Chapter 26

Oh, Monday. Two weeks of pretty much doing what we wanted on our own schedule was nice, but now it was back to reality. Cindy chose the restaurant for breakfast, so we did run into a couple of my co-workers, as reluctant as I to dive back in. Cindy, however, was another story. School for her was not like it was for most teens, what with her gifted status, and she kissed me demurely at the trailer so I could go off to work while she waited on the bus.

The staff meeting this morning was epic. A couple of key players weren't in yet, one snowed in up in New England, the other fighting flight delays, and reports from the field supervisors told us that on the level of the actual hands on workforce, the condition was even worse, but the project started back up. At least most of my big pieces were in place, and my crews were some of the more responsible of the bunch.

Also slowing us down were the clouds moving in, foretelling another weather system. That, too, though, was to be expected. I met with the two foremen of my electrical bunch and we talked about inside work and outside work and how we could continue progress in the face of freezing rain. Of course, we all knew that really bad conditions would shut the job down. Yes, my schedule would slip, but so would every other schedule on the project. It wouldn't make me happy, but it wouldn't put other workgroups in a bind because they had to wait for us.

That was the sort of stress I hated. Yeah, I was the 'geek engineer' type. I loved the technology, the design, the problem-solving, the putting the pieces together. I put up with the admin bullshit and the scheduling headaches because it provided me the path to do what I liked. I was good enough at both aspects that I got jobs just like this, and I regarded the day's problems as the part where I had a real job, not just a hobby with a paycheck attached.

I was not the least bit reluctant to motor out the gate at the end of the day. I returned to the park and pulled up at the front office under a light drizzle. Weather was turning to crap. Cindy was inside the office, sipping hot chocolate and chatting with Steve and two of the older couples who were staying at the park.

Steve saw me walk in the door. "Hi, Dan," he said.

"Hi, baby," Cindy chirped.

"Hi, sweetie. Hi folks. I thought ya'll came down her to get away from this stuff," I said. I knew the two couples were from up north.

One of the old guys said, "Son, right now home has two feet of snow and they're expecting another foot tonight. This is positively balmy!"

I laughed. "Yessir! I guess all things are relative."

His wife said, "Miss Cindy tells us you're quite a Cajun cook. Would you be interested in doing ... what was it, Miss Cindy?"

"Gumbo!" Cindy grinned. "I told 'em about you and Jerry's gumbo."

"Ah, yes!" the trim little grey-haired lady said. "Gumbo. You know you can't trust what they serve in restaurants to be the real thing."

I said, well, ma'am, there's a lot of interpretation. I do the one I learned from my mom and grandma and great-grandma, and as far as I can tell, it's authentic."

The old guy said, "Well, son, if ... would you, like maybe Saturday, if it's okay ... you can tell us what to buy..."

Here we go, I though. "No, sir. You don't buy anything. I'll buy, and we'll use the kitchen at the pavilion," I looked at Steve, "If it's not scheduled."

"Not at this time of the year it ain't," he said.

"Okay, we'll do it there. so how many? Me an' Cindy. You four. Steve?" I arched an eyebrow at Steve.

"An' da missus," he said.

The little lady said, "Hubby and I will poll the other occupants and give you a count tomorrow."

Steve said, "Mizz Helen and Mister Charlie'll be back tomorrow. She's gonna love this."

The other old guy dropped the second obvious shoe. "And I think it would be wonderful if you and this little lady and your friends could do another concert."

Cindy superstar fielded that one. "We'd love to, but we need to ask the rest of the band." She took my hand. "Come on, baby, I have some homework, then we can go get a salad."

The little gray-headed lady said "Salad? You know a good salad place?"

Cindy said, "Meet us here at five-thirty and you can follow us."

"We'll see you people in about an hour then," I said.

Cindy hopped into the truck for the short roll to our trailer. The cold drizzle was heavier, nasty weather. I closed the door and kicked the truck's heater on high.

"What'd you just get us into, little red-headed girl?"

Her smile was disarming. "I liked your gumbo better than Jerry's. I was tellin' 'em about how ya'll do it, and..."

"And I've got, what, maybe five pounds of sausage from home, and, oh, crap! Hang on!" I flipped my cellphone open. "Tootie" I commanded the voice recognition.

Cindy watched, silent, smiling.

"Hey, brother," Tootie answered.

"Sis, I've got an emergency!"

"Omigod! What?!?!?"

I shouldn't take advantage of people's good natures like that, I guess. "Cindy's got me cookin' a gumbo for a bunch of snowbirds this Saturday and I need some stuff."

"Nobody's hurt? Cindy's okay?"

"Cindy's perfect," I said. I gave Tootie the list. "Put it in a box and Fed-Ex it to me. I'll pay you..."

She laughed. "Thinkin' about you cookin' for a buncha Yankees is pay enough," she said.

"Thank you, sis. I owe you..."

"Put Cindy on the phone. I'm finished talkin' to you."

I handed the phone to Cindy as we pulled up next to our trailer. I got out, unlocked the door, then held the truck door open as Cindy dashed inside the trailer. I locked my pickup and went inside with her, listening to her laughing on the phone with Tootie.

Her eyes laughed with her voice, head bouncing in animated conversation. Finally she closed the phone. "Tootie says bye. She'll ship your stuff tomorrow." Her green eyes fixed on mine. "You're not mad about this are you, baby?"

"No, it's not the first time I've done this sort of thing. We'll have fun." I paused. "Let's call the Hardesty's and see if we can put the band back together."

Cindy giggled. "You make it sound like 'the Blues Brothers'."

"With more finesse. And our lead singer is sooooo much cuter..." That got me a kiss.

The phone came out again. I punched up the Hardesty house. Ann answered. "Hi, Dan!" she said.

"Hi, Ann! Is Dan home yet?"

"Oh, sure. You need to talk to 'im?"

I said, "You two are interchangeable." I heard her laugh. "Cindy has volunteered me to cook a gumbo for the park this Saturday and we've been asked if we could play Saturday night."

"Oh, I think so, but let me ask His Highness." I heard her holler, "Hey, Jarhead!"

"Wow, that's sensitive," I said.

She giggled. "He's the love of my life, and he knows it! Here he is."

"Whatcha got, bro," Jim asked.

I repeated the whole plan.

"Wellll, I have ONE question."

"What's that?"

"Are we like, 'hired help', or do we get to eat, too?"

"Bring your gang and your appetite."

"We'll be there. Ya'll need to come over, say, uh ... Wednesday for dinner."

"Barring any disasters, we'll be there. Want me to save Ann from cooking?"

"If you want." I heard him holler, "Baby, Cindy 'n' Dan are coming over Wednesday and they're ordering pizza!"

"Tell 'im thank you!" came the reply.

"Okay," I said. "We'll be there. Fivish!"

"You got it, buddy!" Jim laughed. "SO now you're a cook, too..."

"Yeah," I said. "Wisht I'd brought the cannon."

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Food and artillery. Wonderful combo."

"Alright, Jim. Holler if you need something."

"Hey, I'm gonna be sendin' Cindy home with an application to take the ACT in a week or so. So don't be surprised."

"Okay! Thanks for the heads' up! See ya'll soon!" I flipped the phone closed.

Cindy handed me a pair of street shoes. I changed.

""We're gonna have fun with this gumbo, right?" she asked.

"We are, cutie," I said. She curled her legs up underneath her on the sofa and snuggled in against me. I was laughing to myself.

"What's funny?" she asked.

"You. Me. Us. Happy kind of funny, though." I turned and kissed the top of her head. We sat for a few more minutes then got out into the nastiness and met two couples at the front office. We caravanned to our genteel friends' restaurant.

Walking in, Cindy introduced them to the two old ladies who owned the place and explained the situation. We pushed a couple of tables together to seat us all as a group and had a great, tasty meal and good conversation with the owners joining us.

Reluctantly we left, arriving home rather later than normal, but not a bit disappointed for the fun we'd had.

I am happy to report that Cindy's efforts at conserving hot water let me have enough to shave with. Showered, shaved, her hair dried and brushed, I asked, "Homework?"

"You're kidding, right?" She looked at me. "I'm trying to rescue the basketball team in math. Some of those guys have real trouble catching on." She read my expression. "Don't worry, sweetie, I don't do anything one on one. Everybody knows I'm married, and I have some friends on the football team who act like my big brothers."

"Still," I said, "Even in middle school, there's that jock mentality."

"One guy said some stuff. One time. About me bein' married and, in his words, 'used to doin' it'. I told the math teacher that I would NOT be helping him any more. He apologized to me before Christmas vacation and asked if I'd PLEASE help him again."

"You didn't tell me that, little one." I said.

"I didn't want you upset, and you teach me to do things myself. And the teachers are watching out for me. And Mister Jim." She sighed. "And after the shotgun..."

"You catch any trouble from that?" I asked.

"Surprisingly not. I still got a question today, though. Just 'What happened.' Not like before, when it was 'Who taught you to shoot?' Dan, I still think about that guy ... I shot 'im."

I had held Cindy more than once since the incident, once or twice feeling her gently sobbing, a couple of times just 'Hold me, Dan', and I suppose that 'post-traumatic stress' wasn't just something from the combat zone. If that's what it was. I guess if it had been worse, I'd have sought professional help, but she did seem to be handling things in typical Cindy fashion, in other words, better than expected.

"Baby, people like that aren't in a position to be talked into a reasonable action. You did what you had to do, and you had to make a decision in a split second. The other decision and I could've found you in the hospital. Or worse."

"I know, Dan. But all these nice things, you know ... Our family for Christmas. That dance. New Years Eve. And everybody's so happy and nice to me. And sometimes I stop for a little second and think 'Cindy, you killed a guy.'"

"Every one of those people are thinking that if they were in a similar situation, they hope they can handle themselves as well as you did, Cindy. It wasn't the kind of thing a fourteen year old girl should have to decide, but sometimes the world doesn't separate things into age-appropriate categories." I sighed. "I'm glad you handled yourself so well, and I'd give anything if I could've protected you from it."

"But you did protect me, Dan. S'pose I was one of those little Barbie dolls that cain't do nuthin' (Cindy was rolling. Her attention to grammar and pronunciation went away) but squeal an' wave their hands?" She was pulling herself out of the pit. "I'd have been raped and beaten to death or somethin'." She sat up. "I'm dealing with it."