Under a Summer Sky (5 page)

S
unday evening, Asa Coleman sat on his son’s porch with a gin and tonic in his hand and Mennie’s head in his lap. He listened to Maddie and Laney chatting in the kitchen as they put the final touches on supper and stroked the Lab’s noble head. “You’re getting as old as me,” he said, looking into Mennie’s soulful brown eyes. He gazed at the doorway into the kitchen and a long-ago memory slipped into his mind . . .

He’d just run back from his pickup truck through the summer rain to get his shoulder bag. As he had, he’d noticed Noelle struggling to collapse the umbrella by the pool. He’d stopped to help her . . . and then they had both run back to the porch, soaking wet and laughing . . . and she’d stood in front of him . . . so close . . . too close.... He could still smell the sweet scent of her sandalwood soap....

“What do you want?” she’d whispered.

He’d searched her eyes. “You,” he’d murmured—his voice barely audible.

She’d stepped closer . . . reaching for him. . . .

“Dad?”

Asa looked up, startled.

“Sorry,” Noah said, and nodded toward his glass. “I just wondered if you needed a refill.”

“Hmm?” Asa glanced down. “Nope. I’m all set.”

“Okay, I’m just going to grab a beer and I’ll be right out.”

A moment later, he sat down across from his dad and noticed Mennie’s head resting on his lap. “Is he being a pest?”

Asa stroked the old dog’s silky black ears. “Nope . . . we were just reminiscing. . . .”

“And . . .what were you reminiscing about?”

“Our salad days,” Asa said with a slow smile. He paused thoughtfully. “You know, I thought of something the other day . . . about your mom . . . Noelle.”

Noah waited, listening. Through the years, he’d often felt as if half of his family history was missing—and all the information that went with it. It hit him especially hard when he was filling out medical forms at the doctor’s office. He’d stare at the list of questions about health history and try to picture his maternal grandparents: What health problems had they faced? How had they died? Did they have cancer or heart problems? Did they have high blood pressure or a history of strokes? Diabetes or dementia? What possible ailments did he have to look forward to?

“Her father was a minister.”

“Really?” Noah sputtered, choking on the sip he’d just taken.

Asa nodded. “I don’t know why I never thought of it before—especially when you were in seminary.” He smiled and shook his head. “I’ve become very forgetful lately, but occasionally something comes to me, and it’s as clear as if it happened yesterday.”

Noah nodded, and Asa took a sip from his glass. “Your mom could recite all the books of the Bible—Old and New Testaments . . .
and
she could do it backward.”

Noah laughed. “I love these old tidbits you come up with.”

His dad nodded, smiling wistfully. “She was quite a lady. She gave me this book.” He patted the ancient tome beside him. “It’s my poem for tonight,” he added with a conspiratorial grin.

“Must be a good one,” Noah said.

“It is.” He paused thoughtfully. “I told you she had a brother. . . .” It was more of a statement than a question.

“No, I think you left that part out too,” Noah replied.

“Pete. He was killed in the war. Her family was devastated—even her father’s faith was shaken. They were never the same.”

Noah nodded, his heart aching for the tragedies that had struck his family—the family he’d never known. He took a sip and slowly realized that since the day he was born, he’d had his very own cloud of witnesses—people who would have loved him, had they lived—watching over him.

Asa closed his eyes, and Noah leaned back in his chair and recalled the countless times he and his dad had stopped by to check on this house. Back then, it had been empty except for an old piano, which they still had and which Gabe sometimes played, but he’d never given any thought to the house’s owner. He just remembered it vaguely from his childhood and assumed it belonged to someone in his dad’s family; but then, on his sixteenth birthday, when they’d stopped by to check on it, his dad had revealed that it belonged to him, and then he’d searched his young son’s eyes and finally answered all the questions he’d been asking.

“Noah?” Laney appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on the dish towel. “Oh . . . I didn’t know you were . . .”

Asa opened his eyes, and Noah smiled. “We were just reminiscing, weren’t we, Dad?” he said, winking at him.

Laney nodded. “Well, is the grill almost ready?”

“Yup.”

“Did you happen to find out how many hamburgers and hot dogs we need . . . and if anyone wants a cheeseburger?”

“No, but I will.” He looked at his dad. “Cheeseburger, Dad?”

“Sounds good,” Asa replied.

“The boys are down on the beach with Halle,” Laney said, as she turned toward the kitchen. “If the grill’s ready, they need to come up.”

Noah looked at his dad. “Want to take a walk down with me?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here,” Asa said, scratching Mennie’s ears.

“Everything okay?” Noah asked, realizing his dad didn’t have his usual spark.

“Yup—just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” He sighed. “Don’t get old, son.”

“There’s not much of an alternative, Dad,” Noah said, pushing open the screen door. “I’ll be right back.”

He headed down the path to the beach to round up the boys, and Asa leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Something
was
going on, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He hadn’t said anything to Maddie. He didn’t want her to worry, but he didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t just forgetfulness and having trouble sleeping; his vision was sometimes blurry too, and he was having headaches that the usual remedies didn’t touch. Maybe he needed new glasses—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his eyes checked. He started to doze off . . . and then, somewhere in his subconscious, he heard the screen door swing open, and he woke with a start.

“Grandpa, did you meet our new puppy?”

Asa tried to focus on his grandson’s face. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Finally, they came around. “No, hon, where is he?”

“He’s a she, and she’s right here.”

Asa realized Asher was holding the puppy right in front of him.

“Oh, she’s a cutie,” he said as Asher gently placed her in his lap.

“Her name’s Halle. It’s short for Hallelujah.”

“Well, that’s a perfect name.” He looked around for Mennie, but he was gone. “What does Mennie think of her?”

“Oh, he’s still gettin’ used to her. Mom says he’s an old poop.”

Asa chuckled. “Well, she’s probably right. Your grandpa’s an old poop too.”

“No, you’re not,” Asher said, giving him a hug.

“What happened to your glasses?”

“They broke. C’mon, Halle,” he said, lifting up the puppy.

“There you two are!” Maddie said, peering around the corner. “Supper’s ready.”

“All right! I’m starving,” Asher said, hurrying off with Halle in his arms.

Asa stood unsteadily and Maddie eyed him. “Are you okay?”

“Yup . . . fine, fine.”

“How’s that old head of yours?” she asked, gently touching his white hair. She’d recently noticed they’d been going through a lot of Tylenol.

“It’s old,” he said with a smile.

The picnic table in the side yard was festively set to celebrate Memorial Day
and
the official kickoff of another Cape Cod summer. Laney had spread her old, favorite, extra-long, red-and-white-checked tablecloth down the extra-long picnic table her father-in-law had built when they’d told him they were expecting another baby. Small red lanterns lit with votive candles dotted the length of the table, their flames dancing in the breeze, and a lush bouquet of white tulips in a blue glass pitcher sat at the table’s center. “The table looks lovely,” Maddie said. “So festive!”

A second table with a blue-and-white-checked tablecloth was covered with the traditional spread of a summer cookout: red and blue plates and napkins; a platter of hamburgers and hot dogs, baked macaroni, baked beans, potato salad, tossed salad, Jell-O salad, deviled eggs, and at the end of the table was a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and a package of Hershey bars.

“All right . . . s’mores!” Asher announced happily.

“I don’t think you have enough food, dear,” Noah said as the boys jostled to be first in line. He counted heads and realized one was missing. “Where’s E?”

“He’s still down at the beach with Chloe,” Seth announced, rolling his eyes as he said her name in a singsong voice.

“Watch it!” E said, sneaking up behind him and yanking down his swim trunks.

“Hey!” Seth said, turning around awkwardly, his face turning beet red. “You’re lucky I have boxers on!” he said, pulling his trunks up while his other brothers howled with laughter.

“You mean
you’re
lucky!” E teased with a grin.

Seth turned to Ben—who was laughing the hardest—and tried to pull down his suit too, but Ben pushed him and he fell backward, his face turning even redder. When he got up, he stormed toward the house.

“Oh, stop being a baby!” Ben called after him, which only added to his humiliation.

“That was mean.” Asher said softly.

“He deserved it,” Ben protested. “He tried to short me.”

E stood by and watched—he hadn’t meant for his little brother to get so upset.

“Maybe you should apologize to him,” Laney said, eyeing her oldest son. “He’s been looking forward to this all day.”

E nodded, but he wanted to introduce Chloe to his grandparents first, and after a few pleasantries, they got in line behind Gabe. Asa watched his oldest grandson talking to the pretty redhead and eyed Noah with raised eyebrows, but he just shrugged and shook his head—as usual, he was out of the loop. A moment later, E disappeared into the house. “I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving Chloe and Gabe to fill their plates.

“After you,” Noah said, offering plates to Laney and his parents.

“As usual, Laney,” Maddie said with a smile. “Everything looks wonderful. You’ve been busy.”

Laney laughed. “Busy is a relative term around here, Mom!”

“I hear you guys are hosting the wedding,” Asa said.

“We are?” a chorus of surprised voices called from the far end of the table.

Laney nodded.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Maddie asked.

Laney looked at Noah and smiled. “It’ll be fun. I’m really happy Micah found someone—not just for him, but for Charlotte.”

They filled their plates and sat down, and as Noah poured iced tea, E reappeared, carrying his giggling brother over his shoulder.

Noah looked down the table. “Now that we’re all here. . . .” he said, and they reluctantly put down their forks and bowed their heads.

L
aney was so caught up in the end-of-the-school-year activities she barely had time to sit down—never mind worry. Her in-laws had headed back to New Hampshire on Monday, and her father-in-law had promised to go to the eye doctor. E had driven Chloe home on Sunday night and been late getting back. She was trying very hard to give him space—after all, he was in college. But it didn’t make her worry less. Noah had tried calling Jillian Laughlin, but her phone didn’t seem to be working. And Mennie seemed to be ignoring them—was he going deaf or was he still put out by the new puppy? The week had flown by, and before she knew it, it was Friday again, and her six-year-old charges were lining up with their backpacks over their shoulders, ready to head home for the weekend.

She stood by the door. “Don’t forget to do your reading. Reading logs are due Monday!”

“Have a good weekend, Mrs. Coleman!” they sang as they filed out of the room. “Don’t forget to do
your
reading,” Charlie Lathrop teased with a grin that revealed his newly missing tooth.

“I will, Mr. Lathrop,” she said, ruffling his hair. “You too. And make sure you leave that tooth under your pillow tonight.”

“I will. And I’m going to read about dinosaurs.”

Laney loved teaching first grade. It made her feel as if she was actually making a difference. Six-year-olds were still sweet and innocent, and first grade was such a critical year—especially for reading. She watched them weave down the busy hallway and remembered how young they’d seemed in September—a lifetime ago! She smiled and whispered a prayer that their lives would always be full of blessings.

She went back in her classroom, picked up the pencils and crayons that had fallen on the floor, erased the blackboard, looked up at the clock, shuffled through the papers on her desk, and slid a manila envelope of report cards into her canvas bag—she hoped to get started on them over the weekend. She turned off the lights, remembered she needed to send a text, pulled her phone out of her bag, and typed a quick note to Noah, reminding him she had a doctor’s appointment.

As she reached her car, her phone vibrated, and she stopped to read his response.

THANKS FOR THE REMINDER. WANT ME TO PICK UP PIZZA?

She smiled in wonder—after nearly thirty years of marriage, he was finally getting the hang of reading her mind.

SOUNDS GOOD!

WHAT SHOULD I GET?

1 BACON, 1 HAWAIIAN, AND 1 PLAIN—ALL LARGE! AND MAYBE A SALAD?!

YOU GOT IT. CULTR. <3

She slipped her phone back in her bag, thankful to have one less thing to think about.

Ten minutes later, she was signing the clipboard at the window in her doctor’s office. “Hi, Etty,” she said, waving through the glass. Etty was an old friend—she’d been working for Dr. Jamison forever—and Laney, the prolific reproducer of five, was one of their best customers.

Etty rolled her chair over and slid the window open. “Hi, Laney! How’re the boys?”

Laney smiled. “They’re fine.”

“Are E and Gabe home for the summer?”

“Yup—both lifeguarding again.”

“Well, make sure they use sunblock, or they’ll end up with wrinkles like me.”

“I’ll try,” Laney said with a weary smile.

“And how are you? You look tired.”

“I am a little tired, but I didn’t think it showed.” She’d always wondered when someone voiced this observation. Usually, it happened on a day when she’d really tried to pull herself together, but then some thoughtless cur always came along and said, “Is something the matter? You look
really
tired.” She knew, deep down, it was a message of sympathy:
You deserve a break. You shouldn’t be working so hard
. But on days when she actually felt good or had really tried to be conscientious when she applied her makeup, it felt like a backhanded compliment. And on those days, the only response she could come up with was a somewhat sarcastic, “Thanks a lot!”

But that afternoon, when Etty said it, she
was
tired. She’d actually felt out of sorts for weeks, but she’d attributed it to the growing need for summer vacation. At fifty-two, she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. In fact, at the moment, she felt like an old hen!

She settled into one of the chairs in the empty waiting room and sifted through the magazines on the table. A headline on the cover of one of the parenting magazines caught her eye: “What To Do When Your Child Is Bullied.” She picked it up and leafed through the pages, looking for the article, and when she found it, the accompanying photo startled her. It was a close-up of a boy, and his face was filled with despair. The single tear trickling down his cheek had left a glistening trail on his smooth skin. In the background, there was a computer screen, and on it was a mock Facebook page, symbolizing the prevalence of cyberbullying among today’s youth. Laney shuddered at the thought. Asher wasn’t even on the Internet yet, but he would be.
Was this what his future held?

Laney had just started reading the article when Dr. Jamison’s PA, Martha, opened the door. “Hi, Laney.”

“Hi, Martha,” Laney said with a smile before stopping at the window with the magazine. “Etty, can you copy this for me?”

“Sure thing, hon. It’ll be ready when you come out.”

Laney followed Martha down the hall. “How’ve you been?” Martha asked over her shoulder.

“Pretty good. You?”

“Bus y . . .”

“Too busy, I’ll bet,” Laney commiserated.

“Always too busy!” Martha said with a grin. “Will we ever learn?”

“I doubt it,” Laney said with a laugh. “We haven’t learned yet.”

Martha stopped in front of a scale, and Laney eyed it skeptically. “Do I have to?”

Martha laughed and nodded. “It can’t be that bad. Look at you. There’s nothing to you!”

Laney shook her head and stepped on the scale. “Is that why I have to walk around with the top of my slacks unbuttoned all the time . . .and why I can’t wait to get home to my baggy sweatpants?”

Martha slowly moved the leveling weight on the scale to 120, but the bar didn’t budge. She slid it to 130, and it rose a tad; 140 sank it, so she slid it back to 130, and Laney exhaled and held it. The bar leveled at 134, and Laney breathed in. “Maybe you could take a couple pounds off for shoes and clothes,” she suggested hopefully.

“That sounds fair,” Martha said marking her chart and then measuring her height.

“Didn’t I weigh one twenty-nine last year?”

Martha flipped back a page and shook her head. “One thirty-one.”

Laney shook her head in dismay. “I watch what I eat. I exercise. But it just doesn’t seem to matter . . . so why bother?”

Martha smiled. “It’s perfectly normal. Once you hit fifty
or
go through menopause, it gets harder and harder to keep the weight off.” She marked Laney’s height. “Still five feet two inches though,” she said with a grin. “Did you have a bone density test last year?”

“I think so.”

Martha flipped through her chart. “If you did, we’ll have it. We’re converting all of our records over to the computer this summer. Next year when you come, I’ll have a laptop and hopefully I’ll know how to use it.”

“I know what you mean.” Laney nodded in agreement. “The school’s doing the same thing with report cards. It’s supposed to be simple and user-friendly, but I’m pretty clueless when it comes to technology. I can barely figure out my iPhone, but Asher uses it like a pro.”

Martha chuckled. “My grandson is the same way! I think babies are born knowing how to use iPhones. When they come out of the womb, their little fingers just naturally know how to sweep across the screen.”

Laney laughed, knowing it was true.

They went into an exam room, and Martha took her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, reviewed her meds and daily supplements, and handed her a soft, cotton robe and a paper skirt. “You know the drill—open in front, everything but your socks.”

“No more paper robes?” Laney asked, feigning dismay.

“Nope.” Martha smiled. “Everyone hated ’em!”

“Are you kidding? I
loved
those crinkly, stark-white, gaping-open fashion statements!”

As Martha closed the door she said, “Dr. Jamison will be right in. You’re her last patient.”

Laney undressed, slipped on the robe, and scooted awkwardly onto the paper-covered exam table while trying to keep the robe closed. She wondered why they even bothered with a robe? Everything ended up exposed anyway. She sat on the end of the table, feeling chilled, and eyed the metal stirrups. This was definitely her least favorite appointment of the year. She dreaded it—it was worse than getting a tooth pulled. At least then, you were dressed! You’d think she’d be used to it after five pregnancies. But no, she wasn’t. The sooner it was over, the better!

There was a soft knock, and Dr. Jamison peered around the door. “Hey, Laney.”

“Hi, Dr, Jamison.” Laney said. She couldn’t help but smile. Johanna Jamison was one of her favorite people . . . and a wonderful doctor. Her bedside manner was kind and caring, and she had completely mastered the art of chatting during an exam, keeping her patients’ minds off what was really happening.

She swept into the room. “How are my handsome young men?”

“They’re all fine,” Laney said with a smile. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that E’s twenty-one.”

“Nooo! Has it been that long? He was one of my very first deliveries. In fact, he was so easy he made me think I’d wasted a lot of money on medical school!”

Laney laughed as Dr. Jamison motioned for her to lie back. Laney closed her eyes and focused on the funny story Dr. Jamison was telling about the new rooster they had who thought dawn was at three in the morning, and before she knew it, the worst was over.

“Are you doing regular exams?”

Laney nodded, moving her arm over her head and watching Dr. Jamison’s expression as she methodically checked her breasts. Without saying anything, she stepped away to look at Laney’s recent mammogram, and then gently touched a spot on the outer curve of her right breast again. “You’ve always had dense breast tissue, Laney,” she said, “and that makes exams a bit more challenging. I think I’d like you to have an ultrasound this year.”

“Is something wrong?”

Dr. Jamison covered her up and smiled reassuringly. “It’s just a precaution. Lots of women have dense breast tissue. You can sit up.” She consulted her chart. “Martha said you’ve been feeling tired . . .”

Laney nodded. “I don’t seem to have the same energy I once had, but I’ve been so busy at school . . . and with the boys. I just attributed it to getting older.”

Dr. Jamison nodded. “You are getting older, my dear. But you’re far from old, so I’d like to get some blood work too.” She scribbled out some prescriptions and handed them to her. “Etty can set everything up for you.” She searched Laney’s anxious eyes. “Now, don’t start worrying! I want you to go home, relax, enjoy the weekend, and I’ll be in touch next week after I get the results.”

“Okay,” Laney said with a nod, knowing full well she was going to worry.

Twenty minutes later, as she walked up toward the house, Laney stopped to look at the brightly lit windows welcoming her home. Noah’s car was in the driveway, so she knew he was already home with the pizzas, and she could hear laughter and giggling drifting through the open windows. She stood still, listening, savoring the lovely sound. Then she remembered the concern she’d seen on her doctor’s face, and a wave of anxiety swept over her.
What if something is wrong? What if there’s a day when I’m no longer here to hear these wonderful sounds? What if my boys have to carry on without me?
She pictured her six handsome men lined up tearfully at her graveside, and the image broke her heart. “Oh, God,” she whispered, “please don’t let anything happen to me—not until I’m really old and they’re ready to let me go. . . .” She shook her head, trying to push the heartbreaking image from her mind. “I can’t think like this,” she admonished. “Even if something is wrong, I have to stay positive.”

She shifted her bag to her other shoulder and resigned to be strong. Noah didn’t need to know yet. There was nothing to tell. It was just a routine follow-up. Lots of women had them. She forced a smile and pulled opened the door.

“Mom’s home!” announced a chorus of happy voices.

“Hi, Mom!” Asher gushed, rushing over to wrap his arms around her.

“Pizza’s still hot,” Noah said with a smile. “Want a slice of Hawaiian?”