The Second Half (29 page)

“Arch Tarkensen, the headhunter?” Ken smiled. “Give Arch my best when you see him.”

“I shall. Gerald, I'm sorry that I'll have to eat and run. This was a lovely luncheon.”

He was grinning. “My cousin went there; she's in public health. Great school. You'll love it. Break a leg or whatever the appropriate encouragement is.”

“Thank you!” She was grinning, too. Obviously she wasn't depressed.

Ken found himself annoyed by people who were not depressed, and he never had been before. What a strange attitude. What a strange thing, depression. It penetrated every fiber of your being.

Sandy left fifteen minutes later. The server came around to refill drinks, picked up her plate, and disappeared.

Ken felt Gerald staring at him and glanced that way. Yes, the callow young man was indeed staring at him. “What?”

“I know Ken Sorenson. You are not Ken Sorenson. What's going on?”

“Everything. Nothing.” Ken grimaced. “The world or what's left of it.”

Gerald was still staring. Silently. Intently. At ease. And suddenly the weight of that world was too much for Ken's shoulders to bear. He found himself unloading on this young man, and he really had had no such intention. He didn't mean to; it just poured out and poured out. He even admitted what his heart had been saying all along—
my son is dead somewhere
. And he ended the lengthy litany of woe with, “And now my lifetime legacy is wiped out. All I worked for is gone.”

“Bull shoes.”

It was Ken's turn to stare. Never once in the years he had known him had Gerald ever used even a minced euphemism for a bad word. As an attention grabber, it sure worked. “So what is your take on it?”

“I can't address how taking in your grandchildren has destroyed your retirement, or at least altered it radically. I've never been there, and I learned I still don't really click with people older than I am; I can sympathize, but not empathize. But I can speak to your legacy because I experienced it firsthand. I say you're completely wrong.”

“The department is dismantled. For all practical purposes, it does not exist anymore.”

“Remember Blowser Romney?”

“Blows— I do. The kid with his hair dyed green.”

“Met up with him at the class reunion. Rumor has it his animated movie will be nominated for an Oscar, and it hasn't even been released yet.
His
movie. He's the executive producer and artistic director. Remember Ann Morris? She had such a hard time learning anything, and you got her help for dyslexia. She runs a clinic for dyslexics now, and she's talking about opening three more in Wisconsin.”

“I remember she blossomed once she got her reading and writing under control.”

“Brant Richards, Harry Loggins, Joe Rose, Becky Winthrup. They'd be flipping burgers or something if you hadn't helped them stay in school. All of them except Becky are making six figures now. Becky's take-home is only about eighty-five thousand, she says, but she's getting a raise in a year.”

“How would you know all that?”

“We got together after the reunion. We're sort of a subset of the graduates, the people you more or less pushed through college, who had a personal hand in getting us through. Becky calls us the Sorenson sodality.” Gerald leaned forward. “And me! You salvaged me, Dr. Sorenson. That's what it was, a salvage operation. And next year I'll be the youngest junior partner ever at Ross, Vorstein, and Schumacher.”

Ken stammered something, but he couldn't really think what to say.

“Dr. Sorenson, your legacy was never the student resources department. It was the students. Us. We who could not have succeeded without you. We are able to give something back to the world because of you.”

“I-I-I am at a loss for words.”

Gerald's voice softened. “Mrs. Jensen will almost certainly get that position at Madison; apparently that's how your Mr. Tarkensen works. People trust his choices. And you trained her to see the students' real needs and to handle all the minutiae to help them get through school. You showed her what an effective department is all about. Stone University lost one of its greatest assets, but the School of Medicine is gaining it. Your legacy, as you call it—your influence—hasn't changed; it just shifted to a new site.”

Was this kid right in his assessment? Did he see what Ken had failed to see?

Steig. Steig was gone. Or maybe not.

Ken and Mona would have the retirement they dreamed about, but it would be different.

Two abandoned children, trying to pick up the pieces, faced a stable future and bright life ahead, even if at a cost to Ken. And they were certainly more important than traveling on a retirement cruise or something.

And his legacy, or rather, just one small part of it, sat at the table beside him.

Much to his own astonishment, he found himself dissolving into tears.

Y
ou all ready?” Mona handed Jake and Mellie their lunchboxes.

“Grammy, I can't find my pencil box.” Jake held up his pack.

“Did you take it out for some reason?”

“You had it in the family room, remember?” Mellie shook her head. “I'll go find it,” she announced wearily. “I told you to put it back.”

“Bus leaves in five minutes.”

“You're not a bus.” Jake frowned at Ken.

“I'm a bus driver today.” He looked at Mona. “The school bus does come by here, doesn't it?”

“Two blocks over.”

“Here.” Mellie stuffed the pencil box in her brother's backpack. “We're ready. You're coming, too, aren't you, Grammy?”

“I am.” While they had met the teachers and been to their classrooms, today everyone was a volatile combination of excitement and fear.

Jake hugged Ambrose and petted Hyacinth. “You be good while we're gone.”

“Out the door, Jake. The others are in the car already.”

He stood and gave Ambrose one more pat, hefted his backpack on one shoulder, and trudged out the door. “I'd rather go fishing with Grampy.”

“Sorry, the fish will wait for you.” She closed the door behind them. “Hustle so we aren't late.”

At the school, Ken parked and turned to the kids in the backseat. “You know the way now?”

“You come with me, please?” Jake fumbled with his seat belt.

They all got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to the front door. They could hear kids playing in the fenced area behind the school. Ken held the door open and patted Jake on the head as he went through. Mellie grinned up at him, but even she did not have her usual bounce.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good first day,” Mona told her as she headed down the hall to her classroom while they walked with Jake to his in the other direction.

“Even smells like the first day of school,” Mona said, looking around at the decorations.

“Okay, Jake, here you are.” Ken stopped them at the door to his classroom.

“You'll come pick us up?”

They both nodded. “We'll be waiting by the car for you.”

“And we can go out for ice cream?”

“Yes. That's what we said, to celebrate your first day at a new school.” Ken stepped back. Several kids walked around them to go through the door. The bell rang.

“Time to go in.”

Jake nodded, grabbed his pack strap, and went on in. His normal bounce got left at home with the critters.

Mona and Ken waved at the principal and, dodging kids, returned to the car. “How about we stop for a latte for you and a mocha for me?”

“Good idea, I think we earned it.” Mona flopped back against the seat. “I don't remember other first days of school being this wearing.”

“We were younger.”

“You were at work. I did all the first days.”

He grinned at her. “Probably that's why I don't remember.”

“We didn't take any pictures for Steig!”

“We'll play it over this evening. When he finally gets on his e-mail, he's going to be blown away. Oops, poor analogy.”

She sent him one of her looks. “For sure.” Staring straight ahead, she said softly, “He is missing so much.” She thought back to former first days. Steig was the dragger sometimes, too, but only the first day. Marit would badger him along. But once he'd really met his teacher and realized how many of his friends were in his class, he was set to go. “You remember when Steig brought the guinea pig home for the holidays. Every time we opened the refrigerator door, that little pig shrieked to high heaven.”

“Didn't Marit bring home hamsters? And one got loose?”

Mona chuckled. “I was so afraid the cat would catch it before we did.” She was quiet again. “Maybe having our grandkids here like this will help keep us younger.”

“Or make us old before our time. Drive-up window or go in?”

Jake chattered all the way home that afternoon and remembered more at supper, so he kept on. Mellie answered questions but volunteered little. Mona and Ken swapped looks of awareness and concern.

“Now, make sure your backpacks are ready before you go to bed, so we aren't hunting for stuff in the morning,” Mona said, looking directly at Jake, who nodded. “After we get the kitchen cleaned up, I thought we should go for a bike ride.”

“Yes!” Jake pumped his arm. “Come on, Ambrose.”

“Wait! What did your grammy say?”

He stuck out his lip. “Clean up the kitchen.” He drained his glass of milk and set it on his plate. “Whose turn to clear the table?”

“You and me, pal, while Grammy and Mellie load the dishwasher and the other stuff.” Ken pushed back his chair. “I think we better get that chores chart made and on the message board.” He paused. “Did either of you have homework?”

The kids both shook their heads.

Mellie seemed more herself when they were pedaling down the river path. They all laughed when two squirrels played tag across in front of them.

“Ambrose wants to chase them.” Jake grinned up from his own bike. He could ride a lot faster now.

That night when tucking Mellie into bed, Mona said, “You seem pretty quiet. Did something happen at school?”

“We have to write about our summer.”

“Okay, that's not unusual.”

“Can I write about Daddy leaving?”

“If you want to, I don't see why not.”

Mellie sniffed. “Grammy, I miss him so much.” She looked at Mona through tear-filled eyes. “Do you think he will ever get to read all my letters?”

“I am thinking that the first thing he will do is call us, then Skype us, and then he will read all the letters and open the packages, and every man in his unit will be so jealous that they will wish they had kids like you and Jake.” Mona ignored the burning in her nose and eyes.

“Really? Oh, Grammy, I pray every day that he will come home, but sometimes I forget to think about him and then I…” Mona grabbed a tissue off the bedside table. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Remember we have riding lessons tomorrow after school.”

“Oh, I do. I'm so glad you decided to ride, too. When are you getting your boots?”

“Maybe we'll go on Saturday, what do you think?”

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

After she and Ken had swapped rooms for the good-nights, Mona headed for the kitchen to make the tea. “Would you please light the citron candle out on the deck? Too soon it will be too cold to use the deck anymore, so let's take advantage of it.” Hot tea rather than iced felt better now that the nights were cooling off more.

“What a day!” Ken sank down in the lounger and stared out at the river. “How many quarts of beans did you get canned?”

“Only ten, a canner full, but thanks to your slicing, we did, what, four more pints for the freezer? When I think of all the canning and freezing my mother did…” She sipped her tea. “We'll be doing tomatoes soon.” To this point, they'd eaten or frozen the ripe ones, but the vines were hanging red now.

“Like tomorrow.”

“You know, I enjoy this so much more with you helping me. Well, the kids, too.”

“They've been a big help, both in the garden and in the house. I'd forgotten how much our kids did, too.”

“Right, and they developed great work ethics because they helped us.” He swatted a mosquito. “One thing I like about fall is the death of the mosquitoes.”

She told him what Mellie had asked her. “Sometimes I wonder if we should talk about Steig more. You told me what Jake said, and I know how much he is on my mind, and Mellie is so sensitive. I don't want to…”

“To?” he asked after the pause lengthened.

“To—to create an obsession, I guess is what I mean. I want her to be a normal little girl with all little girl things, not grow up so fast, like some of the others I've seen. Teenagers at ten instead of thirteen and up.”

“That's a concern all right. She's had far more to deal with than most kids.”

“Evening is coming so much sooner.” Mona watched a bat swoop across the deck. The maple trees were starting to turn color along the river path, and the weeping birch hung golden. A squirrel jumped to the deck rail, bringing Ambrose to his feet with a low growl. The critter flicked his tail and leaped from the rail to the oak tree. Such peace out on their deck. They didn't use it often enough but enjoyed the moments like this when they did. She glanced over at Ken, and he held out his hand.

They were two weeks into the school year when Mellie flew into the house. “Grampy, I got a big favor to ask you.”

Ken looked up from the cucumbers he was scrubbing at the sink. “What is it?”

“We are having a program, kind of a show-and-tell, about dads and what they do, and since Daddy can't come, would you please come and tell what you did at the university? You could wear your suit and—and I would have to introduce you. I have to have a speech ready to do that.”

“When is this program?”

“On October thirteenth. We'd have to practice and everything.”

“Of course I will. Thank you for asking.”

“I wish Daddy was here, but…” She hugged his waist and heaved a sigh he had heard too often. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her back. “I am honored to be part of your show-and-tell.”

“Grampy, I'm hungry.” Jake dumped his backpack on a stool at the counter, saw his grandfather's raised eyebrows, and went to put it in the basket with his name on it in the laundry room. “Where's Grammy?”

“She had a meeting at the church. She should be back soon. Okay, what do you want for a snack?”

“Peanut butter sammich. I'll get all the stuff out.” Jake turned to Mellie. “You want one, too? With jam?”

“Yes. I'm going to change clothes first.” She grabbed her backpack and headed for the stairs. “Blueberry jam.”

“Grampy, you want one, too?”

“You know, that sounds good. I think there might be some chocolate milk in there, too.”

“Do you know that we ride the chipmunk bus?”

“'Cause it has chipmunks on it?” Ken winked at his grandson.

“Nope. I think they shoulda named it the shark bus.” Jake had decided he liked sharks.

“But all the others are named after animals, and a shark is a…?” He waited for Jake's answer. They'd been reading all about sharks.

“A huge, mean, hungry fish. And they live in the oceans, not in our fishing lake.”

“You are so right.”

Ken finished scrubbing the cucumbers, keeping an eye on Jake at the same time. “You've gotten real good at sammich making, buddy.”

“Grammy taught me.” Tongue between his teeth, he finished spreading the jam on top of the crunchy peanut butter and laid the other slice on top. He even cut them in half, put them on plates, and set them on the kitchen table.

“Wow, Jake, you did a good job.” Mellie, now in playclothes, slid into a chair. “Did you even pour the chocolate milk—without spilling?”

“I only spilled a drop, and Grampy mopped that up.”

After they'd nearly finished their snack, Ken asked, “Any homework for today?”

Both the kids nodded. “I have to read ten pages of my chapter book and twelve spelling words.” Jake shook his head. “Spelling is hard.”

Ken looked at Mellie. “You always have homework.”

“I got most of it done at school today so I can draw for a while. And I have a book report to finish.”

“For tomorrow?”

“Nope, for Wednesday.” Mellie, like her aunty Marit, always liked to get things done early. “Did you mail the packet to Daddy?”

“Grammy did.”

“Did she get oil rubbed into her boots?”

“I don't think so.”

“Just think, Grampy, if we had horses of our own, we wouldn't have to drive clear out to Clauson's.”

He leaned over and tousled her hair. “You are always thinking, that's for sure.”

“I think you'd like to ride, too, if you tried it. And nothing smells as good as a horse.”

“They stink!” Jake insisted. “And when you come home from riding lessons, you stink like a horse.”

Ken raised a finger to cut her off before she countered his accusation. “Put your dishes in the dishwasher.”

“Don't you like horses, Grampy?”

“Sure, they are a great animal. But I've never owned one, nor ridden one, and I really have no desire to. Sorry, but I just don't. How come you never come fishing with me?”

She shrugged. “I went fishing once with Daddy, and I guess I just…” She paused. “I don't hate it, I…”

“No desire to go fishing again?”

“If you want me to, I would go.”

Jakey burst in with, “No! That's for Grampy and me.”

Ken shrugged. “See, we don't all have to like all the same things. Fishing is not Grammy's favorite thing to do, either, but she'll go if I insist.”
Not that I've insisted for many years.
He smiled to himself. Ever since she got pregnant the first time, she'd not gone fishing. The waves made her so sick, they just came in. Ah, the memories; he'd not thought of that one for a long time.

Later that evening after supper, they were all sitting in the family room with the adults watching the news. Mellie sat curled in a corner of the sofa, reading one of her library books while Jake created a shark with his Legos on the floor. The screen shifted to a large plane where a casket, draped in an American flag, was wheeled out and lowered as six men in full uniform stood saluting. While the announcer told a bit about the soldier being brought home to be buried in the Arlington cemetery, Mona heard a sniff and then sobs.

Mellie dropped her book, bailed off the sofa, and threw herself into Mona's arms. “Oh, Grammy, that could be Daddy.” Her sobs drowned out the announcer. “That's what they'll do if they find him dead.”