Just 18 Summers Page 3

  “Dad!” She wrapped her arms around him.

  “Hi, spumpkin,” he said, using the nickname he called her as much as possible. She never cared when he said it in public. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can we sit down?” she asked.

  Larry looked at the kid behind her, who was grinning, his hands in his pockets, his plaid shirt buttoned slightly askew.

  “You remember Marvin, right?”

  They shook hands. “Marvin, yes. How are you? You’re Robin’s friend from college, right?”

  “Well, I live near the college, but yeah . . .”

  Larry shut the door behind them and offered the only two seats in his office, mismatched chairs that needed to be re-covered. But he didn’t really have that many visitors outside company personnel.

  “So what’s going on?” Larry asked as he sat back down behind his desk. He punched his desk phone to silent, a feature he’d actually never used before.

  “Well,” Robin said, a huge grin stretched across her face, creating dimples in each of her cheeks. “Marvin has something to ask you.”

  Larry rested easier. Marvin probably wanted some business advice or perhaps thought Larry could get him an interview at the company. Larry’s first advice would be to tuck his shirt in and get a haircut, but he reminded himself to keep the horse before the cart.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Marvin began. Larry noticed the kid was trembling.

  “Yes?”

  “I wanted to . . . I wanted to ask . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “For your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Marvin reached over and literally grabbed Robin’s hand.

  Larry grasped the edge of his desk, suddenly feeling like he was falling. “You, uh . . . what?”

  “Marriage,” Marvin said plainly, loudly, like perhaps he’d mumbled it the first time.

  “Robin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dad?” Robin leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

  “This is just . . . so . . . shocking. I mean . . . shouldn’t you date first?”

  “Dad!” Robin giggled. “We have been dating. For four months. We started out as friends—you know, like you and Mom. And then we decided we really liked one another and now we’re getting married!”

  Larry grabbed his chest where it felt like his heart broke. “But . . . aren’t you asking for my permission here?”

  Marvin cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I believe in trying to keep the older folks’ traditions, you know, and I told Robin that was, like, a sign of respect I needed to do.”

  Larry thought Marvin might benefit from an English class or two, but that was the least of his concerns now. Here this kid was asking permission in front of his daughter, more as a token gesture than a rite of passage.

  “See? That’s the kind of heart Marvin has,” Robin said, filling in the long gap of silence.

  “Um, sure, but . . .”

  Marvin held up a finger. “Babe, why don’t you go out to the waiting room for a bit and let me talk to your pops.”

  Pops?

  Robin pecked him on the cheek, wistfully smiled at Larry, and left.

  “You can just call me Larry.”

  “Oh, okay. Pops is what I call my . . . Anyway.”

  Larry folded his hands atop his desk to keep them from shaking. His knuckles were white and his stomach cramped. “Marvin, listen, I have some concerns, to be perfectly honest with you. We don’t know you at all.”

  “I get that. I really do. If I had a little rug rat who came to me all stoked about marrying a pizza man, I’d be wondering. I would definitely be wondering.”

  “A, uh . . . pizza . . . Yeah. I am wondering. About a lot of things.”

  “First of all,” Marvin said, sweeping the hair out of his eyes, “I have a job. I know that matters. I work.”

  “Managing a pizza place?”

  “Someday, sir. It’s a dream of mine. You should also know I’m an outdoor enthusiast. I love rock climbing, skydiving. I learned early on that passion takes money, and money means a job. I’ve worked since I was fourteen. I can make a buck go a long way. I bought state-of-the-art climbing gear for 75 percent off, just using patience and intuitiveness.”

  Larry hated to be so shallow and was grasping at any kind of straw here, but he was thankful the kid could use a word with multiple syllables.

  Marvin was still rambling. “A few things about me that I’d want to know about me if I were marrying me or if my daughter were marrying me. I mean, I don’t have a daughter—I’m just trying to provide an example . . .” Marvin took a deep breath. “I have my GED. Won’t lie to you, there was a time when I didn’t think high school was important, but then I came back and aced that sucker. I work extra shifts all week so I can have my weekends to play. And that’s where Robin and I have really connected, you know. We climb together. She’s really athletic. I taught her to kayak last weekend and she picked it up just like that. And you should’ve seen her the first time she skydived—”

  “What?”

  “Tandem, of course. I had her all the way down.”

  Larry waved his hands, trying to get the image out of his head. “Marvin, please . . . just . . . wait. This is a lot to take in. We didn’t even know you two were dating. I mean, Robin has mentioned you a few times, but we just didn’t realize . . .”

  “Us either, us either. But then one night under the stars in the backwoods, bam! It was like something clicked with us, and we realized how much we loved hanging out and being with each other.” Marvin scooted forward in his seat. “I really love your daughter, sir,” he said with the kind of genuineness that caused Larry’s guard to drop for a second. Larry slumped a little watching him. “I promise to take care of her. I know she will take care of me. We’re really good for each other.” His voice softened. “She’s such a great person, Larry. She’s kind and loving and has a real heart for God.”

  “We’ve raised her in the Christian faith.”

  “Me too, sir. I feel really connected to God and all that when I’m up on those mountaintops and up in the air. Nothing like it.”

  “So . . . you’re a Christian?”

  “I explain it this way: Jesus is my parachute in life. He keeps me from crashing. He takes me on the wind and gently puts my feet on the ground.” Marvin smiled. “Am I right?”

  “Uh, yeah. And also saved us from our sins.”

  “Yep, that too. That and so much more. People just stay there, you know? Don’t stay there, I say. Live in your freedom.”

  Just then the door opened and Robin hopped in, her whole face bundled up with hope. She clasped her hands together. “So . . . ?”

  “We’ve had a good talk,” Marvin said. “Yeah, Larry?”

  “Uh, yeah, but . . .”

  “So that’s a yes?” Robin asked, glancing between Marvin and her father.

  Larry looked down, trying to think, then back up.

  Robin apparently took that as a nodding of the head and squealed. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! I’m so happy!”

  Marvin stood and offered Larry a knuckle bump. Then he and Robin hugged and kissed. Larry turned to stare at his paper bin.

  “Okay, Daddy, we gotta go. We’ll make the announcement to the family tomorrow night!” Robin let go of Marvin, walked around the desk, and wrapped her arms around her father. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, just like she had since she was a year old. “I love you.”

  Tears welled in Larry’s eyes. He closed them and held her tight until she let go and rushed back into Marvin’s arms.

  They began to leave, but Robin turned.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell Mom, okay? I want her to be surprised.”

  He nodded. Don’t tell Beth? How in the world could he tell her? As shocked as he was, this was going to be too much for Beth. Nathan leaving, Robin getting married to a kid they hardly knew, all on top of losing her sister and closest friend? He was actually glad to be the one
not to tell her.

  He watched Robin walk down the hallway, hand in hand with Marvin.

  Carol was suddenly in his doorway.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she said, her scratchy voice a scrambled mess of damaged vocal cords.

  “Nothing. What do you need?” Larry sat down in his chair.

  “Chatted with your daughter out there. Said she was getting married.”

  “That’s right.”

  Carol stepped in and closed the door. “You okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Larry asked, even as he could still feel the moisture in his eyes.

  She plopped down and took a drag off her vapor pipe, or whatever it was called. “Let me tell you a story. My husband is a butcher. He can chop up bovine all day long. He once got lost in the wilderness and had to survive on skunk.”

  Larry just blinked.

  “What I’m saying is, he ain’t no sissy. When our daughter eloped and returned to tell us she was married, do you know what he did?”

  “Does it involve an ax?”

  “He dropped to his knees and cried like a baby, right there on a rug made of a bear he killed with a bow and arrow. It does something to a daddy’s heart.” Carol took another drag, then held out her vapor pipe, which today smelled like lemon pie. “Need a puff?”

  CHAPTER 4

  BUTCH

  BUTCH LOVED DAYS LIKE THIS, when the sun beat him out of bed by just a few minutes. The morning air was cool, but by lunchtime it was warm and bordering on hot. The smell of construction might as well have been a big, fat, juicy steak. It meant things were getting done, men were being employed, structures were rising, and business was good. Those things alone could get him through a day, no matter the challenges that a construction site could bring.

  But now he had other worries. Jenny used to do all the worrying, enough for the both of them. Now it was up to him. It was just that he wasn’t exactly sure what he should and shouldn’t be worried about.

  Tippy had listened to him complain all morning, and now they were on the topic of Ava’s movie-viewing habits.

  “It was called The Glitter Ponies.”

  “Was it about what it sounds like it was about?” Tippy asked as he heaved another sack of concrete out of the truck and onto a pallet.

  “Exactly. It was a movie about ponies covered in glitter.”

  “What did they do? Fight crime?”

  “No. They helped other animals that don’t have glitter.”

  “Did the glitter give them special powers?”

  “As far as I could tell, the glitter was only aesthetic.”

  “Did they come from a special glitter planet?”

  “Unclear. Truthfully, the whole story line was hard to follow. And I think that’s because there was no story line at all. There was no purpose for this movie other than to sell Glitter Pony dolls.” Butch sighed. “But Ava loved it.” He paused for a moment, stretching his back out. They still had a dozen more bags to unload. His muscles ached, but it was his mind that was bent. “I think I’m going to rent some World War I and II DVDs. She needs to know about Winston Churchill. Is Schindler’s List too hard to follow for her age?”

  “Probably too disturbing.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “You should ease into it. She’s at the bottom with glitter animals, so maybe next you should try Secretariat, then Where the Red Fern Grows, and then Of Mice and Men. Maybe throw Charlotte’s Web in there.”

  “Sure. She makes it through those and then we’re right at Band of Brothers.”

  “I don’t think she could do the whole boxed set in a weekend. Maybe one DVD every Saturday or something.”

  “That makes sense. She just needs to know that there are no Glitter Ponies, and I don’t think she knows that.”

  “Well, she is young. I had imaginary friends when I was young.”

  “Really? You don’t seem like you have an imagination,” Butch said.

  “Well, they weren’t friends so much as talking tools. My hammer and saw didn’t get along.”

  “They still don’t,” Butch said, cracking a grin.

  “Funny. You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Anyway, that’s how I got my nickname, Tippy.”

  “I thought it was because you’re always knocking over people’s stuff.”

  “Common misperception. But in my imaginary world, my hammer couldn’t speak very well, so instead of calling me Timothy, it called me Tippy. Then my brothers started calling me that and it stuck.”

  From the other side of the pickup, one of the guys walked by with a wheelbarrow. Butch tapped the top of his own head and pointed to him. “Hey! Jake! Where’s your hat? You wanna pay my insurance premiums when you get hit in the head with a steel beam?”

  “Sorry,” he said and hurried off.

  “It’s Jack,” Tippy said, pulling another cement sack out of the truck.

  “What?”

  “His name is Jack. Not Jake.”

  “Oh.” Butch scratched his head. “That’s weird. I’ve called him Jake since he got here. He’s never said a word.”

  “You’re not the easiest guy to approach, you know.”

  “Whatever. I’m as gentle as a Glitter Pony.”

  Tippy laughed, and they finished pulling the rest of the bags onto the pallet. Once they were done, they leaned against the side of the truck, and Butch pulled off his gloves and wiped his brow.

  “How am I gonna raise this kid, Tippy?” he said, staring at the busy site, listening to the drone of the tools and machines. “We have nothing in common. And what about when she starts asking about . . . you know . . . underwear stuff?”

  “Get a book. They got a book on everything. Daphne bought about fifty books on pregnancy and child care.” His shoulders slumped. “She’s making me read them all too. I won’t lie to you—it makes Glitter Ponies sound appealing. Right now I’m on a chapter that describes bowel movements and when you should be alarmed by them. I can’t admit to her that all poop, no matter the color, alarms me.”

  Butch groaned. “I’m not walking into a store and getting a book about children’s underwear. They’ll put me on a watch list.”

  “I’m no expert, but to me every parenting question can be answered with duct tape and Ritalin.”

  “When she asks about underwear, I’m not handing her a roll of duct tape.”

  “Yeah. That’d probably put you on a watch list too.”

  Butch put his hard hat back on. “This is going to be a long ten years, Tippy. Maybe nine if I can get her off to college early.” He felt a crushing grief swell over him. It came and went—not as often as right after she died, but he still never knew when the waves might hit. “I miss Jenny.”

  Tippy nodded, pulling down the brim of his hat. He gave Butch a firm pat on the shoulder. “Butch, you know, you don’t have to be here. You can go home and figure stuff out. I can handle things here. It’s my job.” Tippy glanced at him—one of the few people who could still look Butch in the eye. “After Jenny died, you didn’t even take time off.”

  Butch returned Tippy’s affection with a hearty back slap. “Are you kidding? This is the only part of my life that I understand anymore.”

  “Okay, then. We better get on it. Unless, of course, we’re expecting a shipment of glitter.”

  Butch laughed as Tippy walked away toward the site. He looked at his watch. He had to pick Ava up from school in less than three hours. Then he was going to have to explain that Glitter Ponies had no value and that maybe they should watch a PBS science show. Maybe he wasn’t the best dad, but he thought that early on she should at least know there were no such things as fairy tales and happy endings.

  He supposed she already knew that, firsthand.

  CHAPTER 5

  BETH

  BETH WHISKED the Alfredo sauce, trying to keep it from burning, as Chip watched.

  “You know, baby boy, I should’ve don
e this more often—cooked from scratch. I know how to do these things, you know. I’m a good cook. It’s just that I run out of time and . . .” She checked the pasta. “Anyway, I think I’ll do this more.”

  “What’s the occasion?” Chip asked.

  “Why does there have to be an occasion?”

  “Because that’s the only time you cook like this.”

  “I would cook more if I weren’t running my children to every activity under the sun.” She glanced at Chip. “I’m assuming you’re planning on playing summer ball?”

  Chip shrugged. “Thinking about it. I have until Thursday to decide. So what’s the occasion again?”

  “There’s no occasion, sweetie. Robin asked if we were going to be home tonight. I said yes. Then I realized you’d be home, and Nathan, too, and I thought it’d be nice to have a big family dinner. Robin’s bringing a friend but that’s okay. The more the merrier.” Beth’s phone dinged with a text. “Can you read that to me? It’s your dad. I texted him about dinner.”

  Chip grabbed her phone. “He said 7 p.m. is fine for dinner. He’ll be here right at seven.”

  “Your dad must be swamped at work. He never works until seven. He was late last night, too.” And acting weird. She asked him what was wrong, but he’d said he was just tired. She knew he’d been working hard to try to get the sales numbers up in his division, so maybe that was it. Or maybe he was more ripped up about Nathan leaving than he cared to admit.

  Beth put the green beans in the oven to roast and began shredding more parmesan cheese to pass at the table. “You know,” she said as Chip watched, “this is your aunt Jenny’s recipe.”

  “Cool.”

  “She was a really good cook. I told her she should start a blog about cooking when Ava got older. All of her recipes are her own. She was really good at making up recipes.” Beth shook her head. “Not me. I have to follow them exactly. But Aunt Jenny, she loved to experiment.”

  “Maybe we should go buy Ava some summer clothes. I don’t think she has any.”