Mom approached her with a worried brow. “I did. The latch must have stuck. Too bad Roger’s not home. If he were here, he’d know how to fix it.”
“Yeah,” Madelyn said to herself as she made her way into the kitchen. “If he were here, that would fix a lot of things.”
1946
Rachel didn’t know what to make of William when he returned home. She had only vague recollections of her daddy from before, and most of them were now just memories created by stories her mother had told her. And then there was the other Daddy, the one who wrote letters that started “My Dearest Hazel” but ended with “Kiss the munchkins for me.” She loved that Daddy, too, just like the one in the buoyed-up memories.
This new Daddy was someone else. He seemed to have tired eyes—not like Tommy’s eyes when he needed a nap, but tired like they had seen things they wished they hadn’t. They were sad eyes. Those eyes brightened a little around Tommy, and when Tommy called him, “Pop, Pop,” the tired almost went away.
Rachel took to calling this new Daddy “Pop,” sort of like Tommy did. It was as if she’d never actually known him before, and so giving him a new name just made sense.
. . .
For William, it was a transition he awkwardly made. The nightmares of war haunted him at night, to only awaken to new concerns in the day. The words “cerebral palsy” were now more than words on a page, and as much as Hazel had explained what they meant for their son, it took time to fully accept them—to embrace the fact that their son had cerebral palsy, but he was still Tommy. As that understanding grew, so did his hopes and dreams for his son. Tommy was amazing. William loved him with all his heart, but it also broke that same heart watching him struggle to do things others took for granted.
Rachel was William and Hazel’s breath of fresh air—the relief of, “Thank goodness Rachel can run. Thank goodness Rachel can talk a blue streak. Thank goodness Tommy responds so well to Rachel. Thank goodness we all have Rachel.”
They settled into a routine—this new little family. William would come home from work, kiss Hazel, then find Rachel. “Hi, sweetie. How’s my sunshine today?” Before she would even have a chance to answer, he would sweep her up into his arms. “You’re such a perfect little lady. What have you and Tommy done today?”
Rachel would grin and squirm out of his arms. “I’ll show you.” Then grabbing his hand, she’d pull him past his newspaper, past her school bag, past the easy chair, and into the family room where Tommy would be surrounded by blocks.
“Sissy!” he would gleefully shout. No name made her prouder. No moment made William happier.
And through it all, the rolled-up parcel lay forgotten and collecting dust in a corner of the attic.
Thursday
In her better moments in the following days, Madelyn found herself enjoying spending time with Jillian and Daniel—playing catch with them outside and even appropriately screaming when Daniel put a rubber snake in her bed. True to her word, she made pudding with Jillian. In those times, she caught herself smiling and honestly forgetting about Dad being gone.
In her more self-centered moments, she retreated into books, even rereading her precious Hobbit chapters for the week, being especially intrigued by the strange, solitary Gollum creature. At first, he struck her as nasty and mean, but the second time through, even though she still thought that, she also felt sorry for him. How could anyone endure such a lonely existence?
She hurried on, not wanting to dwell on that thought for long, and when Bilbo and his friends were saved by the eagles, Madelyn found her mind wandering to Zane. Even their short visit in the store had been a lifeline. Could it be more than that, or was she just kidding herself?
It was the thought of Zane and then his sister Delia that made her think of Daniel and Jillian one evening. They’d already gone to bed, but she decided to look in on them. Daniel was doing his best snore imitation, so Madelyn pretended to be fooled by it. But as she slipped out the door, she whispered, “I love you, Daniel.”
With hardly a break in his “snores,” he responded, “I love you too.”
Cracking the door to Jillian’s room, Madelyn could see her curled up in bed, her arms wrapped around Buster, her bedraggled yet beloved stuffed dog. Her eyes were closed, but her fingers were rubbing Buster’s threadbare, floppy ear—a habit since she was a baby.
Madelyn quietly made her way into the room and sat down on Jillian’s bed. Reaching up, she gently brushed the hair back from her face. “Hi,” Jillian mumbled, almost asleep.
“Hi, Jilly. I love you.”
“Love you too. How come you’re here?” she said without opening her eyes.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking about Delia, I guess. When she used to babysit, she’d come into my room—probably yours too—just like this, although you were pretty young then.”
“Oh,” she said as she rolled over.
Madelyn sat still, watching the rise and fall of the blanket, the signs that her little sister was falling asleep. When she stood up to leave, Jillian surprised her by saying, “You like him, don’t you?”
“What? Who?”
Jillian turned her head, her eyes wide open, with a grin on her face. “You know who,” she said then turned back away before adding, “Good night, Madelyn. I love you.”
Madelyn still wore the faint wisp of a smile when she wandered into the kitchen where her mom was putting away the last of the supper dishes. She opened her mouth to say good night, when she heard the unmistakable creak of the front door.
“What was that?” she mouthed, afraid to speak out loud. Mom shook her head, but her eyes were as wide as Madelyn’s. As they strained their ears to listen, the creaking grew more pronounced until it ended with a muffled thud, surely the sound of the door meeting the wall.
Without realizing they’d done it, they’d reached for each other’s hands and were squeezing them tightly. Together they begin to slowly creep toward the living room. Before they reached the arched entry, before the door came into view, a man cleared his throat.
Madelyn froze, her mom’s hand in hers turning to ice. Simultaneously screaming, they threw their arms around each other. Other sounds reached their ears, unidentifiable amidst their own clamoring. Clinging together, they started shaking, nearly crying, their chests heaving in heavy, deep breaths. In that one moment, Madelyn wouldn’t have traded her mom for anything in the world.
But moments like that pass.
As the silence of a dark night once again settled around them, Mom said, “Come on,” motioning toward the living room.
“Are you kidding?” Madelyn whispered.
Mom nodded and tiptoed forward, Madelyn following in her shadow. When they rounded the corner into the living room, Madelyn quickly scanned the room to discover … nothing. No one was there, and not a thing was out of place—at least not any more than normal. The only exception was the front door swaying back and forth at the hand of a strong wind, the storm having invited itself inside.
They stared at each other, not knowing what to think. “Didn’t you lock the door?” Madelyn finally said, letting her words be angry to hide her fear.
“Well, I certainly thought so. I usually do when I put the others to bed. But … maybe …” She let the thought hang. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, that’s –” Madelyn stopped. Her mother’s fingers were shaking as she reached up to push hair out of her eyes. “I mean, it could have been the wind, or maybe Daniel …”
“Daniel, now that makes a lot of sense.” They laughed nervously, trying to convince each other that must be the answer.
As they both moved to securely close the front door, they couldn’t help but notice the weat
her outside. It was stormy and dark with barely a streetlight visible in the swirling gloom. Without saying another word, they closed the door and leaned against it, tilting their heads so they just touched each other.
When they found their voices again, the words they spoke were, on the surface, ordinary: “Would you like some hot cocoa?” “Let me help you.” “This tastes good.” While what they were really saying was something else—only they weren’t sure what that was just yet.
It turns out you can love someone without ever feeling like you need them, and you can even need someone desperately without even liking them, but loving someone and needing them at the same time is an emotion hard to contain—especially when you’ve never owned up to it before. The meaning of it was heavy in the air, but neither of them reached out to take hold of it, not knowing what it would mean if they did. Instead, they waited for it to subside then slowly dissipate, more comfortable with things the way they’d always been. Predictable and known can be appealing simply because it’s easier.
Saturday
The following two mornings, Madelyn made a stop in the living room on the way to breakfast. She felt the need to check the front door, making sure it was still securely latched from the night before. It was, but she mentioned this fact to no one.
She and Mom both seemed to have decided the same thing—that nothing actually happened, especially between them. Instead, they went about their days as normally and casually as possible.
Saturday, as Madelyn was putting the lawnmower away and gathering her dandelion tools, Mrs. Burnham appeared in the driveway. She just stood there, watching. “Hi, Mrs. Burnham,” Madelyn said in a tone that she hoped meant go away.
“What are you doing?” It came out as an accusation.
Madelyn put a hand on her hips. “Well, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“Like you’re haphazardly doing some yard work, but I –”
Madelyn cut her off before she could complete her thought. “You know, Mrs. Burnham, I was just wondering why you bothered to ask what I was doing since it seems you’ve already decided. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go gather some of the dandelions that have gone to seed—that is unless you want me to let the wind blow them into your yard?”
“Well, I never …”
“That’s what I thought. Have a good day, Mrs. Burnham.” Then in spite of what she’d said, Madelyn walked into the backyard to work on the dandelions there. She smiled, knowing they weren’t much of a threat to Mrs. Burnham’s yard, not like the ones in the front. And certainly Mrs. Burnham knew that too.
She’d just gotten started on her dandelion count when she heard “Madelyn?” Her face flushed as she recognized Zane’s voice. Before she had a chance to find him, he’d found her. “Sorry to bother you, but Jillian said you were out here.”
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out before thinking. “I mean … how are you doing?”
Zane laughed. “Delia and I just finished our bike ride. I thought maybe you could use some help?”
Madelyn had a hard time hiding her smile. “As a matter of fact, I can. That is if you don’t mind digging up dandelions.”
Zane just shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside her on the grass. “Do you have some more tools?”
“Yes,” she said, having a hard time believing he was actually going to help. “I’ll go get them.”
When she returned, he silently got to work. After a few dandelions, he said, “So, are these the dandelions you were talking about?”
“What?”
“That day at the park. You said dandelions were bothering you.”
She laughed. “You’re right. I did, didn’t I. Yes … and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I don’t like dealing with dandelions, but it really means I miss my dad,” she said, surprised that her lips quivered a little at the thought.
“Where’s your dad?”
She hadn’t meant to when he showed up, but she found herself telling him everything about Dad—how they told her, how she felt about it, even how she’d been acting self-centered because of it. He raised his eyebrows a few times, but always followed it with a nod and something like, “I understand,” or “That must be hard.” And when she was done telling him, he paused, letting her decide where the conversation should go.
“You know you’re nicer than I remembered,” she said then gasped when she realized how that sounded. “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean … you were nice and all when we were younger, but … well, we didn’t talk then. Well, of course we didn’t …”
He laughed. “Madelyn, I’m going to always remember that. Someday, at some party, or to our grandchildren, I’m going to tell them I’m nicer than I used to be.”
He hadn’t meant anything by that word grandchildren. She could tell in the way he picked up his tool and continued to dig up dandelions all while still chuckling to himself. It was just a funny scenario to him, but past being mortified, Madelyn’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
“What do you want to do when you grow up, Zane? Who do you want to be?”
“Geez. I have no idea what I want to do. I hardly think past next week.” She was right after all. He hadn’t meant anything by it, and yet, that was okay too. “But what I want to be,” he continued, “now that’s a different story. I want to be like my dad. He’s nice to everybody, especially my mom. He calls her his queen. They still fight sometimes, but just over little stuff, never anything big.
“I know people trust him too. If he says he’ll do something, he does. Some of my friends want to be famous, playing professional baseball or something, but I don’t. I don’t care if anyone outside of town even knows who I am. But I want the people who do know me to always feel like I’m worth knowing.”
“That’s nice,” Madelyn said. Then to herself she added, “I want to be like my dad too.”
They didn’t actually dig up a whole lot of weeds, but they continued to talk about everything and nothing. It turns out it was even better than talking to her dad.
Part 2
When Madelyn was little, she kept a careful watch on the dandelions. When they were yellow, they made a bright bouquet for her to give Mom, but she loved them best when they turned white. Then she would carefully pick them from the yard and blow their seeds as far as her little breath could take them, dancing in delight as they floated away.
At some point, she stopped noticing them—they were simply an unimportant distraction from what mattered in life, and although what mattered might change from day to day, dandelions never crossed her mind. But at times, it’s those things we are least aware of that can have the greatest impact—and when they unmistakably enter our sight, it’s time to figure out, not just what matters, but what matters most.
Week Four – Summer 1975
Sunday
Madelyn had an agenda when she talked to Dad on Sunday. They’d barely gotten their hellos out when Madelyn said, “Dad, you know the latch on the front door? I think it must be sticking because we locked the door before we went to the store the other day, but when we got home, it just swung open. And then I think it blew open a few days later.”
“Really? Are you sure?” He sounded alarmed.
“Well, pretty sure. I think the mechanism just stuck and never actually locked. How do I fix it?”
“Well, it’s never done that before, but I suppose it’s possible,” he said, sounding relieved. “In the garage, on one of the shelves is a can of WD-40. You can spray it anywhere you think the latch is sticking. Then just turn the handle of the door back and forth several times to spread the lubricant around
. That should do it.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“Madelyn, how are things with –”
Before he could derail her agenda, Madelyn interjected, “And tell me how to fix Mrs. Burnham.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Burnham. She always manages to be outside when I am. She wants to know what I’m doing or feels the need to tell me that the way I’m doing something is all wrong. She even walks onto our lawn or comes up the driveway just so she can make some snide remark.”
He laughed lightly, which had the effect of making her mad. “This isn’t funny, Dad. She’s annoying.”
“Calm down. Believe it or not, she likes you.”
“No, she doesn’t!” Madelyn couldn’t believe this was Dad she was talking to.
“Madelyn, listen to me for just a minute, will you? Dorothy Burnham is just lonely. She doesn’t have a lot of practice talking to teenagers, so she’s inventing any excuse she can to have a conversation.”
“Somehow I think she could do better than that,” Madelyn grumbled under her breath, but loudly enough so he would hear.
He just laughed again. “Then why don’t you come up with something better to talk about?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “She likes you because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be trying to be your friend.”
Madelyn used to think Dad was the smartest man on the planet, but right about now, he was sounding like one of the dumbest. “That’s a strange way to be a friend,” she said.
“Are you still missing me?”
He’d cut right to the heart of everything. “Yes,” Madelyn whispered, her brave frontal assault gone. “I do,” but even as she said it, her thoughts drifted to Zane, and a smile crept into her lips. Much as she loved her dad, talking to him about a boy felt awkward, so she gave no voice to her thoughts.
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