As eager as the priest had been for them to stay, he was now equally eager for them to leave. “Go, go,” he said while pointing toward the door they had come in, and when they didn’t move fast enough, he started pushing them from behind. It reminded William of the firm push of the jumpmaster only a few hours earlier.
“Okay, okay, we’re going. Are you all right? Do you want to come with us?” William pointed to the priest and then to himself then indicated the door. “Go with?” he tried again.
“Non, non. You go.”
. . .
The rest of the day happened in a flash—eating a hurried breakfast of eggs from a grateful French farmer followed by a skirmish with a thankfully small band of Germans, reuniting with a larger unit, and searching for more enemy troops—equally hopeful of finding them and not. By the time it was over, William hadn’t spent a single moment considering the significance of the fabric-wrapped bundle buried deep in his knapsack.
Week One – Summer 1975
Sunday
By the time Sunday rolled around, Madelyn had decided on one thing—ten was a number she could wrap her mind around. That’s how many weeks Dad would be gone. So, if she could break her summer into ten weeks, maybe she could get through it.
Madelyn carefully wrote the numbers one through ten on a pad of paper, circling the one as her starting point. As she did so, Mom walked by her room. There was a melancholy about her; her head was down, and her step was slow. She depended on Dad even more than Madelyn had thought, and a bit of her heart ached for her. Madelyn wanted to reach out to her, she really did. But the hole in her own heart was so big she didn’t know how to climb out of it.
Madelyn didn’t hear the sermon at church that day, certain it would condemn her. But true to her teenage self, by the time it concluded, she had replaced her guilt with a healthy dose of bitterness instead. Surely the best solution when change is required is to decide it’s someone else who needs to do it.
After church, Dad called to let the family know he’d arrived safely, but he was busy “getting the lay of the land,” according to Mom, so he didn’t talk long. He only spoke to Mom and didn’t even ask to speak to anyone else.
Madelyn knew he’d be calling. It was part of the plan, that he’d call every Sunday, but she’d decided she wasn’t going to talk to him. She simply wasn’t going to care. And then he had the gall to not even ask for her. It felt like a sneeze that’s ready to burst only instead it fizzles and fails to materialize—the result more annoying than just sneezing and getting it over with.
Monday – Friday
If it wasn’t for Jillian, the week would have been a complete loss. She nestled up to Madelyn whenever she found her reading, even asking a couple of nights if she could sleep in Madelyn’s room. After they made a little bed for her on the floor, Madelyn sang Jillian her favorite lullaby, “Hush, Little Baby,” even though she was much too old for it.
“Good night, Madelyn. I love you.”
“I love you too, Jilly.” After a minute, hearing no obvious sounds of sleeping, Madelyn whispered, “You really miss Dad, don’t you?”
“Well, sure I do.”
“It’s okay.” When Jillian didn’t respond, Madelyn added, “That is why you’ve been staying so close to me, isn’t it? Because you’re missing Dad?”
“No, silly. It’s because you do.” And with that, Jillian turned over and fell asleep.
Saturday
Mom was up early on Saturday. The kids awoke to, “Come and get it.” She’d made a big breakfast of pancakes and sausages for everyone. Even though Daniel was a few years younger than Madelyn, he was almost as tall as she was, and he was always ready for food, especially if he didn’t have to make it himself. He came out of his room and shot past her at the sound of Mom’s voice. When he entered the kitchen and saw the spread on the kitchen table, complete with toast and jam, he said, “Whoa,” with a hushed reverence.
Mom ruffled his curly hair—blond like hers—and laughed in response. “I figured you’d like it, Daniel. You seem to have more energy than the rest of us combined.” He took that as a compliment, and smiling, he slid into his seat.
Neither one of them saw Madelyn’s eyes brighten at the breakfast Mom had laid out. She’d been nibbling at her food all week, and hunger was starting to get the best of her. Madelyn looked away and pretended to be busy putting her hair into a ponytail. Then, as casually as possible, she moved into her seat at the table, trying hard not to notice Dad’s empty chair at the end. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly.
Daniel reached for a piece of sausage with his bare hands, but Mom stopped his motion in midair. “Uh-uh. You will use silverware, and you will wait for your little sister to get here.” She gave him a stare that meant business.
Reluctantly he pulled back but rested his elbows on the table, putting his chin in his hands. “Well, then she better hurry up,” he grumbled under his breath. Madelyn wasn’t going to say it, but she was as impatient as he was.
Jillian appeared a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning. Her long hair was tangled in brownish wisps pointing every direction. “Why’d you wake us up so early, Mom? I’m still tired.” Madelyn hadn’t thought about that. Mom didn’t usually wake them on the weekends. In fact, she never did. Why now, Madelyn wondered.
Mom didn’t answer, just got up, put her arm around Jillian, and guided her to a chair. “Okay, Daniel, since you’re so anxious, why don’t you offer a blessing on our food.” Daniel often expressed gratitude for things in his prayer that made it hard to add an amen—things such as snakes and “the mouse in Madelyn’s closet.” But today he was on his best behavior—probably because he was so eager to eat what Mom had laid out.
Part way through the meal, Mom stopped eating, laying her fork and knife down on her plate in a purposeful manner. The clank of metal on stoneware made them look up. She cleared her throat. “Things are going to be different this summer. We’ve had our week of laziness. I hope you enjoyed it.”
Daniel’s brown eyes grew big, and Jillian started to twist a strand of hair around her finger, her go-to nervous habit. They stared at Mom, wondering what she was going to say next. “There’s a lot to do around here that’s not going to get done on its own. So, we’re going to divvy up the chores and stay on top of everything. I want Dad to be proud of us when he returns. When the work’s done, then you can play.”
They glanced at each other then quickly nodded. This wasn’t like Mom. She seemed to appreciate a slightly messy and chaotic home. Dishes were put away in the kitchen but not always in the same place. Newspapers were stacked haphazardly in the corner by the back door while magazines were found strewn about the living room, opened to various projects or with pictures ripped out, lying nearby.
“Madelyn, I know you miss your dad,” Mom said. “We all miss him. It’s time to do something about it. You can miss him, or you can get busy making him proud.” Madelyn was thinking those weren’t mutually exclusive, but she wasn’t about to argue the point.
“Okay,” Madelyn meekly replied. “What do you want me to do?”
“Mostly I just want you to do what Dad has already asked you to do.” That was a relief—until she added one more thing. “But I don’t know if Dad talked to you about the dandelions.” Her face fell.
Dandelions—dandelions were the second thing about that summer that she hated.
. . .
Madelyn’s family lived at the end of the street. You wouldn’t call it a cul-de-sac because it didn’t end in a nice, neat circle. Basically, if you drove down the street and didn’t stop, you’d end up in their driveway. That, in and of itself, was fine. The problem was that their property took up the entire end of the block,
extending for about a hundred feet on either side of the house and then back farther than Madelyn cared to think. Only part of it was grassed in—a patch in front that stretched around one side of the house and then, behind a fence that stretched to the edges of their yard, a nice backyard section. The vegetable garden was out back, and the rest was made up of weeds mixed with wildflowers.
As far as the lawn went, other than mowing and setting a sprinkler on it occasionally, Madelyn knew nothing about caring for it. If Dad had done something to deal with the dandelions, she had no idea what it was. “Dad didn’t mention the dandelions,” Madelyn said, her voice timid. “He always took care of that. I don’t know anything about it.”
“Well, you know how to dig them out of the garden, don’t you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? You want me to dig them all out, one by one? That will take forever! The dandelions in the weed patches will just keep blowing their seeds onto the lawn. I’ll never be able to keep up.” She was certain now more than ever that Mom knew nothing about taking care of a yard, but Madelyn couldn’t think of a single way to convince her of that fact.
Mom stopped for a minute, seemingly processing what Madelyn was saying. “Well, your Dad always kept the yard in great shape. We need to keep it looking just the same. We can do it. I’ll help you.” She smiled as if to reassure her daughter, but it didn’t even begin to do so.
When Madelyn mowed the lawn a short while later, she kept thinking about all those dandelions, and she noticed every single one she was cutting down, hundreds and hundreds of them. Surely Dad hadn’t meant for her to worry about them, but she couldn’t think of any way out of it. If she wrote Dad asking about the dandelions, she’d have to admit to what Mom said, and he’d never go against her. If Madelyn tried to be sneaky and not mention what Mom said, he’d still find out. Then she’d be in even worse trouble. This was shaping up to be a horrible summer.
Thankfully, the day wasn’t too hot for June, and the lawn looked nice when Madelyn was finished, as long as someone was looking from a distance. From there, the broad-leafed dandelions weren’t as apparent since their tops were momentarily missing.
“Mom, I finished mowing. If I dig up twenty dandelions, may I call my friends?” Madelyn hollered to her through the kitchen window. The plan she’d finally concocted while mowing was to dig up a certain number of dandelions every few days. It seemed like something she could manage. She was also hoping Mom wouldn’t realize how woefully inadequate it would be.
Mom’s face appeared at the window. Her brow was furrowed as she surveyed the backyard, thinking. Since she couldn’t see the tell-tale yellow blooms Madelyn had cut down, she was contemplating just how many dandelions there were. Madelyn smiled inwardly, relishing for once her mom’s lack of numerical sense. Mom finally nodded. “That would be fine.” She turned to go then stopped herself. “But before you go, there are some bills that came in the mail this week. I left them in Dad’s study. We should take care of those before you take off anywhere.”
“Okay, Mom.” It was the deal Dad and Madelyn had worked out before he left. Madelyn was in charge of the household budget, at least to an extent. Dad had left Mom cash for groceries, gas, and other essentials by putting a certain amount in separate envelopes for all the weeks he would be gone. He’d had to take money out of savings to be able to have all the cash, but it seemed like the easiest way to handle things. Madelyn was responsible for paying all the bills. Dad was having his checks deposited in the bank directly from his company while they were funneling money to cover his expenses straight to him. Once Madelyn called the bank to verify the deposit had been made, she could pay all the bills on his list.
“Your Mom hates dealing with the money,” he told her before he left. “It stresses her out to think she might make a mistake, and since you’re so good at it … well, it seemed like a perfect solution.” He grinned at her. Madelyn would have relished the compliment if she hadn’t been so busy feeling used and abandoned.
Thinking about it now, Madelyn almost let a smile escape her lips, but her first jab into the ground after a dandelion root helped quell the temptation. Digging up her designated twenty dandelions was at least, as she had hoped, quick work.
June’s paycheck was already in the bank, so after washing grass and dirt off her hands, Madelyn went straight to Dad’s study and sat down at his desk to write out the checks. She felt small sitting in his big office chair, but she smiled when she caught the lingering scent of his licorice gum. Just then Daniel poked his head in, his eyes dancing mischievously as he emitted a loud burp in her general direction. Madelyn looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction that he’d made her grimace, or worse, smile.
When Madelyn could tell he had gone, she tried to recapture Dad’s licorice smell, but she’d already adjusted to the aroma of the room, and it was lost to her senses. She considered stepping out of the room and back in just so she could smell the difference, allowing herself to walk in from the hallway-home-aroma to the familiar and comforting scent of Dad’s study. But she feared looking foolish if anyone saw her. Instead, she pulled her legs up onto the office chair and hugged them to her. If only she could cocoon herself in his chair, maybe reality would fade for just a moment. She could imagine she was just waiting for him to join her for their nightly reading—just Dad and her together, the way they were supposed to be. Madelyn reached up to release her hair from its ponytail then hesitated, unable to bring herself to do it. So she hugged her legs tighter instead.
After a few minutes, she let go, telling herself it was because her legs were starting to cramp up in that position while, in reality, the loneliness she felt without Dad was threatening to drown her. Madelyn was surprised by the liquid forming at the edges of her eyes and quickly reached up to wipe it away.
“Okay, Dad, let’s do this.” She was talking to the air, but pretending she wasn’t alone in his study took away some of the pain of its hollow interior. Only a couple bills were waiting for her. Madelyn wrote out the checks and neatly entered them into the ledger, double checking her subtraction to make sure the balance was correct. She found two more unexpected envelopes. The first was a subscription renewal for an outdoors magazine Dad liked to read. “You forgot to add this in, Dad, but I guess I should go ahead and pay it. I hope you didn’t forget anything else,” Madelyn said aloud.
Just then Mom passed by, then stopped and returned to peer in. “Are you talking to someone?”
Madelyn shrugged her shoulders. “Dad?”
Mom nodded. “I understand.” She twisted her face up, and Madelyn could tell she was trying to fend off the tears. Then she shrugged her shoulders too. “I do the same thing.” They stared at each other then burst into giggles at the absurdity of it.
“Mom,” Madelyn said when she finally stopped snickering, “since you’re here, I have a couple checks for you to sign.”
“Which ones are these?”
“It’s just the electric bill and the car insurance.”
“Okay.” She slowly moved to Madelyn’s side, having lost all hint of her previous mirth. She picked up a pen, reaching for the first check. Madelyn was surprised to see her hand shaking slightly. She carefully and meticulously signed each check then set the pen down with a sigh of relief. “Anything else?”
“No,” Madelyn said, but as she did so, she noticed the last envelope. The handwritten address read Rachel Osborne, but there was no return address. “Oh, wait, Mom. This must have gotten mixed in with the bills. It’s a letter for you.”
Mom hesitantly reached out to take it with a furrowed brow. “I wonder what it is?” But instead of opening it, she clasped the envelope tightly to her and hurriedly left the room.
As Madelyn wondered at her reaction, she glanced at the bills before her. She’d thought
once the checks were written out and signed that Mom would address the envelopes and mail them. “I guess I have to do everything around here,” she muttered to herself.
As she sealed and addressed the two bills, she spied the magazine subscription. She’d been ready to pay it when Mom came by. Quickly Madelyn wrote one more check, got the envelope ready with a stamp and return address, and grabbing a pen, went to find Mom.
She wasn’t in the kitchen or the laundry room like Madelyn expected. She went upstairs and almost ran into Mom as she came out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her. “Madelyn, you startled me!” Her eyes were open wide in surprise.
“Are you all right, Mom?”
“Yes, of course I am,” she said while smoothing her dress and straightening her hair as if she were trying to pull herself together. “Did you need something?”
She didn’t seem to be fine, but Madelyn didn’t know what to do about it. “Yeah, I forgot a check. It’s for one of Dad’s magazines. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Sure.” She took the pen and check Madelyn offered and using the hall table, bent over to sign the check. Madelyn wanted to see if she was still shaky, but Mom turned her back to Madelyn until she was done. “There you go. Thanks for taking care of this, sweetie. I appreciate it.” She reached up and gently patted Madelyn’s cheek before rushing past her and down the stairs. Madelyn was left standing there, staring at the closed bedroom door, wondering what had her mom so much on edge.
. . .
Attempting to shrug off her confusion, Madelyn made her way to the kitchen for a quick lunch. Whatever was going on, she figured it was time to make her escape. “Bye, Mom. I’m …,” when it dawned on her that she didn’t have anywhere to go. Madelyn hadn’t adjusted to her new reality yet, that Lori had moved. Madelyn stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to do.
Dandelion Summer Page 3
