Chapter 13

With no football practice, I suddenly realized after my last English class of the day that I had an extra two hours of personal time I didn't have before, and I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather spend the time with than my daughter.

When I walked in the door, Piper greeted me in her normal fashion with a little squeal of happiness, and a hug and kiss.

"You're home early, Coach," Agnes said.

"Until the track and field season begins, this will be my normal time home from work. I set the date and time for Yvonne's memorial service today. Let's sit down, the three of us, and talk about it."

"Would you like something to drink?" Agnes said.

"I'd love a cup of coffee, Agnes. How about you, pumpkin? What would you like?

"Root beer," she said.

"Coffee will take a minute to perk," Agnes said as she started to pour a root beer for Piper and a glass of iced tea for herself.

"No problem," I said. "I'll tell you what I've set up and what's left to do while it perks. The service will be held at the Open Door Community Church on Center Street at 10:30 in the morning this Friday. A buffet lunch will be served at the Copper Queen at noon. Evah's, a restaurant in the Copper Queen, will supply the food. They'll also supply a cash bar. The trick will be trying to figure out how many people we'll have to feed. I started inviting some folks I know, but Tom, the principal at the school, suggested I put a notice on the bulletin board in the main corridor. So I did that. I suspect some of the teachers I've met and some of players on the football team will attend. I invited Elizabeth, and she told me she'd invite Josh, Lou and Mabel. Danielle and Robyn will come, I'm sure. And I tracked down two of Yvonne's friends here in Ely: Donna Elder and Tara Cowley. They've been invited. Sheriff Ken and his wife will be there, and Orville and Gladys, of course. And guess what, pumpkin?"

"What?"

"Grandma Jacobs is coming. She and my Aunt Barbara and Uncle George will arrive Wednesday evening. They'll be celebrating Thanksgiving with us here at the house."

Piper clapped her hands. "Yippee!"

"Which means, Agnes, you need to plan a Thanksgiving feast with all the fixings."

She flashed a wide smile and said, "I adore cooking for a crowd."

"I reserved rooms for them at the Copper Queen, but they'll probably spend a lot of time here with us over the weekend, so stock up the larder, Agnes."

"I'll do that, Coach."

"Back to the memorial service and luncheon planning. Pumpkin, did Mommy have some favorite songs?"

"She liked Somewhere my Love and Colors of the Wind, but Somewhere my Love had 'nother name. I don't remember the real name."

"Lara's Theme," Agnes said.

"That's it!" Piper exclaimed. "Thank you, Agnes."

"You're very welcome, sweetheart. Here's your coffee, Coach."

I blew over the rim of the cup and took a sip. "Good coffee, as usual, Agnes. Where was I? I remember. The pastor at the church will open the service with a prayer and preside over the program. I'll speak. I don't remember Yvonne, but I have some nice things to say about her."

"I want to speak, Daddy," Piper said.

"Are you sure, pumpkin?" I said.

"Yes. Agnes says a memorial service is a time to say goodbye. I loved my mommy. I want to say goodbye to her. I miss her, Daddy. I want to tell everyone there what a good mommy she was."

"Oh, Piper, I love you so much," I said with tears stinging my eyes. "Of course you can tell everyone what a good mommy she was and say goodbye to her."

She gave a positive, curt nod to her head, indicating the issue was settled, and took of gulp of root beer, and then wiped excess moisture from her upper lip with the back of her hand.

"Donna Elder might speak. She knew Yvonne, and has some happy memories of her," I said. "And I'll ask my mother to tell everyone about some of her positive memories, as well. In Yvonne's effects, I found a book of poetry. The pages of the book were dog-eared, and..."

"I remember the poetry book, Daddy," Piper said. "Mommy used to read poems to me out of it."

"We'll get it out later, and I'll read some of the poems to you, and you can tell me which ones she liked."

"'Kay."

"I'll ask someone to read one of the poems in the service."

"Ask Ms. Gladys," Piper said. "She reads good."

"All right, now let's talk about flowers. Did Mommy have any favorite flowers?"

"Roses," Piper said. "And orchids." She frowned. "And cri—sam—tums, or something like that."

"Chrysanthemums?" Agnes said.

"Yes. Like you said, Agnes," Piper said and grinned. God she was cute.

"Okay, I'll order flowers for the church tomorrow. I don't know what's available in Ely this time of year. A photo album was among Yvonne's effects, and while flipping through the album, I noticed a recent snapshot of her, a portrait. I'll have it blown up and framed and placed appropriately at the church." I groaned. "Another chore for me to do tomorrow."

"I'll order the flowers if you wish, Coach," Agnes said.

"I wish. That would be a big help. That's it. Have I left anything out?"

"You might want to write an obituary for the Ely Times," Agnes said.

I nodded. "I'll do that, but I won't make it an announcement of the memorial service, as well."

"Are you going to have music at the luncheon?" Agnes said.

"I didn't think of music at the luncheon, but it's a good idea, Agnes. I'll look into that tomorrow, too." Shit kicking music, music that I like.

"With Grandma coming, we need to spiff up this place, do some accessorizing, Piper," I said. "Wanna go shopping with your daddy?"

"You betcha," she said.

We bought table settings—two sets of service for eight for everything we bought—everyday dishes we could use at the ranch, serving dishes, flatware, sixteen each of the different sizes of glasses we would use, tablecloths, place mats, in other words, everything I could think of for the table, and everything was color-coordinated. Piper tickled me. She seemed to have an innate sense for good design, and although the choices in Ely were severely limited, I liked what she selected with only a few exceptions. After I explained why her initial selection might not work, she'd give that curt nod of hers that told me she understood, and her next pick would be near perfect.

The ugly, old television set had to go. Piper helped me pick out a flat-screen set that could be hung on the wall. It wasn't the largest TV in the store, but it was close, and it offered higher quality than the largest, which was a good shopping lesson for Piper to learn. We also purchased all the peripheral equipment for the TV set, like a VCR and DVD player and burner, as well as a couple of dozen DVD movies, half of which were for children. At the same store, I bought a digital camera and a photo printer. I wanted to record my daughter's life in living color.

"The house needs pictures, Daddy," Piper said.

"It sure does, but we have pictures—in Mommy's photo album. Let's buy frames, lots of 'em in different sizes, and we'll make a photograph wall in the hall leading to the bedrooms—a memorial wall for your mother. Also, when we take more photographs we can frame them and add them to the wall."

"'Kay, but I want some pictures for my room, too, not photographs, though. Gwen has posters in her bedroom." Gwen Johansen was Piper's best friend at kindergarten. Piper had been to Gwen's house a couple of times, and Gwen had visited ours. No sleep-overs yet, but some would happen, I'm sure.

"Oh, I see what you mean," I said. "Where did she buy the posters?"

"Don't know."

"Ask her, and maybe Agnes would take you out to pick up posters tomorrow."

"'Kay."

"Have you noticed we don't have any art hanging on the walls of the house?"

She frowned and shook her head.

From her expression, I guessed that she didn't understand, so I explained. "Pieces of sculpture and paintings by good artists, or limited edition prints, ceramics made by good potters, those sorts of things." My explanation amplified her confusion instead of clearing it up. "I checked the Yellow Pages before we left home. Two stores in Ely sell art. Wanna go look at what they have to offer?"

"You betcha," she said, and off we went.

The selection was severely limited but I found one oil painting by a local artist that was stunning. It was entitled Cave Lake, apparently a lake near Ely. I bought it. And Piper fell in love with a limited edition bronze sculpture of a young girl sitting bareback on a horse, and a baby horse was nursing from the horse on which the girl sat. It was called Lunch Break. I bought the bronze, as well.

"I think I understand what art is now, Daddy," Piper said as we left the store, which for me made the shopping trip priceless.

"When we travel to buy more horses, we'll visit more art galleries to buy more art. Would you like to do that?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "When?"

Her enthusiasm made me chuckle. "Our first buying trip will be during the Christmas break." The break I wanted was from the cold and the snow. We'd travel to warmer climes for our next buying excursion.

She gave me a curt nod of acceptance.

We ate dinner at Evah's, and while we ate, Piper helped me work out the menu for the memorial service buffet with Evah's banquet manager.

"Do you have an estimate for the number of guests yet?" the manager asked.

"I did a rough count in my head, and the number came to around 40," I said. "I think we'll be safe with double that number. Wait. Is there a shelter for the homeless in Ely?"

"No. Why did you ask?"

"I'd up that number to 100, but I wouldn't want the food to go to waste," I said.

"In situations like this, we contact the White Pine County Social Services. We'll box up the excess food into individual servings, and someone from Social Services will pick up the boxes and distribute them according to need."

"Let's go with 100 then," I said.

As it turned out, there wasn't any excess food.

Wednesday evening, Piper and I arrived at the Copper Queen decked out in Western duds to meet my family. I didn't know my mother, but Piper did, and when my daughter spotted her, she took off like a shot, her spindly legs churning. "Grandma! Grandma!" she cried out with joy as she ran.

Carol Jacobs was a handsome woman with kind gray eyes and a full mouth. A few old acne scars marred her otherwise beautiful complexion. She was dressed conservatively in warm clothes. Gray streaked her brown hair, and she was only slightly overweight. She wore sensible shoes.

Granddaughter and grandmother collided, and my mother picked Piper up and hugged her tight. My happy daughter hugged her right back. I wasn't greeted until after about a hundred kisses, mostly administered by my enthusiastic daughter. Then I got a hug and a kiss from my mother. She leaned back from the hug with her arms still around me, looked up at me as if to check out my soul, and said, "You look the same."

I laughed. "I don't have any memories that could prove it, but I bet you look the same, too."

She snorted with disgust. "I most definitely don't look the same. I lost some weight, 20 pounds."

"Good for you. I'm conducting a physical fitness program at the high school for some over-weight and skinny students. I'll tell you about it later. Maybe you'll have some tips for me, and Mother, whether you look the same or not, you look good. I adore your kind gray eyes."

My compliment shocked her, but she recovered quickly. The old John Windom probably didn't compliment his mother very often.

She introduced me to my aunt and uncle as if I'd never met them, which to my mind I hadn't, and Barbara gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. I shook George's pudgy hand.

My Aunt Barbara was more flamboyant than my mother. Her blouse was open one button too many, which displayed excess cleavage, and she wore too much makeup. She was a garrulous and happy person, though, and within minutes of meeting her, I liked her, and my appreciation of her good qualities increased over dinner.

Uncle George was a plump man, one or two inches shorter than his wife, and his comb-over was too obvious. I suspected he was sensitive about his baldness. I found out later I was wrong about that. The comb-over was Aunt Barbara's idea. George could have cared less. He was one of the most unassuming and easy-going men I'd ever met.

"My car is parked in a waiting zone outside. We'll eat dinner at the house tonight," I said.

"We'll need to stop at a grocery store then," my mother said.

"Huh?" I said.

"John, you can't cook," Mother said emphatically, "and I suspect your pantry and refrigerator won't have the ingredients I'll need to prepare a good home-cooked dinner. We'll also have to shop for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

I struck my forehead with my hand. I hadn't told my mother about Agnes. But before I told her about my live-in employee, I decided to take advantage of the opening my mother's statement offered to explain some of the changes in my personality and new skill sets that she was certain to notice during the visit.

"Mother, that lightning strike did more than kick my memories somewhere into a dark void in space, it also ripped out all the meanness in me. I'm a changed man. What's really weird is the fact that some skill sets I used to have went to the same void with my memories, the finer points of the game of football, for example. What's even weirder, I'm told I have new skill sets that I didn't have before lighting flashed down from the heavens and knocked me unconscious on the rain-soaked grass under the goalposts of a football field. One of the new skill sets I acquired is cooking. I am now a fair to middling cook."

"Humph, I doubt that," my mother said.

"Daddy's a good cook, Grandma," Piper said with conviction. She looked at me and grinned. "Not as good as Agnes, though."

A perfect segue, I thought. Thank heaven for little girls.

"Agnes?" Mother said.

"Agnes Smith," I said, "my live-in cook, housekeeper, and nanny."

"Oh!" Mother said, obviously shocked.

"Agnes stocks my larder, Mother, and she prepared a scrumptious home-cooked dinner for our reunion."

"Oh, okay then," she said.

I chuckled inwardly. I think she was disappointed.

I said, "If you want, Agnes would probably appreciate some help in the kitchen."

"Some women won't allow anyone in their kitchens," Mother said.

"Agnes will," Piper said. "I help her sometimes. She's helping me learn how to cook."

The new Lincoln sedan was the next revelation.

"Nice wheels, John," George said.

"Thanks. I have a pickup truck, but on occasion a sedan would have come in handy, and Agnes needed a vehicle to do her chores and drive Piper to and from kindergarten."

"The payments must be higher than a cat's back," Mother said, looking worried.

"No payments. I paid cash. As far as I know, I am completely debt free." I opened the front-passenger door for her. "Sit up front with me, Mother. Piper can sit in the back with Barbara and George, and I'll explain my financial situation to you."

As I drove toward the house, I outlined my skill with online Texas hold 'em poker. When I asked Mother if I displayed any talent for poker when I was younger, she told me she didn't know.

"You were a very good bridge player," Barbara said from the back seat.

I laughed. "As far as I know, I've never played the game."

"Shucks. I was looking forward to some rubbers of bridge while we were here," she said.

"Sorry," I said.

"To get back to my financial condition, I play poker online between one and three hours a day about five days a week, usually after I put Piper to bed at night. I've been winning an average of over $3,000 per day. Last night, I played in two tournaments and my net income for the evening was $16,000."

"Jesus!" George huffed. "Do you win consistently?"

"I win more often than I lose. On some nights the cards aren't kind to me, so I do lose on occasion. My average weekly income after deducting the losses has exceeded $15,000 since I started playing after being struck by lightning."

"John, that's over three-quarters of a million dollars a year!" Mother said.

"Thereabouts," I said.

"I've got a question for you, John," Barbara said.

"Ask away."

"If you forgot how to play football, how could you do your coaching job?"

I chuckled. "I had a very good assistant coach, and I turned him loose to run the technical aspects of the game while I concentrated my efforts on motivating the players on the team to not only become better football players but also to become better human beings. At the time of the lightning event, the team had six losses and no wins. We won the next three games, which told me that I must not have been a very good coach before. I've also been told that I was a bully, a know-it-all, and a misogynist before the event. The lightning strike took away my memories but appears to have compensated me for the loss by also taking way the meanness in me and giving me some new skill sets I didn't have before. I have no way of telling, but I believe I'm a better man than I used to be. Aunt Barbara, you knew the before me. You'll be here for a few days. Before you leave, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if you agree or disagree with my assessment of the new me."

"I'll do that, John," she said.

"We're here," I said as I pulled the car onto the driveway of my temporary home.

Agnes was gracious about Mother helping in the kitchen, and the evening meal was soon on the table. We chatted while we ate, getting to know each other. My aunt told some anecdotes about the old me that were humorous. Some of them weren't very flattering, though.

"Mother, Yvonne's effects included a photo album. We've framed a number of them and created the start of a family photograph wall in the hallway leading to the bedroom wing of the house. We'll add to the display as new pictures are taken, but the photo album was Yvonne's not mine, and we don't have any photographs of me when I was younger, and we only have one photograph with you. Do you have some photographs that would flush out our family photograph wall?"

"I sure do, Son. When I get home, I'll go through my albums and send you copies of some of the better photographs." A mischievous look crossed her face. "Do you want a naked picture of you when you were a baby?"

Piper giggled. I shook my head.

"The meal was delicious, as usual," I said to Agnes after I finished eating. "If you don't mind, I'll put off dessert until later." I'd insisted that Agnes eat with us in a family setting, as opposed to entertaining. I considered the meal we'd just finished a family setting. Everyone around the table except Piper voiced a preference for waiting until later for dessert.

Agnes said, "Carol, I'm a good cook, but I'm only a mediocre baker. How are your baking skills?"

"Not to brag, but I bake excellent pies," Mother said.

"How about making some pies for the thanksgiving dinner tomorrow while I clean up the dinner mess?" Agnes said, making my mother a friend of hers for life. I wanted to kiss my cook for understanding my mother's nature.

"I'll help with the dinner mess," Barbara said.

"I'll help Grandma make pies," Piper quipped. She smacked her lips. "I love pies."

"Which means, George," I said, "that we've got to make sure the fire in the fireplace doesn't go out. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it?"

He laughed heartily and we moved to the living room. The fire did indeed need tending. I brought in some firewood from outside, put a couple of pieces on the grate, and soon a crackling fire danced hypnotically behind the folding screen.

"George, I don't drink, but I stock some liquor for guests. Would you like a drink?"

"I'd love a brandy if you have any, John," he said.

I had some. I poured a couple of shots in a snifter and handed the glass to him.

"Are you going to play poker tonight?" he said.

"Maybe later," I said.

"If you don't mind, you can play now, and I'll watch."