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  The Second Half is dedicated to all the grandparents who have had to leave their plans and dreams and rear their grandchildren. While there are joys as well as hardships and sacrifices, they are gallant people who step up because they love their children and grandchildren, no matter what.

  Acknowledgments

  The best research for this book was listening to grandparents who have accepted the role of parent, which has been thrust upon them again. I’ve talked with people of all income levels and many walks of life. Some of the stories have been heartbreaking, others of people working day by day to help save their grandchildren. The theme is always, “What else could I do? They are my grandchildren.” And often, “Why should they have to suffer because their parents aren’t doing their job?”

  I have heard of churches that are building ministries to help those caught in the parenting grandchildren trap. I hope and pray many more do the same. Jesus tells us to love the little ones, the least of these. One life at a time. One family at a time. All needing year-round help, not just at Christmas.

  Blessings,

  Lauraine

  Chapter One

  How could she keep the secret for another whole week?

  Mona Sorenson flinched when she heard the special ring that said Ken was her caller. If he asked her any more questions about how she was coming along with his retirement celebration, she might go screaming into the night. She clicked on her phone and into one of her crazy accents. This one always made him laugh. “Miz Sorenson ees not here. Call back later.” She clicked off her phone and typed three more lines on the announcement for the local paper. After all, retiring after thirty years on the same job was becoming unheard of. Ken called himself a dinosaur, but she knew the board was scrambling to try to find someone to fill his shoes. She figured it would take two people—at least.

  “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” burst forth from her iPhone again. “One minute please and Mrs. Sorenson will be right with you.” She clicked the pause button; finished her next two lines, completing the announcement; leaned back in her chair; and, after heaving a big sigh of relief, clicked on speaker. “Sorry, I had to finish this while I had the right words on the brain.”

  “Finish what?”

  “An announcement for the Doran party. You know how she always wants everything perfect.”

  “Like someone else we know and love?”

  “Hush. I have been taking my anti-perfectionist pills, and I am supposed to be all better now.”

  “Right. What are we doing for supper tonight?” Ken sounded like he was in traffic.

  “Supper?” She glanced at her watch. “Is it really that late?”

  “Yes, and I am on my way home, and if I need to pick up dinner, you need to tell me what you want before another mile is gone.”

  “Ah…” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “What sounds good to you?”

  “Whatever.”

  “How come I always have to come up with supper ideas?” She scanned her mental list. “Fried chicken from the Chick Hut?”

  “Fine with me. Mashed and gravy or wedges?”

  “Wedges and coleslaw. Oh, and their grilled French bread, too.”

  “I thought you weren’t eating bread.”

  “Tonight I am.”

  “That kind of day?”

  “Yes.”

  He paused. “Do we have any ice cream?”

  “You killed the last one last night.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick some up. See you in a half hour or so.”

  “Thanks.” She clicked off her phone. Did he suspect? After all, she’d never been able to pull off a surprise party on her husband in all the thirty-four years they’d been married. He seemed to have an inner radar even if she never dropped one teeny little hint. She thought back to their early years. The kids had never been able to keep a secret for the life of them. Especially not Steig, and here he was now in some hush-hush branch of the army. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if he were transferred somewhere within traveling distance where they did all kinds of training for all the branches of the military? He’d said it was a possibility.

  She jerked her thoughts away from her elder. How he was managing since his wife walked out on him and their children, she had no idea, but having him closer to home would make his life a whole lot easier. But not necessarily theirs. Back to the case at hand. She hit send and scrolled down to the contracts file. One was ready for Humphrey, the mayor’s assistant, who was planning a special event for the Fourth of July, and they had finally worked out the details so she could get started on that event.

  Mona loved her job, and she even liked her boss—most of the time anyway. Being a detail person was a good thing when running your own event planning business. It had taken a while, but now she had more business than she could handle. She was hoping Ken would come to work with her part-time, so they could both have time off. He might be ready to retire as dean of students from Stone University, but that did not mean she was ready to retire. She’d reared their two children, gone to work as an editorial assistant, and finally decided what she wanted to be when she grew up. She wanted to be the owner of a thriving business where she could help other people, especially owners of small businesses. Besides event planning, she provided virtual office assistants who also worked from their own homes. The phone rang again, the song the dwarves sang in Snow White. “Heigh-ho, heigh-ho…” Appropriately, her business number.

  “Mona’s Professional Services, Mona speaking. How can I help you?”

  “This is Sondra Delaney. We spoke the other day; you sent me some information, and I was hoping we could finalize some of this today.”

  “I see.” Mona typed in the woman’s name to bring up the file. “The first step is to agree on what you’d like; then I’ll get a contract out to you by tomorrow. As soon as you return it, I’ll begin.” The conversation continued until Mona heard the garage door go up. Ken was home. And she was still working. She’d planned to have the table set at least.

  “Excuse me, what was the last thing you said?”

  Ken stuck his head in the door. “Supper is on the counter. Ten minutes?”

  She nodded and typed some notes into the file. “It looks to me like we have an agreement here. I will pull a contract together tonight, and you’ll have it first thing in the morning. I’ll include an estimate, and that will be half on signing and the remainder the day of the event. If you have any questions…?”

  “Not that I can think of. You came highly recommended. Oh yes, can you…?”

  Mona answered a couple more questions, trying to wrap up the call and yet not sound rushed or abrupt. “I see, thank you for calling and I’m looking forward to working with you.” She blew out a breath when the call clicked off and switched her business number to voice mail. Scrubbing her fingers through her short, graying hair, she stretched her neck from one side to the other. Even keeping the phone on speaker, her neck and shoulders were tight by the end of the day. Perhaps they could make some time after supper to take Ambrose for a walk. She glanced down at the mutt snoring at her feet. He’d gone to greet Ken, then returned and flopped bac
k in his usual place. Asleep already. Oh, to be as relaxed as this hound.

  She nudged him with her foot. “You hungry?”

  One eye popped open and the dog’s tail thumped on the hardwood floor. A meow from the doorway said the dog wasn’t the only one who knew that it was now past six and supper should be served at six. Hyacinth, the tuxedo cat, spoke again, this time more insistently.

  “I’m coming. Why can’t Dad feed you?”

  “Because I am putting our meal on the table, that’s why.” Was that a slight edge she heard in his voice?

  Mona stood and pushed her rolling office chair back against the desk. Ambrose joined her as they headed for the kitchen, with Hyacinth leading the way, tail straight in the air.

  “Sorry. I had another call just after we hung up, and she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow since she is leaving on a trip in two days.”

  “I thought your motto was ‘Failure to plan ahead on your part does not constitute a crisis on my part.’”

  “I know, but this will be an easy job and good money.”

  “And you do not know how to say no.” His smile took the sting out of his words, but it still rankled. She could say no, but this time she chose not to. And how many times have you said no lately? The sneaky inner voice dripped fake sweetness. Sometimes she could entertain herself for extended periods of time with thoughts of how to do away with said voice. Or at least put a lid on it. Amazing how the Critic, as she called that inner voice, could change sides, but more often than not, sarcasm was the tool of torture. A speaker one time had said to train her inner voice to be encouraging rather than judgmental. It sounded like a great idea at the time.

  They fixed their plates and took them out into the three-season room, as they called it, where screens thwarted the mosquitoes that had arrived early this year and the blackflies who would zoom in anytime. A light breeze teased the spiky leaves of a giant hanging spider plant, sending all the babies on the ends of the stems to tangling and swinging. Baby spider plants were akin to Friendship bread, in that eventually friends ran or hung up if you said you were bringing them something. Abundant zucchini from their garden brought about the same sort of response by the end of summer.

  “Thank you for picking up supper,” she said after grace. “I didn’t realize how much I needed a fried chicken fix.” She bit into the perfectly crisped thigh. Ken preferred the drumsticks, she the thighs, and the next day she had the breasts chopped on her salad. The wings went to whoever grabbed them first.

  “I forgot the ranch dressing.” Ken pushed back his chair and headed for the kitchen.

  Ambrose sniffed the plate but had the good manners to not help himself—at least not as long as someone was watching. Hyacinth zeroed in on the meat and was reaching for it with claws not sheathed.

  “No!” Mona waved her extra-large paper napkin and the cat leaped to the floor to sit and begin cleaning her paws, as if she’d had absolutely no intention of helping herself. Royal catness in action.

  Ambrose lay next to Mona, nose on paws, tail swishing to greet Ken’s return.

  “So are you done in your office for today?” Ken asked in between bites of chicken and potato wedges.

  “The phone is on voice mail, and I am not going back in there. I thought we could take the two for a walk down along the river trail.”

  “Sounds good to me. Marit called me today, asked if we could keep the kids this weekend while they go to that resort on Lake Winnebago.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “To ask you.”

  Mona shook her head. Some things in life just never changed. “She didn’t call.”

  “Yet. What will you tell her?”

  “That she needs to make her plans a bit more in advance. We have the graduation party on Friday night, and you have commencement on Saturday.”

  “They have to leave Friday, be back Sunday night. I could pick them up from school, we get a sitter here for Friday night, and I’ll take them fishing Saturday morning. Then you could work in the garden, order pizza for supper, and let the games begin.”

  “If you have it all figured out, why didn’t you tell her that?”

  “Figured she should ask you first—in case something didn’t get written on the calendar.” The big calendar they set up on the mud entry wall when the kids were little was renewed yearly. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” a motto they learned to live by years ago and harbored ever since. However, there had been one time when they arrived for a wedding a hundred miles away a whole week early. That was one time back in her pre-organized days, but he still managed to bring that up. As if she did that kind of thing all the time.

  She shifted into office mode. “So, you want to call her back to make sure they are coming. Also, you need to call Janey and ask if she’d like to babysit on Friday night. If she can’t, see who is next on the list.” Strange that grandparents should need a list of babysitters, but this had happened before.

  Ken half shrugged and began picking up the supper plates. “I brought ice cream. You want it now or later?”

  “Up to you.” Her phone rang Marit’s song, the familiar opening bars of Sibelius’s “The Swan of Tuonela.” The tinny ringtone did Sibelius no favors.

  “Have you and Dad talked?” Marit asked after the greetings.

  “If you mean about this weekend…”

  “Yes. I know it’s late, but Magnus forgot to tell me.”

  “So, let him go by himself.” Mona flinched at her flippant tone. Marit and Magnus did not get away together without kids that often.

  “But, Mom, I want to go. If we don’t do something now, school will be out and then life just gets crazier.”

  “Whatever happened to the good old summertime of lazy days on the river, reading a book, family barbecues?”

  “Softball games, T-ball games, swimming lessons, Vacation Bible School.”

  She dropped her voice. “All clear for next weekend, right?”

  “Of course. Have you heard from Steig? When do he and the kids arrive?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s only a week from Friday. Your dad knows they’re coming, of course, but I don’t think he suspects the party, at least not yet. But he keeps asking questions, so maybe he is suspicious.” Mona rubbed her forehead.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mom, it’ll all work out.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “That’s what you always tell me.”

  “That’s different.” Mona never had enjoyed eating her own words.

  “And we’re on then for this weekend?”

  “If we can find a sitter for Friday night.”

  Marit’s voice brightened. “I know; I’ll set it up with Steffie to come to your house instead of here.”

  Steffie was Marit’s regular sitter, and the children adored her as much as she adored the three. “Good idea. We have to leave at five, so Dad will pick them up after school and you can drop Torin off here on your way out.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll clear the pickup with the school. I really do need this break before summer hits. And I hate to make Magnus go alone all the time. He’s gone so much anyway, what with his job for that new Norwegian energy company.”

  “Bring plenty of clothes; I don’t have time to do laundry. And you know the two will head for the swamp and the pollywogs.” Living on the banks of the Yahara River always provided plenty of entertainment for the grands. Once Steig arrived with his two, the five cousins would meld back into the huddle they’d become at Christmas. Brit, at eleven, pretty much ran the show, becoming big sister to all of them. Steig’s nearly ten-year-old Melinda seemed destined to rule the world if Brit didn’t. Jakey, her five-year-old brother, and Marit’s seven-year-old Arne became inseparable. But Marit’s Torin, almost five, quiet and thoughtful, pretty much marched to his own drummer.

  “Thanks, Mom! I’ll check with Steffie and get back to you.”

  Ken stopped in the doorway. “Walking?”

  Ambrose shot t
o attention, his tail beating a tattoo on her leg. He whimpered in his throat.

  “You get the harnesses, please. I need to change my shoes.” She hurried to the bedroom and brought out her gray cross-training shoes with turquoise trim. As she changed into them, Hyacinth was winding herself around Ken’s legs, chirping as if making sure she would go, too. They had taught her to walk in a harness when she was a kitten, and while their neighbors were used to seeing the four of them out walking, strangers did a double take. A black dog with a white chest and a tuxedo cat, red harnesses and leashes for both, was quite a sight.

  Ken had the two harnessed up, doggy bag in his pocket, and his crusher hat on his head. He and Mona both had their cell phones along as a matter of course. As if anyone went anywhere without one anymore. They picked up the river trail and walked the familiar winding path toward the park up the river. Ambrose took his usual place at Ken’s left knee and Hyacinth trotted ahead of Mona. As they neared the third house, both animals kept checking the iron mesh fence line. Neither had forgotten the time a dog had leaped the fence and attacked them. Neither had Ken and Mona. They all still bore the scars, hers of cat scratches as she kept the cat out of the fight between the two dogs. Ken needed stitches in hand and calf, and Ambrose had been at the vet hospital for a couple of days. The attacking dog had been hauled off by animal control, with the owners paying all damages and losing their dog.

  They picked up the pace to get by the danger zone, even though the dog that now lived there could no more jump the fence than a porcupine. He would yap them to death if allowed off the porch. And he sure tried from behind their gate. The other family had moved away.

  When they reached the milepost, they turned and headed back. Dusk sneaked in through the bushes and spring flowering trees, almost like fog but lighter on its feet. Steam wisped up from the river that was still running high from the spring rainfall.

  “Have you given any thought to a vacation this summer?” Ken asked.

  “You don’t want to go to the North Shore?”