eleventh-grade brother.
The girls came running up the driveway, Seth threw a stick, the two dogs diverted by it for a moment but then turned together and charged up the hill behind the girls. Seth waved then crossed the street to his house.
John felt a hand slip into his… Jen’s.
“Just like her mother,” Jen whispered, voice choked.
Yes, he could see Mary in Jennifer, slender, actually skinny as a rail, shoulder-length blond hair tied back, still a lanky little girl. She slowed a bit, reaching out to put a hand on a tree as if to brace herself, Patricia turned and waited for her. John felt a momentary concern, wanted to go down to her, but knew better, Jen actually held him back.
“You are too protective,” Jen whispered. “She must handle it on her own.”
Young Jennifer caught her breath, looked up, a bit pale, saw them waiting, and a radiant smile lit her face.
“Me-ma! And you drove the Edsel today. Can we go for a ride?”
Jen let her hand slip, bent over slightly as Jennifer ran up to her grandmother, the two embracing.
“How’s my birthday girl?”
They hugged and Grandma Jen showered Jennifer with kisses, twelve of them, counting each off. Pat looked over at the Beanies lined up, smiled, and looked up at John.
“Afternoon, Mr. Matherson.”
“How are you, Pat?”
“I think she needs to be checked,” Pat whispered.
“It can wait.”
“Daddy!”
Jennifer was now in his arms. He lifted her up, hugged her with fierce intensity so that she laughed, then groaned, “You’ll break my back!”
He let go of her, watching her eyes as she looked past him to the Beanie Babies lining the wall… and yes, there was still that childlike glow in them.
“Patriot Bear! And Ollie Ostrich!”
As she started to sweep them up, he looked over at Jen with a bit of a triumphant smile, as if to say, “See, she’s still my little girl.”
Jen, rising to the challenge, came up to Jennifer’s side and held out the flat box.
“Happy Birthday, darling.”
Jennifer tore the paper off. Ginger, thinking the paper was now a gift to her, half-swallowed it and ran off as Zach chased her. When Jennifer opened the box her eyes widened. “Oh, Me-ma.”
“It’s time my girl had a real gold necklace. Maybe your friend can help you put it on.”
John looked down at the gift. My God, it must of cost a fortune, heavy, almost pencil thick. Jen looked at him out of the corner of her eye as if to meet any challenge.
“You’re a young lady now,” Jen announced as Pat helped to clasp the necklace on, and then Jen produced a small mirror from her purse and held it up.
“Oh, Grandma… it’s lovely.”
“A lovely gift for a lovely lady.”
John stood silent for a moment, not sure what to say as his little girl gazed into the mirror, raising her head slightly, the way a woman would, to admire the gold.
“Sweetie, I think you better check your blood sugar; you seemed a bit winded coming up the hill,” John finally said, and his words came out heavily, breaking the moment.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Jennifer leaned against the wall, took off her backpack and pulled out the blood-sugar test monitor. It was one of the new digital readout models. No more finger pricking, just a quick jab to the arm. She absently fingered the necklace with her free hand while waiting for the readout.
One forty-two… a bit high.
“I think you better get some insulin into you,” John said. She nodded.
Jennifer had lived with it for ten years now. He knew that was a major part of his protectiveness of her. When she was in her terrible twos and threes, it tore his heart out every time he had to prick her finger, the sight of his or Mary’s approach with the test kit set off howls of protest.
The doctors had all said that, as quickly as possible, Jennifer had to learn to monitor herself, that John and Mary needed to step back even when she was only seven and eight to let her know her own signs, test, and medicate. Mary had handled it far better than John had, perhaps because of her own illness towards the end. Jen with her strength had the same attitude.
Strange. Here I am, a soldier of twenty years. Saw some action, but the only casualties were the Iraqis, never my own men. I was trained to handle things, but when it came to my daughter’s diabetes, a damn aggressive type 1, I was always on edge. Tough, damn good at what I did, well respected by my men, and yet complete jelly when it comes to my girls.
“There’s a few more gifts inside,” John said. “Why don’t you girls go on in? Once your sister gets home and your friends show up we can have our party.”
“Oh, Dad, didn’t you get Elizabeth’s message?”
“What message?”
“Here, silly.”
She reached up and fished the cell phone out of his breast pocket, tucked in behind a pack of cigarettes. She started to pull the cigarettes out, to stomp on them or tear them up, but a look from him warned her off.
“Someday, Daddy,” she sighed, then taking the phone she punched a few keys and handed it back.
“Home late. Out with Ben,” the screen read.
“She texted you and me during lunch.”
“Texted?”
“Yes, Daddy, text message, all the kids are doing it now.”
“What’s wrong with a phone call?”
She looked at him as if he were from the antediluvian period and then headed inside.
“Texted?” Jen asked.
John held the phone so she could read the message. Jen smiled.
“Better start keeping a sharper watch on Elizabeth,” she said. “If that Ben Johnson has any of his grandfather’s blood in him.” She chuckled as if remembering something from long ago.
“I don’t need to hear this.”
“No, you don’t, Colonel.”
“Actually, I kind of prefer ‘Doctor,’ or ‘Professor.’”
“A doctor is someone who sticks things in you. A professor, well, they always struck me as a bit strange. Either rakes chasing the girls or boring, dusty types. Down here in the South, ‘Colonel’ sounds best. More masculine.”
“Well, I am no longer in active service. I am a professor, so let’s just settle for ‘John.’”
Jen gazed up at him for a moment, then came up to his side, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek lightly.
“I can see why my own little girl once fell for you, John. You’ll lose both of them soon enough to some pimply-faced boys, so do hang on to her as long as you can.”
“Well, you sure as hell didn’t help, draping that gold necklace on her. What did it cost, a thousand, fifteen hundred?”
“Roughly, but then again, no lady tells the truth when it comes to her buying jewelry.”
“Until the bill comes in and the husband has to pay.”
There was a pause. He knew he had misspoken. If he had said such a thing around Mary, she’d have lit into him about a woman being independent and the hell with a husband handling the bills… and in fact she did handle all the family finances right up till the last weeks of her life.
As for Tyler, though, he no longer even knew what a bill was, and that hurt, no matter how self-reliant Jen tried to appear to be.
