The Second Half (21 page)

“I have one,” the interior designer said. “I thought you were a one-woman office, and this looks like a heavy load. How can we know you can meet your deadlines?”

Mona kept a smile in place while the thoughts galloped through her head. What kind of question was that? Almost rude really. “I have never missed a deadline in the four years I've been in business. I listed some references on the last page if you would like to check on my performance.” After fielding a couple more questions, she went into her closing remarks. She touched on the contract that said the increments she expected to be paid in, pointed out the references, and smiled at each of the women. “Thank you for the opportunity to prepare this for you.”

“Fine job, Mona,” Mrs. Bergstrund said, and they all nodded. “So very professional. We have two other presenters today, so we'll get back to you as soon as we've made a decision, which will be within the next couple of days.”

She thanked them again and headed for her car. She'd done her best, and now it was in God's hands. As she backed out of her slot and headed toward the street, she reflected on one thing she had done absolutely right: avoided the PowerPoint and provided hands-on material that they could refer back to. She believed God was in charge, of course, but it would be hard to keep from second-guessing all she'd done. Another one of the character traits she was trying to overcome.

Ken was at the outside table and faucet set up just for fish cleaning. “How did it go?”

She shrugged. “I didn't realize they were having other companies give proposals today, too. That was a bit of a shock. I left my packets with them; I included some pretty original ideas in that, which someone else could put to work.”

“Second-guessing, eh?”

“I guess. Trying not to. I really realized how bad I want this when they said there were two others. Wouldn't it have been more ethical to mention that up front?” She went on to tell him about the building and the dreams for more school room. Standing back far enough to not get splashed, she finally ran out of information.

He dried off his hands. “I'm going up to change. I'll pick up the kids. Do we need anything at the grocery store?”

“I thought Marit was bringing them home.”

He grimaced. “She called and asked if I would pick them all up; something going on there that she had to deal with.”

“So I need to make lunch for all five, right?”

“Well, six. She should be here before too long.”

Mona dragged herself up the stairs. Right now she would like a few hours to herself to unwind and make any notes in case they did hire her. Or rather, to be prepared when she needed to begin the project.
Think positive, Mona, not negative! No Monday-morning quarterbacking. You said you were leaving this in God's hands, so do just that!

Why was it so much easier to say than to do?

That night after the kids were in bed sleeping and she'd located the flashlight that Mellie snuck under the pillow, she and Ken were enjoying a cup of tea before bed when the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be at this hour?” Ken looked at her blankly as he got up to answer the door. Her stomach churned a bit. She got up and followed behind. He checked the peephole and opened the door.

“Sir, are you Kenneth Sorenson?” The man wore the army dress uniform with official-looking epaulets and a broad spectrum of medals on his chest. Another man in uniform stood beside the first, but he wore a clerical collar and a cross.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“May we come in?”

“Of course, sorry, no idea where my manners went.” Ken stepped back and ushered them into the entry.

“Is this your wife?”

Ken waved a hand. “My wife, Mona.”

The fellow dipped his head toward her and returned to Ken. “Major George Paget, U.S. Army Special Forces. Is Captain Steig Sorenson your son?”

“Yes, he is. What is this about?”

Mona started to shake so hard her teeth chattered. She crossed to stand by Ken, who put his arm around her.

“I regret to inform you that Captain Steig Sorenson has been listed as missing in action.”

W
ould the scene never stop replaying in her mind?

Mona gave up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and got up carefully to let Ken keep on sleeping. Good thing someone could sleep around here. She felt like the sandman kept dragging more sand through her eyes as she stuck her arms in her summer robe and picked up her flip-flops to put on downstairs. With a sigh, Ambrose rose from his bed and padded down the steps beside her.

Fixing tea rather than coffee in the hopes she might be able to go back to sleep eventually, she settled into her recliner. Hyacinth had given up the comfort of her spot on the foot of the bed and now leaped up to nestle beside her. Ambrose sighed again, then settled on the floor beside the chair. Protected by her armed guards, Mona sipped her orange spice herb tea and let the scene play again. The ringing of the doorbell, the two men entering, the horrendous news they had to deliver. The chaplain reminding them, perhaps three times, that he would be there for them. To call him with questions. He would be the liaison between the military and the family. After they left, she and Ken were more shell-shocked; the grieving and fear had yet to attack. The worst had happened. No, not the worst; at least there was a chance that Steig was still alive. MIA, they had assured her and Ken, was just that. Missing in action. They would let the family know immediately of any change.

Then the horrors took over. Steig lying dead somewhere, Steig bleeding and horribly wounded, Steig as a prisoner of war, being tortured like they had seen of prisoners online and on TV. The tears started in a trickle but soon nearly drowned her.
Lord God, protect my son. Please let him live and bring him home to us.
Like all tears, they eventually stopped, and after mopping them up, she rested her head against the cushions. Ambrose licked her hand, a whimper more than a whine of consolation, his tail gently fanning the air.

She tried constantly to avoid imagining scenarios. They almost always turned ugly and fed her tendency to depression. Sometimes they even triggered her depressions. She couldn't help it; they wouldn't banish. And now, of all times, she must avoid depression. Those two little children needed her like never before, and she would be useless to them if one of her major depressions hit.
Lord, help me!

By now her tea was cold and she felt chilled, her only warm spot her tummy, where Hyacinth had curled up. “Lord, how will I bear this, this nightmare of all nightmares?” With a start, she realized she was nearly shouting. “Sorry Lord, but how will we tell the children? When will we tell them? What am I supposed to do? Tell them and send them off to Bible school? Help us.”

Surely the news would not be on TV or the Internet yet, but it would be soon. Steig was a local boy—in fact, something of a local hero. The reporters might even show up on their doorstep soon. She couldn't let the children learn accidentally. She would call Marit, too. But not in the middle of the night. Three a.m. Hyacinth got up, and Mona dug in the basket beside her chair, pulling out a crocheted afghan, and threw it over herself.

Would going back up to bed work, or would she just wake Ken?

Lord, what are we going to do?

Seek my face.
The words seemed to float in and around her.

“I am seeking Your face. I know of nowhere else to turn.” The tears burned again.

Trust me. Are you going to trust me?

“Right, trust You. Who else can I trust? You know I have always put my children in Your hands.” She reached for her Bible that always lay beside the lamp. Flipping to the Psalms, she turned to Psalm 91, but the tears again blurred the words. Her memory took over.
My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.
All she could say or think was
Lord, I trust You. Lord I trust You
. The phrase
dark night of the soul
seemed perfectly clear right now.

“How will I get through this?”

A very present help in time of trouble…where was that? A psalm. She thumbed back through. There. Psalm 46:1.
God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble.

A sob caught in her throat and made her cough. “Oh, Lord God, let it be so. Help me!” Hyacinth purred against her leg. The warmth of the afghan penetrated and, between the exhaustion, the comfort of the words, and the hour, calmed her enough that she drifted off.

She woke to the fragrance of coffee brewing. The cat and dog were both gone, most likely to their dishes in the kitchen. Six thirty. How had Ken gotten to the kitchen without her waking? When she tried throwing off the cover, she knew why. Not only her mind but her body did not want to respond. She recognized the feeling—total exhaustion. How could it be? She'd not done anything physical. Besides cry. That inner voice reminded her it woke up when she did. Or probably had never gone to sleep. She forced herself to her feet and, wrapped in the afghan, made her way to the kitchen.

Ken turned from pouring his coffee, handed her the full mug, and reached for another. They sat down at the table, both propping their elbows to hold the mugs up to sip.

The silence got too heavy to carry. “I figured we'd call Marit at seven. She should be out of the shower and dressed by then.”

“I agree. But the kids could be down by then.” Ken stared straight ahead. “How do we tell them?”

Mellie and Jake.
Yes, how?
Marit would be straightforward. Although Ken, Marit, and she had discussed this eventuality, the discussion was only in the most general terms, more along the line of wounded or dead. Not MIA. Even the acronym sounded ominous. “How about you go call Marit, and I'll keep the kids in the kitchen? Then we tell them together. You cuddle Jake, and I'll hold on to Mellie.”

Ken nodded, cocked his head. “Here comes Jake.”

“I better start breakfast. I'll fix some strawberries to put on cereal.” How could such a simple thing sound so insurmountable?

Jake, in his Spider-Man jammies, blankie in hand, climbed up in Ken's lap, like he did every morning. Ken kissed the top of his head. “How's my buddy this morning?”

“We goin' fishing today?”

“Not this morning, maybe this evening.”

“'Kay.”

“Is Mellie awake?”

“Reading. Grammy, can I have peanut butter toast for breakfast?”

“With cereal and strawberries?”

“'Kay.”

“You want to get the toaster out? Grampy has something he has to do.”

“'Kay.”

Ken nodded his thanks, let the boy slide down his legs like he liked, and pulled his cell off his belt on the way out to the garage. Mona had the strawberries ready for serving when he returned. “She'll talk with you later.”

“All okay?”

He grimaced. “She's managing. Jake, let's go get Mellie and get you dressed.”

“Breakfast in five.”

Jake scrambled up the stairs, pulling off his top as he climbed. “Mellie, hurry up, Grammy said five.” His ultra-soprano yell echoed through the house.

From somewhere up there came, “I'm coming.”

They were about finished eating when Ken and Mona exchanged a warning look. It was time.

“Kids, we have something important to tell you,” Ken began.

“Daddy called?” Mellie dropped her spoon.

“No, but we found out why he hasn't. Let's go in the other room.” Ken led the way, and they gathered on the sofa as if they were going to read. Jake climbed up on Ken's lap, and Mellie sat between her grandparents in the circle of Mona's arm.

“Last night…” Mona choked.

Ken picked it up. “Last night your daddy's commanding officer came to tell us that your daddy”—he stumbled but regained—“is what they call missing in action. That means that no one knows where he is and they have not heard from him. But the commander will let us know as soon as they can find out what happened.”

“Did my daddy go to be with Jesus?” Mellie asked.

“We don't know. We do know that right now he cannot call us or Skype us, but he will as soon as he gets found.”

Mellie gripped Mona tighter. “Are they looking for him?”

“Oh, I'm sure they are. They want him to be safe, too.”

Mona's thoughts took off on her. At the back of her mind, she heard, sensed,
Trust me
. “We pray for your daddy every night, don't we?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we ask God to keep him safe?” Mona could feel Mellie nodding. “Then we will keep on praying, and Jesus said He would answer our prayers.”
Please, Lord, don't let it be no.
“So we must be very brave.”

“Daddy said if something happened to him, he would call us as soon as he could.”

“And he will. Your daddy always keeps his word.”
And so does our heavenly father.
Mona knew she was reminding herself and would need to keep on doing that. Every time fear snuck back in, only the name of Jesus could drive it out.
Trust Him.
Lord, I trust You. But my trust is so fragile and momentary.

“Let's pray for your daddy right now,” Ken said. “Lord God, thank you that Steig is in Your hands and You are holding him safe.”

“Help Daddy get found so he is not missing in action. Make him better if he is hurt.” Mellie's eyes were squeezed tight shut.

Jakey added, “And make him come home to go fishing with Grampy and me.”

“Thank you, Jesus, that You are right here with us.”

Jakey looked up. “'Cause Jesus is right here in my heart.” He pointed to his chest. “Daddy said so.”

“Yes, Jakey, He is right here in all of our hearts.” Ken heaved a sigh. “Help us, Lord, to get through the days ahead.” He hugged Jake and gripped Mellie's hand. “And we all agree.” They said the amen all together.

Mellie looked up at Mona. “You will tell me as soon as you know something?”

“I will.”

“Even in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“Or if I am at school?”

“If I can.”

“You could come and get me.”

Mona turned and put a hand on both sides of Mellie's face. “I promise I will let you know as soon as I can.”

Mellie stared into her eyes, then nodded. “Okay, Grammy. Daddy always said his mommy and daddy would take care of us, but Grammy”—her eyes filled with tears—“I miss him so much.”

“Me, too, baby, me, too.” She reached for a tissue for each of them. “And when you have questions, you come ask, okay?”

“Okay, Grammy, I will.”

Ken glanced up at the clock. “We better hurry, or you will be late for Bible school.” Both kids bailed off their laps.

“Ten minutes,” Ken said. “The car leaves in ten minutes.”

When the kids pounded up the stairs, Mona clenched her husband's hand. “You sure are a good grampy.” She sniffed. “And an even better husband and daddy.” She chewed her bottom lip. “We're going to get through this, right?”

“We sure are. Jesus said so. And that makes it so!” He held up their clasped hands. “One day at a time.”

“Sometimes one moment at a time is about all I can manage.” Her head suddenly felt so heavy she wouldn't be surprised to see it plunk on the floor.

“How about you go up after we leave and sleep for a while?”

“I look that bad?”

“Let's say I can tell when you are nearing the end of your rope.”

“What about you?”

“I got a pretty decent night's sleep. You didn't.”

“Thank you.”

After she hugged and kissed the kids and Ken good-bye, climbing the stairs took every ounce of energy she could dredge up. Falling on the bed, she didn't even remember pulling up the sheet and light blanket.

Something tapping? What was that noise? Mona fought to resurface. Finally her eyes opened enough to see that the light coming in the window was now from the west, and she sat up, realizing it was Mellie at the bedroom door.

“Come in, sweetie.” Even her voice didn't sound right.

“Grammy, are you all right?” Mellie stood in the door.

“I was just sleeping.” Mona spread her arms wide, and Mellie flew into them.

“I thought you went to be with Jesus, Grammy…” The sobs obliterated any further conversation.

“No, no. Oh, Mellie, no. Grammy was just terribly tired, that's all, and Grampy let me sleep. I'm getting up right now and…” She glanced down to realize she never had gotten dressed. “You go on down, and I'll get dressed and be right there. Is Grampy making supper?”

“He said to tell you that supper is almost ready. I set the table.” She sniffed again and took the tissue Mona handed her. She started toward the door and turned back. “You are coming?”

“Let me get dressed. I'll hurry.”

Knowing there was no time for a shower to help get her fully awake, Mona splashed cold water on her face, pulled on a pair of capris and a T-shirt, slid into sandals, and made her way downstairs, following the voices coming from the kitchen.
Lord, please get my mind in gear. I feel trapped in whatever I was dreaming.
Just as she hit the main floor, her mind caught up. Steig was MIA. If Ken had heard anything, surely he would have called her. Her eyes sent him the question as soon as he looked up, and he gave a minute shake of his head.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“No, sit down, we're all ready.” Ken pulled out her chair, and as she slid into it, he kissed the top of her head.

She smiled from Jake to Mellie sitting on the opposite sides of the square kitchen table. “Now, how did Bible school go today?”

Ken took his chair and made the time sign. “Let's have grace, and then you can catch Grammy up on the news.” They joined hands. “Jake, your turn to say grace.”

The pause stretched until Jake started. “Dear Jesus…” He sniffed. “Please take care of my daddy and bless this food. Amen.” The last words came in a rush.