CELEBRATION (Bremen, Germany 1987) Kristine Kelly propped her chin on her elbow to better observe her husband's slick, naked body. She felt a second burst of passion but knew she had to squelch it. Instead, she stared boldly at his hard, wet body, aware that Logan was staring just as boldly at her own naked body. How was it she wondered, that after twenty years of making love to the same man, she could feel exactly the same as she had felt on her wedding night. She was about to voice the question aloud when Logan said, "Was it as good for you as it was for me?" She squirmed closer to savor the slickness of both their bodies meshed together. Was it her imagination or did the words sound practiced, rehearsed and even flat? Where was the light teasing banter that was always present after one of their marathon love making sessions? Why wasn't he lighting a cigarette the way he always did. A cigarette they both puffed on. According to Logan, a cigarette was the ultimate conclusion to a satisfying session of love making. She didn't know if she agreed or not. If the choice was hers, she would opt for serious pillow talk and then a second round of lovemaking. The cigarette was always better the second time around. She waited. "Well?" "Of course," she said offering up her standard response. "I feel like crying," she blurted. "Are you going to cave in on me now, Kris? We've been over this a hundred times. You said you were okay with it. The kids said they were okay with it. Thirty days is not an eternity. You've been a model military wife so don't go all wimpy on me now and screw it up. We've always gone by the book. It is not the end of the world. When you return to the States you will be so busy you won't have time to miss me. You need to register the kids for school, get the farmhouse ready, buy a car, get ready for the holidays. It's the way it is, Kris. What is your problem?" Kristine picked up on the impatience in her husband's voice. She felt the urge to cry again and didn't know why. No matter what she said or how she said it, her voice was going to be defensive sounding. She struggled for a light tone. "I guess it all has something to do with your long career coming to such an abrupt end. Twenty years is a long time, Logan. I think we handled it well. Like you said, we went by the book and never complained. I wish for your sake that you could have gone all the way and made general because I know it's what you wanted. I have to take issue with the medical board. Why does having just one kidney prevent you from getting promoted and staying in for thirty years. You never faltered, you did your job, you went by the book and we all played by the rules. It's not fair. I know it's bothering you because it's bothering me. I don't like it when you pretend, Logan." "I don't want to talk about it, Kris. It is what it is. I'll muster out in two weeks and two weeks later you'll see me driving up the road. Make sure you have a big three layer chocolate cake and a very large pan of your lasagne waiting for me. Two bottles of wine. Good stuff now. One for you and one for me. After that, if we're still standing, we'll make love all night long. How do you feel about that?" "It sounds wonderful, Logan. I wish I could turn off my emotions the way you can but I can't. The truth is, I'm going to miss you terribly because you're going to be half a world away. Figure it out, Logan, how many miles is it from Leesburg, Virginia to Bremen, Germany?" This time the impatience in her husband's voice was more than noticeable. The mileage isn't important, Kris. I'll call and write. I've never let you down so where are these negative feelings coming from? Are you telling me now that you aren't capable of taking the kids back to the States and getting the house ready? I've always admired the fact that you were your own person. There isn't anything you can't do if you set your mind to it. It's just thirty days! We've been separated before and you never acted like this. I need to know what it is specifically that's bothering you." "It's the end of a chapter for us. The end of our lives in the military. The kids don't know anything else. Nor do I. I guess being a civilian again scares me. I try not to think about it but most times I lose the battle. It's all going to be so new. The kids are scared, too, even though they've been managing to bluff their way through the days these past few weeks. Furthermore, I just don't understand why we can't stay and go home together. Why do we need to go first and you follow thirty days later? We should be here with you when you walk out those doors for the last time. I put in my twenty years too, Logan." "You're whining, Kris and you know I hate it when you whine. We settled this months ago. Our belongings are en route. Major Tattersol is ready to move in here the moment we move out. You damn well said you could handle this. I hope to hell you aren't telling me you lied to me. It's the way it is." Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stomped his way to the bathroom. "You do realize you just ruined what was supposed to be a perfect evening, don't you?" Logan shot over his shoulder before he slammed the door shut. Kris cringed when she heard the lock snick into place. Kris buried her face in the pillow. Damn, she couldn't do anything right. Perfect evening, my foot. What was wrong with saying how she felt? Didn't he understand how much she loved him, how much she was going to miss him? Thirty days could be an eternity when one had to cope with three teenagers, relocating to the States and setting up housekeeping. Damn, she hadn't even mentioned their finances. Her eyes filled. I'm sick and tired of being a good little soldier. I never wanted to be a soldier. All I ever wanted was to be a good wife and a good mother. She moved then to curl into the fetal position at the same time noticing the two rolls of extra flesh that moved upward to press against her breasts at the same time. She yanked at the sheet as she wiped at her tears with the hem of the pillow case. This was not going the way she had planned. In four short hours she would be herding the children out the door to a waiting car for the ride to the airport. Kris squeezed her eyes shut as she ran the scene over in her mind. The kids would be cranky because they were leaving their friends, the long plane ride home and taking up residence in a place they could barely remember. The worst thing of all for the three of them was the prospect of starting over in a new school. She'd spent whole days trying to reassure her children things would be wonderful if they would just open up to the move. Nothing had worked, probably because they sensed her own anxieties and fears, something a good soldier should never allow to happen. Kris jerked upright when the bathroom door opened. She stared at her husband who was fully dressed. "Where . . . where are you going at this time of night, Logan?" she whispered. She hated the sound of fear in her own voice. She wondered if what she was feeling showed on her face. "I'm going to take a walk. I need some fresh air. Look, Kris, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just as antsy as you are. Believe it or not, this whole thing is just as traumatic for me as it is for you." "I love you," Kris whispered again. "I know, Kris, I know. I won't be long. Why don't you try and get some sleep." "Is that what the book says, sleep? How can I sleep, Logan? Something is wrong here. I can sense it. It's not my imagination." "Yes, Kris, it is your imagination. This separation is just a little rocky bump. We've had rocky bumps before. Thirty days is just thirty days. I'm having trouble with your . . . behavior. It isn't becoming. I expected more from you, Kris. What happened to being a good little soldier?" Kris sighed. She was about to throw off the sheet and swing her legs over the side of the bed until she remembered the two rolls of fat under her breasts. "Go for your walk. When you get back I'll make some coffee." Logan blew his wife a kiss before he left the house. Kris's heart fluttered in her chest when she heard the front door close. Kris headed for the shower, her shoulders shaking with unhappiness. Under the tepid spray she allowed her mind to conjure up the early days of her marriage to Logan Kelly. They were both the same age when they said their vows and walked under the crossed swords at West Point. The twins came first and then Tyler came along shortly afterward. Logan had been delirious with joy just the way she had been. It was wonderful living all over the world. Her children spoke four languages as she did, thanks to their multi faceted educations. She was one of the rare wives who loved life in the military because she loved her husband. What she didn't love was the stupid rule book Logan insisted they live by. He could recite chapter and verse at the drop of a hat. She too knew the book by heart which was all the more reason to hate it. Her children didn't like it either. Logan lived by it, page by page, word by word. Would he discard it when he got back to the States or would they continue to live by it? Logan's rational would be the book served them well for twenty years and to tamper with it in the private sector would be sacrilegious. Kris stepped from the shower, towel in hand. Her thoughts stayed with her as she wrapped her body in one of the few remaining towels. She dabbed at her eyes that were now red-rimmed. Early on, Logan had sworn he would make general, go all the way, maybe even become a five star. They'd played a game in those early years about the things they would do, how they would act, when the stars were pinned on his shoulder. How sad for Logan that it could never come to pass. He said he accepted being felled by a rare kidney disease in his seventeenth year in the military knowing he would get passed over because his medical condition would be a blight on his medical record. He'd slapped her once, shouting to be left alone when she'd tried to console him. She needed to give him space now to come to terms with what Logan considered betrayal on the army's part in giving him a medical discharge, something he fought for and lost. He had a right to be bitter but then so did she. However, he didn't have the right to take his bitterness out on her. Damn, she'd wanted tonight to be perfect so that Logan would remember their last night and look forward to the time when they'd all be together again back in the States. Now it was all spoiled. Here she was taking a shower in the middle of the night while he was out walking alone. She crossed her fingers and offered up a little prayer that Logan's attitude wasn't a harbinger of things to come. Thirty minutes later, Kris was in the kitchen, fully dressed and making coffee. She looked in dismay at the small amount of coffee left in the can. Logan liked his coffee black and strong the way most of his colleagues liked it. There was barely enough left to make two full cups and at best it was going to be weak. She'd cleaned out everything from the ancient refrigerator because Logan was going to stay at the barracks until it was time for him to leave. The new tenants would move in the moment their belongings were unloaded from the truck. The army did not sit around sucking it's thumb when it came to the comfort of one of its officers. When the coffee finished perking, Kris poured a small amount into a cup, leaving the rest for her husband. She sipped at the coffee, her eyes on the blackness outside the kitchen window. She shouldn't be sitting here alone. Her husband should be with her, holding her hand, telling her things would be okay. The kids hadn't wanted to stay home with her either, preferring to spend their last night with their friends. She'd begged them to stay home with her and Logan but the three of them had kicked up a fuss. In the end she'd given in rather than stare at their miserable faces all night long. She looked at the clock. Ten minutes past four. Tom Zepack would drive them to the airport at 4:30 which would give everyone time to load up their personal carry on luggage, kiss their father good-by before he drove them to the airport. Logan would say his good-by at the door because he had to report for duty at six o'clock. And she still didn't have the bank books from Virginia. Logan had said everything was in the glove compartment of the car. Her coffee finished, Kris meandered out to the car parked at the side of the house. She withdrew the small packet with her name on it, carrying it back to the house. Relieved that she hadn't forgotten, she slipped the envelope into her purse. She wished she knew more about their finances but Logan handled them. It would be nice, though to know how much her husband's pension would be once they were home. She knew they would be more than comfortable with the check that came every month from her parent's estate. Logan was going to do some consulting work and she'd given serious thought to starting up her parent's business again. A veterinarian by profession, a profession she'd never worked at, would help her breed the world class dogs her parents had bred for decades prior to their deaths. She was actually excited about working at her own business. With the monthly check from her parent's estate, Logan's pension, and whatever she was able to bring in, the kids would be able to go to the best ivy league colleges in the country. Life was going to be wonderful once they settled in and adjusted to farm life in Leesburg, Virginia. They could renew old friendships, join clubs, get involved in community affairs. When the twins went off to college next year and Tyler the following year, they would have the house to themselves and a twenty-four hour a day marriage, the way it had been before the kids came along. Yes, life would be good, very good. Providing Logan threw away the damn rule book. She poured another inch of coffee into her cup. It tasted like colored water. Logan would surely have something to say about it. She heard her rambunctious children before she saw them as they bounded into the house, snapping and snarling at one another. It was obvious to Kris that they hadn't slept. Tom Zepack held the door for Logan, a frown on his face. Even from this distance, Kris could smell liquor on her husband's breath. For some strange reason it elated her, proving, she thought, that this parting was just as hard on him as it was on her. She smiled. She would be upbeat if it killed her. No tears, no clutching, no sobbing. Maybe she should just pat him on the cheek and say something flippant like, I'll see you when I see you. Let's go, kids. Could she do that? Never in a million years. She could try, though. "Time to go!" Tom Zepack said. "Do you have everything, Kris?" Logan asked. "Yes. You know me, I was packed two weeks ago. We're ready." The kids barrelled out to the car, Tom Zepack on their trail. Kris sucked in her breath. "I made some coffee, Logan. It's on the weak side because there wasn't enough coffee left. I guess I cut it too close. Rinse the pot and throw it away or leave it for the new officer and his wife. Remember to take the wet towels with you." "Yeah, sure. Ah, listen, Kris, I'm sorry. I acted like a real ass earlier." "It's okay, Logan. We're all upset. We all knew this day was coming. Even though we thought we were prepared, we weren't. I guess I better get going. Tom is such a slow, careful driver. I don't want to miss the plane. Take care of yourself. Call me so I can meet you at the airport when you know your flight information." "Kris?" "Yes." "We had a good life, didn't we?" "The best. We've been happy. We have three wonderful kids. We lived all over the world. The kids are well rounded, they speak four different languages and they've learned to get along with all kinds of people. This move is hard on them because they know it's the last one. As Macala said, from here on in everything counts." "You sound strange, Kris. You aren't going . . ." "No, I'm not going to make a scene. Take care of yourself and hopefully we'll all be together for Christmas. I know just where I'm going to put the tree too. I do love you, Logan. I just want you to know I will always love you." Logan nodded. "I feel the same way, Kris. Don't make this any harder than it is. Go on, Tom's waiting." Go on, Tom's waiting. That was all she was going to get? "See you," she said in a choked voice. "By Dad," the kids shouted from the car. "By," he shouted in return. Kris didn't look back. She climbed into the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. If nothing else, she had at least waited until her back was turned before she allowed the tears to flow. She looked out of the car window expecting to see Logan outlined in the open doorway. The door was shut. She couldn't even wave good-by. "Relax, Mom, thirty days will go by just like this," Macala said snapping her fingers. "Thirty whole days without that damn book," Mike, her twin, said happily. "I like the book. It's how things get done. Everyone needs structure in their life," sixteen year old Tyler said slouching down in the corner of the car. Seventeen year old Mike and one minute his sister's junior said, "That's a crock and you know it. That stupid book stinks. You're just a suck up. Get over it. The book is history. "Hear! Hear!" his twin said. Kris continued to cry. Chaplin Tom Zepack stared at the road in front of him wondering what lay in store for the Kelly family once they returned to the States. With God's help they would all survive and lead happy productive lives. He was almost sure of it. "This is it! It looks . . . shabby, Mom. Do we really have to live here?" Kristine took a deep breath. "It does look shabby, Cala, but you have to remember that no one has lived here for over twenty-five years. This dreary, rainy day isn't helping either. By this time next year your dad and I will have it all fixed up. Paint works wonders." It was hard to believe this strangled sounding voice was coming from her. "I don't think a bucket of paint is going to do it, Ma," Mike said. "Did that banker guy get someone to clean it up? Is there furniture? Did our stuff get here? Are we going to be sleeping on beds that are full of dust? Jeez, why can't we stay in town. This place is in the middle of nowhere. Do we have a telephone?" "Of course there's a telephone. Mr. Dunwoodie said everything was hooked up and turned on. It's going to be okay. We're always jittery when we move to a new place. It was a beautiful estate when I was little. It can be that way again." "Ma, that was back in the dark ages. Look at it! Forget the way it looked back then. Are you seeing what we're seeing? Half the shutters are gone. Most of the windows have broken panes. The porch is sagging. Jeez, I bet it isn't safe and take a gander at those steps, they're lopsided too. It will cost a fortune to fix this baby up. Do you and Dad have a fortune?" Did they? She had no clue as to their financial situation since Logan handled their finances from the day they got married. "I think it's safe to say we have enough to get by. Repairs won't be done all at one time. We'll work on it. Now come on, let's exit this brand new station wagon and open our front door. We're home. My old home, our home now. All those other places we lived were just buildings where your dad and I paid rent. This is home, like it or not." "Add my name to list of people who don't like it," Cala snapped. "God, I will never bring anyone here. That's assuming I meet some farmer who is interested in me which is so laughable it's beyond belief." "I second that," Mike said as he hefted his bags from the back seat to dump them on the ground. "Did Dad know what this dump looked like when he decided to ship us here?" Tyler demanded. Kristine dropped her overnight bag on the ground. "Listen to me. I'm only going to say this one more time. This is our new home. No, Tyler, you father hasn't seen this house in fifteen years. Time takes its toll on everything and everyone. We have no other options. The farm your father grew up on is probably in worse shape than this one. Instead of fighting me every step of the way, help me. The four of us can make a beginning. I know that if your father was standing here none of you would have opened your mouth. Why are you taking this out on me? I'm trying to do the best I can." "What page is that on in your book?" Cala snarled."Page 62 and watch your mouth, young lady. End of discussion. Now move your asses and get in the house." "Wow!" young Tyler said as he walked around the spacious rooms. "Was I ever here, Mom?" "You were a year old when we came back here the last time. You were too little to remember. Cala and Mike spent the whole time sliding down the banister. It's a wonderful old house. All the beams and wainscoting are original as are the wooden pegs they used for nails back in those days. The floors are solid oak. They could stand to be refinished at some point. The people Mr. Dunwoodie hired to clean everything up did a good job. It's more than livable." "It's freezing in here," Cala grumbled. "Guess that means you kids have to go outside to the woodshed and bring in some wood. Mr. Dunwoodie said he had two cords of cherry wood delivered. In the meantime I'll turn up the thermostat and hope it works. Take your gear upstairs, pick out a bedroom and put on an extra sweater. This house was always drafty and heat rises," Kristine said pointing to the high ceilings. I want to check out the kitchen to make sure the stove and water pump work." "Are you saying we have to pump water too!" There was such disgust on Mike's face, Kristine cringed. "If you want water that's exactly what you do," Kristine said, her patience wearing thin. She wondered what her children would say and do when they saw the archaic contraption that heated the water in the upstairs bathroom. Kristine was priming the pump in the kitchen when she heard her daughter's screech. "One bathroom! There's only one bathroom! What am I supposed to do? There's no vanity either. What the hell is this . . . thing?" She knuckled her burning eyes. She would not cry. She absolutely would not cry. "You should be here, Logan. We should be doing this together. They wouldn't be acting this way if you were here," she muttered under her breath as a steady stream of rusty water shot from the pump spout. She continued to pump water because it was something to do. She didn't want to think about what Cala would say when she washed her hair for the first time in the hard well water. She wished she could lie down and go to sleep and not wake up until Logan walked through the door. "It's sleeting out, Mom. The temperature is dropping," Tyler said coming up behind her. "How much wood do you want us to bring in? I counted ten fireplaces in this house. Which ones do you want to light?" "I guess you better light the ones in the bedrooms and the one here in the kitchen and the one in the living room. The heater doesn't seem to be working. The propane tank could be empty. I'll look into it tomorrow. I don't think we'll freeze. My mother had wonderful quilts and down comforters on all the beds. A lot of wood, Tyler. There's a wood carrier in the shed that holds a lot of wood. Off the top of my head I'd say you need four loads. Bring it to the kitchen door. If the three of you work at it you should be able to drag it up the kitchen staircase. My father used to do it on his own so I think you three robust children should be able to handle it. It's called, work, Tyler." "There's no television set, Mom." "So there isn't. I guess you'll just have to miss the tube for one day until our belongings get here tomorrow. Read a book." "This is like one of those houses you see in horror movies," Mike said as he slammed through the kitchen door behind Tyler. "What do you mean there's no television set?" Kristine clenched her teeth so hard she thought her jaw would crack when she opened the refrigerator. Eggs, a can of coffee, bread, butter, jam, bacon, juice and milk. "This certainly takes the guess work out of what to cook for dinner," she muttered. Tomorrow things will be better, she thought. Since the preparation time for dinner would be ten minutes or so, Kristine gathered up her baggage to carry upstairs. She shivered as she walked through the old house, drafts swirling about her legs. She took a minute to marvel at the old furniture, antiques really and the fact that everything was in such good condition. Her own comfortable, worn furniture wasn't going to fit in anywhere in this barn of a house. Still, she would have to spread it out for the children's sake and gradually get rid of it. There was a lot to be said for antiques. Cala swept by her on her way down the stairs. "I can't believe you're making me carry in firewood. That's a man's job." Kristine turned. "Cala?" "Yeah." "Don't say yeah. I need to know why the three of you are so . . . belligerent today. Why are you fighting me over every little thing. We belong in the United States. We're citizens of this wonderful country. This is where we belong. Daddy's tour is over and this is what we decided to do. I grant you it's an adjustment but if we all pull together we can make it work. In September you and Mike will be going off to college so what's the big deal. It's nine months out of your life." "Daddy said it was your idea to come back here. He said since you never squawked about moving all over the world every couple of years, it was your turn now. Daddy didn't care. He would have been happy staying in Germany. We didn't want to come back here. You're the one who wanted this move." "Of course I wanted it. Your father did too. He was upset, Cala, about being passed over. He had no other choice. What kind of work would he have done over there? Nothing that paid any kind of money, that's for certain. I would never renounce my citizenship to live in a foreign country. There's too much unrest in Europe. I wanted us to be safe on our own soil." "Skip it, Mom. We're here so what difference does it make. Don't think I'm joining one of those farmer 4-H clubs either. I'm not going to have one thing in common with anyone around here. I know it and so do Tyler and Mike. Right now Mike and I could go right into our second year of college. Tyler could be a freshman. Instead, we're going to be going to some rinky-dink high school where we have to take classes we took two years ago. It's not fair. There's no stimulation in doing something like that. You didn't think about that, did you?" "No, I didn't. I will now, though. Perhaps something can be worked out. I've been away so long I don't know what the requirements or procedures are these days. Tomorrow when I take you to school I'll find out. In the meantime, will you cut me some slack and help your brothers." "Sure, Mom. When I finish doing that do you want me to plow the south forty or whatever you call it?" Cala shot over her shoulder as she continued to stomp her way down the steps. Kristine made her way down the long hallway to her old bedroom at the end of the long hallway. Her hand trembled as she turned the flowered white ceramic knob. She found it amazing that everything was as she remembered it. The double four poster was polished as were the two oak dressers. Years ago there had been dresser scarfs on them along with all the junk young girls needed or thought they needed. The cushions on the old Boston rocker were faded but fluffed up by one of the cleaning crew who had gone through the house. The windows sparkled behind the Venetian blinds. She wondered what happened to the Pricillia curtains her mother favored for the dormer windows. Rotted, she supposed. The seat cushion on the window seat matched the one on the old rocker. It too was faded but fluffed up. Old toys that were probably antiques by now, marched across the white shelving that covered all four walls. How strange that her mother had kept things the way she left them when she went off to college. She wondered if her mother ever came into this room when she was at school just to sit in the rocker and remember happy days when she was little. Reminiscing about past birthday parties, Christmases and of course all those times when she was sick in bed with a cold. She sat down on the rocker, amazed that the dry old wood didn't squeak on the shiny hardwood floor. She'd had a big old tiger cat named Solomon back then who sat on the rocker or on the window seat to wait for her to come home from school. He'd died when she was in her second year of college. Logan had never understood why she had to rush home because a stupid cat died. That was probably the only time in her life when she'd stood up to Logan and told him to go straight to hell and she didn't give a good rat's ass if he understood or not. She'd done nothing but cry for a solid week. Her first experience with death. She was back at school less than two weeks when she was summoned home a second time. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for the death of her two parents. According to Dunwoodie, her parents banker and trusted advisor, the barn had caught fire and her parents had rushed in to save the dogs and had been overcome with smoke. She hadn't gone back to school that semester. Instead she'd sat in her rocker for months trying to figure out where her life was going without the security blanket of her parents. Logan had been so supportive during that awful time. It was Logan who put the dust covers on all the furniture, Logan who did all the things necessary to closing up a house, Logan who locked the door for the last time and Logan who drove her away and held her hand when she looked back over her shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. They'd come back fifteen years ago when Logan's elderly father passed away. Even then she was unable to open the door and walk through her old home. Logan held her hand that time too while she struggled with the key in her hand. In the end she'd run off the porch and down the steps and out to the car. Kristine rubbed at the tears in her eyes. It was all so long ago. Another time, another life. As she unpacked her bag, Kristine wondered if living here with her family would be as good as the life they had led in all the foreign countries they'd lived in. Logan's picture was the first thing that came out of her bag. She set it on the night table next to a small onyx clock that no longer told time. Logan's picture would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes in the morning and the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes at night. "I wish you were here, Logan," she whispered. "We should be here together." She was jolted to awareness when she heard a loud thump and squabbling coming from the hallway. "Now look what you did. I'm not picking it up. You were supposed to hold up your end, Tyler. God, I hate it when you act like a priss. "Stuff it, Cala. I'm soaking wet and I'm freezing. Mike should be on the bottom and I should be on the top with you." "Guess what, you jerk, we're cold and wet too. We still have four more loads to go so get moving." "Do it yourself. I'll make my own fire with my own wood. I'm sick and tired of getting dumped on by the two of you. I don't give a shit if you're twins or not. So there." "That's enough," Kris shouted from the hallway. "The quicker you get those fires going the sooner you'll be warm. You won't be able to take a hot bath because there's no propane." "Are you saying there's no shower? I hate taking a bath because you just sit in your own dirty water. I hate this stinking place. I really hate it! Cala said tearfully. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Now, get moving and someone has to clean up all the splinters from the steps. I'll start dinner." "I'm not hungry," Mike muttered. "Me either," Tyler grumbled. "What could there possibly be to eat in this dump?" Cala said blowing her nose. Kristine threw her hands in the air. "Fine, don't eat. Starve. I've had it with the three of you." She stared at the phone that suddenly pealed to life. A phone call! She picked up the receiver to hear her husband's cheerful voice. "Logan! Oh, Logan, thank you for calling. It's so good to hear from you. Is everything okay?" "More to the point, is everything okay with you?" "No. The kids hate it. There's no heat, they're giving me such a hard time. I guess we're all just tired. The house is fine inside. It's clean and there's some food. Tomorrow I'll get the propane. It's sleeting out and this house is drafty. At least the phone is working. I picked up our new station wagon." Kristine lowered her voice to a hushed whisper so the children wouldn't hear her. "This is the right thing, isn't it, Logan. Moving here, I mean." "Kristine, what's going on?" "It's the kids. They're mouthy, disrespectful and they hate it. Maybe it's first day jitters and tomorrow will be the first day of school in what they refer to as a rinky-dink farm school. Look, you didn't call me to hear me complain. Do you miss us?" "Of course I miss you. That's why I called. Did the furniture get there?" "Dunwoodie said it would arrive tomorrow afternoon. Do you think I should call a plumber to install a shower. No one likes to take a bath." "Sure. Make sure it's all done before I get there. I hate a messy bathroom," Logan chuckled. Make sure you position my chair just right." "Yes, sir, Colonel Logan sir." "I'll say good-by then. I'll try to call again next week. Take care of things, Kris. Love you, old girl. Let me talk to the kids now." Kristine crooked her finger at her oldest son. "Your father wants to talk to you." "Ah shit," she heard him mutter. Cala sat down on the top step, her eyes murderous. Tyler leaned against the wall shivering. Kristine stepped over the fallen logs on the steps as she made her way to the kitchen. Her shoulders straightened imperceptibly as she slid strips of bacon into an old cast iron fry pan. Suddenly she felt better than she had in weeks. Logan would straighten the kids out in two seconds. Her husband loved her but then she'd known that. Still it was nice to hear the words occasionally. Now if she could just get the kids back on track maybe things would fall into place. What seemed like a long time later she heard movement behind her. She turned to see her three bedraggled looking children. She smiled. Dinner's almost ready. Change your clothes. By the time you get down here the kitchen will be warm and toasty. "We're sorry, Mom," the three of them said in unison. "Me too. Hurry now before you catch cold." "I'm starved," Mike said. "I could eat a horse," Tyler said. "I'll settle for three eggs, four pieces of toast and six slices of bacon," Cala said. "Coming right up," Kristine said cheerfully as she struck a match to light the logs in the cavernous kitchen fireplace. Back to Chapter One Main Page newsflash / biography / bookshelf / contest my latest / complete list / my favorites / my suggestions chapter one / series list / my publisher / my blog the romance club / site map / contact Copyright ©1997-2008 by First Draft, Inc.