You’re just hearing memories. But we have some great ones to remember.”
Taking a deep shaky breath, she tried to smile. “Yes, he was always getting into something or other,” she agreed. “He had the courage of two little boys.”
“And the sense of half of one,” his dad added with a gentle smile.
Mike laughed and had to agree they were right.
“Yes, he did,” she replied softly, placing her hand on her husband’s arm. “But that didn’t happen until after they found Timmy’s body. If only I hadn’t made him clean that stupid chicken coop. That changed everything. Timmy died and Mike started living life like he wanted to join him.”
“It wasn’t your fault Timmy died,” Allen said. “It was that sick bastard, Forrest, and if Mike hadn’t stayed home that morning, he might have been another victim.”
Mike let their conversation sink in. They were right. After Timmy had been killed, he had lived his life with little regard to his safety. With a mocking laugh, he shook his head. And he’d finally been taken down by a damn cup of tea.
He walked over and placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. She lifted her hand and covered the place he kissed.
“What?” Allen asked.
“Nothing, just feeling memories, I guess,” she said. “Do you think he could... you know, visit us?”
“Never mind,” she continued. “I’m just losing my mind.”
Allen shook his head. “You’re not losing your mind,” he said. “Mike always loved you, if there was any way he could come back and visit for a while he would.”
She looked around the barnyard. “Mike, if you’re here, I want you to know that we think about you every day,” she said. “We love you. We have always been proud of you.”
It was Mike’s turn to wipe a tear or two from his cheek.
Allen nodded. “Best son a man could ask for,” he added. “Best son…”
His voice cracked and pulled a faded handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose. “Miss you, son.”
Alice reached over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Come on,” she said. “Why don’t I make you one of those big breakfasts Mike always loved? I’ll even make pancakes.”
Allen slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “You got yourself a deal,” he said.
Mike watched his parents walk back to the house, arm in arm. They’re getting old. His dad was a little stiffer when he walked and his mom seemed to be getting more fragile. He kicked at a pile of snow on the ground . Dammit, I was supposed to be around to help them with the farm. I was supposed to be there to help them when they got old.
The screen door clapped shut and he could see his parents through the window over the kitchen sink, washing the eggs together. He watched his dad lean over and place a kiss on his mom’s neck. Watched her blush and giggle. The frustration left his body and he grinned. They’ll be okay; they’re still stupid in love with each other.
He stared for a moment and then tried to imagine it was he and Mary working over the sink together. He and Mary having a family. He and Mary being in love. If he hadn’t died, would he have met her? His dad was right; he had been living on the wild side ever since Timmy had died, his attitude about life had changed.
Concentrating on downtown Lena, the farmyard slowly faded before him and was replaced with the red brick walls of retail establishments. He glided forward, moving between the shoppers who were on their way to the feed mill or butcher shop. He paused in front of the hardware store and watched George Dittmer, the owner, shovel the sidewalk in front of his store. George had been their Little League Coach the spring before Timmy died. Mike hadn’t felt like playing Little League after that.
He saw Marv Wollenstein carry a tray of wrapped meat to a car waiting at the back of the butcher shop. Marv had volunteered as their Scoutmaster for years. But Mike had stopped going to Boy Scouts after that summer.
He suddenly
Taking a deep shaky breath, she tried to smile. “Yes, he was always getting into something or other,” she agreed. “He had the courage of two little boys.”
“And the sense of half of one,” his dad added with a gentle smile.
Mike laughed and had to agree they were right.
“Yes, he did,” she replied softly, placing her hand on her husband’s arm. “But that didn’t happen until after they found Timmy’s body. If only I hadn’t made him clean that stupid chicken coop. That changed everything. Timmy died and Mike started living life like he wanted to join him.”
“It wasn’t your fault Timmy died,” Allen said. “It was that sick bastard, Forrest, and if Mike hadn’t stayed home that morning, he might have been another victim.”
Mike let their conversation sink in. They were right. After Timmy had been killed, he had lived his life with little regard to his safety. With a mocking laugh, he shook his head. And he’d finally been taken down by a damn cup of tea.
He walked over and placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. She lifted her hand and covered the place he kissed.
“What?” Allen asked.
“Nothing, just feeling memories, I guess,” she said. “Do you think he could... you know, visit us?”
“Never mind,” she continued. “I’m just losing my mind.”
Allen shook his head. “You’re not losing your mind,” he said. “Mike always loved you, if there was any way he could come back and visit for a while he would.”
She looked around the barnyard. “Mike, if you’re here, I want you to know that we think about you every day,” she said. “We love you. We have always been proud of you.”
It was Mike’s turn to wipe a tear or two from his cheek.
Allen nodded. “Best son a man could ask for,” he added. “Best son…”
His voice cracked and pulled a faded handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose. “Miss you, son.”
Alice reached over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Come on,” she said. “Why don’t I make you one of those big breakfasts Mike always loved? I’ll even make pancakes.”
Allen slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “You got yourself a deal,” he said.
Mike watched his parents walk back to the house, arm in arm. They’re getting old. His dad was a little stiffer when he walked and his mom seemed to be getting more fragile. He kicked at a pile of snow on the ground . Dammit, I was supposed to be around to help them with the farm. I was supposed to be there to help them when they got old.
The screen door clapped shut and he could see his parents through the window over the kitchen sink, washing the eggs together. He watched his dad lean over and place a kiss on his mom’s neck. Watched her blush and giggle. The frustration left his body and he grinned. They’ll be okay; they’re still stupid in love with each other.
He stared for a moment and then tried to imagine it was he and Mary working over the sink together. He and Mary having a family. He and Mary being in love. If he hadn’t died, would he have met her? His dad was right; he had been living on the wild side ever since Timmy had died, his attitude about life had changed.
Concentrating on downtown Lena, the farmyard slowly faded before him and was replaced with the red brick walls of retail establishments. He glided forward, moving between the shoppers who were on their way to the feed mill or butcher shop. He paused in front of the hardware store and watched George Dittmer, the owner, shovel the sidewalk in front of his store. George had been their Little League Coach the spring before Timmy died. Mike hadn’t felt like playing Little League after that.
He saw Marv Wollenstein carry a tray of wrapped meat to a car waiting at the back of the butcher shop. Marv had volunteered as their Scoutmaster for years. But Mike had stopped going to Boy Scouts after that summer.
He suddenly
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