Excavation

Chapter 4

Alicia and Michael were playing down by Sloan’s Lake with the family’s two dogs: Ben, an Irish setter, and Josef, an unusually small German shepherd. Reed watched them for a long time, taken with the progress the two children had made in getting along. When Michael first came, he wouldn’t have anything to do with Alicia—she was just a little kid who cried all the time, got in his way, and frequently got him into trouble. Both Reed and Carol knew that jealousy was operating at full force here. In Michael’s eyes Alicia was both the “real” child and the baby who got most of the attention. And since Michael obviously hadn’t gotten enough attention when he was a baby, that must have really hurt.

They’d worked with Michael for a long time on the jealousy, letting him be younger than he actually was if that was what he needed, trying to give him the attention he had missed as a baby, holding him as much as possible, reading him bedtime stories even when most of his friends thought they were too old for that. Reed had participated fully in all of that, and in fact enjoyed few things more than reading to Michael in the evenings. It was something Reed felt very proud of; he had made a real difference in his son’s life.

Michael was playing catch with Alicia now, being careful not to throw the bright red ball too hard, saying encouraging words when she did anything even vaguely accomplished. Reed smiled. Michael was growing up fast. He looked at his wife.

Carol leaned against a pine tree, her arms folded across her chest. She was smiling, too, until she glanced over at Reed and noticed that he was watching her. She turned to him with a worried look on her face and walked over to where he was sitting.

She sat down in front of him, blocking his view of the kids. “Enough being the proud daddy, admiring his kids…” She smiled. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him to her lips. “I love you, too,” she mumbled into his neck. Then she pushed herself away, holding onto his shoulders so that he had to look at her directly. “But you’re avoiding me. Something’s bothering you, or there’s something you want to tell me. What is it?”

He grabbed her around the waist and twisted her around so that she was facing the children too, his chin resting on the back of her right shoulder. “Look at our children, wife,” he said with mock gruffness. “Look at Michael; see how he takes care of his little sister.” Michael was holding Alicia up so that she could see a sea gull on one of the trees more clearly. Both children wore red Windbreakers of the same shade. Alicia’s had a down-filled hood. “Aren’t you proud of him?”

“I sure am… I’m also proud of the proud daddy, Reed.” Then she twisted out of his arms and stared at him again, examining his face. “Tell me. It’s that phone call you got, isn’t it? I heard the phone ringing from the office, but I was too mad at you to answer it, even if it did wake you up. Was it the phone call? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“Yeah…”

“I should have answered it, Reed. I’m sorry…”

“The phone call was for me, Carol. Stop feeling bad about something that you had nothing to do with. You always..,” He stopped, looked at her, and grinned. “Sorry. But there’s nothing you could, or can, do. My problem.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

He found himself looking at his children again. His children. His wife. The core of normalcy, the one thing solid in his life. “It was a call from back home. There’s some trouble; I… I probably need to go back there for a week or so and take care of things.” He looked up at her. “Some problems with my father’s estate.”

She held his hand. “Who was it that called?”

He stared at her. “My… Uncle Ben.”

“Oh… you haven’t seen him in a long time. That’ll be good for you to see him. And it’ll be good for you to see where you grew up; it’s time.”

“Yeah… I think it is. Seeing Uncle Ben, Charlie Simpson… it’ll be nice.”

“Reed… can we go with you? I’d like to see where you grew up.”

“No.” He looked at her quickly. “Sorry… but I think I’d probably better do this by myself. I won’t be there long. A week at the most, I guess.”

“I understand. Of course.”

But Reed knew that of course she didn’t. He’d never told her about his past. About his father. About his family. She just knew they’d been killed in a flood while Reed was somewhere else. He hadn’t even told her he’d been running away from home at the time. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her the story.

“You be careful, okay?”

Reed looked at her, at the tightness around her mouth, and wondered if she knew, if she sensed something. But that was impossible. “I will,” he said automatically, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions. “I promise.”

“Is there anything more you want to tell me, Reed?” Her eyes were bright, intense.

“I could be better… at having a family…” he began.

“You do fine.”

He raised his hand. “I know, I know. But I’m not always good at being an adult. I think maybe going back there, seeing where I grew up, trying to dig out why I am the way I am… I think I’ll be a better adult. Things’ll be better for all of us.” What he could not say was that he was afraid not to go back. That if he didn’t go back, his childishness might foul things up so badly between them there’d be no fixing it. If he didn’t go back, he might not have his solid family anymore. His security.

“You’ve never told me much about your childhood.” She leaned over into his arms and he held her tightly.

“I know. Maybe I can tell you a great deal more when I get back. Maybe I’ll tell you everything.”

Then suddenly the children were there, and there Josef was, yawning in Reed’s face. Alicia was laughing at the dog, but Reed was suddenly uneasy, staring into the dark open mouth, the pink lips, gums, and enormous tongue, the long, sharp teeth. He pulled away. Then he sneezed.

Carol laughed. “Your cold’s getting worse, Reed. I’ve never known you to be sick like this before.” Then she looked at him seriously again. “You’re still losing weight, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How much so far?”

“I don’t know. Almost thirty pounds I think.”

“Reed!”

“I’m okay—I needed to lose the weight anyway.” He made a false smile, even though he knew she would recognize it. “I was getting fat.”

“You’re making yourself ill, Reed…” Then suddenly they were overwhelmed with thrashing legs and wet fur, barks and giggles.

Carol, Michael, and Alicia were laughing, all three wrestling with the dogs. Reed smiled as he watched them, determined to remember exactly how they looked at this moment, wanting to hold them, to join in.

But each time the German shepherd swung near, Reed pulled back, thinking of its teeth. He wanted to warn them of its teeth, to tell them it might not be safe, but he held himself back. It was a foolish fear. Josef was the gentlest of dogs. They would not understand.