Chapter 35

June 1965, eight months later

Shu

I pleaded with Cline while I leaned on the banker’s blond oak desk. “Whaddya mean you can’t help me? What am I s’posed to do?”

Cline shrugged. “Look, who knows how long this drought will last? We can’t take a chance on another loan for you. There might not be a crop this year. I’ve had to say the same thing to many other guys who are long-term good clients and friends. You’ll just have to cut back on some things.”

“Cut back? We’ve already got seed and fertilizer in the fields. What do you expect me to do, pick ’em out of the ground and send ’em back to the dang farm store?” I asked with my arms outstretched.

“How about Wilson? Can you cancel your turkey order with them?’

“Jesus, that’s why I need a loan now. I took delivery on five thousand birds last week.”

“Well, you’ve got crop insurance, don’t you?”

“Ya, but I can’t collect ’til next fall. They gotta know there was no crop first. Then we’ll only get about half of what the crops are worth.”

“Okay, there’s only one other thing I can think of. I hate to say it, knowing Trudy and all, but you’ll have to put off building the new house.”

It was a good thing I had a farmer’s tan ’cause all the rest of the color drained from my face. Trouble was, I knew he was right. My peace agreement with Trudy was about to be flushed down the crapper.

***

“’Nother great meal, Trudes,” I said after wolfing down her version of Gretta’s goulash and cole slaw. “Wanna take an evening stroll down to the lake? We can take the kids up to the folks’ place.”

“Okay, sure. What’s with you? It’s not like you to want to take a walk after working all day.”

I shrugged. “It’s a nice June night . . . bugs aren’t too bad yet and we’ll take the fly rod along. Sunnies are spawning and biting like crazy. We’ll catch a mess of ’em and have the folks over for a fish fry tomorrow night.”

We headed for Lake Mattson by a short-cut through the fields. As our every step kicked up a puff of dust Trudy asked, “Think the corn will be knee high next month?” The soil was shrunk from the lack of moisture, cracked and looking like a jig-saw puzzle. It was dead-mouse gray instead of black.

“Hell, we’ll be lucky if it’ll be up at all . . . and those that do germinate won’t be ankle high by the Fourth of July.”

“Shu, do you think I’m a city slicker? I was just joshing; I know darn well the crops are gonna be bad this year.”

We held hands and walked in silence for a long while, each of us stealing glances at the other, afraid to talk about how the drought might impact our finances.

“Look, here are the stakes for the new house,” Trudy said as we got to the woods overlooking the lake.

“Ya. Let’s go down to the shore and catch some sunnies.” No way did I want us to be where the new house was already staked out.

“Shu, hold up, just a minute. Look, I know it’s gonna be a tough year ’cause of the drought.” Her jaw was set and she stared off down to the lake. “I think we should hold off on starting the house.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “What a woman! I’m so lucky to have you!” I picked her up and swung her around. “I met with Cline this afternoon. I was going to have to tell you tonight that he won’t give us a mortgage for the new house ’cause of the drought. God, I didn’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Shu, I’m sorry you worried about that. I love you.”

We didn’t try for sunnies. Instead we stripped off our clothes, walked through the spawning beds and lily pads into the cool water and went for a skinny dip. Good thing Ellie and Nick weren’t with us.

Pope

Herb yelled at me through the phone. “Pull your head out of your ass and get some damned customers! You’re dragging us down the shitter with you!”

“You know I do not appreciate that sort of language,” I said.

“Shit, you haven’t heard anything yet. If you don’t straighten things out there in fly-over land I’ll teach you a whole bunch of new words.”

“I have an appointment tomorrow with a very good prospect. Things will get better. My wife is home from the hospital, so I am able to concentrate more on—just one minute, Herb.” Mrs. Weber had stepped into my office and waved her arms to get my attention. “Yes, Mrs. Weber?”

“There’s a policeman here. He needs to talk to you. Says it’s urgent.”

“Herb, I have to go. I will call you back shortly.” I hung up, then got up and went to the reception area and wondered what this was about. I was certain my car was parked legally.

“Yes, officer, what can I do for you?” I said.

“You’re Mr. David Grimm?”

“Yes.”

The officer put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid I have bad news. Your wife apparently jumped from the balcony of your apartment this morning. She did not survive the five-story fall. I’m very sorry.”

A blackness came over me, and I staggered backwards and fell over a chair. Mrs. Weber and the officer rushed to help me up.

***

After the funeral, Trudy and Barb flanked me in a corner booth at Danny’s. Both had a consoling arm around me. Trudy said, “Pope, y’gotta stop blaming yourself. There was no way to know this was gonna happen. The doctors released her from the hospital and you relied on their judgment. What else could you have done?”

“That is easy to say, but in the end, God will judge me as wanting because she died in my care, and for that I am ultimately responsible. My God and my conscience speak clearly to me. They always have.” I was not tearful anymore. I was drained of emotion.

Bjorn slid in to the booth next to Trudy. “Pope, your conscience has’ta understand that no one is responsible for somebody else’s actions. Christ, if that weren’t the case we’d all be in the guilt prison.”

Bjorn’s long tow-head hair covered his partially reconstructed ear and scarred neck, but he still turned that side of his head away from the person to whom he was speaking. He had been released from Walter Reed hospital last month and was almost used to walking on his new prosthetic leg. He was living in the room at the plant that he had instructed his folks to build. He had even sent them the plans and specifications while he was in the hospital.

Ozzie said, “Hey, I never had anybody close to me die, so I have no words of wisdom about that. All I know is that life has’ta go on.” He motioned to the waiter to bring another round while he stubbed out his Pall Mall.

“Ya, that’s right,” Shu chimed in. “Pope, just remember that your buddies are here for ya.”

“Enough about me. I do not wish to dwell on my emotional sate any longer.” I said. “Please, Bjorn, how are you doing and what is new at Olson and Dad?”

“I’m okay, but things are kinda tense at work right now. Dad and I aren’t speaking.”

“What the heck happened?” Shu asked. “You’ve always had a great relation­ship with him.”

“Well, I . . . ah, canceled a new contract with the army to build more entrenching tools. I didn’t talk to him or Ma before I did. Really upset him bad.”

Ozzie asked, “Why the hell would you do something like that? A contract like that is money in the bank.”

“I don’t wanna profit from that military stuff anymore. Sure as hell, before long we’ll be sending combat troops to ’Nam. Kennedy probably would’ve just to prove to the world how tough we are after the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and now with him dead, good ol’ boy LBJ for sure wants’ta pull the trigger. I’m dead set against it,” Bjorn said as he slapped the table with his palm.

“Shee-it, man. We gotta stop those commies somewhere,” Ozzie said, his face growing red with rising anger. “Might as well be there. What the hell, you turn into a pinko?”

Bjorn clenched his fists. “It’s a damn civil war, Ozzie. It’s none of our goddamned business, and I’m no damned pinko!”

“All right, you two,” I said, holding up my hands. “Calm down, please. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Relax. We are among friends here, you know.”

“Yeah, quiet down you guys,” Barb said. “Other customers are wondering what all the fuss is about.”

“Okay, okay, but I’ll make you all a deal, ’specially you, Ozzie,” Bjorn pointed a finger at him. “I go to the VA hospital at Fort Snelling twice a month for more rehab and a check-up. Then I stay the rest of the day just to talk to the guys recuperating from injuries they got in ’Nam. I wasn’t the only so-called advisor who got wounded over there. You come along and spend a day with me making the rounds, and then we’ll have this little chat again.”

Ozzie looked down at his lap, “Look, sorry about the pinko deal. But, goddamn it, I still think we gotta stop the bastards somewhere. It might as well be there.”

Shu interrupted the debate. “Anything else new at work, Bjorn?”

“Ya. I’ve been working on two new product lines for quite a while. I can’t talk about ’em yet. I’ve had a lot of time to think and observe my surroundings in different hospitals and rehab joints.”

Olga

I was relaxing in the break room with coffee and a powdered sugar doughnut for dunking while I paged through the Waconia Patriot when I came to the announcement section. A picture of MK with a man caught my eye. Under the picture it read

 

Mr. and Mrs. Michael O’Brian are proud to announce the wedding of their daughter, Mary Katherine O’Brian, a nurse at Waconia Hospital. The groom is Dr. Conner Prescott Smyth, III, of Edina, Minnesota. He is an internist with the Lakeshore Clinic in Waconia and is the son of Dr. and Mrs. Conner Prescott Smyth, II.

The newlyweds will be residing at a new home now under con­struc­tion on Sunset Point on Lake Waconia after returning from a two-week European honeymoon.

 

My heart sank. My hands shook. Mike never told us. Karl and I didn’t get invited to the wedding. Can’t say I blame him or MK. Oh, Bjorn, what could have been.