The Popsicle Tree (19 page)

Joshua was pretty tuckered out and took his bath without complaint. I let him play in the living room for a little while in his pj's, then took him into his bedroom for story time. He was asleep within minutes, and did not wake up when I got up and left the room, leaving his door open just a crack so I could hear if he called.

I stayed in the living room near the phone, watching TV until around 9:45, when Jonathan called. He still sounded tired and depressed, but said everything had gone as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and the open-casket/closed-casket controversy had been resolved with a compromise—they remained closed unless someone specifically asked to see the bodies, at which point one of Jonathan's brothers-in-law would take on the task while Jonathan turned away until the caskets were again closed. Luckily, very few people had requested it. Seeing the caskets closed, most people assumed they were supposed to remain closed.

Dinner had been a somber affair, not surprisingly, and they'd all gone out to a local restaurant rather than have any of the sisters or other relatives have to go to the trouble of preparing one for the entire family.

The issue of Joshua had been skirted by mutual consent, though it was decided that after the funeral Monday, everyone would gather at Jonathan's dad's house to discuss the situation. Apparently there was a will at the family lawyer's office, but no one had looked at it yet. The lawyer was to bring it to the meeting after the funeral.

*

Monday was a pretty good day, if the word “good” can be used under the circumstances. Well, I learned a few things, and it passed fairly rapidly. I woke up around six, went quickly to the shower, got dressed, had a cup of coffee, and then went in to get Joshua up and ready for school. He was eager to tell everybody about his adventures with the horses, and only mentioned his parents three or four times—always in the present tense.

I walked with him into Happy Day and exchanged a few casual words with Bonnie Bronson—neither of us mentioning Jonathan or Joshua's situation.

Joshua, of course, had dashed off to be with one of his friends, and I managed to catch his eye and wave before leaving. He left his friend and came running back to me.

“Where are you going?” He looked anxious.

“I have to go to work,” I said, putting my hand on his head and tousling his hair. “I'll be back to pick you up after school.”

“Promise?”

I bent over and picked him up. “I promise. Now how about a hug?”

He gave me a quick arms-around-the-neck squeeze, and I set him down. “I'll see you later, then.”

He stood there looking at me for just a moment, then turned around and ran back to his friend.

*

On the way to the office I kept thinking about Jan Houston's new car and the probability that she might have taken out an insurance policy on Carlene's life—and if so, when. On the one hand, it was logical for gays and lesbians—not having the same legal rights as straights—to name their partner as beneficiary of their life insurance policy, and it's possible that's what Jan and Carlene had done. But I'd have imagined that any policy Carlene might have had would have Kelly as her beneficiary. Well, I'd check it out.

*

Though I'd only been away from the office for…what?…three days, it seemed like a lot longer. But by the time I'd gone through my message-checking/coffee/newspaper/crossword puzzle ritual, I was back on track.

I called Beth Erickson, not really expecting her to be home, but she was. I asked her if Carlene had had any life insurance, and she said, “Unfortunately, no”—Carlene was not really old enough for the intimations of mortality, which generally prompt the taking out of life insurance, even though she had Kelly to support and care for. Beth sounded rather unhappy about it, particularly because Carlene had worked for an insurance company in both Louisville and Cincinnati for three or four years.

I asked about Kelly—not mentioning Joshua or the death of his parents—and was told he was doing very well, and enrolled in a new day-care center that he liked.

I also asked if she had heard from Jan, and she again said, “No.”

“Would you consider letting her see Kelly occasionally?”

“We might. Jan and I have never really gotten along, and she was the reason Carlene left. Still, I know she truly cares for Kelly and can imagine how she must feel. But she's never asked, and it's not my place, under the circumstances, to offer.”

She was right, of course, but I thought it was quite possible that Jan never asked because she was sure Beth would say “No.” But perhaps now I might have a wedge to get Jan Houston to talk to me.

*

I picked up Joshua at four thirty and, at his insistence, gave him a piggyback ride to the car, where I merely had to ask, “So what did you do today?” to get a detailed if disjointed verbal journey through his day—real and imagined. But it was good to see him returning to his normal self and I'd found that, though it took quite a bit of concentration at times to follow his meanderings, they were really pretty much worth the effort.

I really didn't feel much like cooking, so we stopped at a Cap'n Rooney's Fish Shack so Joshua could see the fish while we ate dinner.

I'd deliberately tried not to think about Jonathan during the day. When I did, I realized how rough it must be for him, and felt helpless because there was nothing I could do to help him through it.

The evening went fairly well, though as time passed I found myself getting more and more anxious to hear from Jonathan. And every time I'd look at Joshua, I'd feel oddly sad for him thinking of him having to go to a new home. With relatives, true, but still never the same. And while I tried not to think of it, I knew I would miss him…a lot.

I made some popcorn and Joshua intermittently played on the floor and came to sit beside me to watch a TV special on elephants.

Bath, story time—
Bunny
Tales
, which I had to take great pains to read to Bunny, too—and Joshua was set for the night.

I returned to the living room and alternated my attention between the TV and the telephone. The late news was just starting when the phone rang. I grabbed it halfway through the first ring.

“Hi, Babe,” I said, keeping my voice down. “How are you doing?”

“I'm okay,” he said, but his voice said otherwise.

“How did the funeral go?” I prompted after a moment's silence from his end.

“It was…fine, I guess. I don't remember most of it.”

Another long silence.

“And did you decide who would be taking care of Joshua?” I asked gently.

A third pause, then a simple, “Me.”

CHAPTER 9

“What do you mean,
you
?”

“That's what Samuel and Sheryl wanted. It's in their will. They want me to be his guardian. And no one else could take him anyway. My dad's too old and he works too much, and my sisters have enough to do to manage their own families.

“They want me to move back here with Joshua…”

My first, terrible, selfish thought was
He's leaving me!
I was literally ill.

“…but I told them ‘no.' I have a good job, and he's in day care, and I can find an apartment…”

“What in hell are you talking about?” I demanded, probably a lot more harshly than I intended. “What about us?”

I could tell he was crying, though he tried hard not to let me know.

“I know I've teased you about us having a kid, but I know you don't want one, and now I realize I just can't do that to you—change your life so completely.”

I didn't know what to say, but I said it anyway. “Jonathan, Jonathan!
You
changed my life completely. I'd never be the same without you. Joshua is a part of you—and I want him to be a part of both of us!”

I said that? Dick Hardesty actually said that?

Jonathan dropped all pretexts that he wasn't crying.

After reassuring each other that he didn't want to leave and I didn't want him to, we managed to get through the rest of the call, which mainly concerned logistics. He didn't know what of Joshua's things to bring back with him, or what of Samuel and Sheryl's personal things he should set aside for Joshua when he got older, or….

I finally suggested that he just bring some of Joshua's clothes and a few toys back with him, and simply close up the house—his dad and local sister could look after it—until next spring, when we could drive out there and see about everything else. The house and everything Samuel and Sheryl owned, of course, was willed to Joshua under Jonathan's guardianship.

We confirmed that he would be taking the first connecting flight from Rhinelander and would be home around three o'clock, in time to pick up Joshua at Happy Day. I'd of course meet him at the airport.

We exchanged “I love yous” and hung up.

*

I didn't sleep much that night, realizing the truth of that old saying: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. I didn't feel I was being melodramatic when it dawned on me that my life—
our
lives—had been changed forever.

Tuesday morning was a repeat of Monday, but it had new significance in the realization that now Monday and Tuesday mornings were going to be repeated every day for the next foreseeable number of years.

The first thing Joshua wanted to know when he got up was if Uncle Jonathan was back yet. I told him no, but that he would be at school to pick him up that afternoon. Getting dressed, he asked again. Same question, same answer. Joshua wanted to wear his Winnie the Pooh pullover shirt, and insisted on putting it on himself. He didn't get tangled up in the arms this time, but he did manage to get it on backwards.

Get used to it, Hardesty.

*

At the office I got to thinking again about insurance—partly because it was on my mind now in regard to Joshua, and partly because Jan Houston's red convertible popped into my head. If Jan did buy her car with insurance money she got from Carlene's death, that begged the question of how. Did Carlene have a policy her sister Beth didn't know about? Again, if she did, the beneficiary would most certainly have been Kelly, not Jan. And if Jan had taken out a policy on Carlene, that would be very odd indeed. And depending on when the policy had been taken out….

Jan and Carlene had both been working for…what was the name of the company?…Indemnity Mutual, I think it was, when they first got together. How could I find out if there was a policy, and if so, what company issued it—which would clue me in as to how recently it was issued.

I pulled the license plate number of the red convertible out of my billfold and called Bil Dunham at the DMV, asking him for verification of ownership and who held the title.

He returned my call half an hour later, saying the vehicle was in the name of Janice Maureen Houston, and she held clear title—which strongly indicated she'd paid cash! Since my mind often knows things before I do, I found myself asking for Jan's date of birth from her driver's license and wrote it down.

Following the same hunch, I called Information for the phone number of Indemnity Mutual's Carrington office—having no idea, of course, if they even had an office there. Luck was with me, and I was given a number.

Flying totally blind, I dialed the number, hoping my luck would hold. I guess I figured that since both Jan and Carlene had worked for Indemnity Mutual, it might be logical that any insurance they had might have been placed through them.

“Good Morning, Bolger Insurance.”

“Good Morning,” I replied in my best confident Butch voice. “I wonder if you might help me? I…”

“I'm sorry, sir,” she interrupted, “but Mr. Bolger is not in the office at the moment, and I am temporarily replacing his secretary, who is on maternity leave.”

“Well, this is a rather simple question. My sister recently died and she had told me she had a life insurance policy with Indemnity Mutual, but we've been unable to find the paperwork. Could you just check for the policy number so I can request it from the main office?”

She appeared hesitant. “I…I'm not sure I am allowed to give out that information, sir.”

Damn,
I thought, but kept going. “I'm sure it's no problem. My entire family has been insured through this company for years.” I hoped she wouldn't look too closely at the non-sequitur aspect of that last statement. “Her name is Carlene Jane DeNuncio; her address in Carrington was Twenty-sixteen Blythe Drive. I'd really appreciate it,” I added as warmly as possible. Luckily, I'd remembered her middle name from the minister saying it several times at the funeral.

There was a slight pause, then, “That name does sound familiar. Just a moment, sir. We've just gotten a new computer system, and it may take me a moment.”

“That's fine…I can wait. Thank you.”

Fingers crossed.

A very long silence, in which I could hear what sounded vaguely like typing.

Finally, “I'm sorry, sir, I can't find anything on it.”