At four in the morning, Benjamin’s fever shot higher still. Kerrianne contemplated taking him to the hospital emergency room. But what would she do with the other children? Any of her neighbors would be willing to help, but she was embarrassed to reach out to them. She was embarrassed to need them at all.
Almost in tears, she called Ask-A-Nurse, and was relieved when, after asking a list of questions, the nurse recommended more pain reliever. Kerrianne followed her advice. Benjamin’s fever broke a half hour later and did not return.
Kerrianne lay next to her child, vowing never to leave his side again to go out with Maxine. She couldn’t take the chance of losing him. She couldn’t.
Or was that only an excuse?
Before she could decide, she fell asleep, holding Benjamin’s hand.
Chapter Five
All Sunday morning, Ryan couldn’t get Kerrianne out of his mind. How strange that she should be on his route so long but he hadn’t realized she was a widow, despite the dwindling mail for her husband. How odd that he hadn’t noticed her kind eyes and the fine bones of her face. Her smooth skin.
“Stop it,” he told himself, only to think of how she’d looked at him when he told her about his wife. For a moment there had been a connection. An understanding. Or had he imagined it? He’d been searching for someone for so long now, maybe the connection was wishful thinking.
To be truthful, his search hadn’t really been that long. Laurie had died only two years ago. But she’d been sick two years before that, when Tiger had been a newborn. They’d had time to plan, to talk about the future. He’d had time to realize that he would have to go on without her.
On some days Laurie had cried about leaving the children. At the time he would have gladly given his life in her place. But now he suspected that he ended up with the harder lot. He hoped so. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy.
“Dad, I’m hungry!” Tiger was staring at him with a scowl on his face and a glare in his brown eyes. He’d said the same thing five times since they’d arrived home from church.
Ryan looked down at the meat he was planning to barbecue on the back patio. Mostly, they ate things they could cook in the microwave, but on Sunday afternoons, he liked to serve a semblance of a healthy meal—or a least a tasty one. Using the barbecue, even in winter, saved him from cleaning a pan.
“Go set the table. It’ll be done before you know it.”
With a resigned sigh, Tiger grabbed a few plates and headed off to the table.
The phone rang, and Ryan frowned. “Ria, would you get that? My hands are dirty.”
A mumbling came from the living room where he knew she had gone with a book. A few seconds later, she came in with a fatalistic look on her face. “It’s Grandma. She wants to know why we haven’t left yet.”
Ryan groaned. He remembered now that his hotshot brother, Willard, was coming in from New York, and Ryan had promised his mother he’d show up for a family meal by two.
“Give me the phone,” he said, experiencing a rush of guilt that his mother suspected his reluctance enough to make the call.
“She already hung up. Probably so you couldn’t say no. Do we really have to go?” Ria gave him her best puppy-dog look. She knew that was hard for him to resist. She thought it was because the expression was cute, but the real reason was because it made her look so much like her mother. “Can’t I be sick? I’m old enough to stay home alone, aren’t I?”
He shook his head. “We have to go. I promised.”
“You promised! I didn’t. So you go!”
“Ria!” He slammed the meat into a plastic container, already planning to cook it for family home evening on Monday instead. “We all have to go.”
“But I’m hungry!” Tiger whined.
“We’ll eat there.” Ryan squirted dishwashing soap in his palm and began scrubbing his hands at the kitchen sink.
“Her food tastes funny! She always has green beans. And I don’t know how to use a knife.”
“That’s enough, Tiger.”
“I hate going there!”
“Your grandmother loves you, you know. It’s not so unreasonable that she wants to see you every now and then. You’re the only grandkids she’s got.”
“But it’s boring,” Ria put in. “There’s nothing to do.” Funny how she would say that when his parents’ house was easily three times the size of theirs.
“I’m hungry now!” Huge tears swelled up in Tiger’s eyes.
“Tiger’s got a point, Dad. It’s like hours to get there.”
“Actually, Ogden’s only a little over an hour.” Ryan sighed. “But you’re right. Hey, I know.” He scrambled through the cupboard, filled with half-empty packages and containers of old spices he had no inclination or idea how to use. There, under the bag of shredded coconut that had turned an unspeakable shade of brown, was the sack where he’d hidden the chocolate bars he’d bought on sale at Macey’s. “Here, take your pick,” he said, handing them the sack. He threw the spoiled coconut in the garbage.
Tiger’s tears vanished instantly. “Wow, oh, wow!” He picked the biggest and began ripping it open.
Ria touched several, hesitated, and then finally chose one with a contented sigh. That was his Ria, testing and weighing the options before wholeheartedly taking the plunge.
The candy would most likely make the kids hyper, but he didn’t figure it would make their visit any worse. Whatever he did, his parents wouldn’t be happy with him. They hadn’t been since he’d chosen to work at the post office. On the other hand, they would practically kiss Willard’s feet. He just hoped his brother had washed them.
When they finally arrived in Ogden, Ryan was feeling out of sorts. Take a deep breath, he told himself. He didn’t have to explain his life to his family anymore. He was doing what he wanted and that was enough, wasn’t it?
Fleetingly, he wished Laurie were there to help him through the next few hours. But that was selfish. His parents had never really approved of her. She hadn’t completed enough education for their liking, and though they never admitted it, the knowledge that Laurie had a grandmother who was Mexican had also worked against her. Laurie’s siblings looked as Caucasian as he did, but because Laurie had inherited that certain exotic something, either in the slightly olive cast of her skin or in the lovely sheen of her black hair, his parents had seen fit to treat her with little warmth.
The thought still made Ryan furious if he dwelt on it for long. He’d met Laurie’s grandmother before she’d died, and she had been one of the most gracious, honest, hard-working people he’d ever met. He had been only too proud to call her Abuela.
All that was behind them now. Or at least behind Laurie.
Fighting the longing for his old life, Ryan marched up the wide, sweeping steps ready to do battle.
“Finally,” said his mother, Elizabeth, as she opened the tall door. She wore a green, gauzy outfit with large fluttering sleeves that made her arms look rather like wings. Her short and well-coiffed hair was dyed to its youthful dark brown, which did little to flatter her aging face. She had gained weight, so she must be off her diet again, but at least that meant Tiger might find something to eat. Ryan liked his mother better when she wasn’t dieting; she looked younger when she was heavier and her face less pinched with worry.
Her eyes fell over his unshaven face and long hair, a question in her eyes. He’d forgotten about the hair. “It was for a play,” he explained.
“Oh, I see.” She hugged him, and he felt his heart soften. He really did love her. If it weren’t for his father, he’d come to visit more often.
He watched as his mother made a fuss over the children, hugging them and smoothing their black hair. Ria stuck her tongue out at Ryan as she received her hug, and Ryan stuck his out right back. Tiger giggled.
Okay, so maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he had expected.
His thought was quickly squelched as his brother strode into the spacious entryway as though he owned the place. �
�Ryan, is that you?” he said, with a New York accent that was more affectation than real. “You look positively heathen. Is that what all the postal carriers look like here? It’s enough to make you want to carry a gun when you go out to get the mail.”
“It’s for a play,” Elizabeth intervened. Ryan wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a note of pride in her voice. Maybe.
“You’re still acting? I thought you would have outgrown that by now. But then if you had, I suppose you wouldn’t still be at the post office slaving away.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Ryan said sarcastically. “Looks like you’ve gained weight. You know, you might want to get out of the courtroom and exercise more like I do working for the post office.” Along with her brown hair and blue eyes, Willard had inherited their mother’s tendency to gain weight, and he hated being reminded of that fact.
“Well, I guess I am a little preoccupied with earning a decent living,” Willard retorted.
“Now, boys,” Elizabeth chided. Yet her tone was one of helplessness, as though she knew they wouldn’t heed her words.
Ryan bit his tongue to stop the words he wanted to say and forced himself to give his older brother a hug. Willard was taller than he was, but all soft, so it was somewhat like hugging an oversized stuffed bear.
“So these are the kids.” Willard stared down at Ria and Tiger, who had removed their jackets and hung them on an elaborate wooden coat rack by the door. “They’ve sure grown since last Christmas.”
Ria stuck out her hand, apparently unwilling to endure another hug. “Hi, Uncle Willard. Where’s Aunt Cindy?”
“Ria,” Ryan warned. He’d told the kids Aunt Cindy had left Uncle Willard, but Ria must have forgotten. Frankly, he was amazed that Cindy had put up with her husband’s infidelities and neglect for as long as she had. Five long years. Willard’s mistreatment and lack of remorse had been so great that even her bishop had finally counseled her to leave. They had no children because Willard couldn’t yet bother with that kind of responsibility. He’d wanted to put off having a baby for at least another two years. It had been one more thing to cause Cindy anguish.
“Oh, yeah,” Ria said quickly. “I forgot. Too bad, ’cause I really liked her.”
Willard’s brow furrowed. “Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”
Ryan was about to defend his sister-in-law, but his mother’s expression of dismay stopped him. He put an arm around her and walked with her past Willard.
“We’re in the dining room,” she said.
“Where else?”
His father was already seated at the table, reading the Wall Street Journal, which Ryan knew he devoured more avidly than anything else—no matter what day of the week. He looked up as they entered, and Ryan felt the slight shock that he always felt after not seeing his father for several months.
Sterling Oakman was a man of only slightly more than average height, but he was strongly built with wide shoulders, firm muscles, and a narrow waist. His dark hair had gone almost completely white, but his face was younger than his sixty years. His eyes were Ryan’s own color—a steel gray. The shock came because Ryan knew he was looking into his own face in thirty years. Except he hoped—he prayed—that his face would not be so stern and that he would not exact the fear and frustration in his children’s heart that his father always did in his.
While Willard, the firstborn, had been named after their revered grandfather, who had controlled the family fortune at the time of his birth, Ryan had been named for his father, Sterling Ryan Oakman, though they’d ended up calling him by his middle name to avoid confusion. Ryan had wondered countless times if his name was part of why his father was so disappointed in his choice not to follow his own career in law. Maybe if they’d named him Joe or Tom or even Willard, he wouldn’t have cared so much.
At least today Ryan was dressed like his father—and so was Willard, of course. But Sundays were the only days he wore suit pants and a dress shirt.
“Ryan.” His father nodded and crossed the room. He took Ryan’s hand and shook it, his other hand coming up to pat his back. “You look well. All but the beard, of course. Another play?”
“I’m thinking of keeping it,” he said, just to be stubborn. “It suits me.”
“I don’t agree, but it’s your face.” His father waved a hand in dismissal. “Come here, children.” He shook their hands gravely. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Grandpa.” Ria was chewing on her lips, and next to her, Tiger shifted nervously. To Ryan’s relief, his mother clapped her hands for attention.
“Come on, let’s sit down. Dinner’s long been ready. Oh, I’d better get Tiger a bib.”
“Aw, Grandma, I don’t need a bib anymore. I’m not a baby.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Okay, then. If you say so.” She was rewarded by a sincere grin.
Sterling studied his grandson. “If he spills, I don’t suppose it’ll hurt that shirt.”
He was right. Tiger was wearing his favorite Spiderman shirt, and since he wore it every day after school except when Ryan could wrest it away for laundering, it was dingy and had a few tiny holes in it. Tiger loved the shirt so much that Ryan didn’t have the heart to throw it away.
“Spidey doesn’t care,” Tiger agreed.
“That’s right.” Ryan squeezed his shoulder before looking his father in the eye, almost expecting him to say something more, but Sterling avoided Ryan’s gaze.
“Willard,” Sterling said, “will you offer the blessing on the food?”
Ryan bent his head with the others. He should have been grateful his family actually said prayers, not irritated that Willard was always the one asked. Next to him, Tiger put his hand out to touch Ryan’s leg, and Ryan covered it with his larger one. I will never make you doubt your worth, he promised silently.
The meal began in near silence, with everyone passing food around the table. Elizabeth helped Ria, while Ryan filled Tiger’s plate, making sure to avoid the green beans. Thankfully, there was corn as well, which Tiger adored. As Ryan cut the pot roast into small bites, Tiger promptly took one with his fingers and stuck it in his mouth.
“Use your fork,” admonished his grandfather.
With a wary look in his direction, Tiger found his fork and, grabbing it in his fist, jabbed it into a piece of meat. Sterling sighed and looked away.
He’s only four! Ryan wanted to protest. But Tiger hadn’t noticed anything, so it was better left unsaid. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his mother watching him worriedly. Ryan wished it was time to leave.
“Aren’t you going to ask what we learned in church today?” Ria asked. That was their routine at home while they ate. “I learned about Jesus getting baptized. He left us a perfect example.”
“I learned about families!” Tiger yelled. He always yelled when he got excited. Ryan saw his father flinch.
“It’s not your turn. It’s Grandma’s.” Ria looked at Elizabeth. “What did you learn?”
“In Relief Society, we talked about testimonies.”
“You went to church?” Ryan didn’t think about the words before they slipped out.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” his father said. “We go every week.”
“You didn’t use to.”
“Well, we do now.”
That was it. No stories of conversion or spiritual revelation. Nothing but the cut and dried declaration.
“Well, that’s good, I guess.”
His father’s eyes settled on him for a few minutes before he turned to Willard. “So, tell me what’s going on at work?” In the space of a heartbeat the two of them were in their own world, discussing legal cases, business mergers, and whatever else successful, workaholic lawyers liked to talk about. For an instant, Ryan was cast back into the role he’d played as a child, knowing his brother was his father’s favorite but helpless to do anything about it. He hadn’t liked sports like they did, and money had never been important to him. Was that because his parents had take
n care of all his needs?
Money was certainly important to him now that he had children. Yet not important enough to take him away from them. After Tiger had been born, he’d seriously thought about changing careers but had stayed with the post office. His job, though he did enjoy working the route, was first and foremost a way to earn sufficient money and keep the schedule he required. His life was his kids. He’d always felt that the freedom to be with his children was far more important than a fat bank account. If he’d received a dollar for every hour his father had worked overtime while he was growing up, Ryan would be a wealthy man right now. If he’d had a dollar for every time his father had played with him, he wouldn’t be able to pay a month’s mortgage.
His mother made small talk to cover the fact that his father and brother ignored him. Ryan tried not to care. He regaled her with backstage stories which had her and the children laughing. At one point he stopped to see that his father and Willard were also listening.
At last dinner was over, but not the end of his torture. “Come sit in the green room,” his mother said, leading the way. The green room was a large patio that had been encased in glass to form a showcase for his mother’s plants. The floor was lined with beautiful hand-painted tiles and large cream-colored throw rugs that were the thickest, softest rugs he’d ever seen. The upscale, olive-colored, wrought iron patio furniture was comfortable but not meant for children to jump on, though to Elizabeth’s dismay, the cushions made decidedly good oversized Frisbees. After the second warning to Tiger, Ryan asked his mother desperately, “Don’t you have a ball or something they could take outside and throw around?” It wasn’t a normal Sunday activity for them, but it was that or leave immediately—which would make things even worse with his parents.
A light came to her eyes. “Good idea. I found a box of things a few months ago. I’ve been meaning to ask if you want them.” She hurried away and returned with the children’s jackets and a blue tote box of mitts, baseballs, and other sports paraphernalia that Ryan recognized as once belonging to him and Willard. Everything was in almost new condition. While his father and Willard had loved watching sports, their love had never extended to actually playing. As for Ryan, well, it was never much fun to play alone.
Huntington Family Series Page 93
