6

On most nights when Mom served boiled hot dogs on buns for dinner, we didn’t sit at the dining room table. We’d fill our plates with dogs and baked beans and—if we were lucky—handfuls of chips and sit in front of the TV.

But that night, Mom had set the table and put out potato salad that she’d bought from Huisman’s Market the day before. She’d even cut up a watermelon, serving the slices on one of her nice platters. She hummed while putting out the ketchup and mustard.

“Annie, will you call the boys for supper?” she said without looking up from her work.

I set my book down and walked to the foot of the stairs. “Boys! Supper!” I yelled.

“Well, that was ladylike,” Mom said, shaking her head.

Mike and Joel ran down the stairs, shoving each other out of the way and smiling. So like puppies. Even at nearly twenty, Mike was still so much a little boy.

“No running in the house,” Mom called after them. “You’re going to break something.”

Mom took her seat, as did I. But Mike just grabbed a hot dog and shook a good amount of ketchup on it.

“I’m going out with some of the fellas,” he said before shoving at least half the hot dog into his mouth.

“Oh, I just thought . . .” Mom started.

“Can I go?” Joel interrupted her, grabbing a hot dog of his own.

“I guess so,” Mike answered, shrugging. “A couple of guys are building a bonfire over at the old campgrounds.”

“Is that all right, Mom?” Joel asked. “Can I?”

“No one will be drinking?” she asked. “There won’t be girls there?”

“If there’s any funny business, I’ll bring Joel home. Promise.”

Mom sighed and nodded, reaching for the dish of potato salad and serving herself a spoonful. “That’s fine.”

“Mike,” I said, hoping to make him understand that it wasn’t fine.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just the guys this time, sis.”

I tried to catch his eye, but he’d already turned his back on me, heading for the front door. “Come on, champ. Let’s shake a leg.”

“Keen,” Joel said, putting his face close to his plate and scooping the rest of his baked beans into his mouth before picking up his dishes and silverware and taking them to the sink.

He didn’t remember to rinse them.

The boys were halfway out the door before Mom called out for Mike to have Joel home by eleven.

“If you want to go, you can,” she told me.

“He said it was just for the boys,” I answered. “I’d rather stay in, anyway.”

“You don’t have to.” She stabbed at a square potato chunk with her fork. “You could see if Jocelyn wants to do something.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

She met my eye and smiled, shaking her head.

After we finished eating we cleaned up the dinner things, not saying too much as we did. It wasn’t until I opened the fridge to put away the ketchup and mustard that I saw the cake on one of the shelves. It was round and layered, more than a little lopsided, as most of the cakes Mom made ended up being. It had homemade chocolate frosting spread thick over the top and the sides. I knew if I cut into it, I would have seen white cake. Mike’s favorite.

“Mom,” I said, holding the door open.

“Don’t let all the cold air out,” she said, standing at the sink. “It’ll keep until tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” I asked.

She didn’t answer but turned off the faucet and flicked the extra water off her hands. “His birthday’s next week and we’ll miss it. I just realized that this morning.”

I shut the refrigerator and turned, leaning back against it. She dried her hands on an already damp hand towel. She wouldn’t have grabbed a fresh one from the drawer, I knew it. Not at that time of day. Mornings were for fresh towels. She wouldn’t have wanted to dirty another one when the one she’d used all day was good enough.

We poured ourselves tall glasses of iced tea and headed to the living room just in time to watch The Ed Sullivan Show. She sat in her chair, one leg tucked up under her. Every couple of minutes she’d sigh before going back to gnawing on her thumbnail. Her tea sat untouched, the sweat running down the glass onto the cork of her coaster.

“I suppose you don’t remember when Frank was in Korea,” she said in the middle of Spanky and Our Gang singing “Sunday Will Never Be the Same.” “You were so small.”

I told her I didn’t remember, and she nodded.

“I’m glad.” She didn’t take her eyes from the television. “It was a hard time.”

I didn’t say anything back to her. I wouldn’t have known what to say if I had. She rarely talked about Frank or his war.

“As afraid as I was then, I’m much more afraid now.” She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

“What are you afraid of?” I asked, just a whisper.

She turned from the TV and looked me straight in the eye. I couldn’t read her expression, but I understood its meaning and I instantly felt stupid for having asked her.

“That isn’t going to happen,” I said with all the resolve I could muster.

Her eyes softened.

You can’t live your life afraid of what might happen. That was what Mike had said. Don’t duck and cover.

Mom turned back to the television to watch the rest of the show.

I was up reading on the living room couch when Mike, true to his word, returned Joel home at eleven o’clock sharp. The smell of campfire hung on their clothes and hair. Joel had a busted-up lip, and a bruise was starting to form under his swollen eye.

“Mike,” I said, trying to keep my voice down so I wouldn’t make Mom come out of her room. “What happened to him?”

Getting up, I went to Joel, touching his bruise and making him wince.

“It’s nothing,” Joel said, moving his head back and away from me. “Just a little shiner.”

“Come on,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the kitchen. “We need to get some ice on that.”

I shut the door that led to the hallway between Mom’s room and the kitchen before getting a few ice cubes out of the freezer and wrapping them in a clean towel.

“Don’t bleed on it,” I warned Joel, handing it to him. “Mom would be furious.”

He held it, just barely touching the skin over his cheekbone, and grimaced.

“What happened?” I turned on Mike. “You were supposed to be watching out for him.”

He smirked into his half smile. “We were just playing a game of football on the beach, that’s all. Joel was a wide receiver, and Adam tackled him.”

“Adam Main?” I asked. “He’s four heads taller than Joel.”

“And our kid took it like a champ.” Mike looked at our baby brother with eyes full of pride.

Joel smiled before sucking in a pained breath. “Gosh, it hurts to smile.” He moved the ice down to his lip. “You think it’ll scar?”

“I don’t know,” Mike answered. “Let me see it. Nah. It’s not near deep enough.”

“Rats.”

“Well, I’m glad you boys had a good time,” I said, leaning back into the counter and crossing my arms. “Did you know Mom made you a cake?”

“What for?”

“It’s a birthday cake,” I answered. “For you.”

“Aw, Mike,” Joel said. “We’re going to miss your birthday.”

“And she wanted to have it after supper.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Mike asked.

I shrugged. “You know how she is.”

“She was upset.” It wasn’t a question. Mike knew enough.

I nodded.

“She still up?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“I bet she is,” he said. “She never sleeps when she’s angry. Listen. I’ve got an idea to make this right.”

Joel and I heard him out. True to form, Mike had a pretty good plan to smooth things over.

“You awake in there?” Mike asked through Mom’s door. “Dear, sweet mother of mine?”

He waited another few seconds before she answered that she was.

“May we come in?”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked.

“Lyndon Baines and Ladybird Johnson and their pet dog Freckles,” Mike answered. “Come on, pal. Let us in.”

“Fine,” she answered. “But don’t call me ‘pal.’”

Mike used one hand to open the door, the other to carry in a single rose he’d had Joel steal from the yard of a neighbor across the street. I followed behind him with the lopsided cake. Joel came last with a stack of plates and a fork for each of us.

“What are you kids doing?” she asked from where she sat on top of the covers, magazine open on her lap.

“We’re having a birthday party for me,” Mike said, handing her the rose. “Is that okay with you?”

“It’s so late,” she said, looking at the alarm clock on her bedside table. “We have to be up early to get you to the station.”

“None of us are going to sleep tonight anyway.” Mike winked at her. “We might as well have some cake with our insomnia.”

She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye and shook her head, trying not to let herself smile too big. “You kids better not get any crumbs on my bedspread.”

Pulling her legs to the side, bent at the knees, she made room for us on the bed. The mattress creaked a complaint under all of our weight. I served up oversized slices of the cake, which Mom said were too much but the boys declared just right.

“Don’t tell Grandma,” Mike said, a bite of cake shoved into his cheek. “You know how jealous she gets. But this is the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Mom shook her head and rolled her eyes, but still I could tell she was flattered even if she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

It wasn’t until Mom was halfway finished eating her cake that she noticed Joel’s face. When they told her what had happened, she sighed.

“That’s what I get for having two boys.”

But then she glanced down at the rose she’d put on her bedside table and smiled.

Hey, Annie.

Don’t be too upset that we left without waking you up. This might not make a lot of sense to you, but I don’t think I could have faced you without losing my cool. You wouldn’t want to see your big brother crack up, would you? You can let me have it later.

I wanted to tell you something last night before bed, but I’m a yeller-bellied old dog.

Take a deep breath before you read on, all right? You might be angry at me and you might be upset. That’s okay. Ready?

I found Frank.

Or at least I found a way to get ahold of him when we need to.

Remember yesterday how I told you that Grandma was crying? It wasn’t because of me leaving for the Army. That didn’t bother her at all, really. She said she worried that if something bad happened to me that Frank wouldn’t find out right away. Then she asked me if I’d list him as a next of kin should I find out where he was.

I told her I’d do it in a heartbeat.

Annie, you have to promise that you won’t be mad at her. Do you swear? She’s known where he is all this time. She admitted that she lied when Mom asked her if she knew.

Please don’t be angry at her. She did what she thought was right, as odd as that might seem to you and me. I guess he made her promise to keep it a secret. Right or wrong, she kept to her word.

Well, until yesterday, that is.

Promise me one more, will ya? If anything happens to me, you’ve got to let Frank know. I’ll put his address at the bottom of this note. But only get ahold of him if you absolutely have to. We don’t want to scare him off, do we?

Don’t tell Mom, not yet at least. Got it? She’ll blow a gasket if you do and storm whatever house or apartment Frank’s holing up in and beat the snot out of him. Let’s hold off on such a spectacle until absolutely necessary. Sound good?

Write me, will you? Mom’s got the address, and I picked up a mess of stamps for you all. They’re in the drawer by the telephone.

Oh. And be extra nice to Joel for a week or so. I think this is hardest on him.

I love you (I guess).

Mike

PS: I told Bernie to hire somebody in my place. He’ll forget. You might want to remind him.

Where to reach Frank if need be:

Frank Jacobson

437 Magnolia St.

Bliss, MI