The Second Half (19 page)

“I know, but today I think you better wear jeans.” She grinned at the two studying her, hoping for clues, she suspected. “That's all I'm going to tell you.”

“T-shirt! But it's raining,” Mellie whined.

“Weatherman says nice day by noon.”

“And the party is at two?”

“Right, but we'll need to be in the car by one fifteen. We are taking both cars today.”

“Cousins?” Jakey asked.

“You got to have cousins for a party,” Mellie said as if they'd always had cousins at their birthdays.

Both kids were waiting by the door by one. As predicted, the sky had cleared and they climbed in the SUV giggling with excitement.

Jake looked over the backseat. “What is all that stuff back there?”

“Party stuff, silly.” Mellie helped him buckle into the car seat.

“Everybody ready?” Ken asked.

When Mellie read the sign where they turned in a long driveway, she shrieked and giggled. “We're going to a pony farm. Look, Jake, all the horses and ponies out in the pasture. Will we get to ride one?” Her words tripped over each other as she plastered her nose to the window. “Oh, Grammy, this is the best birthday ever.”

They parked next to Marit's van, and all the cousins bailed out at the same time, Mellie and Brit dancing in place as they watched a lady with boots and a Western hat come to greet them.

“Welcome to Clauson's pony farm. I'm going to give you kids a tour while your moms do what they need to do.”

“This is my grammy and grampy,” Mellie said, turning to look at each one with a huge smile.

“All of ours,” Brit clarified.

“Ah, I see. Well, you can call me Miz Beverly and I will be your wrangler for today. And if you will tell me who the birthday girl is, I have a special hat for you that you can take home and keep as a souvenir.” She held up a red Western hat with sparkles on it.

Mellie's eyes rounded. “Oh, for me, I mean this is my birthday party!”

Miz Beverly set it on the child's head. “Now, don't you look purty? Okay now, you follow me and I'll give you a tour of the farm first so you can meet our family, and then we'll head on over to the corral where you can all ride, just not at the same time.” She turned and beckoned them. “Come along now. Your moms can set up the party while you ride.”

Marit gestured. “You go. You wanted to see the operation.”

“You can handle this alone?”

Marit smirked. “I'm a big girl now.”

“And she has her daddy to help her.” Ken stepped in beside her.

Magnus joined the party. “I want to see what they have here.”

Miz Beverly paused beside the first pony pasture. “Here is our newest member. Her name is Shadow for short, but her mama isn't going to let her come visit with you yet. She was born three days ago.”

As Mona snapped some photos of a terminally cute gray baby pony, she realized that she and Mellie would both want photos of this party—Mellie for memories and Mona for reference as well as memories. This would make a great event attraction.

Two other ponies joined them at the fence, sticking their noses between the wooden boards. Beverly showed the children how to feed a treat from a flat palm and soon the carrot pieces disappeared, leaving contented ponies and giggling children. Mona took pictures, including a close-up of Torin's little hand feeding nibbling pony lips.

They gave carrots to several of the Norwegian Fjord ponies in another field. Mona had seen articles and pictures, but she had never seen one up close—short, stocky, and incredibly shaggy.

Magnus smiled. “The only ponies of this breed I've ever seen are in Norway.”

They walked through the long pony barn with stalls on either side, and Mona noted that the barn was clean, airy, and smelled fresh. Yes, she would bring children's parties here.

They met the family of barn cats, including a lovely little calico miss who sat picturesquely on a hay bale with her tail curled around her paws. Jakey cringed, pressing against Mona, and would not look at them.

And all the while, they were accompanied by the fluffy mottled-gray farm dog, who obviously had decided Jake could become his best friend. When they stepped back out in the sunshine, two of the golden Fjord horses were hitched to an open carriage big enough for all of them. Mellie was helped to the place of honor up by the driver.

The party preparations must have been completed, for Ken and Marit joined them. She frowned at Miz Beverly. “Are those horses strong enough to take all of us? It's such a big carriage, and all these people…”

Miz Beverly laughed. “Oh my, yes. Pound for pound, these ponies are the strongest horses in the world. Hop up there; the load is not too heavy.”

And so they all climbed in, including adults, and rode all around the farm, crossing a bridge over the flowing creek, down a tree-lined path under a canopy of rustling branches overhead, and eventually back to the barn.

“Now we get to ride?” Mellie whispered.

Miz Beverly nodded. “Now you get to ride. We have three ponies saddled and ready. Have you ridden before?”

Mellie nodded. “But only in a circle that led the ponies.”

“Today you will have one of our helpers with you but there will be no machine. See the corral over there? That's our riding corral for beginners.” She climbed down and opened the half door for the rest of the party. “Pony riders over there, please. Moms and dads over there.” She pointed to a separate building over near the parking lot. “One of my helpers will meet you there and be your host.”

The more she looked around, the better Mona liked this place. The place was neat, orderly, and spacious. She paused to watch the budding horsemen in the far corral. Mellie, already aboard her steed, was wearing a riding helmet.
Good!
This operation made safety a top priority.

By the time the children had all ridden, enjoyed their cake and ice cream, and were headed home, Jake had fallen asleep almost before they cleared the entrance.

Behind Mona, Mellie took off her hat and studied it. “Thank you, Grammy and Grampy, for the best birthday ever.”

Mona twisted to smile over the seat back. “I'm so glad you liked it.”

“Miz Beverly said they give riding lessons at the farm.”

“I know.” Mona caught the raised-eyebrow look Ken shot her.

“Maybe someday I could take some lessons out there.”

“We'll have to see.” Mona stretched across and patted her granddaughter's knee. “We'll send the video to your daddy, too. He'll be so proud of you.”

A tear meandered down Mellie's cheek. “I wish he could have come, too.”

“So do I, Mellie, so do I.” If only they would hear from him.
Perhaps tonight, Lord, please let him contact us.

W
hat's the matter, honey?” Ken poked his head in the kids' bedroom doorway Sunday afternoon.

Sniff.
“Nothing.” Mellie wiped her eyes.

Ken crossed to lean his arms and chin on the upper bunk where his granddaughter lay on her stomach, open book in front of her. “Is it a sad story?”

She shook her head.

“You can tell me.”

A hiccup caught on her sigh. She sniffed again and mumbled, “Daddy didn't call me on my birthday.”

“Did he say he would?” He stroked her back.

She shook her head. “He said he'd try, but Grampy, I always talk to him on my birthday. If he's not home, he calls me.”

Ken closed his eyes.
Lord, give me wisdom here.
“Remember, he might not be near any telephones. Lots of places in the world don't have phones like we have.”

“He always has his cell phone. He said so.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Something musta happened. He might be hurt real bad.”

“He could be, or he might be out of cell service. You know how our phones go out sometimes when we are camping far from a town or fishing out on the lake. The cell tower doesn't always reach everywhere.”

“But he
said
!”

“And when Steig says he'll do something, he tries his very best to do it. He's always been like that, Mellie. Remember, I've known him his whole life. He's true to his word. That's why I am absolutely sure that he would call if he could, and he will call as soon as he can.” He blew out a breath.

“That's what Grammy said, too,” Mellie said quietly.

“Well, Grammy is pretty smart and always right. Right?”

Mellie nodded slowly.

“You want to go for a walk with me?”

“Can I ride my bike? Just us?”

“Yes and yes, unless someone else asks to go along, like a certain dog or a cat.”

“Or Grammy. What if you and Grammy rode your bikes, too? Jakey could ride in the kiddie seat on your bike. We could go farther that way.” Her eyes sparkled through the tears.

Going for a bike ride right now hadn't been in his plans, but oh, well. He had to admit it was a good idea for cheering up a sad little girl. “Let's go see.”

She stuck her bookmark in her book and scrambled off the bed, dropping to the floor. “We can go faster that way, too.”

“That's for sure.” He stuck his head in Mona's office only to find it empty. Their bedroom the same. He heard Mellie pelting down the stairs. Where were Mona and Jakey? He found them in the kitchen, where she was giving Jake a lesson on how to peel a potato. He watched from the door. Talk about concentration. Jake stared at the potato as if daring the skin to ignore his peeler. When he finished it, he splashed it in the water bowl and announced, “One done.”

Mona asked, “How many more to go?”

He counted from one to six carefully out loud. “Six.”

“Good job.” She glanced over to Ken in the doorway. “Mellie just flew through here out to the garage, saying something about a bike ride. Care to fill me in?”

He explained the conversation.

Jake let out a whoop and his half-peeled potato splashed more water on the floor. “I want to go!”

Mona shook her head. “We have to finish peeling the potatoes first, so I can put them in with the roast.”

His brow turned black. “But…”

“I'm ready, Grampy,” Mellie called from outside.

Mona called back, “If you can wait long enough for me to put the vegetables in with the pot roast, we can all go.”

“You can help me peel the potatoes.” Jake looked up at Ken with a pleading smile. He held out a potato helpfully, in case Ken hadn't noticed the jacketed potatoes on the counter between them.

Mona dug in the drawer and handed Ken a peeler. “Are the bike tires up?”

“Maybe I should go check them.” He sat down on a chair next to Jake. “All right, buddy, let's peel fast.”

Mellie stopped in the door to the garage. “Can Ambrose go?”

“Not if we're all on bikes.” Mona dumped carrot peelings in the compost bag. “Would you please get us each a water bottle, Mellie, and put them in the bottle brackets on the bikes?”

“Okay.” Mellie snapped crossly, “Hurry up, Jake. You get to ride in your kiddie seat on Grampy's bike.”

“I want my own bike!”

“You're too slow. We're going on a
real
bike ride.” She headed back out to the garage where they kept the bottles of water in the other refrigerator.

A pout formed, and Jake stared at his grampa. “I want my bike. I'm a big boy!”

He shrugged. “I know you are. You can always stay home, you know.”

“Don't want to stay home!”

“Then be glad you can ride with me.” He got an idea. “How tall is the wheel on your bike?”

“I don't know.”

“Say, this high?” Ken held his hands fifteen inches or so apart. “And Grammy and Mellie and I ride bikes with wheels this high.” He spread his hands wider; it was probably twenty-eight or thirty inches instead of twenty-six, but he needed the emphasis. “With bigger bikes, we can go faster. See? Now, peel your potato or we'll never get to go.”

With the animals left in the house and staring out the big window as if they might cry, and all the cyclists helmeted, they finally pedaled out the driveway and, at Ken's instructions, turned left on the street that bordered their land.

“Where we going?” Mona asked.

“It's a surprise,” Mellie answered.

Ken shot his wife a shoulder-shrugging look, which made her chuckle. “Okay, single file here until we get to the bike path.”

She frowned suspiciously. “How come we're not down by the river?”

“Decided to do something different.” Ken glanced over his shoulder. “How you doing back there, Jakey boy?”

“Faster, Grampy, let's go faster.”

They rode the city streets until they could turn to the city park that had a playground at one end. Ken parked his bike by a picnic table and lifted Jake to the ground. “Okay, go run off some of your energy. Grammy and I are going to sit right here and watch you.” The two kids ran to the swings and Ken glugged from his water bottle, then leaned back against the table edge and rested his elbows on the wooden table. “It's warmer than I thought.”

“We're not used to pedaling bikes yet this year.” Mona copied his actions. “I'd planned to work in the garden for a while.”

“We can do that after supper. All of us.”

She licked her lips. “The kids start Vacation Bible School tomorrow.”

Between Sandy's problems at the university and keeping these two occupied, Ken had forgotten all about VBS. “Are you going to help?”

“I've baked cookies, and I will deliver the kids, but then I want to come home. I need to get some work done in my office. You have anything else planned?”

“Not during the day, but I start the carving class tomorrow night, five to eight. Thought I'd spend the morning sharpening my tools and getting ready.”

“You could deliver the kids on Tuesday?”

“I guess.” Why did he have the feeling she was leading up to something? “Okay, what?”

“Just that Marit would really like you to help, for a couple of days, anyway. It lasts for two weeks.”

“I thought I could go fishing. Lars asked me at church today if we could go Tuesday morning, early.”

“And?”

“And I said I would. Then I'd like to spend the rest of Tuesday in my shop.”

“But after you take the kids?”

“All right.” He took another swig of his water. “But I'm not staying to help.”

She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow.

He found himself getting angry. “No matter what Marit promised anyone. She volunteered for the job, but that didn't include grandparents helping. You want to go, you go.”

“Grandparents day is next Monday. I promised we'd both be there for that.”

“Fine.” He got up and meandered over to where Mellie was calling, “Push me higher, Grampy.” Grumpy Grampy is what he felt like at the moment. And why not? He had waited years for retirement, when he could do something for Ken Sorenson for a change, instead of for everyone else in the world. So far he hadn't been able to do a single thing that he actually wanted.

He gave Mellie a shove. He pushed Jakey. At least he was making someone else happy. The giggles of his swingers tickled his ears. He remembered pleading the same thing when he was a kid. But his grandfather was not the swing-pushing kind. Besides, he was always working on his farm. His grandfather had built a tire swing that entertained the visitors—young kids and sometimes the older ones. Maybe he should rig up a tire swing at the house. The lower limb on the big elm should work. He'd stop at the hardware store for rope tomorrow. And old Coffee at the tire store always had a couple beat-up tires for cheap, maybe even a big farm truck tire. He'd have to put up two; this pair would never peacefully take turns on one. Suddenly his tire swing project was looming huger and huger, just like everything else he tackled lately. On the other hand, tire swings were a good place to daydream away the summer hours.

He turned when Mona called, “Time to head home so the roast doesn't burn.”

“Already?” Mellie quit pumping. “But we haven't played on the jungle gym yet.”

“Or the sandbox,” Jake chimed in.

“Too bad. The boss has spoken, and I don't want burned roast, do you?” He grabbed Jake around the middle and brought him to a stop. “Come on, buddy, we'll come back here another day.” Hand in hand, the two headed for the table and the bikes. When he looked back, Mellie was twisting her swing around, her lower lip out beyond her nose.

He paused. “Come on, Mell, we'll be back.”

She left the swing but dragged her feet all the way back to the bikes, giving her grandmother a resentful look.

Mona looked from her glaring granddaughter to her husband, who gave her a shrugging, raised-eyebrow look. “Okay, kiddo, what's the pout for?”

“I don't want to go home yet. We just got here.” When Mellie whined, it was a world-class nasal, moaning whine. You had to give her her due; she had it perfected to a T. Ken was going to have to consider carefully whether to call Mellie on her instant whine whenever she didn't get her way or just blow it off. After all, the kids' home was shattered.

“I'd rather stay, too, but I'm hungry, and we have to get everything ready for tomorrow tonight, meaning baths, reading time, and…” Mona swung her leg over her bike. “Packing the cookies.”

“They're already packed, and I didn't get dirty today and…”

Ken firmed up his voice. “That's enough, Mell. Get on your bike and let's get going.” While the girl did as told, her face shouted what she thought of the whole thing.

Back at the house, they parked the bikes in the brand-new rack by the back door and followed their noses to the tantalizing fragrance wafting from the oven. Mona washed her hands and gave orders as she dried them. “You two kids wash your hands first, then set the table. I'll make the gravy, and Ken, you put that bag of rolls in the oven when I take the roaster out, then turn it off. Then you can fill the glasses, milk for the kids and iced tea for us.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Ken grinned at her as he saluted.

Jake copied him precisely, then looked at his grandpa. “Why'd you call her ma'am? Her name's Mona.”

“He was being funny, or trying to.” Mona opened the oven door and waited to let the heat out a bit. She set the roaster on the stove and lifted the lid. “Ah, perfection.”

With the food all on the table, they took their places and Ken said, “Mellie, I think it is your turn to say grace.”

“Dear Lord, thank You for this food and please keep my daddy safe, amen.”

When the food had been passed around, Mellie looked at Mona. “Daddy always said his mom made the best pot roast anywhere. You think they have pot roast where he is, wherever he is?” Her voice trembled on the last.

“I don't know, sweetie, but this was the first supper he always asked for when he came home.”

“Even better than hot dogs?” Jake looked up from mashing his potatoes.

“'Fraid so, buddy.” Ken smiled at his grandson. “But he used to think hot dogs were the best, just like you do.”

“He liked peanut butter sandwich with pickles on it.” Mellie made a face.

“Funny, but he always liked that, dill pickles rather than jam.” Mona made a face like Mellie's. “Not for me.”

Later, after all was done and the kids were in bed and prayers said, Ken and Mona kissed them each good night.

“Do you think Daddy will Skype tonight or maybe call?” Mellie's usual whine was now a melancholy, wistful moan.

“I don't know, honey,” Ken answered her.

“If he does, you'll come and get me, won't you?”

“I will for sure.”

“Can I read for a while?”

“Not tonight. You have to get up early tomorrow.”

She rolled over to face the wall, her grumble muffled in the actions.

As always, they shut out the light and left the door partway open. They always had a night-light in the hall for bathroom runs. As they made their way downstairs, Mona trailed her hand along the rail. “I wish I knew what to answer her.”

“That's the problem, there is no answer.”

The next morning, Ken handed Mona a cup of coffee and asked her, “What are you working on that is keeping you from helping at VBS?”

“A few things for the preschool project.” Mona put down the coffee to pour water in a kettle to make the oatmeal.

“I thought you changed your mind.”

“No. I've prayed about it, and God does not seem to be saying no, so I will go ahead with it.” She measured the oatmeal into the hot water, added salt and Craisins, and set it carefully on the burner, before turning to him. “I know you are not happy about my decision, but my company is important to me and I want to give it my best shot.”