Starting Over

Chapter 9

Chapter 9Janet lay in bed listening to the tiny creaks and groans of the house. At length, she got up and wrapped a robe around her. As she opened the door to her bedroom, she heard Nate bumping around in the kitchen. Megan was overnighting with Ben again. The fourth time this week! At the rate things were going, Megan would be looking to move out shortly, with Nate following close behind, if not sooner. Then she'd be alone. The thought unsettled her.

Up to recently, she hadn't considered what it'd be like to be alone again. The inevitability made her chest tighten. This is ridiculous. She closed her eyes, collected herself and joined Nate in the kitchen. There she poured herself a cup of coffee, toasted a bagel and sat with the Sunday morning paper splayed in front of her.

“I think you're sister's gonna be out the door in the near future, too,” she said, peeking at her son from over the top of the paper. “Then I'll have this place back to myself.”

Nate looked up from shoveling a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “Not exactly. You'll have Cleo here. But I get it. You'll be okay.”

“Of course I will,” she said. “You're coming with me later to your brother's, right?”

“I guess,” he said. “Why are we going again?”

She took a sip of coffee and a bite of her bagel. “I guess Nadia found something I need to see.”

He set his spoon in his bowl and sat back. “Hmm…”

“What?”

“I guess I don't understand why Trev couldn't have just told you over the phone. But whatever.”

“Well, yes, but there's sauerbraten, too,” she said.

“There is that.” He smiled knowingly, picked up his bowl and shuffled over to the counter. Over his shoulder, he added, “Oh, I meant to tell you, Andy down at the VA scored a couple Trailblazer tickets and invited me go. Game's, next week. The 23rd I think.”

“Did he?” She set her paper down. Inviting my son to a Trailblazers game, are we? “This is a surprise.”

He turned back to her and squared his shoulders. “There a problem?”

“No. Just make sure it's not on Christmas Eve.”

Janet and Nate headed for Lincoln City under sunny skies. Balmy days were rare in the Pacific Northwest during the winter and she gladly soaked it up. She glanced over at Nate. He was staring intently out the passenger side window. “So, any guesses on what Trevor found,” she said trying to make conversation.

The only reply she got was Cleo yawning in the back seat. She eyed the dog in the rearview mirror and saw him gazing back with droopy brown eyes. He licked his muzzle and flipped his long, floppy ears over his shoulders.

“Nate…hello?”

“I heard you,” he said, keeping his gaze pinned to the passing landscape. “I haven't a clue.”

She sighed then focusing on the road again, turned the radio up. They listened to the banter of the disc jockey for the next five minutes until he handed his show over to the evening newscaster.

“…The retired paramedic who arrived on the scene of the fiery crash is being hailed as a hero. First responders reported his quick thinking saved the life of folklorist, Garrett Anderson, who'd suffered a heart attack leading to the collision. Mr. McNamara has refused to comment, other than to say, 'It was something you just do.' And now, onto other news, the common council…”

“Wow!” Nate said. “I wonder what he did.”

You are something Mr. McNamara, that's for sure. But it was the man Andy had saved that was foremost in her mind. She remembered the day she'd met Garrett. It was during her sophomore year at OSU. March 3rd, 1978. The day he'd planted a seed that grew and got her thinking about the arts. It wasn't so much the science in his lecture, but instead, his anecdotal stories. The man noted the presence of sustainability in nature and saw its perfection within its chaos; its beauty within its simplicity. His lecture changed the direction of her life.

At last, she shook her head and muttered, “I hope you're all right, Garrett.”

“You know this Garrett what's his name?”

“Umm…Yes, I do.” She turned the radio down and saw him eyeing her with a raised brow. “He's a noted folklorist. Addressed my Environmental Engineering class in my sophomore year.” She smiled: saw Garret's thin, clean-shaven face in her mind's eye. How was it she'd forgotten him all these years?

Nate shrugged. “Oh.” He fell quiet, then eyed her sidelong. “Wait, you were studying Engineering? You never told me that.”

She shrugged.

“So, what made you change your mind…and Environmental Engineering? Somehow, I can't see you as an engineer, Mom.”

“To answer your first question: Garrett changed my mind. His view of nature got me to see life from a different perspective. Instead of trying to engineer it and make it better, that it was fine just the way it was. I found it was better to protect it by telling its story through the lens of my camera. As for how I started out in engineering…well your grandfather was a Mechanical Engineer and–”

“You followed along…I get it.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him studying her. That she hadn't told him much about her college years when he was growing up had never occurred to her. Then again, they'd been turbulent years when she was battling to come to terms with who she was along with her parent's divorce and a father who was always holding her at arm's length.

“For a long time, I wanted to be an Architect like Dad, but…”

“It's never too late to follow a dream, Nate,” she said, shifting away from dark memories to something more upbeat. In a rush, she continued, “You're only limited by your imagination, you know that, right? You're still–” She stopped herself from saying, young, and went on, – still able to get into the spring semester at Chemeketa. From there you can matriculate to OSU.”

He shook his head. Looked away. “That's not my dream anymore.”

“Okay, then something else,” she said, trying to ignore the disappointment her beloved Neil would've felt or was it sadness or both? She didn't know. “How about engineering…or maybe something with computers. Programming or web design? You're good with that stuff and they have classes for that as well.”

“Actually, I don't know.” He abruptly shifted in his seat. “I just know what I don't want.”

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to pressure him any further. “We can talk about it later.”

Janet pulled the car into the long, serpentine drive leading up through the tall grasses. At the end of the drive was the family cottage that had been passed down from Aunt June years ago. Now it was Trevor and Nadia's home. She parked in the turn-around off to the side of the modest A-Frame. A commanding view of the Pacific greeted her. She collected her purse and got out. Trevor came out from behind the cottage.

“How was the drive?”

“It was fine. Are we too early?”

“Not at all,” Trevor said as he put his arm around Nate. “You hungry, big guy?”

Nate opened the back door and let Cleo out. “I could eat.”

“Great, let's get inside,” Trevor said.

He led them around the side of the cottage. When he opened the door, the tangy scent of vinegar brine leapt out. Janet's mouth watered as she stepped inside. She hung her coat on a gnarled, wooden coat tree and saw a rusted metal case the size of a banker's box on the Living Room floor.

That must be what I'm here for. She strode into the kitchen and found Nadia putting the final touches on dinner. Her daughter-in-law looked up as she covered the large roasting pan.

“Janet, how nice it is to see you,” Nadia said in her exacting German accent. She removed her crisp white apron and tossing it on the counter, drew her into a firm hug. “You brought your appetite, right?”

“What about me?” Nate said as he entered the 'L' shaped kitchen.

Nadia let go of Janet and waved her hand in dismissal toward Nate. “You…I don't worry about. You are always hungry.” She pointed the refrigerator out to him. “There's a bottle of wine in there. Pull it out and uncork it for us while Janet and I relax in the other room.” She led Janet back into the expansive living area and motioned to the arrayed fixed windows overlooking the Pacific. “Trev's nervous about what is in that box over there. I told him, it is nothing to worry about. He does not listen to me though.”

“Honey, I thought we agreed to deal with that after dinner,” Trevor said, coming in. Nate straggled in behind him. They both carried a glass of wine. Trevor gave his to Janet and shot his wife a frown.

Nadia softened her brusque German accent. “What difference does it make Trev whether you show her now or later? Get it over with.”

Nate looked on, puzzled.

Trevor eyed Janet anxiously. “I guess it doesn't matter,” he said at last, going over to pick it up. “I don't know how long it's been buried. Nadia found it under the flowerbed near the back deck. It's been there a while. Before you open it, I want you to know we had no idea what was in it until I opened it.”

He set it on the dining room table behind them and stood back.

Janet turned to the box as everyone gathered beside her. She knew what was inside. Her hand went to the clasp on the lid and flipped it back hesitantly. Suddenly she was looking at a cardboard box. In large block letters, it was marked, “PERSONAL STUFF”. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. “I wondered what he did with it.”

“So you know about this?” Trevor said.

“I do,” Janet said, looking back.

Frowning, Nate leaned his cane against the table and reached into the box. He took out a thin, brown book whose front cover was curled back around the edges and blew the dust off. “What are these?”

Janet put her arm around him. “They're your father's journals…memories of Trevor's mother. You remember me telling you about Sharon, right?”

Nate cracked the book, releasing the pungent odor of mildew. “Yeah, somewhat.”

“Well, he wrote these before he met me, and they were very personal to him,” Janet said. She gently pulled the book from his reluctant hands. I'm sorry Nate, but this is a part of your father he buried for a reason. “I think we should let these be and put them back where Nadia found them,” she added, and set the book back into the box.

As the lid shut, Nate bunched his face up. “He's my father, too.”

“I know,” Janet said. “But he put them in there for a reason. Please honor it.”

Trevor put his hand on Nate's shoulder. “She's right guy. Let it go.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nate said. “You probably read them.”

“Only the first page,” Trevor replied. “And it's our mother he's writing about, not yours. If I can let them be, so can you.”

Nate grabbed his cane and held Janet with a withering stare. “Fine. Seems like I don't have a say. Just like Megan didn't when you sent Dad to the Home!”

The air went of the room. Janet gasped as the cry in her heart sucked her breath away. Trevor looked at his brother as if he didn't know him anymore.

Nadia spoke up. “Nate, that was mean.”

But Nate kept his searing gaze on Janet.

Finally, Janet sighed. There was nothing more to say. Her son, whom she loved more than anything, had hurt her beyond imagination. Fighting to keep her tears in check, she walked out of the room.

The ride home from Trevor and Nadia's was long and quiet. Janet kept looking over at her son as she drove. Did he really mean to hurt her? Or had he just lashed out and didn't know how to retract the words.

The memory of the fight she'd had with Megan over committing Neil to Hazelnut came roaring back. Suddenly Megan's pleading voice was clanging in her ears. 'He's not gone, not all the way. You're abandoning him. He'd never do it to you, and you know it! Please, Janet, don't do this. Don't put him in one of those f*****g places.'

Janet closed her eyes; saw Megan in her mind's eye stalking back into the house. And she KNEW!

Megan had called Nate!

Had told him their mother's plan to place their father in a nursing home. Reminded him how their father feared ending up in one.

She pulled into their driveway, parked and sat with the car running, trying to find a way to bridge the gulf that had widened exponentially between them. That she'd been holding the floodgate of tears back wasn't helping.

“I'm sorry, Nate,” she said at last, not knowing what more to say. The words came out just above a whisper, but they clanged in her ears.

He just stared ahead though with his jaw clenched tight. He glanced at her, and opened the door. Got out and marched awkwardly with his cane toward the house. She sat watching him as the added weight of his silence threatened to crush her. At last, she turned the car off, got out with Cleo bouncing along behind and followed Nate to the front porch where he stood like a wooden soldier.

Why are you doing this to me, Nate? I know you're angry. I know you're hurt about not being home when your father was near the end. And I know something bad happened over in Iraq. But why take it out on me? You know I had no choice with your father. You said so yourself when you came home. And now…this?

She opened the door and Nate slipped in ahead of her. Without looking back, he hobbled through the Great Room for the hall leading to his bedroom.

She felt her throat tighten. “Nate…I loved your father,” she said with all the strength she could muster.

He stopped briefly with his back toward her. Stood in the hall as the monstrous silence ruled, then opened his door and went in. As the click of the latch echoed in the house, her tears crashed through.