Someday Home (21 page)

S
orry to bother you, but do you mind if I use your sewing machine? Mine is in the storage unit.” Angela was poking her head in the door.

Lynn looked away from the screen with a spreadsheet on it. “Not at all. If you need a lesson on it, give a holler.”

“Thanks, I'll bug you again if I have a question.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Patch the pants I ripped working in the flower bed. That clematis trellis just reached out and grabbed me.”

A little motherhood warning bell went off in Lynn's head. “Just the pants or you, too?”

“Uninjured, but thanks for caring. Sorry to interrupt; I'll let you get back to your work.”

“You realize I'd rather do anything than enter data on a spreadsheet?” She glared at the stack of invoices beside her keyboard.

Angela stepped inside and leaned against the jamb. “If you'd like help, I'll be glad to. The real estate business would sink into the ocean without spreadsheets and meaningless data. I'm pretty good with mortgaging and finance, but bookkeeping, too. In college I actually considered bookkeeping as a career.”

“I'll keep that in mind. You have a degree, right?”

“Liberal arts, and you know what that'll get you?”

Lynn shrugged.

“You learn to say, ‘Do you want fries with that?' I got married instead. I'm off to the kitchen seeking sustenance. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, no.” Lynn went back to her screen. With all the garden work and now when fishing was getting better, she hated to spend daylight hours in her office. So she worked nights.

So did Judith, apparently. She was holed up in her room studying. No, she wasn't. She was standing at the door in the spot Angela had just left.

Lynn smiled at her. “How is it going?”

“College in midlife is absolutely wonderful for masochists. I may be caught up for the moment. Going to go check on the chickens. You writing the great American novel?”

Lynn waved carelessly toward the monitor. “I hate spreadsheets.”

“I did all the bookkeeping for Rutherford House. I can do that if you like.”

Lynn spun her chair around. “You two are too much. Angela just said she has experience, too. I just hate to take up your time.”

“I'm caught up for now. I'll be back in a minute.” She paused. “I'm taking Homer with me.”

I'd rather be out there shutting the chicken door, sitting with Homer and studying the stars, the lake. Anything but here.
She turned her chair back around. Good thing her chair faced a blank wall instead of a window. Four more entries. It looked like the pile was multiplying each time she flipped one sheet over. She heard toenails on the hardwood floors and Homer bounded back into the room. Sedate was not part of his makeup; when he moved, he moved, when he was tired, he crashed.
Oh, to be like that dog.

Front feet up on her thigh, he looked at the computer screen, sniffed the keyboard, and drooled on her hand. “Thanks, buddy, at least you missed the keyboard.” She rubbed his ears and neck, then commanded, “Down.” His reproachful look was masterful, as only bassets have conquered. Slowly his feet slid off her leg and he dropped to the floor. “Good boy.” She petted him again. He whipped his head around as Judith walked into the room carrying two cups of coffee.

Lynn raised her eyebrows. “I hope this is decaf.”

“It is. I used to drink the leaded stuff right up to bedtime, but not any longer if I want to fall asleep right away, not hours later.”

Lynn scooted some papers off the oak coasters one of her sons had made from a branch off one of their trees when he was in high school woodshop. She set the mug there. “Are you serious about helping?”

“Why not? I hear the sewing machine humming, and I was just going to read for a while or see what's on TV. You sort them and I'll enter them.”

Lynn gave her the chair and pulled up a stool to sit on. To her surprise and delight, they whipped through the pile in a matter of minutes.

“Any more?” Judith asked.

“You are fast on that thing.” Lynn glanced around the desk. “I don't think so. I have names to enter in the database for our newsletter.”

“You send out a newsletter?” Judith looked surprised. “I used to do that for the Rutherford House, but when caring for my father grew so much more detailed, I quit.”

“We make it newsy, family-style. I'll put a picture of Homer in it and maybe the chickens. Phillip and Tommy put in quotes, we include thank-yous from our clients. That kind of thing. We send some little promo item with the Christmas letter.”

“You are amazing.”

“No, just practical. We need all the business we can find. We put a bid on the plumbing for a small housing development going in at the other end of the lake. Ten houses or so. We get that, and we'll have to put on more help.”

Again they exchanged chairs. Judith sank to the floor and crossed her legs. Homer immediately came over and, front feet on her legs, gave her his pleading
no one pets me
look, then rolled over for a belly rub.

Lynn snickered. “He sure has your number.”

Judith gave her an arched-eyebrows look. “Just me?”

A few minutes later, Lynn rocked her chair back and stretched her arms over her head. “I can't believe I am done with those things. I always dread it.”

“Is that pile to be filed?” Judith indicated a stack of papers with a brick on them. “Alphabetized?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, let's get at it. Hand me half and you take half, and then we'll meld them.”

“I feel guilty…” Lynn sat up straight.

“Oh, hush.” Judith held out one hand and pushed Homer off her lap with the other.

Lynn hesitated only a moment. She never had been one to look a gift animal of any kind in the mouth. One could get bitten that way.

Less than half an hour later, Lynn slammed the file drawer closed and switched off the light as the two left the room. They headed for the kitchen, of course.

Lynn refilled her coffee and raided the cookie jar. “Thank you again for your help. I'm so glad all that is done.”

“You're welcome.” Judith perched on a stool and studied her coffee mug. “You mentioned that Tom is good at math. Do you think he'd coach me? I'd pay him, of course.”

“I seriously doubt that; I mean, that he'd let you pay him. But yes, I'm sure he'd like to do that. I'll call him right now; he and Josie are still up.”

Judith babbled something about not bothering them this late, but Lynn had already punched the speed dial.

“Lundbergs.”

Lynn smiled. “Tom, Judith here needs some help with her math. Can you coach her?”

“Put her on.”

Lynn handed Judith the phone. She had thought it was an easy question with a one-word answer. Apparently not.

Judith listened a moment. “Precalculus.” She listened some more. “No. An old Sharp's. I can buy whatever calculator I ought to have.” Pause. “Are you sure?” Pause. “Well, yes. All right. Thank you!” She handed the phone back to Lynn.

“Mom? Be there in ten minutes. I have to find my T81.”

“Thank you. Whatever a T81 is.” Lynn hung up.

Judith shook her head. “You Lundbergs do everything instantly, for sure! Phillip says ‘footings' and presto. They're poured. You say ‘hot dog bun' and instantly you have dozens of them on the cooling rack. Tom wanted to know what level of math I needed help with, and instantly, he's coming over with a graphing calculator. The instructor said we were going to need one; Tom already knew.”

“I was thinking he'd be a good resource.” Should she leave the two of them alone to chat in math languages Lynn didn't know? Or sit by and listen? “How about potato pancakes tomorrow morning? I have an urge to cook potatoes.”

Judith laughed. “Sounds good! I'm going to run and get my textbook.”

Potato pancakes and hash browns. That would be mighty tasty. And as she peeled the potatoes, Lynn thought about eggs. Having eggs right in your backyard would be nice; heaven knows they'd be fresh. No, she didn't like keeping chickens. She didn't want chickens. But as Angela said, they would not be her responsibility; with everyone helping (Miss Priss and her brothers as well, especially when they got a little older), it would not be a chore. If they wanted eggs for the whole family, they'd have to have more than five hens. That would mean a bigger coop, or build additional nest boxes in this one. Or…

Tom came in the back door grinning. “Hi, Mom.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and crossed to Judith. “Good evening.” He laid a very fancy calculator on the counter. It was at least six or seven inches long and about half that wide. In addition to the usual number pad, it had a row of key options Lynn had never seen before and a greenish-gray monitor screen in the top half. Amazing, and Tom knew how to use this?

Judith picked it up. “Yes. This is what the instructor has; well, something similar.”

Tom smiled. “No doubt she has a newer model that costs twice what this did. But this has all the functions you'll need for precalc, and I put fresh batteries in it. Where should we start?”

Judith looked miserable. “Page one.”

He laughed as he dragged Judith's text over in front of himself and opened it. “You'll be surprised how well you can do this.”

“That would be a surprise, for sure.”

Lynn busied herself with her potatoes. Judith frequently said, “Oh. I see,” and Tom would say things like, “I knew you'd remember,” and “Here's how factorials work,” and “Wait; we can do it easier with logarithms. Let's review logarithms.” And Lynn sang praises to God, silently, of course. She remembered the sullen, angry boy who returned from active duty three years ago, how much he had changed—a good change, a happy change.

She drained her potatoes, leaving a little liquid in the bottom in case they wanted mashed potatoes for dinner tomorrow, and put them aside to cool.

“So that catches you up?” Tom closed the textbook.

“It does! Thank you so much, Tom.” She studied him a moment. “You should be teaching college-level math. You're brilliant at explaining something so that I can understand it. And believe me, if I can, anyone can.” And then she asked a question Lynn dreaded. “Why aren't you?”

But Tom didn't duck it, and Lynn rejoiced all over again; he had healed so much in the last few years!

“I'm a wounded warrior, Judith.”

“What's that?”

“I was in the Marines for four years—almost four years. Saw two tours of active duty, watched my buddies die, killed a few people myself. It messed me up royally. Dad hired me as soon as I walked out of the hospital, and Josie and the boys stuck with me in spite of it all. And Mom here. Things are looking up again.”

“You're a fine plumber. But you're a fine teacher, too.” Judith giggled suddenly. “And you put in great footings.”

He laughed, too. “Great footings. My other marketable skill. Let's get together, you and me and the textbook, after your next class session.”

“Thank you! Yes!”

Lynn was jumping up and down with joy on the inside and merely grinning on the outside. Being a teacher to a woman who wanted to learn was better than any tonic for her son.
Thank you, God! Thank you, God!

She went to bed that night a very happy mother.

She woke abruptly. Homer was barking, a wild frenzy of barking and tearing around the house. Lynn rolled out of bed and ran to the kitchen barefooted. Angela and Judith came rushing in. Homer stood at the back door in full basset cry.

Lynn grabbed the five-cell flashlight from the shelf.

“Where are you going?” Angela cried.

“See what's out there.” She snapped a lead on the dog's collar and opened the door. Good thing she braced; the dog nearly jerked her off her feet. She shone the spotlight toward the chicken pen. The gate had swung open and her light picked up two shiny eyes. The raccoon hissed and snarled as she came closer with the barking dog. She quickly slammed the gate shut and slid the hasp closed.

“What are you going to do?” Judith asked from behind her.

She headed back toward the house. “Call Phillip and have him come dispatch it. If we don't, it will be back. That's why we built the chicken coop so secure. I was afraid it might be something bigger. Homer, that's enough. You've done your job.”

She handed Angela the lead and Judith the light. “For some strange reason I don't have my phone in my robe pocket. Silly me. Homer, you can stop barking now.”

“But what if it's a female with babies?” Angela asked.

“Raccoons are cute, but they are destructive predators that eat chickens and chicken eggs, garden vegetables, all kinds of great delicacies. Homer, quiet!”

“You said you thought it might be something bigger.”

“Coyote, fox, lynx, we've even had some big cats around here. That's why I put Homer on the leash. Or if it was a skunk, we sure don't want to clean him up after that.”

They could see the truck lights coming in the driveway and not at a leisurely pace, either. Phillip jumped out of the truck and brought out his rifle. “I was dead, but Rowdy woke me even before you called. Must have heard Homer. The two of them probably woke all the dead. What's up?”

As he came across the yard, Judith trained the spotlight on the critter huddled up against the chicken house, snarling. The rooster and some of the hens were now squawking inside.

“He's a big one. How did he get in? He opened the gate?”

“I knew they were smart and dexterous, but this is amazing. We'll have to use something better than that simple latch.” Judith stared at the chicken yard gate swinging open.

Phillip shook his head.

Judith watched the would-be chicken thief. “What will you do with it?”