river was about to flood. “I don’t know. I can’t even remember anymore.”
He straightened and looked at her like she had just broken out with a highly contagious rash. “You can’t remember? I think
at the time you said something about incompatible goals and a bunch of other ethereal reasons that never made a lick of sense.
Not to me, anyway.”
“Jack, I—”
“Sorry,” he said, giving his head a quick shake. “Never mind all that. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
A man with a child on his hip walked up to Jack. “How can I help you, sir?” Jack asked.
“Those steaks over there look a little flimsy. Got any man-size cuts in there?”
Jack rummaged through the packages on the lowest shelf of his cart, producing two thick steaks with white fat borders. “Look
at the marbling in these babies.”
“Ah, beautiful. Thanks,” the man said as he tossed them onto his frozen vegetables and walked away.
Jack returned to his work.
“Are you married now, Jack?” There. She said it.
He lined up stew meat in a neat single-file row. “Nope.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t making this easy for her. “Jack, it’s possible that I might have been an idiot back then,” she said
to his back. “That’s not a definite, you understand, so don’t quote me on it, but the thought has entered my mind.”
He turned and a smile twitched at the corner of his lip. “Funny,” he said as he cocked his head. “I had the very same thought.”
8
I T TOOK ONLY a few seconds when Millard awoke the next morning to remember that this was no ordinary day. Throwing off his blanket, he
slid into his slippers, hastily wrapped a blue plaid bathrobe over his cotton undershirt and briefs, and, after a stop in
the bathroom, headed straight down the hallway toward the front door.
He was surprised when the door did not fly open with a twist of the knob. The dead bolt. In his anticipation he had almost
forgotten about the armed hoodlum who lived across the street. Millard had even double-checked the window latches the night
before to assure himself that everything was secure. Sure, the kid was supposed to be in jail, but that didn’t mean some wishy-washy
judge hadn’t merely slapped the kid’s hand and let him out again. Millard twisted the bolt free, a flutter of excitement overshadowing
any trepidation. In his mind he already saw his furry little marauder lying belly-up on the lawn, tongue hanging out and cheeks
bulging.
A tip from Red, the barber, yesterday while Millard had his hair trimmed had saved him the $39.95 that Art Umquist down at
the Hardware and Sporting Goods would have charged to special order a mole trap. Highway robbery! And the contraption might
not get there for three to six weeks! A mole could drag the thing by its hind leg all the way from Milwaukee faster than that.
But for less than a buck, Millard had bought the one thing moles couldn’t resist, despite the fact that it choked them to
death: Juicy Fruit gum.
What he saw brought instant tears of fury to his eyes. A word escaped his lips that he had not used since taking a bullet
in the wing of his F-86 Sabre over North Korea. Millard bolted down the concrete steps, tripped on the
Winger County Herald
, and suddenly began a running dive that landed him face-first on the spongy lawn.
For a moment he just lay there. His heart was pounding too fast, his world spinning out of control. It occurred to him that
this was the second time in two days that he had been this intimate with his land, lying prone like a subject before his lord.
Worse yet, like an old man who could no longer stand on his own two feet. The thought of the latter, and especially a fear
of the neighbor lady catching him in this position again, propelled him upward to his bare knees, and then with a labored
grunt to his feet. He pulled his bathrobe together and retied it, took a deep breath, and turned to survey his formerly perfect
lawn.
The
He straightened and looked at her like she had just broken out with a highly contagious rash. “You can’t remember? I think
at the time you said something about incompatible goals and a bunch of other ethereal reasons that never made a lick of sense.
Not to me, anyway.”
“Jack, I—”
“Sorry,” he said, giving his head a quick shake. “Never mind all that. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
A man with a child on his hip walked up to Jack. “How can I help you, sir?” Jack asked.
“Those steaks over there look a little flimsy. Got any man-size cuts in there?”
Jack rummaged through the packages on the lowest shelf of his cart, producing two thick steaks with white fat borders. “Look
at the marbling in these babies.”
“Ah, beautiful. Thanks,” the man said as he tossed them onto his frozen vegetables and walked away.
Jack returned to his work.
“Are you married now, Jack?” There. She said it.
He lined up stew meat in a neat single-file row. “Nope.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t making this easy for her. “Jack, it’s possible that I might have been an idiot back then,” she said
to his back. “That’s not a definite, you understand, so don’t quote me on it, but the thought has entered my mind.”
He turned and a smile twitched at the corner of his lip. “Funny,” he said as he cocked his head. “I had the very same thought.”
8
I T TOOK ONLY a few seconds when Millard awoke the next morning to remember that this was no ordinary day. Throwing off his blanket, he
slid into his slippers, hastily wrapped a blue plaid bathrobe over his cotton undershirt and briefs, and, after a stop in
the bathroom, headed straight down the hallway toward the front door.
He was surprised when the door did not fly open with a twist of the knob. The dead bolt. In his anticipation he had almost
forgotten about the armed hoodlum who lived across the street. Millard had even double-checked the window latches the night
before to assure himself that everything was secure. Sure, the kid was supposed to be in jail, but that didn’t mean some wishy-washy
judge hadn’t merely slapped the kid’s hand and let him out again. Millard twisted the bolt free, a flutter of excitement overshadowing
any trepidation. In his mind he already saw his furry little marauder lying belly-up on the lawn, tongue hanging out and cheeks
bulging.
A tip from Red, the barber, yesterday while Millard had his hair trimmed had saved him the $39.95 that Art Umquist down at
the Hardware and Sporting Goods would have charged to special order a mole trap. Highway robbery! And the contraption might
not get there for three to six weeks! A mole could drag the thing by its hind leg all the way from Milwaukee faster than that.
But for less than a buck, Millard had bought the one thing moles couldn’t resist, despite the fact that it choked them to
death: Juicy Fruit gum.
What he saw brought instant tears of fury to his eyes. A word escaped his lips that he had not used since taking a bullet
in the wing of his F-86 Sabre over North Korea. Millard bolted down the concrete steps, tripped on the
Winger County Herald
, and suddenly began a running dive that landed him face-first on the spongy lawn.
For a moment he just lay there. His heart was pounding too fast, his world spinning out of control. It occurred to him that
this was the second time in two days that he had been this intimate with his land, lying prone like a subject before his lord.
Worse yet, like an old man who could no longer stand on his own two feet. The thought of the latter, and especially a fear
of the neighbor lady catching him in this position again, propelled him upward to his bare knees, and then with a labored
grunt to his feet. He pulled his bathrobe together and retied it, took a deep breath, and turned to survey his formerly perfect
lawn.
The
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