Someday Home (18 page)

Lynn listened in on several conversations. Angela seemed to be having a good time. Was she finally starting to heal?

Maggie sat down beside her. “All this food makes me feel almost guilty.” She reached over and grabbed a chip from one of the bags lining the center of the table. “You did it again.”

“Not me, it took everyone.” Lynn patted her knee. “Aren't you getting chilly in those shorts?”

Tommy stood at the door. “The desserts are ready in the dining room. There is coffee for those who want it, and if you see anything missing, just ask.”

“Where's the ice cream?” one of the bigger kids asked.

“That's for the Fourth of July, you know that.”

Lynn caught Angela's questioning look and explained, “We have homemade ice cream for the Fourth, made the old-fashioned way with hand-cranked ice-cream churns, salt and ice, and by then the local strawberries are usually starting. Some good, that's for sure.”

“I'm going to have to diet tomorrow.” One of the women groaned.

“Or not eat for a week,” said another.

By the time the party broke up, not late because there was school the next day and jobs to return to, the kitchen was cleaned up, everyone took home some things, and Homer was stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace, snoring.

“Welcome to holidays at the Lundbergs' in Minnesota,” Phillip said to Angela as he carried a limp Miss Priss out the door. She had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Angela looked around the big, empty room. “I've been to family parties before, but not like this. How come no one even got into an argument? And I heard the men talking politics even.”

“I don't know. We work together, we play together. All the kids are growing up together, and us old folks, er, older folks, you noticed there were several sets of grandparents…I guess part of the fun is that we have all ages. Not many teens here tonight. We have more younger kids. I know it can be a bit overwhelming at first.”

“But people made me feel welcome. As if I'd lived here for years or was a long-lost relative.”

“Good, I figured they would. I saw you talking with Betty; she'll get you involved in something in no time.”

“I wish I knew what I wanted to do now that I'm here. Someone suggested I volunteer at the library. I think I'll go there and look into it.”

“You step through the door and mention you're interested in helping, and Mary and her troops will have you busy in no time. You ever worked in a library before?”

“Volunteered at the school library when my kids went there. Actually, for all the years they attended.”

“That was a few years ago.”

“For sure, but I loved it, especially the little ones; well, that's not true, any ages.” She nodded. “I think that's where I'll start, anyway.”

Lynn leaned her head back, enjoying the quiet. “Hear the loons?”

“I do.” Angela smiled. “Judith should be here.”

“I always love when we're out in the canoe and see the mamas giving their chicks a ride on their backs. Something special about the loons.”

“I don't know. Canoes tip over too easy. Since I don't swim terribly well, maybe I'll stick to the rowboat.”

I
hate to see you leave,” Melody whispered again as she hugged Judith good-bye.

“I know, but maybe I'll be back for the Fourth.”

“No maybe about it. I'm counting on it.”

Judith slid into her car and snapped her seat belt. “The road goes both ways, you know, and I will be in school, as close to full-time as I think I can handle in this summer of great change.”

“Great change for sure. Drive safe and call me when you get there.”

“Yes, Mama.” Judith waved one more time and headed out the drive. At least she had waited until traffic had let up—she hoped. She slid the first CD of the novel Melody had given her into her player and sat back to be entertained on her way west. This was a first for her, listening to a book on the trip. She wondered if the book on Krakatoa was on CD. Another first for her. Even thinking about buying an audio book.

“Judith, you are indeed embarked on a brand-new life.”

She stopped to potty and refill her travel mug, stopped again for lunch, and let the miles get eaten up by the novel, a historical about one of the queens of England. When thoughts of her actions at the cemetery tried to intrude, she slammed the door on them and kept her focus on the road and the story. The reader was doing an excellent job, which made the story even more enjoyable. This was almost as good as her mother reading to her. Almost but not quite.

When she drove into the new yard—
her
new yard—she saw Lynn and Angela out in the garden accompanied by a big-voiced dog who welcomed her home. She realized she really had missed walking with the goofy hound by her side. She waved and parked her car in front of the new garage next to Angela's, and once standing on the gravel, she inhaled a deep breath of clean spring air, stretching out the kinks of car sitting. Homer came barking from the garden, but when he saw her, his bark changed to a welcome whimper, yip, and dance routine. He leaped up, but when she ordered him down, he dropped to his feet and quivered all over, his tail whipping. She bent over and rubbed his ears, his head, and down his back.

“Boy, are you shedding.” She dusted her hands to release black, white, and russet hair into the breeze, then went back to petting and talking to him.

“Welcome home.” Angela and Lynn, still wearing gardening gloves, joined them, hugging her and petting the dog. “You have to tell us how everything went.”

“Did you bring pictures? We have oodles of pictures of yesterday.” Lynn's smile rivaled the sun. “Oh, I'm so glad you are home safe. You didn't get caught in that horrid accident, did you?”

“Sat on the interstate for better'n two hours, but I was reading and totally lost track of time. Never had that happen before. In fact, I've had all kinds of things happen to me for the first time.” She lifted the lid on her trunk. “Melody sent you some specialty cheeses.” As she lifted out her suitcase, Lynn grabbed the handle.

“You get your stuff out of the car; this calls for a celebration.”

Angela and Judith swapped questioning looks. “What for?”

“You got home all right. We had a great day yesterday. The sun is shining and anything else we can think of.”

Angela shrugged and reached for the box on the backseat. “They know how to throw a party here, let me tell you. I've never seen so much food in my life, homemade hamburger buns even.”

“After driving in the crazy Minneapolis traffic, the quiet out here is pure heaven.”

The two followed Lynn's roller wheel lines in the driveway and went in through the mudroom, too. Judith left Melody's gift on the center island and headed for her room with her purse and bag that included some books from Melody—several of them on audio—and her travel mug. She looked around her room. She'd not been fair in her description to Melody; this was not by any means a small room. She had room for her desk, a bookshelf, her mother's rocking chair and a side table with a lamp, a chest of drawers, and her queen-sized bed. Tomorrow she would hang one of her cross-stitch projects or maybe two. And a painting her mother had given her years earlier of a little girl with chickens around her.

Chickens. She had always loved chickens. Her mother tried to raise some as a hobby, but they didn't last long. Her father decreed they must go, for he was annoyed by the rooster crowing. To save the chicken project, they gave away the noisy rooster, for they could not bear to eat him. Her father banished the hens anyway.

On her way back to the kitchen, she eyed the empty hall wall. Maybe she could hang some of her things here? But to her own surprise, when she joined the others already out on the deck, she said, “Lynn, have you ever had chickens here?”

“No. Too many wild animals who enjoy chicken—raccoons, weasels.”

“We had chickens when I was a little girl and I always loved them. I dreamed that someday I would have chickens again. Had I stayed at Rutherford, I would have done just that.” She took the glass of iced tea and a lemon bar and sat down facing the lake. With a sigh and a smile, she leaned back and nodded. “I have a feeling that this place can become home very quickly.”

“Why, thank you. I'm glad you feel that way. I always love coming home, the best part of any trip.”

The three brought one another up to date; Judith told them about her excitement on the campus at Duluth. Angela announced she got up this morning at a decent hour.

“Not the crack of dawn but I heard the school bus. Homer came in and informed me that it was time to get up.”

“Did he really?” Lynn asked. “Oh, how did he get your door open?”

“I must not have shut it tightly enough. But I was glad to see him. You gotta admit getting a slurp on the nose is a rather rude awakening.” She reached down and patted the dog, who lay between them. His thumping tail echoed on the cedar decking. “You're a good boy, aren't you?”

“I have a confession to make,” Judith said a bit later.

“Really?”

“I'm really embarrassed to admit this, but at the cemetery yesterday?”

They nodded.

“I spat on my father's grave marker.” She looked up at both of them staring at her, mouths open, eyes wide. “Sorry, I mean, I…”

Lynn was the first to break into laughter, followed by Angela.

“Really, you think it's funny?” Judith stared at them, appalled both that she had done it and that she had admitted it. Then a chuckle started down in her midsection somewhere and finally bubbled out her mouth. “It isn't really this funny, is it?”

Both heads nodded in unison.

“Oh, it is!” Lynn sputtered. “Might be the healthiest thing you've done in a long, long time.” She pointed to the lake. “Look, a flock of Canada geese landing on the water. We used to be a flyway for sky-darkening numbers of ducks and geese. We still get quite a few.”

“Do you have a bird book?” Angela asked. “I used to know my backyard birds, but not like here with lake birds besides. I thought I saw an eagle the other day.”

“You probably did. We have a pair that nest in a huge old snag up the lake.” She pointed off to their left. “Phillip and I hoped to go see if they were back, but that storm came up. One of the reasons we like canoeing, you don't disturb the birds.”

“I'm looking forward to learning how to paddle a canoe.” Judith swirled her ice and remaining tea. “Anyone else want a refill? I'll get it.” She pushed back her chair, making Homer jump. “Sorry, Homer.” When he looked up at her, she asked, “Is he learning his name?”

“Seems that way.”

Judith slid open the door and Miss Minerva paraded outside. She glanced over at Homer, and in all her regalness, she jumped up on Lynn's lap. Homer sat up, tail twitching, as the cat did her three times turn around and settle. The dog made a sound, not a whimper and not a whine, and lay back down, nose between paws, eyes on the cat.

Angela giggled and scratched behind his ears. “You sure learned a lesson here. You just tell us what you think, okay?”

“He probably will. We have two extremely verbal animals here.” Lynn half shrugged and her hand automatically did as Miss Minerva fully expected. The purr motor did not start until the petting did.

Judith just shook her head and went on into the house.

So here Judith was, a bit less than forty-eight hours after she arrived back in Barnett Lake, prowling a hardware store again. This was apparently going to be a major feature of her new life. Not that she was a stranger to hardware stores, but mostly in the past she had scoured vintage hardware stores seeking replacements for small broken pieces in Rutherford House. This farm hardware store was
hardware
writ large.

Riding lawn mowers and three-gang garden tillers had taken over the front of the store. And so many grills. Simple ones, elaborate ones, gas grills, charcoal grills.

And a chicken coop.

Judith stopped cold, transfixed. Lynn continued to the plumbing aisles without her. A chicken coop. Skids beneath it to keep it above the dirt. She raised the door latch and opened it halfway. It did not swing out or swing shut. Well-hung. She stepped inside. Head high if you scrunched down, with nest boxes, roosts, and a smooth composite floor. Two vents. An actual ceiling fixture, not just a naked lightbulb hanging there. This was not a coop; it was a chicken mansion.

She went back out and latched the door.

A saleswoman in the store's cargo vest smiled at her. “You seem interested. We have a special on these. This week only, the coop comes with a waterer, that feeder trough, and enough poultry netting to enclose a six-by-eight-foot yard.”

“You deliver?”

“Anywhere within the county, twenty-five dollars.”

Judith didn't even ask the price. She handed the woman her credit card and followed her to a register. Her cell rang. She answered.

Lynn in the back of the store. “Can you please bring me a flatbed?”

“Right away.” She signed the slip, grabbed a flatbed, and pushed it to plumbing. Reality had returned. That night in bed she realized she had not mentioned her purchase to Lynn. She had figured to.

A deep-voiced horn beeped the next morning as Judith, Angela, and Lynn sat around the breakfast table discussing the Fourth of July. Homer barked helpfully.

“Already?” Judith hopped up. “I believe that's for me.”

It was! As she jogged out onto the porch, the driver was just climbing out of the hardware store's stake-side truck. Her coop and poultry supplies had arrived! But where to put them? Where would they be least conspicuous? Probably beyond the garage.

She glanced behind her. Lynn was standing on the porch step gawking. “Harry? Harry! Wrong address! We didn't order this.”

The young man frowned at his invoice. “Says here you did, Lynn.”

“It's mine,” Judith said quickly. “I was thinking maybe behind the garage.”

“But…but…it's a chicken coop. Chickens. We don't…chicken coop.”

Never had Judith seen Lynn so flustered, not even when two dozen guests dropped in at once. Was her chicken idea—her chicken dream—so wrong?

Angela hopped down off the porch. “Chickens! What a great idea! Fresh eggs, little chicks running around. I love it. What kind are we getting?”

Lynn shook her head. “We're not. This is a mistake, a…a…”

The driver named Harry turned to Judith. “Credit card payment here says your name is Rutherford. Any relation to the Rutherfords in the town of that name?”

“Direct descendant, yes. Rutherford House is now a public museum. Take your family and visit sometime.”

The young man grinned. “Hey, I will. Gotta get a family first. I'll tell my girlfriend. Where do you want the coop?”

Beside Judith, Angela giggled. “Don't forget to tell her why.”

Judith pointed. “Beyond the garage.”

“Can do.” Harry headed back to his truck.

Lynn had changed from agape to angry. In fact, she seemed very angry. “Judith, no! The three of us discuss things like this first. We're one household, not three separate kingdoms!”

Angela butted in. “Lynn, you must have said it a hundred times: ‘This really is your home. You are not just renting a room.' All right. It's our home. But we are not your children. We're adults and sometimes we follow our drummers, not yours. Did you see how happy Judith looked when she heard the truck horn?”

Judith broke in. “My mother and I both loved chickens; this is a dream for me, Lynn. Please let me follow my dream.”

“Besides,” Angela added, “with three of us, feeding chickens, gathering eggs, and all will not be a burden on anyone. We can share the work.”

Lynn's scowl had not softened. She turned and marched inside.

Judith drew a deep breath. “I may have made a huge mistake, Angela.”

Angela shook her head. “This has been coming ever since we got here; I could feel it. I don't think she expected to have to share her matriarchal position.”

“Matriarch.” Judith smiled sadly. “She sure is that.”

“Here?” Harry called, so Judith hurried around behind the garage, with Angela right behind her.

Angela stepped forward.
Good!
Angela was a Realtor. She knew where to put things. “If we set up the building there and paint it a cool brown, it will blend in well, hardly noticeable. Run the yard out this way with a gate there.”

“Looks good.” Harry frowned. “Is Miz Lundberg all right?”

“If she isn't, she will be. Do you need help with the coop?”

“Nope. Got the forklift right here.”

Judith watched, fascinated, as the young man—surely not out of his teens yet; he still had a few pimples—casually threw some planks down between the truck bed and the ground. He walked up them to a big yellow blob of a machine like one of those riding lawn mowers.
Ah.
This was the forklift. He hopped on; started its engine; and expertly slid the forks under the coop, raised the load, and drove down the planks.