Family Blessings (14 page)

At six he cruised it one more time and discovered an oscillating sprinkler fanning back and forth over her front lawn: She was up. Was she having coffee in the kitchen the way the two of them had a couple days ago? It took an effort to roll past without stopping to ask for a cup.

At seven he left his bullet-proof vest in his locker and went home to bed.

The phone rang at 1:30 that afternoon and woke him up.

"Hello, Chris, this is Lee."

"Lee . .." He twisted around to peer, one-eyed, at the digital clock.

"Hi." His voice sounded like somebody scraping paint.

"Oh, no . . . did I wake you?"

"That's okay. No problem."

"I'm sorry. I should have called the station for your schedule before I dialed. Did you work last night?"

"Yeah, dogwatch, but that's okay." He settled on his back and wedged a pillow beneath his head, squinting at the bars of sunlight just beginning to peek through the blinds.

"I really am sorry."

"I usually get up around two anyway. Don't give it another thought."

He dredged some sandmen out of his eyes, thinking she could call and wake him every day and he wouldn't mind. "There's stuff I want to do this afternoon anyway. I've got a little rattle in one of the doors on my Explorer and I want to take it in and see if they can get it out of there."

"Everybody got a ride in your Explorer but me. How do you like it?"

"Love it. I'll take you for a ride sometime and you can see for yourself.

Joey really liked it, too."

"So I understand. You let him drive."

' .

r "I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. If it were one of his friends I'd be madder than heck, but with you--one of our men in blue how can I object?"

"We talked a little . . . about Greg. Got some feelings out in the open."

"He needed that very badly, to talk to a man."

"How's Janice doing?"

"She's very blue and sleeps a lot. I think she'll have more trouble than Joey will, getting over this."

"And you--I won't make the mistake of asking how you're doing.

What are you doing?"

"Trying to face the idea of going back to work again. It's hard when your thoughts are so scattered. I can't seem to concentrate on anything. But I'll have to go back soon and relieve Sylvia.

She's been pulling double duty. Today I'm facing a stack of post-funeral business items that seems endless. That's what I'm calling about. Greg's things."

"I told you there's no rush. You don't have to get them out of here until you're good and ready."

"I know, but it's hanging over me like a storm cloud. I want to get it done with and put it behind me. I thought, if it's okay with you, I'd come over on Sunday. My shop is closed that day and Janice and Joey should both be around to help me."

"I'll still be working the night shift so I'll be here all day.

You can come anytime you want."

"You said you usually get up around two?"

"Give me till noon."

"Five hours of sleep? Christopher, that's not enough."

"All right, how about one o'clock?"

"Two is better. I don't want to mess up your sleeping schedule.

You cops get little enough of it as it is."

"All right, two. What are you going to use to haul the furniture in?"

"Jim Clements next door said I could use his pickup."

"You okay driving it or do you want me to come over and drive?"

"Jim offered, too, but I'll be just fine. See you Sunday at two."

"Fine."

"And, Christopher?"

"Hen?"

"Please go back to sleep. I feel so bad I woke you."

She planned to ask the kids at supper that night if they'd help her.

Before she could do so, Joey announced that Denny Whitman had asked him to drive up to the lake that day with his family.

"Oh," she said, halting in the midst of setting a bowl of scalloped potatoes on the table. "I sort of made plans for the three of us to go over to Greg's apartment and pack up his things that day. I was counting on both of you to help me." She sat down at her place and Joey began filling his plate.

"On Sunday?" he complained. "Couldn't we do it on Saturday so I could still go up to the lake with the Whitmans? They're only going for that one day."

Lee hid her disappointment and reminded herself he was only fourteen.

At that age kids had a lot to learn about their parents' needs, especially in a situation like this. The Whitmans had undoubtedly invited him with the best of intentions, realizing that he needed diversions now more than ever.

"Janice?" she said, glancing at her daughter.

Janice put down her fork and shifted her gaze out the kitchen window while her eyes filled with tears. On her plate, her favorite food in the world was scarcely touched. "Mom . . . I . .

. I'm just not ready for that yet. Can't we put it off for a while?"

Lee set her fork down, too.

Janice added, "And anyway, I'm supposed to work on Sunday." She clerked at The Gap store at Northtown Shopping Center. "I'm afraid if I don't go back pretty soon I might lose my job, and I need the money for college. Can't we put it off for a while?"

Lee took Janice's hand and held it on the tabletop. "Of course we can," she said quietly. "Christopher says there's no rush at all."

Janice blinked and her tears fell. She withdrew her hand from Lee's, swiped beneath both eyes, retrieved her fork and filled it with chunks of potato and ham, then stared at it for some time before the fork handle clinked against her plate. "Mom, I'm just not hungry tonight."

She lifted her brimming eyes to Lee. "The scalloped potatoes are great--honest. But I think I'll just . . .

I don't know . . . go to my room for a while."

"Go ahead. The potatoes will keep till another day."

When Janice was gone Lee and Joey fought the feeling of abandonment, but it won. Joey had eaten only half of his dinner when he, too, said, "Mom, I'm not very hungry either. Could I be excused?"

"Sure," she said. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe go over to the ballpark, watch a couple games."

"All right. Go on," she said understandingly.

He rose and stood by his chair uncertainly. "Want me to help you with the dishes?"

"I can do them. Give me a kiss." He pecked her on the cheek while she patted his waist. "Have a good time and be back by ten."

"I will."

He left the house and she sat at the table, listening to him raise the kickstand of his ten-speed bicycle, then whir away on it until its clickety-sigh disappeared down the driveway. She sat on, lonely beyond words, willing herself to get up and put away the leftovers, rinse the plates, load the dishwasher. These were healthy pursuits that would help lift her spirits. But she was so tired at that moment of falsely trying to lift those spirits.

Instead she remained at the table, her chin braced on a palm, staring out the window at the backyard. She could go pull a few weeds in the garden, stake up the delphiniums, which were blooming heavily, pick a bouquet for the kitchen table. She could call her mom or Sylvia, ask Janice if she'd like to go to a movie, go outside and wash the car, get into it and return the various cake pans and Pyrex dishes that people had left here and never come back to collect. She could scribble a few thank-you cards.

She sighed, weary of being the strong one for everyone else's benefit, wishing someone else would take over the duty for just this one evening. She sat on at the table, overcome by a lassitude SG enormous it seemed insurmountable.

She turned her head and stared down the front hall at the sunshine bouncing off the white siding and lighting the front entry. Such a sad time of day, suppertime, when you were sitting at a table alone. Jim Clements's truck rolled past, he was a construction worker and just getting home from work. Two young girls in bathing suits rode past on their bicycles. Their ten-year-old chatter filled Lee with sadness.

Everybody busy, heading for someplace, to do something with someone.

She was still sitting there morosely when a black-and-white squad car rolled past her line of vision and pulled into her driveway.

She was up and out the front door before she realized she felt rescued.

She got outside in time to see Christopher, in full uniform, getting out of the car. His unexpected appearance filled her with sudden happiness.

He slammed the door but left the engine running, and came around the front of the car. She moved toward him eagerly, energized by some new reaction she had not expected. She had always rather clumped him with Greg's friends and thought of him as a boy. But the police officer approaching her was no boy. His navy blue uniform granted him a stature, a respectability, a maturity that caught her unaware. His visored hat was anchored low over his eyes. His uniform shirt, pressed to perfection, was tucked in smoothly, holding chevrons, pins and badges of all sorts. His tie was neatly knotted beneath his tanned chin. The heavy black leather holders on his belt lent him additional authority while his bullet-proof vest added girth to his overall shape.

They met at the front of the car, beside the hot, running engine.

"Hi," he said, removing his sunglasses and smiling.

"Hi." She stuck both hands into the front pockets of her white shorts.

"I didn't expect to see you today."

"Some mail came for Greg." He handed it to her.

"Thanks." She glanced down and leafed through four envelopes. "I guess I'd better go to the post office and fill out a change-of-address form. I'll have to add it to the list. I'd forgotten how much paperwork has to be done when someone dies."

She looked up again. "I thought you were working the eleven-to-seven shift."

"I'm supposed to be, but one of the guys asked me to exchange shifts with him today." The radio on his belt began crackling out a dispatch, and he reached down without looking to adjust its volume. Greg used to do the same thing. She could never figure out how they could decipher the stuttering radio and carry on a conversation at the same time. "I just passed Joey back there.

Said he was heading over to the ballpark."

"Summer leagues," she replied. "Much better than hanging around the dreary house."

"How about you? You just hanging around the dreary house?"

"I'm going back to work pretty soon. I figure I've let Sylvia carry the load long enough. Christopher, about Sunday though . .

"

He waited, standing with his feet planted firmly in thick-soled black regulation shoes.

"The kids can't help me that day. Joey wants to go up to the lake with Denny, and Janice just needs some time yet before she can face the job.

So we'll have to do it some other time."

"I'll help you," he said.

"But you've helped so much already."

"I was planning to help anyway. If you want to go ahead, the two of us can probably handle it all ourselves. If you want to wait for the kids to be there with you--well, that's fine too."

"It's not an easy job," she told him. "I've done it before, after Bill died, and it can be devastating."

"Then we could spare the kids, couldn't we?" After a beat he added, watching her very closely, "But I imagine sometimes you get a little tired of sparing the kids and wish they'd spare you."

How intuitive, she thought. For a man so young, he could read her with amazing accuracy. Sometimes when she had such thoughts she felt guilty, but hearing him put voice to them filled her with a sense of relief and excused her of the guilt.

"How did you know?" she asked.

On his radio a voice came through, sputtering like arcing electrical current. "Three Bravo Eighteen."

"Just a minute," he told Lee, plucking the radio from his belt and nearly touching it to his lips. She had never before noticed what beautifully sculpted lips he had. "Three Bravo Eighteen."

The crackly voice said, "Eight two zero west Main Street.

Apartment number G-thirty-seven. Report of loud voices. Possible domestic in progress. No one to be seen."

"Copy," he said, then to Lee, "Sorry, I've got to go." He slipped his sunglasses back on. "Let me know about Sunday. In my opinion you should wait for your kids, but if you decide to go ahead we can get it done in three hours. Then you can stop dreading it."

She nodded and found herself following him to the door of the squad car, waiting while he got in and scribbled the address on a legal pad beside him on the front seat. He reached for the dash radio to report his car number and the time. "Three Bravo Eighteen en route.

Eighteen-oh-nine." He replaced the radio on the dash, put the car into I reverse and said out the open window, "You look tired. Get some sleep." A simple farewell, but with a familiarity that unexpectedly stirred a reaction deep within her. It was the kind of blandishment a husband might toss out, the kind that implied caring that went much deeper than the words.

She crossed her arms and watched him leave. She'd seen Greg do it dozens of times, slinging an arm along the top of the seat and craning around to look through the rear window as he pelted backward at ten miles an hour. The car bounced off the concrete apron at the end of the driveway, and he lifted a hand in farewell as he roared away down the street.

Long after he had disappeared she stood in the driveway looking after him.

She returned to work later that week to the blessed balm of routine.

Opening the store at 8 A.M brewing coffee, watering all the arrangements in the cooler and checking their care cards to see what day each was made the familiar motions brought ease, though often she found herself staring into space. Sylvia asked often, "How are you doing, sis?" Their hired arrangers, Pat Galsworthy and Nancy McFaddon, also showed concern, but Lee found herself answering by rote, rather than expressing what she really felt: that she was absolutely dreading Sunday, when she had to face Greg's possessions.

By Sunday she had put a full nine days between herself and Greg's death, but it helped little in light of the duty that lay ahead.

She awakened early, with four hours to spare before church. At six-thirty she was out in the backyard, kneeling on a green rubber pad, pulling quack grass from between the daylilies and wishing it were tomorrow morning and today was behind her.