Under a Summer Sky, page 10
“That’s just it,” Asher said, looking perplexed. “I’ve been praying for Jared to stop bothering me, but I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”
Laney pulled him close. “I’m sure God didn’t answer your prayers by hurting Jared. He doesn’t work that way.”
“Are you sure, Mom? In Sunday school, we talk about God revenging people all the time. Look at what he did to the Egyptians.”
Laney nodded. “You’re right,” she said as Halle climbed over onto her lap and licked her cheek. “That’s why these questions would be good for your father. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I don’t feel like it,” he said. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Well, do you feel like helping me make brownies?”
His face lit up. “Sure!” He plopped Halle on the floor and stood right up.
As they came into the kitchen, Noah looked up from his laptop. “Uh-oh. What are you two up to?”
“We’re making brownies,” Asher said with a grin. “So after supper we can have your favorite dessert.”
“Brownie sundaes?” Noah said with a grin, gathering him into a hug as he walked by.
“Mm-hmm.” Asher nodded.
“Well, I’m glad Mom found a way to cheer you up.”
“Moms have a way,” Asher replied matter-of-factly.
“Is that so?” Noah said, tickling him.
Asher giggled. “Stop! Stop!” he pleaded as Halle jumped up on them. “Dads have a way too!” he squealed, trying to escape. Finally, Noah let him go, but by this time, Mennie had gimped into the kitchen to find out what was going on. “Now look what you did,” Asher said, trying to keep the two dogs apart.
Just then, Ben and Seth came in, laughing, and dropped their backpacks and duffel bags in the middle of the floor.
“I thought practice was over at five,” Noah said, glancing up at the clock.
“We got done early,” Ben said, pulling open the refrigerator door.
“How’d you get home?”
“Tommy Baker’s brother.”
“I don’t even know Tommy Baker, never mind his brother,” Noah said.
“It’s okay, Dad. He’s a good driver,” Seth piped.
“I don’t care if he’s a good driver. I don’t want you two riding with other kids. That’s the rule, and you know it.”
“You worry too much,” Ben protested, gulping orange juice from the container.
Noah stood and took the container from him. “Use a glass! And you are to call if you need a ride. Or you won’t be on the team.” He eyed his middle sons. “Got it?”
“Yes,” they grudgingly agreed.
“Holy cow!” Noah grumbled. “I don’t understand what the heck is so hard about following the rules. Your mother and I make sure one of us is always available.”
“We just don’t want anything to happen,” Laney added.
“We got it,” Ben said impatiently, hoisting his backpack on his shoulder.
Seth followed him, and when he thought they were out of earshot, he whispered, “I told you we should’ve said Mrs. Baker . . .”
“I heard that,” Laney called after them. “And you’d be in bigger trouble if you’d lied.”
She turned to get her mixer out of the cabinet and realized Asher was sitting on the floor with one dog on either side of him, each with a head in his lap. He looked up and grinned. “I think Mennie’s getting used to Halle,” he said happily.
20
Laney rolled onto her side, listening to Noah snoring peacefully beside her, and looked at her alarm clock. The numbers glowed brightly: 1:23 a.m. She reached for her phone, wishing it would beep, but it didn’t. She slid it on and touched the icons to make sure a new message hadn’t magically skipped directly to her inbox, but the last message was still the one she’d gotten from E that afternoon, telling her he wouldn’t be home for dinner. She’d written right back, asking when he would be home, but he’d never replied, and she’d been fretting ever since. In fact, at that very moment, worried, angry thoughts were charging around her head like out of control children: Didn’t he know she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep? Didn’t he know she had to work the next day? Where was he? Was he with Chloe? Had they been in an accident? Was he lying in a ditch, bleeding and unconscious . . . or worse? Had he gone for a swim and been swept away by a riptide? Damn it! Did he have any idea how inconsiderate he was? She would certainly tell him. If he would just come home!
She rolled onto her back and blinked at the darkness, her mind drifting to the ultrasound she’d had that afternoon. She recalled telling the technician it was nice that the gel was warm, but the technician had gruffly replied, “It doesn’t stay warm,” and on that pessimistic note, she’d continued her task, staring silently at the screen, moving the handheld device methodically around Laney’s breasts and clicking her mouse. Laney had turned her attention to a water stain on the ceiling and tried to think of something else, but when the technician started to spend a lot of time gliding back and forth over the same area, Laney good-naturedly teased, “You’re going to wear that spot out.” The technician had only responded with a solemn “Mmm,” and Laney had felt like saying, “That’s not very reassuring.” But instead, she’d endured the rest of the test in silence, and when it was finally over, she’d wiped the gel off with a towel, pulled on her blouse, and stuffed her bra in her bag, giving her breasts a well-deserved break. They’d been through enough prodding that week . . . and she was only going home anyway.
Now, as she lay in bed, she gently touched the outer curve near her right nipple—the area that had seemed to be the center of attention. Both of her breasts were tender, achy. She’d once heard someone say that cancer doesn’t hurt, and she wondered if it was true. Was the pain she felt right now a good sign? Or was it just a result of the mammogram and ultrasound? If it was the latter, it was neither a good or bad sign. It was nothing. She had nothing to grasp on to for hope. It didn’t matter that she dutifully followed every recommendation touted in the health magazines: she exercised regularly, drank black coffee and green tea—even though the tea sometimes made her nauseous—ate copious amounts of broccoli, spinach, kale, tomatoes, wild-caught sockeye salmon—even though it was more expensive—as well as berries and other cancer warriors. And she stayed away from red meat and artificial sweeteners. And on the rare occasion when she indulged, she only drank red wine—which studies showed was chock-full of antioxidants. But all that didn’t seem to matter, she decided. If cancer wanted you, it found you.
“That’s positive thinking,” she chided, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m not a very good fighter, God,” she whispered softly. “Please don’t make me go through this. If you do, who will take care of the five wonderful boys you gave us? They need their mom to guide them. Especially that oldest one who doesn’t seem to know when to come home.”
Without realizing it, her whispering had gotten louder, and Noah snorted and slipped his hand into hers. “Everything okay?” he murmured.
She nodded, brushing away her tears. “Mm-hmm . . . except that E’s not home.”
Noah looked at the clock and immediately became more alert. “Where the heck is he?” he growled. “He needs to learn that college rules don’t apply at home! I know he has unlimited freedom at school, but when he’s home, he needs to be more considerate. He could, at the very least, call.”
“My sentiments exact—” Laney started to say, but before she could finish, they heard the screen door, and she looked at the clock again—it was just after two.
Noah threw back the covers and headed for the stairs.
“Noah, don’t lose your temper,” Laney said in a hushed voice as she pulled on her robe and followed him.
The only light in the kitchen was coming from the open refrigerator—in front of which stood their tall, slender son . . . with the orange juice container in his hand. When Noah turned on the light, Elijah quickly put on the top and tried to make it look like he was getting a glass.
“Where the heck have you been?”
“I—”
“Do you realize what time it is?”
E looked up at the clock and started to answer.
“You aren’t away at college. And although we realize you’re very close to being an adult—in fact, in some societies you would already be considered an adult—a little common courtesy, like calling your mother, would be very much appreciated.”
“I—”
“If you want us to treat you like an ad—”
Laney put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Let him answer.”
“I’m sorry,” E began, his eyes glistening. “I should’ve called . . . it’s just . . . Chloe’s grandfather died, and she was really upset... and she didn’t want me to leave . . . and then I lost track of time, and when I realized how late it was, I thought it was too late to call.”
Laney was stunned. “Oh, E, I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly feeling foolish for being so angry and suspicious. “Oh, poor Chloe.”
Noah shook his head remorsefully. “I’m sorry too, E. For jumping on you . . . and for Chloe.”
Elijah nodded. “It was so unexpected. Chloe’s grandmother had gone to the store to pick up a few things for lunch, and her grandfather was working in the yard. When she got back, she found him lying in the grass—he’d had a heart attack.”
“Oh, no . . . that’s awful.”
“Chloe was really close to him. She’s . . .” His voice broke as tears spilled down his cheeks. “She’s a mess.”
“Oh, hon,” Laney said, wrapping her arms around him. She felt him lean against her just as he had when he was a little boy turning to her for comfort. She reached up to brush away the tears on his tan cheeks. “It’s not easy,” she said softly.
“He’s not even my grandfather, and I feel terrible,” E whispered. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”
“Sometimes there aren’t any words, E,” Noah said, putting his hand on his shoulder. “The best thing you can do is just be there.”
Elijah nodded wearily and opened the refrigerator to put the juice back. “All I want to do is go to bed.”
Laney nodded, and at the top of the stairs, she gave him another hug. She noticed Mennie lying on the rug beside his bed. “Your pal’s waiting,” she said, nodding to the old dog, and E nodded too, smiling sadly.
Laney went back to bed and listened to her son wash up; she heard him turn off the bathroom light and talk softly to Mennie as he got into bed. She was thankful he was home and safe, but her heart ached for Chloe and her family . . . and her son.
She lay still, trying to fall asleep, but her mind slipped back to the beautiful spring day near the end of her senior year at Bowdoin. She’d just come out of the library with friends, heading to lunch, and she remembered thinking she’d never seen such a pretty day. Then one of her friends had pointed across the quad.
“Laney, isn’t that your dad?” Laney had followed her friend’s gaze and watched as a figure had walked toward them. What was her dad doing here?
“Dad?” she’d called, leaving her friends. He’d looked up, and immediately, she’d seen the despair on his face; her heart had pounded as she’d searched his eyes. “What is it, Dad?” she’d pleaded. “What happened?”
“Oh, Lane,” he’d said, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice choked with emotion. “It’s Gramp . . .”
“Is he okay?” she’d cried.
He’d shaken his head and pulled her into his arms.
Through the years, the memory of that day had never been far from Laney’s mind. She still remembered the anguish in her dad’s eyes as he’d explained what had happened. Just like Chloe’s grandfather, Gramp had been working outside on his old John Deere orchard tractor while her dad’s brother—Uncle Luke—had run into town to get a part, and when he’d gotten back, he’d found Gramp lying, faceup, under the peach trees.
After her dad had left that afternoon, Laney had called Noah, and he’d dropped everything and driven up to be with her. She’d still had two exams left but, to this day, she had no recollection of taking them. The only thing she remembered was that Noah was there. And that when she didn’t want to go to graduation, her dad had insisted, saying Gramp would’ve wanted her to go—he would’ve been so proud. And Noah had nodded in agreement.
A week later, Noah had flown with her to Georgia for her grandfather’s service. And although the entire service had been amazing and beautiful, the part that always stayed with her was when her cousin John had played his guitar, and sounding hauntingly like Glen Campbell, had sung Gramp’s favorite old song about the lonely Wichita lineman, and Noah, with tears in his eyes, had slipped his hand into hers and gazed out the window, smiling sadly.
21
Noah lifted the calendar off the kitchen wall and looked at the many handwritten appointments and commitments that had been kept over the last thirty-one days—almost every square had something written on it. “Well, May flew by like nobody’s business,” he said, trying to decipher his wife’s scribble.
“It sure did,” Laney agreed, drying her hands on the dish towel, “and it’s about time someone changed the calendar. June started a week ago.”
“By the way, how was your physical?” Noah asked as he turned the page and rehung the calendar.
“Fine,” Laney replied vaguely.
“Was it fun?” he teased, knowing how much she loved her annual.
“It was. Sorry you missed it.”
He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry I missed it too.”
Just then, Seth wandered into the kitchen. “Geez! Get a room, wouldja?” he said, shielding his eyes in mock embarrassment as he opened the fridge and stood in front of it, gazing at its contents. “What’s for supper?”
“Believe it or not, that appliance is not an air conditioner,” Noah admonished, ignoring his question.
“Well, maybe if we had a real air conditioner, I’d know what one looked like,” Seth answered sarcastically. “This family really needs to join the twenty-first century. It’s primitive to live the way we do.”
“Primitive?” Noah retorted. “You don’t know what primitive is. Not to mention, we have a year-round ocean breeze, so we don’t need an air conditioner.”
“Yes, we do! Our room is so hot!”
Noah eyed his wife. “I think someone needs an attitude adjustment. I think there’s a bridge falling down somewhere.”
“Is it in London?” Laney asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh no, it isn—” Seth started to protest, but before he could escape, his parents’ arms had dropped down on both sides of him.
Noah and Laney immediately broke into the old song about the fate of London Bridge, swaying their son back and forth. “I’m too old for this!” he shouted, trying not to laugh.
“You’re never too old,” Noah said, laughing.
Finally, as they sang “My Fair Lady” at the top of their lungs, they squeezed him and he started laughing so hard he had tears rolling down his cheeks.
Hearing the commotion, Asher came running with Halle at his heels. “I’m not too old,” he shouted. “Do me! Do me!”
Laney and Noah left their next to youngest son in a heap on the floor, still trying to catch his breath, and circled their arms around their youngest son, who was already giggling. They started to sing, and Halle jumped up on them, wanting to join in on the fun. As they reached the famous finale, Laney looked up and realized E was standing solemnly in the doorway, wearing his black dress pants and a white shirt and with his jacket draped over his arm. He smiled wistfully, remembering the simpler times when he was the one being swung in the safety of his parents’ arms.
“Hi, hon,” Laney said. “How did it go?”
Noah looked up too, and they gently laid Asher, still giggling, on the floor with Halle on top of him.
“It was nice,” he said with a sad smile. “Chloe’s a little better. I had no idea she had such a big family. Her grandfather was the second oldest of nine, and they all still live up near St. Johnsbury. Two of his brothers and one of his sisters spoke. I guess her grandfather was pretty mischievous when he was a kid. The stories were funny. They made everyone laugh, and it seemed . . . less sad. Even Chloe smiled when her great aunt told a story about him being chased by a Tom turkey when he was little.”
Laney smiled. “When people recall the good times and the light someone has brought to their lives, it definitely helps ease the sadness.”
E nodded. “It’s funny. I never met him, but after today, I feel like I did.”
Laney smiled. “Did Chloe come back with you?”
“No, she’s staying up there for a few days. She wanted me to stay too, but I told her I couldn’t miss work. I think she was glad I was there today though.”
“I’m sure she was,” Laney said.
Elijah pulled his tie free. “Well, I’m going for a run. Is Gabe around?”
“No, he’s not home yet,” Noah said, glancing at his watch. “In fact, I have to go pick him up, but I think he went running this morning anyway.”
“Supper will be ready soon,” Laney added.
“I’m not hungry,” E said, unbuttoning his shirt.
“I am,” piped Asher.
“Me too,” added Seth. “What are we having?”
“Spaghetti,” Laney said with a smile, knowing the menu would be well received.
“Yay!” they both cheered.
“How soon?” E asked, his interest peaking a little at the mention of his favorite dish.
“How soon can you be back?”
“An hour?”
“We can wait . . . if I can hold off the hungry masses,” she said, eyeing her two youngest sons.
“An hour?” Seth groaned. “I can’t wait that long. I’m hungry now. Can I have a Pop-Tart?”
“How about an apple?” Laney offered.
“I’ll have an apple,” Asher piped. “Can you cut it up, Mom?”
“I just want a Pop-Tart,” Seth mumbled, reaching for the knob of the cereal cabinet, hoping she wouldn’t say no, but his mom was busy talking to his brother again, so he took advantage of the opportunity to slip a silver foil package from the box with one strawberry Pop-Tart left in it.
