Previously:
On our way out of Washington, Josh admitted my family terrifies him. I sympathize; my family terrifies me, too.
“When?” Josh asks me. We are upstairs in our room getting ready to go out to my grandparents’ place for Christmas dinner.
“When what?”
I’m trying to decide what to wear; all of the options are presently unappealing. Josh is sprawled out on the bed watching me. He’s already dressed in khakis and the green sweater I got him for Chanukah.
“When, you know, is the baby due?”
“How did you know, by the way?” I am still flabbergasted by the book and his note.
“Answer my question first.” His brown eyes shine with excitement. I had no idea he would be this happy about it.
“ July 29th. Now tell me how you knew.” I whine, settling on a cream colored turtleneck and a casual black skirt.
Josh crawls off the bed and wraps his arms around my waist. “You missing your period two months in a row was the biggest tip-off. I could set a watch by your cycle. Then you were green the entire week of Thanksgiving. Plus, your breasts are bigger.”
“They are not.” I smack him on the chest, laughing.
“Donnatella, I am intimately acquainted with the Wonder Twins. Trust me when I tell you they are a little bit larger than they use to be. Not much, just a bit.”
He holds his fingers up a hair’s breadth apart to illustrate his point. Which I’ll give him. He is probably far more familiar with my breasts than I am.
“Donna! Mom says to stop fooling around and let’s go!” Freddy yells up the stairs.
***
Except for my mother, I have no relatives to speak of. Even before everyone died, we were a pretty small bunch. My mom’s side of the family consisted of her parents and her sister, my infamous Aunt Frannie. Her parents passed on before I was even born. Aunt Frannie died in 1999. The Lyman family was basically destroyed by the Nazis during World War II. My father and grandfather were the only survivors.
I mention this because when I step into the Moss Family Christmas Extravaganza, I am overwhelmed. And there are only about 30 people here, including the kids.
“What is this? A family reunion?” I mumble under my breath.
“Think of it as a fundraiser with better food.” Donna kisses my cheek and then introduces me to her grandparents, David and Eileen Moss.
“Come on in, Josh. We’re watching the football game.” David wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me along to the living room where all of the men have congregated.
I lose track of names after I’m introduced to someone named Carl, whose exact relationship to the family I didn’t catch. Sitting on the sofa next to Fred seems to be the safest bet.
“Who are all of these people?” I whisper to him. Timmy picks that moment to climb into my lap. Evidently, he has been banished to the living room as well. I don’t understand why he comes to me instead of his dad, but I’m not going to make a scene.
“Just make yourself inconspicuous,” he advises.
I know words of wisdom when I hear them. I keep my mouth shut and focus on the game until we are called to dinner.
***
While the men assemble in the living room to stay out of the way, the women gather in the kitchen to gossip. Everyone wants to see the ring and talk about the wedding. Mom and Pat thankfully keep their mouths shut about the baby. My aunts would go ballistic if they knew I was pregnant before I got married.
I’d just as soon let them wait until after we go back to Washington.
This is the first time I’ve been home for Christmas since I left for New Hampshire. Everyone is extremely curious about what it is I do in Washington. I find myself at a loss to explain it to people whose knowledge of government is what they learned in high school civics thirty years ago.
When Grandma pulls the ham out of the oven, we quickly set the tables and bring out the rest of the food while Mom goes to call the boys to dinner.
Grandpa insists that Josh sit next to him. I slip into the chair on Josh’s other side, to give him moral support for the public spectacle which is about to begin.
After Grandpa says grace we start passing food around the table and Grandma starts peppering Josh with questions. She can barely contain herself; she loves doing this. Every spouse at the table has endured it.
***
“So, Josh. Donna tells us you work for the government?”
Oh God. A quick glance at Donna reveals this to be what I think it is. Open season.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply as I pass the cranberry crap on to my left.
“What exactly do you do?”
“I’m the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.”
One of Donna’s uncles looks confused. “So what do you do?”
“I spend most of my time convincing Congress to pass legislation to further the President’s domestic policy agenda.” I explain, passing the ham on without taking a slice.
***
Josh has made a fatal error. You cannot just pass on Grandma’s special Christmas ham. If you don’t take two slices she gets offended.
“Something wrong with the ham, Josh?” She asks.
“No ma’am. I’m sure it’s fine.” He gives her a smile.
“You should try it.” Grandpa tries to hand him back the serving platter.
“Thank you, but I’d rather not.”
“Just take the damn ham, Josh.” I hiss at him.
“Is there a problem?” My dad asks from the other end of the table. We have gained the attention of the entire family.
“I don’t eat pork,” Josh tries to explain.
“Since when?” I ask.
“Since ever, Donna,” he sounds exasperated.
Grandpa seems content with Josh’s refusal and starts the ham back on its way around the table.
“You had bacon, yesterday.” I point out, not understanding.
***
“I gave the bacon to Kelly. I didn’t want to offend your mother.” I tell her quietly, still hoping to avoid a scene.
“You eat sweet and sour pork from Wong’s all the time.”
“No, you and Sam always eat the sweet and sour pork. Toby and I eat the General Tsao’s chicken.”
“Oh.” From the look in her eyes, I can see she didn’t connect the dots like I expected her to.
Eileen doesn’t either; she’s glaring death rays at me. “Are you allergic or something?”
“Let it go, Eileen,” David speaks up.
“Well, I’ve obviously offended him somehow. I’d like to know how.” The woman is in a serious huff.
“Josh, are you offended by the presence of the ham?” David asks me, his eyes full of mischief. I get the impression he gets in every dig he can when it comes to his wife.
“No, sir. The presence of the ham does not offend me.”
“There. Eileen, he’s not offended by the ham. Leave the man alone.”
***
An uncomfortable silence descends over the table until someone asks Fred if he’s decided where he wants to go to college next fall.
His simple ‘I haven’t decided yet’ starts a lively debate about the benefits of his staying in Madison or going up north to Stevens’ Point or Eau Claire.
Nobody really notices that Fred and Josh are the only ones not participating in the discussion. I figure Josh is just uncomfortable, but Fred looks truly distressed from where I’m sitting.
We finish dinner about the time the family determines Fred would be best off attending UW-Sheboygan and getting his associate’s degree, using those two years to decide what he really wants be when he grows up.
***
In the confusion after dinner, I slip outside to clear my head. I’m trying to not be upset with Donna. She pays attention to so many little things I find it difficult to wrap my brain around the concept of her not knowing something about me.
Fred disappearing into a shed makes me realize I’m not the only with things to think about. Figuring he could probably use an impartial third party to talk to, I follow him through the door.
“Hey,” he greets me as I shut the door.
I take a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim light.
“Hey,” I reply, taking a look around. This is obviously not the chicken coop.
“Grandpa comes out here when Grandma’s driving him nuts,” Fred volunteers.
I settle into an ancient recliner. “I get the impression he spends a lot of time out here.”
The shed is outfitted with two old recliners, an ancient sofa, a couple of end tables, a space heater and a small refrigerator.
“Yeah, every time we come to visit, Grandpa, Dad and I end up out here after about an hour.” Fred opens the fridge and hands me a beer, taking one for himself as well.
We sit in silence for a while and sip our beers.
***
“Have you seen Josh?” I ask Dad once we’ve finished the dishes.
His eyebrows bunch together as he thinks about it. “No. I haven’t seen Fred for a while either.”
“They went out to the shed right after dinner.” Grandpa says. He’s putting his shoes and coat on, so I figure he’s had all of Grandma he can deal with today.
“That was almost two hours ago.” I check my watch.
“Neither one of them looked real happy during dinner,” Grandpa remarks.
“I’m going with you.” I grab my jacket.
Dad stays my hand. “You’re going to do no such thing.”
Grandpa snorts at Dad on his way out the door. “Come along, Donnatella.”
***
“So, let me get this straight. You don’t eat pork and you don’t eat shellfish?” Fred looks confused.
“Well, kosher says no pork and no shellfish. I don’t really follow kosher except for the pork thing. I’ve never eaten pork, I have no desire to.” I finish off my third beer, wondering briefly if Donna will kick my ass for getting drunk.
Fred looks up as the door opens and David comes in, followed by Donna.
He surveys us and the empty six-pack. “There better be some beer left in the fridge.”
Fred just grins and hands one to him.
“You two solve all the mysteries of the universe?” The old man opens his beer and relaxes on the sofa.
Donna stands by the door with her arms crossed, chewing her lower lip. I motion her over to sit with me, trying to indicate that we’re okay. She hesitates just a second before curling up on my lap.
“I’m explaining kosher to Fred.”
“I’ve always thought the shellfish thing was a little weird, myself,” David volunteers from the sofa.
I take another look at the old man. He smiles as my questioning gaze before turning his attention to Donna.
“When I was in Army boot camp during World War II, my bunkmate was a scrawny Jewish kid from Brooklyn named Sandy Feldstein. The sergeants all hated him because he was smart and he knew it. Between the two of us we were always in some sort of trouble. You see, I was incapable of shining the brass buttons on my uniform without leaving spots on the fabric and the mess sergeant insisted on serving pork cutlets for supper twice a week. If you failed inspection or didn’t eat everything you were served, the entire platoon got punished. After the first week, Sandy and I made a deal. I’d eat his pork cutlets and he’d polish my brass buttons.”
David shifts his gaze from Donna to Fred. “We got back to the States and Sandy wanted to go to college, but his father wanted him to come home to help in the family butcher shop. His old man got sick and died a few years later. Sandy spent his entire life running that shop. We kept in touch through the years and the one thing he always said he regretted was not doing what he wanted to with his life.”
***
We sit out in Grandpa’s shed for a while longer. Fred finally admits he really wants to go to Georgetown and study Foreign Relations.
“Did you apply for early action?” Josh asks.
“No. I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted.”
“Mom and Dad don’t care where you go, you know,” I point out. “They’d be thrilled if you pick Georgetown. At least there, you’re close to Josh and me.”
Grandpa nods at him, prying himself off the couch. “I’m going to be damn disappointed in you if you end up at Sheboygan. Let’s you and I head back to the house.”
“We’ll be a few minutes behind you,” Josh says as they leave.
“Your grandfather is a very smart man.” He sighs as he hugs me tighter to his chest, tilting his head back to kiss me.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” I tell him when our lips part.
He favors me with a soft smile, displaying his irresistible dimples. “It’s okay. I just have trouble remembering you don’t know everything about me. You’re so comfortable, it feels like you’ve been in my life forever.”
“I’m comfortable?” I tease him, leaning down to kiss him again.
“Like an old pair of boxers.”
The only response I can muster to his analogy is laughter.
***
The next morning, UPS shows up with the wedding invitations right after Dad leaves for work. Mom is off until New Years since the end of the year accounting for her company is done.
Pat and Gerry left for Fond du Lac from Grandma and Grandpa’s last night. The house is quieter than I ever remember it being while Mom and I sit in the kitchen and finesse some wedding details.
Josh wanders downstairs with his hair still damp from the shower. Pouring a cup of coffee, he joins us at the table.
“How’s your hand feel this morning, babe?” I hand him a stack of invitation envelopes and a list of names and addresses.
He looks at the list and groans. “Why do I get all of your relatives? They live in places I can’t even pronounce, much less spell. Where on earth is Ashwaubenon and who lives there?”
“It’s a suburb of Green Bay and my great-aunt Gertrude lives there. Quit whining and start addressing. Mom and I will stuff.”
Freddy puts in an appearance around 10 on his way out the door to basketball practice. By noon, we are two-thirds of the way through the list.
“I thought Luxemburg was a country,” Josh jokes, grabbing his fourth pen of the morning. The phone interrupts my reply.
Mom answers it and pales almost immediately.
“Mom?” I grow concerned when she drops the phone, a look of shock on her face.
Josh picks it up and I lead Mom back to her chair. I turn back to Josh.
“Get your coat and your mom’s keys,” he tells me.
While I find the car keys, Josh explains what the phone call was.
“Your grandparents were in a car accident. They’re going to the University of Wisconsin Medical Center.”
We help Mom into her coat; she’s finally functioning enough to get moving.
“You drive,” Josh orders. “I’ll call your Dad.”
***
“Mrs. Moss was driving down a gravel road when she lost control of the car on a patch of ice and flipped it into the ditch. She struck her head on the steering wheel and was knocked unconscious. Mr. Moss’s seat belt broke loose and he was thrown through the windshield.”
The state trooper is explaining what happened. Paul and Fred arrived about five minutes after we did and the trooper followed them in. As the sergeant finishes his explanation, a doctor and the chaplain join us.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Moss didn’t make it. He was killed at the accident scene,” the doctor tells us, doing his best to soften the news. “Mrs. Moss has been taken upstairs to ICU. She’s in critical condition. Aside from the concussion, she has a broken hip and severe internal injuries.”
The chaplain focuses on Paul and Deb, who are not taking this well at all. Watching them, I begin to gain some insight into what Donna went through during my surgery.
None of them seem to know where to start, so when the chaplain goes to call Pastor Johnson, I sit down next to Paul.
“You should start letting people know,” I tell him gently, offering him my phone. “Donna, Fred and I are going to get some coffee.”
Deb pulls her address book from her purse and together they begin to notify the family.
“Nobody’s ever died before,” Donna whispers to me on our way back from the cafeteria with coffee. She’s the only one of them that seems to grasp what has happened. Fred, like his parents, is dazed.
Unfortunately, death is something I have a lot of experience with. We spend the rest of the day at the hospital, waiting for word on Eileen. No one plans to return and help until the day of the funeral, they all seem eager to leave the planning to Paul and Deb.
Donna’s grandmother never regains consciousness; the doctor’s news brings a fresh round of tears and grief. While Pastor Johnson consoles Donna and her family, I briefly step into the hallway to check in with Leo.
“How’s Wisconsin?” Leo is far too cheerful for 8:30 DC time.
“Donna’s grandparents were killed in a car accident this morning.”
“Josh. I’m sorry.”
“Leo, I don’t know if we’ll be back by the 6th.”
“Take care of your family, Joshua. We’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks, Leo.”
After I hang up with him, I open Deb’s address book and begin calling people with more bad news. I’m not sure when during this short week these people became my family, but Leo is right.
They are.
***
Josh drives us home and fixes dinner while the rest of us try to comprehend the day. Nobody is really hungry, but we all eat something. More out of habit than anything else.
Fred goes upstairs to his room after we eat. Dad just sits at the table mumbling how he doesn’t know what to do. Mom and I aren’t in any better condition. I don’t know where to start either.
When I say something to Josh, he wraps me up in his arms. “Start by getting some sleep,” he whispers into my hair.
I go upstairs to get ready for bed. Glancing at the clock, I realize this will be the first time I’ve been to bed before 10 p.m. in years. I hear Josh cajoling my parents upstairs as well. I’ve never seen Daddy like this before. Mom finally seems to snap out of it and takes over getting Dad to bed.
When Josh comes into the room, I’m curled under the covers, sobbing again. He quickly undresses and slips into bed. I gravitate towards his warmth and he pulls me to his chest. His comforting touch and the reassuring beat of his heart finally lulls me to sleep.
I awake alone in the morning. Going downstairs, I find Josh on the phone with a legal pad and calendar in front of him, taking furious notes. Sitting down across from him, I gather he is on the phone with a funeral home.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he finally hits the end button on his cell.
“Narrowing down the options.” His smile is tempered by the unpleasantness of his task.
“What?”
“I figured they didn’t go to the same church your folks do, so I called Pastor Johnson to see if he knew where they went. He gave me the number for a guy named Orville Mitchell.”
“At St. Luke’s. You could have just asked me, I’d have told you.”
“You were asleep,” he points out. “Anyway, Orville hadn’t heard about this yet and when he got finished dressing me down for not calling earlier, he gave me the number of the funeral home he likes to use.”
“That’s who you were on the phone with?” I’m scouring the cabinets for something to eat.
“No, I was on the phone with the guy from the cemetery. He’s pretty sure he can get the graves dug by Monday. Something about permafrost, I didn’t get all of it.”
“What’s Monday?”
“The first day my new friend Orville was willing to do the funerals.” Josh sounds a bit disgusted by that.
“That bothers you?” I ask. Our family hasn’t buried anybody in thirty years; I don’t know how long you usually wait.
“Yeah, it does, but that’s neither here nor there. When your dad gets up, we need to go out to the funeral home and sign a release so they can be picked up from the hospital.”
His rundown of the day is interrupted by the phone ringing.
“Moss residence,” Josh answers it. “No, sir. I’m afraid he’s still in bed. Donna is up though.”
Covering the mouthpiece he hands me the phone. “Some guy named Leonard?”
It is the first of an untold number of phone calls.
***
Deb comes downstairs first. She seems a little better today than yesterday. Until she starts taking condolence calls, then what composure she had is lost.
When Fred puts in an appearance, I send him to the drug store for tissues and Tylenol.
Paul is zombie-like as I drive us to the funeral home. He’s really not making any decisions; I find myself telling him what to do.
From the funeral home, we stop to pick up Deb before heading out to the small, country church David and Eileen attended. Pastor Mitchell greets us at the door.
Sitting in his office picking out hymns, I realize the last time I did this was for Mrs. Landingham. Fortunately, I don’t have to dredge up memories for someone to build a sermon around. Pastor Mitchell knew David and Eileen for fifty years.
The service details finalized, Orville escorts us back to the car and gives me directions to the cemetery. I want to make sure the plots are okay with Donna’s parents.
“Josh? Since we’re out this way, why don’t we go by the farm? I need to pick out clothes for them,” Deb asks. She’s pulled herself together and starting to realize what needs to be done.
While Deb goes into the house, Paul and I go out to the shed. I’m not sure this is the brightest idea, but he wants to.
“Did your Dad have an attorney or an accountant?” I ask, taking the beer Paul hands me.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure he had a guy who helped him with his taxes. Deb is the one who helped him with that stuff. I don’t even know if he had a will.”
“We’ll get all of the necessities out of the way today and then tomorrow we can come out here and see what we can find.”
“I don’t even know what I’m looking for.” He looks lost, sitting on the old sofa.
“I’ve spent 37 years looking for it and still haven’t found it.” I pause to take a drink and consider my words. “I’ll never forget the day my grandfather died. He knew that morning it was going to happen. He was really sick and living with us. I always said goodbye to him before I left for school. That morning he told me of all the things he had suffered in life, the thing that would hurt him the most would be dying alone. I went to my first period class and couldn’t get his words out of my head, so I went back home. He made me promise him three things. First, that I wouldn’t tell my parents I’d cut school, secondly, that I would say a prayer for him every year and finally that I’d never forget.”
“Never forget what?” Paul asked.
“Never forget the things love and hate can make us do.” I reply, finishing my beer.
“Have you kept your promises?”
“My mom still thinks I was at the library after school that day, every year on the anniversary of his death, I find my way to temple to say a prayer and I have never forgotten.”
When Paul’s finished, we head up to the house. Deb is coming down the stairs with a garment bag.
“Ready?” She asks.
We both nod and head out to the car.
***
Saturday morning, we are all up early. Pat got in late last night. She left Gerry and the kids at home. The six of us pick up Dad’s car from the hospital, then trek back out to the farm to start going through things.
Mom drafts Pat and I into cleaning the kitchen out. Fred and Dad head upstairs to sort through the clothes and clean out the bathrooms. Josh and Mom pick the lock on Grandpa’s roll-top desk and start searching for anything that will lead them to an attorney.
***
I go through each file, listing its contents for Josh, who notes everything on his legal pad along with some notations I don’t understand. I helped David organize his tax records for his accountant every year, but he never told me who it was and I never thought to ask. All I know is it wasn’t our firm.
Thankfully, Paul’s Dad kept everything organized. His tax records only go back seven years and they are separated with each year in its own file. Bank records for each year are there, too. Investments are meticulously cataloged and under ‘W’ we find the will.
I go get everyone else while Josh starts reading through it.
“Okay. There is some good news here. Paul, you are the executor of their estate. That means on Monday when we file this, you’ll have power of attorney to liquidate their assets. Life insurance policies, of which there are 6 for some reason, checking account, all that stuff.”
David spelled everything out pretty clearly. There are certain things that go to certain people, everything else is to be sold, along with the farm and the proceeds combined with the rest of the estate and split three ways between Paul and his siblings.
***
We decide to go out for pizza when we get done at the farm. Now everyone else is starting to act functional again, I feel myself losing it.
We get home shortly before ten. I make some excuses and head upstairs. There’s a neon pink beanbag chair in a dark corner of Donna’s old room that looks like the perfect place to curl up and contemplate some of the things I’ve said to Paul in the past couple of days.
I spent an afternoon with David Moss, six hours at the most. The only thing he gave me was unconditional acceptance in his family. I am discovering his death hurts almost as much as my own grandfather’s. Eileen’s loss hurts as well, just not as sharply. I regret the lost opportunity to get to know her.
***
It takes me almost thirty minutes to find him, curled up in my beanbag chair in the dark, holding his old teddy bear.
“Josh?” I sit on the floor next to him. He doesn’t speak and in the half-light of the room I can see his tears. For the past two days, he has held my family together through this. For the past two nights, he has held me while I cried myself to sleep.
Never once did I consider that he might need to grieve as well.
“I need to get shoes,” he says suddenly.
“Why?” I ask, wiping the moisture from his face with my thumb.
“All mine are leather. I shouldn’t wear leather shoes to the funeral.”
“This is something I’m going to have to have Toby explain isn’t it?” I try to prod him out of his funk.
“No, I’ll explain it.” Josh pulls me up into his lap. This is becoming a thing, my sitting on his lap. I rest my head against his shoulder when he places the bear on my stomach.
“Does this thing have a name?” I ask when I sense he’s really not ready to explain the shoe thing.
“Bear.”
“You named it Bear?”
“No. Joanie named it Bear. I have no idea why.” He finally smiles at me.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?”
His tentative smile morphs into a full-blown smile. “I want six of each.”
“Seriously. A boy or a girl?” We’ve had the discussion of how many too many times. I want a couple, he wants a dozen.
“I’d love a little girl to spoil rotten,” he finally admits. “But a boy would be cool. Either way, I’m teaching the little bear to play baseball.”
“Make love to me, Joshua.” I need to feel alive; I need to feel loved.
We leave the bear in the beanbag chair as we make our way to the bed. Josh tries to devour me with his kiss, but he settles down when I slide up his body and straddle his chest. He runs his hands up my shirt, skillfully undoing my bra.
***
I run my thumbs across her nipples, delighting as they tighten at my touch. Donna’s sharp intake of breath is my cue to continue. I want to be gentle, I want to take my time but I don’t think I’ll be able to. My erection is straining against my pants, I feel like I will explode if I can’t be inside her.
Donna stands up and makes short work of her pants. In her eyes, I see my feeling of urgency reflected back at me. I undo my belt and slide my jeans and boxers to my knees. Donna straddles my chest again, sliding down until she encounters Spongebob.
With a sure hand, she guides me into her warmth. Together we set a driving rhythm, one not designed to last long and it doesn’t. I come first and as she rides me up and down a few last strokes, I reach for her clit. With just a few flicks of my finger, Donna tosses her head back, eyes closed, rejoicing in being alive.
As I drift to sleep, Donna wrapped in my arms, I realize I forgot to explain the shoe thing.
***
The six of us head to church the next morning. Josh and I go primarily to set up another appointment with Pastor Johnson. We sort of didn’t make the one on Friday. We settle on Tuesday, figuring by then we’ll need a break from my relatives.
We get home to find some of them in the driveway. Dad’s brother and sister have arrived, spouses and kids in tow. They send my younger cousins into the living room to play video games and proceed to situate themselves around the dining room table.
Mom and Dad look like they’re preparing for a serious argument. Probably over everything we decided while they weren’t here.
“We’re going to start dinner.” I gesture to Pat, Josh, Fred and myself. Josh looks vaguely disappointed, like he was wanting to put the smack-down on someone.
I’m still digging through the fridge looking for a roast when the yelling starts.
“Three minutes.” Pat comments from her perch on the kitchen counter.
Fred snorts. “That might be a new record for Uncle Carl.”
“Which one is Carl?” Josh asks. He’s standing at the sink washing potatoes.
“The one that looks like an asshole.”
This from Pat the Family Peacemaker.
“That’s because he is an asshole. He’s married to Dad’s sister, Katie,” I explain.
“You met him at Christmas.” Fred is sitting at the table fiddling a pen. “He was the loud, obnoxious one who kept looking at you funny.”
The three of us take the next two hours to explain Moss Family Politics to Josh. Who he needs to be nice to and who should be avoided at all costs. We also manage to make dinner and finish addressing the wedding invitations.
“Am I going to get note cards on this before March?” Josh asks. Sadly, I don’t think he’s joking.
***
Monday morning brings a fresh four inches of snow. We all caravan out to St. Luke’s for the funeral. It is packed, not only with relatives, but with old friends. The continuing snowfall makes the graveside service short. Josh and I stand behind my parents as they lower the bodies into the ground.
Monday afternoon turns into the family drama I thought it would and drags on forever. Tuesday promises more of the same, except this time Josh and I get to escape.
We arrive back in Madison an hour before our meeting. We grab some lunch at a downtown diner and sit down to talk.
“Is there anything out there that you want?” Josh asks, picking at his hamburger.
I shake my head. “Other than the house? No.”
“You want the house?” He about snaps his neck looking up from his plate.
“I’d love the house, Josh. It’d be a great vacation home, but we don’t need a farm in Wisconsin. We need a second car before the baby comes.”
“When do you want to start telling people?” Walking out of the restaurant, Josh takes my hand in his.
“Before I start to show would probably be smart.”
Pastor Johnson is waiting for us with a knowing smile on his face.
“Family getting to you?” He asks as we settle into his office.
“She won’t let me yell at them.” Josh whines with a smile.
“You cannot smack my family around like wayward congressmen, Joshua.”
“You can’t tell me Carl is not a Republican.”
“Point.”
“Is this normal?” the pastor interjects, ruining the one moment of banter we’ve had in a week.
“Which part?” We ask in unison.
Josh turns to me. “We need to try to not do that.”
“The point of this meeting is to satisfy my curiosity you know what you’re getting yourselves into with marriage and you are truly prepared to make the kind of vows we’re talking about here.”
“Yeah, we’re good with the whole thing. Are we done?” Josh quips.
We are not done and we spend the next three hours discussing everything from who does the laundry to how many kids we want. That topic restarts the whole how many kids are we having debate. I think Josh just likes to get me riled up about this more than he really wants 12 kids. In the end, we agree as we always do, we will have as many as we have.
“You wouldn’t have a problem marrying us if Donna were already pregnant, would you?” Josh asks out of the blue.
“Well, we generally like to see couples married before they take that step, but why do you ask?”
“We had a, well I wouldn’t call it an accident, but it was more of a planning miscalculation,” he tries to explain.
Pastor Johnson looks extremely confused.
“I went off the pill too soon,” I state bluntly. “I’m due the end of July.”
“We were aiming more for this time next year,” Josh elaborates.
“Congratulations. It’s nice to know you were at least trying some family planning.”
“Yeah, plans and Josh don’t get along too well. He’s not allowed to participate in the wedding planning.”
“And you’re okay with this?”
Josh nods. “Definitely. The fewer things I’m involved in, the fewer things I can screw up.”
In the end, he decides he’ll marry us. Josh warns him that while it will be a relatively small wedding, we will have some high profile guests and someone from the Secret Service would likely be calling him soon.
Walking back to the car, Josh is strangely quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” I loop my arm through his and lean on his shoulder.
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Promise.”
“Us and your grandparents. In the past week, we have been through the entire circle of life. From you and I starting life to Eileen and David ending theirs. I just want us to be as content in our life together as they were.”
“Joshua Lyman, you never cease to amaze me.”
Next: Zoot Suit Riot
“Donna! I look like a dork!”