by Amanda Tru
The older woman hesitated as if approaching a delicate topic. She shifted closer, still holding Eleanor’s hands, and gazed into her eyes. “Your father and I have been talking. You’ve been going through a hard time, and maybe you should talk to someone. We’d be happy to pay for a counselor.”
“Because I don’t want to be a teacher?” Eleanor stood. “Come on, Mom… there are other careers in the world!”
Her mother’s tender mood evaporated. “Maybe there are, but I don’t see you pursuing any of them. You’ve just run off to find yourself, without thinking of anyone else.”
Eleanor took a step forward. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not a teacher.”
“Oh, Eleanor.”
Their embrace felt hollow, as if nothing had been mended, but it had been an embrace. She wasn’t leaving in an open quarrel. Hopefully, things would be better at Christmas. Or maybe there would be a blizzard, and she’d get snowed in at the cabin.
She should have listened to her mother. Eleanor leaned forward, clutching the steering wheel as if afraid it might jerk away and throw the Subaru Outback into the ditch. She’d left early enough to get home before dark, but at four o’clock, dusk hung in the trees. At least it wasn’t snowing. A gray shadow flashed in her peripheral vision, and she flinched. She hadn’t hit a deer since she was 18, but she still remembered the sick feeling.
The road narrowed to a tunnel, overhung with tree boughs, pines pressing in on both sides. Soren was right; she could get snowed in here. Uncle Gary said he’d keep it plowed, but what if there was a big storm or, like last year, new snow every day? She could never shovel her way out.
Relief lightened her spirits as she passed the sign and motion-activated floodlights lit the driveway. She’d become fond of that fish-shaped sign since moving here. Its incorrectly-placed apostrophe used to niggle at her, until her mother pointed out that since her brother was single, it was the proper usage. Currently single, her mother had clarified. Eleanor wondered if he kept a sign that said The Andersons’ in storage for his married phases.
She pulled into the garage and shut off the engine. She couldn’t stay here through the winter. She’d be a basket case by December—even worse than she’d been six months ago, when she’d finally made the decision to leave her job and set out to find herself. She’d never find herself out here. She was lucky to find the cabin.
Cabin was a misnomer. Uncle Gary didn’t seem to grasp the concept. This place was larger than his house in town and more luxuriously appointed. She tapped in the security code and pushed the door open. The hallway light came on automatically, flooding the great room with comfort. Through the glass wall of windows, security lights illuminated the backyard—front yard? Eleanor wasn’t used to thinking of the road access as the backyard. The front yard was the one on the lake.
She switched off the exterior lights and went into the kitchen. In the evenings, now that it was dark so early, she felt exposed in the great room, with its massive glass wall. She preferred the interior spaces and the dining room, where blinds offered privacy from anyone skulking outside or on the lake.
Eleanor wrinkled her nose at the faint fragrance of cigar smoke. The refrigerator was probably full of beer, too, if her uncle and his friends hadn’t drunk it all. He griped about city hunters who came up, drank themselves to sleep and then went out hung over, but he wasn’t exactly abstinent himself. Eleanor cleared out for the long weekend, according to their agreement, so they could have their annual hunting trip. She hoped she wouldn’t see deer carcasses hanging from trees in the morning.
They’d been tidy, at least. The furniture wasn’t in exactly the same position she’d left it, and the mudroom was… muddy. Cleaning was her responsibility—even cleaning up after a hunting party. Free rent came with a price.
The trill of her phone, unexpected in the silence, startled her. Her mother, of course. Eleanor picked up her coat and rummaged for the phone.
“Hi, Mom. I made it safely.”
“Good! I’ve been worried. How was the trip?”
“Uneventful—the best kind.”
“No deer? Was the traffic bad?”
“It was all going in the other direction. Hunters heading home with dead deer strapped to the tops of their SUV’s. I had the northbound road to myself. And it’s not exactly an expedition across the country.” It sure felt like it, for the last 20 miles, though. Eleanor rolled the stiffness from her neck.
“Far enough, during hunting season, in the dark.”
True. “Well, I just got here and dropped my bag in the hall. I’m going to put your care package in the fridge and get unpacked. I have work in the morning.” She could hear her mother’s disapproval in the brief silence. “It was fun to spend Thanksgiving with all of you. Tell Dad I love him and I’ll beat him at chess when I’m there for Christmas.”
“That reminds me.” Her mother ignored Eleanor’s attempt to end the conversation. “After you left, we started talking about our anniversary. Laurie wants to have a party for us.”
“On Valentine’s Day?”
“The fifteenth. Valentine’s Day is on a Thursday. It was all her idea, but your dad and I are looking forward to it.”
Her sister-in-law had jumped right into the Nielson family, not only adding another female to their male-dominated family but producing grandchildren. Twins. Laurie was an overachiever. Eleanor, still single with no prospects in sight, was a failure in more ways than one. It hadn’t even occurred to her to throw a party. She would have called, of course, and maybe even remembered to send a card.
“That will be nice! I’ll be there.” They all knew she didn’t have any other plans for Valentine’s Day.
David Reid inhaled the cold air, welcoming the fresh bite after the clamor and heat of the gymnasium. Cars clogged the street, unloading returning students stuffed with turkey and hurrying back to cram for tomorrow’s exams. There were always exams on the Monday after Thanksgiving weekend.
His own teachers were just as sadistic—he pictured them cackling and rubbing their hands in glee—but he’d come back in time to study before worship team practice on Friday. It was his turn to choose the songs, and he’d sneaked in one of his Russ Taff favorites. Not many of today’s congregation had known it, of course, but the “Praise the Lord’ choruses were easy to pick up. The older members of the church—the Jesus People generation—sang it with gusto.
“Hey, David!”
He turned and waited for his friend. “Hey, Larry. What are you doing out here?”
The other man trotted to catch up. Not built for trotting, he puffed at the exertion as he came to a stop. “Hoping to find you. I texted a couple times, then I called, and left a voice message, and then I remembered you were here and probably had your phone in a locker. I was afraid you’d get all of it at once and think it was an emergency, so I thought I’d run over and talk to you at the gym.”
David chuckled. “But it’s not an emergency?”
“Not really an emergency—not for me, anyhow. Cal asked me to ask you to take the presentation to the city council tomorrow because his daughter had her baby early, and he and Meg are flying out there.”
“He asked you to ask me….” His boss was notorious for sliding out of awkward situations. “Are his daughter and the baby okay?”
“I think so. He was in a hurry and asked me if I’d talk to you. He said you knew all about the proposal and could present it as well as he could.”
“You do know I have to wear a suit and tie for that, right?” David asked darkly.
Larry sighed, looking like a deflating balloon. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” David slapped him on the back. “Cal does that—makes other people do the dirty work. He should have called me himself, but there you were… all sympathetic and wanting to be helpful. He’s an engineer, not a people person like you.”
“That’s me… a psychologist has to be a people person.”
“Hey, it pays well, right? And there’s job s
ecurity. The world gets crazier all the time, so psychologists will always be in demand.”
Larry scratched his nose. “That’s not exactly how it’s supposed to work. Do you need a ride home?”
“That would be great, thanks. I’d better review the proposal and iron my good shirt.”
David ran a finger around the inside of his collar. Associate pastors didn’t have to wear dress shirts and ties, did they? These days, even head pastors dressed more casually. As an engineer, he usually wore whatever was clean and comfortable. It was a good job—just not his calling.
This had been a futile attempt, just like the last one, and just like the next one would be. Cal’s technology was miles ahead of everyone else, but he couldn’t back up his claims with years of successful application, and no one would give him the opportunity to try. The city council members were interested and liked the proposal; they just couldn’t put taxpayer money into something that might or might not work. When they did, Ridgewell Mechanical would be ready to go. They’d bring big jobs to the community, too—big for St. Cloud, anyhow.
He tugged the tie loose and shoved it into the pocket of his wool coat, his fingers touching his cell phone just as it vibrated. He answered without reading the screen.
“David Reid, Ridgewell Mechanical.”
“Hello, David. I’m so glad I caught you!”
Angela. He’d let her last few attempts go to voice mail, feeling guilty for not answering her calls but conflicted about how to respond.
“Hi, Angela. Sorry I missed your calls. It’s been hectic.” He glanced back at the building he’d just left. “I’m at city hall right now, working. Is there something I can do for you?” Wrong question. He tried to think of an excuse, but she jumped in ahead of him.
“How about lunch? Engineers have to eat, to keep that brain fueled up.” Her tone was flirtatious. “Or if you’re stuck at work like you usually are, how about dinner? At my place, or we can go out.”
“I have classes most evenings.” He’d told her that a dozen times. He softened his voice. After all, she knew he was a Christian. He ought to be winning her for Christ, not driving her off. “It’s just a busy time for me.”
“Not too busy to eat,” she insisted. “We could grab a bite right after you get off work.”
“I can’t.” He tried to sound regretful. Cal’s much-younger sister was like a bulldozer. She’d already driven over two of his coworkers, and he was the next man in her path. David had no desire to join her list of victims.
“What about Sunday? I’d love to visit your church, and we could have brunch afterward.”
He stopped and pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen as if he could read her mind through it. Surely, she had no desire to go to church. She was probably just willing to sit through 90 minutes of boredom if it would get her what she wanted. Right now, that appeared to be David.
Church. She’d found the golden ticket. He couldn’t say no to taking her to church.
“Okay, do you know where Grace Chapel is?” David held the phone between his ear and shoulder while he buttoned his coat.
“How about if you just pick me up?”
Oh, no. That wasn’t happening. “I have to be there early. Really early, for music practice and prayer meeting.”
“Prayer meeting? Is that open to the public? I could do that.”
He grinned at the optimistic note in her voice. Under different circumstances, he’d admire her persistence. “It’s really just a small group of guys—mostly older men. The service starts at ten.”
“Sounds good! I don’t know anyone there, so I’ll sit with you.”
The old ladies of the church would eat that up. They were always trying to introduce him to their granddaughters and nieces, convinced that a single man with a steady job must be in want of a wife. So far, none of the granddaughters and nieces had been at all interested in becoming a wife.
“And we’ll go out for brunch afterward,” Angela finished triumphantly. “See you then, David!”
Maybe Pastor Jack would have a good sermon on Sunday. Something scholarly that David could expound upon through brunch. He’d bore her into abandoning him. Guiltily, he winced as he slid the phone back into his pocket with the despised necktie. Jack did like to preach Old Testament exposition, but it would be better to have an evangelical message for Angela. How could he be so self-centered and conceited? That girl needed Jesus.
The phone rang again almost immediately, and he checked the caller name before answering.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello! I just called to see how your presentation went. Any luck?”
“Nope, another rejection. My ego is suffering.”
She chuckled. “I doubt it. It’ll happen eventually, even if it’s after you’re gone.”
He headed toward the parking lot, glad to have a normal conversation after what he could only describe as an assault. “Hey, you want to come to church with me this weekend?”
“I don’t think we can, this weekend. Is something special going on?”
“No, just wondering.”
“How about next weekend? We could do that.”
David opened his car door and climbed inside. Out of the wind, he relaxed in the sun-warmed interior. “I bet you just need a weekend to recover from Thanksgiving.”
“Well, your dad did suggest a vacation was in order. That was quite a day.”
“There must have been a hundred kids,” David said. “All of my cousins are reproducing like rabbits.”
His mother laughed. “No one person had more than two or three kids… there are just a lot of you! We’ve never had everyone from both sides of the family all at once before—at least, not since you were little. And it wasn’t a hundred kids.”
“It seemed like it.”
“There were 13,” she said, “and Ian is 16, so you really shouldn’t count him with the children. But five of them were under five years old, and it was pretty hectic.”
It had been great. David spent most of Thanksgiving Day playing games with the older kids and tickling the little ones. He looked out the windshield. A young woman waited at the intersection, pushing a stroller and holding another child by the hand. The little girl was hopping up and down and appeared to be singing. “Maybe you’ll have a grandchild of your own next year, if Nick and Heather finally get around to starting a family.”
“Maybe.”
“I was looking at all those kids,” David said, “and I realized that none of them are Reids. I’m the only Reid descendant. Grandpa Ken was the only boy in his family. Uncle Kenneth had all girls.”
“That’s right. Does that worry you?”
“I just hadn’t thought about it. I also realized that I’m the only unmarried cousin on either side of our family, Except for Uncle Kenneth’s girls, and they’re all still in school.” Everyone was paired off in happy couples, families with babies and full lives. David, the thirty-year-old engineer, was still single. Loser.
“You’ll find the right girl in God’s timing, David. Right now, you’re pretty busy with work and school.”
“But I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time when I’m not busy. You’re busy, and all your kids are grown and gone.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, “but it will happen, David. Yes, we’d love to have grandchildren, but we’ll be grateful for whatever God sends us. On Thanksgiving, He sent us 13 great-nieces and nephews, and that was a bit overwhelming.”
“It sure was.” David started the car. “I need to get back to work, so I’ll talk to you later. Plan on next Sunday, though. Love you.”
“I love you, too. Be careful.”
“I always am. Don’t forget next Sunday.”
At least he’d have backup if Angela wanted to attend the following weekend, too.
“I don’t know if you saw the weather forecast or not, but we’re supposed to get some snow tonight.”
Gary Anderson, a lanky man with the blue eyes and
prominent brow of his Scandinavian ancestors, peered at Eleanor over the reading glasses he wore in the office.
Her heart sank. “How much?”
“Just a few inches. Maybe three. Do you want me to come and plow you out in the morning?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. The Outback has all-wheel drive. I’m a Minnesotan, remember? We can drive in snow.”
“You can drive in city snow,” her uncle retorted. “Have you ever been out of town in the snow? A little wind can drift the snow right over the road, and it’s hard not to slam on the brakes when something jumps out in front of you. That’s when accidents happen.”
“I know not to slam on the brakes and to watch for other cars that may not be able to stop at intersections. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I go slowly.”
“I’ll come out and plow, just to make sure. Better safe than sorry.”
He went into his office, and Eleanor spun on her stool, tapping the blueprints she’d been examining. He wouldn’t like having to plow all the way to the cabin every time it snowed this winter. Last year, they’d had three feet of snow in April. She could shovel, or even learn to use the snowblower Uncle Gary kept in the garage, but the road to the cabin was a mile long and not high on the county’s plowing priority list.
She couldn’t afford to move. The use of the cabin was part of her pay. Even if Uncle Gary was willing to pay her a bit more, rentals were scarce. And why should he pay her more? She was slow as molasses at her job, and he had to double-check everything she did. The last take-off had been perfect, though, and she was studying the manuals he’d given her. She’d get better.
The work absorbed her attention. It was like a puzzle. The answers were right or wrong, unlike teaching, with its subjective nature and results that might not be seen for years—if she was making a difference at all.
Three hours later, Eleanor stretched and slid from the stool. Lunchtime. Peanut butter and jelly was good for you, right? It had been one of her favorite lunches, when it was a special treat instead of a steady diet. For the last few years, she’d wolfed down microwaved frozen meals and hurried back to her classroom to prepare for her next class—and to make sure the dear children didn’t come in and steal her stapler.
