fell almost sideways in the wind that was blowing out of the west and would probably turn to snow before nightfall. I was glad to reach home, carry in Stretch and the bottles in two trips, shake out my wet coat, and settle in for the rest of the day. With early darkness in the Alaskan far north and the addition of the clouds that had swept in, it was already time to turn on the lights.
I wanted a fire to remove the chill that had crept in as we entered, though my furnace works very efficiently, thanks to my dear Daniel, who insisted that the old one be replaced a year or two before he passed on. But besides warmth there is something consoling about having a wood fir e crackling cheerfully in the corner fireplace, so I make sure to order up a full winter’s supply of good dry wood each fall. I soon had the logs laid and lit and was ready to appreciate the comfort of my favorite recliner nearby.
After a snack and a long drink of water, Stretch had gone almost immediately to curl up for a nap on the hearth rug, which he assumes belongs to him. With a snoozing dog as inspiration, in the warmth of the fire I was soon nodding over my book, finally gave up, laid it down, leaned back, and followed his example.
SEVEN
MORE THAN AN HOUR LATER the ringing of the telephone brought both me and Stretch back to consciousness.
He sat up and yawned.
I got up and crossed the room to answer its summons.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mom. It’s me—Joe,” my son informed me, as if I wouldn’t recognize his voice.
“I hear that,” I told him. “So you made it home okay.”
“Oh, sure. Meant to call you, but Sharon and I got into a conversation that lasted pretty late in the evening, so I decided to wait until today to tell you the news.”
“So—from the sound of your voice I assume it’s good and you’ve settled some things?”
“Yes, all good. We’ve—ah . . .”
I could hear him take a deep breath, then . . .
“. . . decided to get married.”
“Oh, Joe, I’m really happy for you both. When?”
“Well, not right away. We’re thinking next spring—after we get everything settled about our work.”
“So Sharon’s not going to Portland?”
“No, she’s still going—we’re both going.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
My son works in forensics in a Seattle crime lab, is very good at what he does, and loves his job. The idea of his giving it up filled me with concern that I immediately expressed.
“Oh, Joe. Are you sure you should give up what you like so much and are so good at? What will you do in Oregon?”
“Well, here’s the good part. I spoke with the lab director this morning and, as it happens, we’ve been talking about working more closely with the lab in Portland, so our director has arranged for me to trade places for the winter with a guy down there. It’ll be temporary. We’ll establish better communication and coordination. And, best of all, I’ll have my job back here in the spring. Everybody wins!”
“What about your apartment? Will you have to give it up?”
“Nope. Jacob is single and lives in downtown Portland, near where Sharon will be working, so we’ll trade apartments as well as jobs—both paying our usual rent, since ours is a bit more than his.”
He sounded so pleased with himself and their plans that I couldn’t help being happy for them as well.
“It sounds perfect,” I told him. “Now—about a wedding next year.”
“Well, we’ve only decided one thing so far. You know that Sharon’s parents are both dead and she was an only child. So, we’d like to get married up there, if that would be okay with you. We’ll keep it small and informal, so it won’t require too much planning and preparation.”
It would indeed be more than okay with me! And I told him so with delight.
“There’ll be lots of time to plan and get things ready after you get moved. Sharon and I will put our heads together when you come for Christmas. You are still coming, aren’t you? When are
I wanted a fire to remove the chill that had crept in as we entered, though my furnace works very efficiently, thanks to my dear Daniel, who insisted that the old one be replaced a year or two before he passed on. But besides warmth there is something consoling about having a wood fir e crackling cheerfully in the corner fireplace, so I make sure to order up a full winter’s supply of good dry wood each fall. I soon had the logs laid and lit and was ready to appreciate the comfort of my favorite recliner nearby.
After a snack and a long drink of water, Stretch had gone almost immediately to curl up for a nap on the hearth rug, which he assumes belongs to him. With a snoozing dog as inspiration, in the warmth of the fire I was soon nodding over my book, finally gave up, laid it down, leaned back, and followed his example.
SEVEN
MORE THAN AN HOUR LATER the ringing of the telephone brought both me and Stretch back to consciousness.
He sat up and yawned.
I got up and crossed the room to answer its summons.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mom. It’s me—Joe,” my son informed me, as if I wouldn’t recognize his voice.
“I hear that,” I told him. “So you made it home okay.”
“Oh, sure. Meant to call you, but Sharon and I got into a conversation that lasted pretty late in the evening, so I decided to wait until today to tell you the news.”
“So—from the sound of your voice I assume it’s good and you’ve settled some things?”
“Yes, all good. We’ve—ah . . .”
I could hear him take a deep breath, then . . .
“. . . decided to get married.”
“Oh, Joe, I’m really happy for you both. When?”
“Well, not right away. We’re thinking next spring—after we get everything settled about our work.”
“So Sharon’s not going to Portland?”
“No, she’s still going—we’re both going.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
My son works in forensics in a Seattle crime lab, is very good at what he does, and loves his job. The idea of his giving it up filled me with concern that I immediately expressed.
“Oh, Joe. Are you sure you should give up what you like so much and are so good at? What will you do in Oregon?”
“Well, here’s the good part. I spoke with the lab director this morning and, as it happens, we’ve been talking about working more closely with the lab in Portland, so our director has arranged for me to trade places for the winter with a guy down there. It’ll be temporary. We’ll establish better communication and coordination. And, best of all, I’ll have my job back here in the spring. Everybody wins!”
“What about your apartment? Will you have to give it up?”
“Nope. Jacob is single and lives in downtown Portland, near where Sharon will be working, so we’ll trade apartments as well as jobs—both paying our usual rent, since ours is a bit more than his.”
He sounded so pleased with himself and their plans that I couldn’t help being happy for them as well.
“It sounds perfect,” I told him. “Now—about a wedding next year.”
“Well, we’ve only decided one thing so far. You know that Sharon’s parents are both dead and she was an only child. So, we’d like to get married up there, if that would be okay with you. We’ll keep it small and informal, so it won’t require too much planning and preparation.”
It would indeed be more than okay with me! And I told him so with delight.
“There’ll be lots of time to plan and get things ready after you get moved. Sharon and I will put our heads together when you come for Christmas. You are still coming, aren’t you? When are
Similar Books
