Chapter Two

"Help your Grandma with setting the table," was my Father's first words to me as I came into the cabin. I wanted to start in on him for leaving me in limbo this summer, but "Pick your battles" entered my thoughts as I tasked myself to let it go. I went about grabbing glasses and things as the smells in the kitchen ignited the fires of my appetite. Grandpa Harrison was cutting the roast and plating the potatoes and carrots that had soaked up the flavor of the meat. It wasn't a fancy meal but a hearty one that sustained many generations of farmers. Grandma came from the kitchen with bread and butter, which she always has on the table no matter what we're eating. My Grandma Charlotte always cuts an imposing figure standing nearly six feet tall and bearing the marks of a life spent doing manual labor. Earned from toiling on a farm since childhood. She used her words sparingly but always made them count. The worst thing for her would be nothing at all. Even up here at their cabin in the woods she never keeps her hands idle. Needle and thread carefully move with her fingers as she rocks in her chair. Gardening, cooking, biking, and everything under the sun to stave off just resting. If not the physical she is working the mind with puzzles, cards, and the like. I often wish I had her quiet strength.
We pass the food around and say a prayer we've said in the family for as long as I can remember. I can't say I believe in the words but say them out of habit and respect. Talking with food in your mouth is poor-mannered and libel to get you scolded. This means conversation at dinner time is about as likely as snow in the tropics. After finishing our plates is when the banter truly begins and let me tell you, it's not always easy to tell the difference.
"Jordi, are looking forward to our little adventure in the woods?" My grandpa asks as he leans into the back of his chair and fiddles with a toothpick.
Clearly, we are doing this, and I want to tell him that I'm rather dreading it, but haven't the heart as his enthusiasm seems genuine. I quickly start buttering a piece of bread and nod in avoidance. "When were we going again?" I honestly was wondering.
He looked up searching his words. "We'll leave Tuesday and come back the Tuesday after." Eight days, I shouted inside my head. I thought this was a weekend project dedicated to my suffering. We leave the day after next, great, let's get it over with. Let's rip this band-aid off and get to it. As I listen to them talk about gossip, the idea that this trip might just give me the chance to breathe, and distract my mind.
"Jordi will you help me with the dishes?" My Father asks but I know it's really a command. This is my chance to vent.
My grandparents cleared the table and got the table ready for a game of cards. We usually played Liverpool rummy as grandma would break out the deserts. Dad had his hands soaked in hot water as he did the cleaning as I did the drying. "How long do you think you're going to be gone?" I asked.
"I really can't say Jordi. I still have my regular job while I'm doing interviews. On top of that, I'm looking for a place for us." Frustration flowed from his words. "Are you at least looking in an area where I can stay in the same school district?" Half begging through my words as he hands me a dish.
He turned the faucet on to rinse a dish and defended, "I'm trying Jordi but we'll have to go where we have to go, I'm sorry but that is just the way it is." "So I'm stranded here until you figure it out, and I don't get a say in it?" My Bitch levels are creeping up the meter.
Under his breath, he whispered, "I'm not the one who ran off to Europe, I'm just dealing with the carnage." I couldn't argue that. I put the dried-off dish in the cupboard.
"Do I really have to go on this trip with grandpa, it's kind of weird?" I whispered as low as I could hoping not to be heard by offended ears.
My father looked around and leaned in with, "He's already made the reservation and paid for it. He's always wanted to do this with a grandson, I guess you'll have to do." He chuckled and I admit he got a smile out of me. Dang, my defenses are lowered. "Jordi, with any luck I'll sort this all out soon. Go with your grandpa, have a good time, and try something new. The times I spent with your Grandpa in the Boundary Waters are still some of the best times I had growing up. I know it's not what you were hoping for or even wanted but get into the spirit of it, and who knows, you might be begging to go again next summer." I raised an eyebrow at that as he pulled the plug and let the water drain as I put away the last of the dishes. All my questions aren't answered but some of my anger was dissipating like that soapy water.
I did as my Father asked and set my mind to getting into the spirit as we played our game of cards. Deep into the night we jokingly teased each other as our competitive side came out. We nibbled at exquisite deserts as Grandma won as usual. In the morning my Father came in and kissed me goodbye as he headed out early. I don't know when he'll be back and under what circumstances. I do know one way or another my life will be changed.