Shucks, being married to that guy; that must have required a lot of resilience.

And was Judith resilient? Not a bit. Just like her father. He never got over his wife's untimely death, and neither had Judith, not really. And he never moved an inch past his accident. Instead, he ruined Judith's life, insisting she take care of him forever while he sat there. Looking back, she should have just left. But that would have meant cutting herself off from the only life she knew, losing the security of her home and her family. Not to mention abandoning her father when he needed her. And Judith had never been a risk taker.

Could Judith change, become more flexible and embrace life better, like Lynn and Angela did?

She was mooning instead of working. She signed into the class site. First order of business: a thousand-word essay. She went down the list of suggested topics; she did not have to choose from the list—the instructor insisted this was just to get creative juices flowing. Basically she wanted students to describe how a person's culture shaped that person's attitudes, going into detail. But her list was boring topics, all of them. And then Judith's creative juices rose to the occasion. She pulled up a blank page in Word and typed in her topic:

She was getting hungry. Judith looked at the clock. Gone, the afternoon was gone. The salad dish Lynn and Miss Priss had brought up sat empty beside her, her iced tea glass drained. She stared at the computer. How could she spend three hours and not even think of getting up? No phone ringing, no house noise—where was everyone? Her work completed for the moment, she ambled out to the kitchen; no one, and no one out on the deck. Hearing shrieks of laughter, she looked to the dock where all five grands, Lynn, and Angela were playing in the lake. Feeling both left out and grateful for the productive time, she went down the stairs and across the lawn to join them.