Only the Rain(18)

So when the Sunday paper had not a word in it about a meth lab being raided out along Route 218, I knew that despite the call I made from the nursing home, no raid had taken place, or one had but nobody was arrested. And every implication of that was sickening. I knew I had to do something, but what?

That morning dragged on forever, though even now I can’t remember any of it, except that it seemed an eternity before the girls finished lunch and I came up with a plan. I said, “How about after your mom and me clean up the dishes, we go get G-paw and take him out for an ice cream?” Of course, that suggestion had the effect I knew it would, at least from the girls.

Cindy said, “I thought you said you were going to mow the yard today. And then you’d bring him over for a barbecue tonight. Remember?”

She could tell by the look on my face that I had no idea what she was talking about.

“I mentioned it Friday when you wanted the truck for the day,” she said. “Don’t you remember? It was your idea last Monday, Tuesday night. You said if the weather was good on Sunday, today, which it is, you wanted to mow the yard and then bring Pops over to spend the day with us. That’s why there’s a rack of ribs and four chicken breasts thawing out in the refrigerator right now.”

The girls started chanting, “Ice cream! Ice cream!” And I told them, “Hush now, I can’t think.”

Cindy said, “We can do it some other time if you want, it’s up to you. But remember that Dani starts first grade the day after Labor Day, and I haven’t had a chance to get her any school supplies yet, and both girls need a couple of outfits and new shoes. I was planning on going to the outlets next weekend to do all that. Which means putting off a barbecue until, what—the second weekend in September?”

I sat there blinking, feeling stupid, unable to put a single clear thought together.

“Ice cream,” Dani said in a loud whisper.

So Emma, of course, had to scream it at the top of her lungs. “Ice creeeeem!”

And at the sound of that shriek I jerked. I practically jumped out of my chair.

Cindy studied me for a few seconds. “You all right?” she asked. “Are you still not feeling well?”

I took a couple of breaths, then I gave them all what even I knew was a phony smile. “Let’s do this, okay, guys? I’ll get started on the yard while you two help your mom out in here. I want your rooms cleaned too before Pops gets here. And if you do everything Mom asks you to, when I go pick up Pops I’ll bring home some of that cookie dough ice cream you like.”

“Yeah!” Dani said, and Emma grinned and bounced up and down in her booster seat.

I asked Cindy, “Is that okay?”

“Sounds like a plan. You mind getting the ice cream at the Giant Eagle down the road from Pops? They have those sweet Hawaiian rolls he likes.”

“Sure. Make me a list.”

“The girls and I will make potato salad. Can you buy another side, something without mayonnaise in it?”

I pushed myself away from the table, put my hands on the edge of the table and stood up. “Put it on the list so I don’t forget.”

She followed me out into the pantry and stopped me before I went out the back door. “Hey,” she said, just loud enough for her and me.

I turned.

“Are you all right?”

I smiled again. “Don’t I look all right?”

“No, you don’t. You look like you need to go back to bed.”

“My stomach’s a little queasy, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you forget about the yard for today?”

“Well if you have a magic wand you can wave over it, you be my guest.”

I knew the moment I said it, it was not a good thing to say. We don’t talk that way to each other. I think we both try to be as gentle with each other and the girls as we can. Cindy has a special aversion to sarcasm, which, as she has told me many times, especially after one of her mother’s visits, she considers “the lowest form of humor.”

And now I couldn’t bear that look in her eyes. I stepped back and put my arms around her and pulled her up against me. “I’m sorry, baby. I just . . .”

She rubbed her hand around in a circle between my shoulder blades. “Not enough sleep and an upset stomach, I know. Let’s forget about a barbecue today.”

“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “I really do want Pops to get a little sunshine before it’s gone for the year.”

“You’re going to end up making yourself even sicker.”

“I’m a big boy,” I told her, and I kissed the side of her head.

“A big stubborn baby,” she said, but she gave me another squeeze before she let go and turned back to the kitchen.

The yard that day seemed twice as big as usual. I kept wanting to turn the lawn tractor out onto the sidewalk, and keep on going until there was nowhere left to go.

While I was mowing and dreaming of driving straight into the ocean, Cindy called Pops to remind him about the barbecue and ask what time he wanted to come over. And Pops, being Pops, said something like, “Let me have my secretary check the schedule. I know I have a board meeting at eleven, I address Congress at twelve, and from one to two I’m supposed to go skinny-dipping with Lucy Liu. But I can put those off until tomorrow, especially for some of Russell’s burned spareribs.”