A Second Chance -- Chapter 6

By Dawn Natelle

This is the last of the daily episodes. I managed to write it as the first five were running, but it may be up to a week before I get the next installment to our little story. Sorry for those of you who have been reading it daily, but I'm no Angarad, able to post a story a day: Dawn.

SATURDAY, April 30, 2016

Rachael was up at 7, only slightly later than school mornings. When she reached the kitchen she noticed there was a half-loaf of store bread in the fridge. Once the family had tasted Bread Baron bread, no one wanted to clean it up. Rachael knew that it would go stale soon, and didn’t want to waste it. Then inspiration hit. She got out the bread and some eggs, and started whipping up French Toast.

“What are these wonderful smells coming from my kitchen?” Maria said as Rachael handed her a coffee.

“It is my kitchen now, Mother,” the girl said. “And don’t you forget it. We have French Toast on the menu today.”

“With Bread Baron bread?” Maria asked hopefully.

“No, with the old stuff that is getting too stale for anything else. It should just about make three good helpings of French toast. It sucks that you have to go to work today, but at least you will get there with a full stomach.”

“What smells so yummy,” a half naked Bobby said, wearing only his underpants, as he hugged Rachael’s legs, and then his mom’s.

“French Toast,” Rachael said, “and it is really yummy, so you better run upstairs and get dressed before Mom and I eat it. Wear jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t put clothes out for you today.”

The family enjoyed their meal, with Bobby announcing that French Toast was ‘the best breakfast ever.” They lingered over the table until near 8, and were just washing the dishes when Michaela tapped on the door.

“You got up early,” Rachael said as she let her friend in.

“Yeah, I woke up and thought: ‘go back to sleep, or go visit my new friend.’ Guess which one I chose.”

“You just missed breakfast,” Bobby announced. “We had French Toast. It was yummy.”

“Aww,” Mikki said. “I just had regular toast. But there is a yard sale on the next block down the street. Do you want to go?”

“I do,” Maria said. Yard sales were one of the ways that she stretched her budget. “Let’s go.”

They got to the house with the sale on and found that the man was still putting things out. Rachael immediately noted a box with sports gear in it. There were three ball gloves, a baseball, a softball and a bat. There was a note of $5 written on it.

“Is that for the whole box, or just the bat,” Rachael asked as the man walked by.

“The whole box,” he said as he went back into his garage, where Rachael noticed that a police cruiser sat.

“Can we get this?” she asked her mom. “I’ll use some of my babysitting money.”

“Maybe,” Maria said. “Look, there is an entire table of women’s clothing. She held some up against her. Too small in the bust for me, but some of these would look good on you. Let’s go through them. Oooh, look, the price is $1 per item.”

In the end Michaela got 20 items, tops, skirts and dresses, some of which would not fit unless she lost a few more pounds. Maria also bought 20 items for Rachael, who insisted on a few skirts that Maria could also share. They ended up with a total of $45 for the man, since they decided to buy the sports box as well.

“Why are you getting rid of so many things?” Rachael asked him as they were packing up.

“Mostly to get rid of all my ex-girlfriend’s things. She decided she didn’t want to date a cop, so she left me, and left all her old things. I put out some of the my other stuff just to top up the sale, like the sports stuff and some of my old clothes.”

Then he looked at Maria, who was packing clothes into shopping bags. “Tell you what, if you give me your sister’s phone number, I’ll let you take another 10 items free.”

“My sister? Oh, you mean my Mom. She is only 30, and single. She works as a waitress at Joe’s cafe. I won’t give you her number, but I will introduce you. What is your name?”

“Steve Winslow,” the man said. “I am safe,” he said, “if you consider a member of the town police force safe.”

“Mom,” Rachael said as Maria came over. “I want you to meet Steve Winslow. He is on the town police force. He thought you were my sister,” she giggled.

“I admit it,” Steve said. “I tried to bribe her to get your number. She wouldn’t go for it.”

“She certainly should not have,” Maria said testily. “I’m sorry, but I’m currently not free to date. I have two young children to look after. Thanks for asking though.”

“You have quite a load of things,” Steve said. “I could deliver them later if you like? Just leave them in the garage and I’ll drive them to your home after noon when this sale wraps up.”

“We only live a couple blocks away,” Maria said in a politer voice. “We can manage. And I will be at work after noon. I think the kids have plans too, so there won’t be anyone home.”

With that the four headed back, with the girls carrying bags of clothes, and Bobby dragging his box of sports equipment. When they got back to the house, Maria had to hurry to get ready for work, so Rachael carried her bags up to her room, unbagging them so they wouldn’t be too wrinkled later. Michaela left her bags on the sofa.

Then the kids gathered up the gloves and the softball, leaving the baseball and the bat, and walked over to Vet Park, about four blocks away. When they got there they found there were a group of boys playing on the baseball diamond, but Rachael didn’t want that space anyway. She took the others to a spot on the other side of the bleachers.

“Okay,” she said. “This is a ball toss game. We start with everybody in close, and we toss the ball to one another. If you catch it, you take a step back.”

“How do you win?” Bobby asked.

“We all win if we have fun,” Rachael said. “Mikki and I will get good exercise. You will too, but you will also get good with a ball, and someday you will be able to play out there with the big boys.”

“Cool,” Bobby said and held out his glove like a basket. Rachael tossed the ball gently into it, but it popped out.

“Good first try. You have to squeeze a bit when the ball goes into it,” Rachael said. “Watch carefully when Mikki tosses the ball to me. Mikki tossed the ball … they were really too close to actually call it throwing … and Rachael caught it.

It was not until the fourth toss that Bobby caught the ball. He was ecstatic, and jumped up and down, and then was a little wild in his toss to Mikki, causing her to have to jump and run after the ball. But Bobby proudly took a step back.

They played for about an hour, with Bobby gradually getting comfortable with the ball coming towards him. They were now about 25 feet apart, and were throwing the ball, rather than just tossing it. I throw like a girl now, Rachael realized, and she tried to remember the mechanics of throwing from her youth. She knew that girls could throw as well as boys. Not as far or hard perhaps, but with the same action. She had seen the women’s college teams on television, and they did not ‘throw like a girl.’

Bobby now was catching the ball about half the time, and running to chase it down when he missed. Rachael tossed one a bit too high, and Bobby put his glove up and managed to catch it over his head, to his surprise. “Best catch ever,” he said as he threw the ball generally in Mikki’s direction, causing her to have to scramble after the ball.

At first they had worked in the same direction, Rachael to Bobby, Bobby to Mikki, and Mikki back to Rachael. But after they started getting some distance apart, Rachael realized that it was unfair to Mikki, since Bobby’s throws were often wild, and she was running all over the place chasing the ball. So they switched directions, so it was Rachael doing the running. Of course Bobby had to run a lot in either case, because he only caught the ball about half the time.

This left all three exhausted after an hour, so they moved to the bleachers. Rachael had filled three water bottles before they left, and pulled them out. As they watched the bigger boys playing, Rachael explained the game to Bobby. There was no umpire for the game, so the batters would stay at the plate until they hit a ball, fair or foul. As well there were arguments over who was safe or out on close base calls. But overall the boys were just boys having fun. Rachael could see that Bobby wished he could join in.

That little boy way out there is only my age,” Bobby said, pointing to a boy in right field.

“He is a year older than you,” Rachael said. “He goes to our school, in Grade 5 I think. Next year you could be playing with them, or even sooner if you do a lot of practice and get good. They put him in the outfield because he isn’t as good as the older boys. You have to be really good to play on the bases, and super good to be pitcher or catcher.”

“What now?” Mikki asked after a few more minutes. “No more ball I hope. My legs are still sore from all that running.”

“Yeah. I bet you only lost one or two pounds this morning,” Rachael said. “Hardly worth it, was it?”

Now it was Mikki’s turn to get big eyes. “Do you really think we lost weight? That would be so cool.”

“Well, I know we didn’t gain any. If we’d been sitting watching cartoons on TV we probably would have. Let’s go. There is a grocery store about five blocks past the park, and I need to buy things if Bobby and I plan on eating next week. Mom gave me the grocery money.”

So they put their gloves and the ball into Rachael’s backpack and headed off to the store. At the store Rachael got a cart and took the others throughout the market, buying some meats, including two whole chickens, and other staples. They skipped the bakery section, since they had a much better bakery on the way home from school, Similarly, they didn’t buy any produce, although Rachael explained to Mikki how much lower the quality of the stock here was compared to DaSilva’s.

She did spend some time in the baking aisle, buying flour, sugar, and other baking products. Bobby ranged ahead of them, keeping in sight, and ran back holding a bag of cookies. “Rachael, Rachael,” he said. “These are the kind of cookies my babysitter used to have.”

“No Bobby, put them back,” she said, and watched as his face fell. “Look in the basket. See that big yellow bag? It is flour, and with it I can make dozens more cookies than in that little bag. Bobby brightened again and ran off chanting ‘cookies, cookies’ and then replaced the bag on the shelf.

“He is so cute,” Mikki said. “Danny would have just sat down on the floor in the middle of the store and had a temper tantrum until Mom bought him what he wanted.”

“The difference is that we can’t cater to his whims,” Rachael said. “Mom only has so much money for groceries.”

At the checkout Rachael was worried that the total would exceed the $80 her mother had given her, but the total only came to $45 and change, mainly because she had avoided pre-packaged foods. It was still a full cart.

“I don’t know how we will get all this home,” Rachael said. Then she noticed a taxi driver parked at the curb. She asked Mikki to watch the cart and went over to the driver, asking what it would cost for a ride to their home. Rachael knew her mother often used a taxi when she got the groceries.

“Come on,” she told the others. “We are riding home today. It will only cost $7 or so.”

The cabbie loaded the groceries into his trunk, and then the three kids got into the back seat. The walk that had taken them 20 minutes, between the walk to the park, and then from the park to the store, was only a five-minute ride. The meter on the taxi read $7.15, and Rachael gave the man $8, apologizing for not being able to tip more. The man seemed happy, and helped unload the groceries onto the front step before driving off.

The gang went into the house and packed the groceries away. As Rachael put the chickens into the fridge, she realized that if they had walked it might have taken 30 or 40 minutes to get home, with rest breaks. The chicken could have started to turn during that time. The taxi had been a good investment.

“Now what?” Mikki asked.

“Lunch. It is only 11, but I want to make us a good lunch. I wonder if you could read to Bobby while I make some soup and sandwiches?”

Mikki and Bobby read for about an hour, and Mikki noticed that he improved even during that time. She vowed that she would start reading to her little brother that night. Meanwhile, more and more intense aromas started coming from the kitchen.

“Is it food yet?” Bobby shouted as he got up from the big old chair that Mikki and he had been reading in.

“Just about,” Rachael said. “Do you want to help Mikki set the table? You know where everything is. We need bowls for the soup, and plates for the sandwiches. Spoons for the soup, but I don’t think we need knives or forks.

“This is wonderful soup,” Mikki said as they sat at the table after Rachael led them in prayer.

“Best soup ever,” Bobby claimed.

“It is just vegetable soup,” Rachael said. “Wait until after we finish the chicken Sunday night. Then I will make you chicken noodle soup, with homemade noodles.”

The accompanying sandwiches were a hit too. They were only bologna that Rachael had bought at DaSilva’s on Friday, but meat sandwiches were rare at the Cartright house. The fact that the bologna was spiced slightly differently to the packaged type just made the inexpensive meat taste all that much better, especially on Bread Baron bread.

As they ate, more smells started coming from the kitchen. Rachael popped up, and went to the stove, and took something out, and came back enveloped in the most tantalizing aromas.

“There is more, isn’t there?” Michaela guessed.

“Yes, but we won’t talk about it until we have all finished eating,” Rachael said, winking at her friend and glancing at her brother. Mikki got the hint and said nothing more.

When they finished eating, Bobby carried his dishes into the sink and then the others heard a little scream. “Cookies. Cookies. Rachael made cookies. Can I have one?”

“They are still a bit too hot,” Rachael said. “They should be perfect by the time we get the dishes done. I made enough dough for two more pans full, so we can have some tomorrow, and there might even be a cookie for each day at school next week.”

After the dishes were done, and four of the cookies had disappeared, two into Bobby, they gathered up cleaning supplies. As well, Rachael filled a margarine container with soup and made and wrapped up a sandwich, popping a cookie into the bag. Then they all headed over to M. Verdun’s.

The old man was sitting on the porch eagerly waiting for them.

“Mes amies,” he said. “You have not forgotten the old man.”

“We will never forget,” Rachael told him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No dear,” he said. “The Meals on Wheels does not come on the weekends. I have some cereal in the cupboard that I can eat if I get hungry.”

“You will not,” Rachael ordered. “You come inside and eat. I have soup and a sandwich. You and Bobby can sit at the table, and Mikki and I will start to clean up in here.”

The old man only ate the soup, while Bobby nibbled at a cookie Rachael had packed for him. M. Verdun put the sandwich into his fridge so that he could have it later in the evening. While he was eating, Rachael and Michaela started cleaning the living room, sorting the newspapers into bundles for recycling, and sweeping and dusting the entire living room. When they finished, it no longer looked like a hoarder lived here, but a respectable family.

M. Verdun had tears in his eyes as Bobby led him to his easy chair. “Darling children, you make an old man so happy. A home-cooked meal, and now my room as clean as it was when Marie was still with me.”

“Don’t cry, general,” Bobby said. “You said you were going to tell me some war stories.”

M. Verdun smiled in spite of his tears, and used a hankie to wipe them away. He started to speak, but Rachael stopped him by exclaiming “What are these?”

The old man looked up to see the case that she had found while dusting the bookshelf. “That is just something Marie made years ago to store some of my war trinkets.”

“War trinkets? These are medals. Are they all yours?”

“Yes, cheri. Everyone got medals in the war. Those are mine.”

“Oh, my God. Oh my God,” Rachael said in a near whisper. The center medal in the arrangement was a bronze cross with a lion standing on a crown. The words For Valour were beneath it. “This is a Victoria Cross, isn’t it?”

“Oui, cheri,” he said. “Some generals thought I did a good thing and gave me that. It was really just pretty much a mess up, like so much more of the war.”

Rachael found a newspaper clipping, fragile and yellowed after 75 years, and read it aloud so Mikki and Bobby could hear.

City man gets top honor

Sgt. Andre Verdun, Royal 22nd Regiment, was awarded a Victoria Cross in London by the King yesterday. The field dispatch said:

Sgt. Verdun was leading a company of soldiers after their captain and lieutenants were all killed or severely wounded. The company was pinned down by a pair of machine gun nests that left the group exposed. Sgt. Verdun left the group and crawled down a gully, and then came up on the first machine gun embankment, which he cleared with a grenade. He then worked his way over to the second embankment and cleared it with rifle fire, picking off the 12 men in it one at a time. As he was clearing the second placement, his company charged the hill, taking the position, and holding it to allow the rest of the division to proceed safely with no further casualties.

This is only the fifth Canadian to receive the Victoria Cross in the war, and the first ever by an Ingersoll native son. Sgt. Verdun returned to the front shortly after the ceremony.

“You really are a war hero,” Rachael said. “This medal proves it.”

“I knew he was a war hero,” Bobby exclaimed. “Did you really meet a King?”

“I did, but I don’t want you kids making too much of it. Bobby wanted a story. Do you all want to hear what really happened that day?”

“Yes please,” Rachael said, sitting down on the sofa. Mikki sat next to her while Bobby plopped down on the floor in front of his idol.

“I don’t think much of that medal because nine good men died that day, and more were injured, many badly. It is not a day I like to commemorate. It was probably my worst day in the entire war.”

“We were the lead company for the division, and our mission was to open up a route for the rest of the division to take towards Amiens, where we were to reinforce the divisions trying to take the city. We blundered into this valley between two hills, and didn’t know that the Krauts had a machine gun on either one.”

“Snipers took out the captain, and both lieutenants.”

“What’s a lef-ten-ant?” Bobby asked.

“That is what we call the men who help the captain,” M. Verdun explained. “You might hear the word loo-ten-ant sometimes. That is how the Americans say it. But anyway, there were four other sergeants there that had seniority over me, and one of them really should have become the leader. But I saw a low spot, and led my men into it, and everyone else followed. I guess that’s how I got to be leader.”

“We were there for maybe five minutes, and the machine guns were buzzing over our heads. A couple more guys bought it and I realized that grouped together the way we were we would get creamed if they started to toss grenades or use artillery on us. So I looked around and saw a place I thought we could get through.”

“I crawled over to it, thinking that the others would follow, but a machine gun burst just at that time got everyone looking the other way. I heard later that they thought I had just disappeared, or ran away.”

“I got to a fork in the gully, and if the men were with me I would have taken the left path, which would have gotten us behind the men. The right path would have gotten us off the battlefield entirely, but would have left the machine guns there for the rest of the division that was following us. Even though I was alone, I chose the left path, and got in behind the closest machine gun nest. The dispatches said that I cleared them with one grenade, but I actually used all four that I had, and still had to shoot two other Krauts.”

“Then I made my way over to the second nest, and found a nice high spot behind them looking down at them. I didn’t have any more grenades, although I really wished I had. So I set up under cover and started sniping. I killed five of them before they even noticed I was there, and then I got four more as they tried to turn their machine gun around at me. The last three were more work. I think it took about 15 minutes before I got the last one. I was shot three times. Here, here, and here.” He touched his left shoulder, right leg, and his left side. “They had to carry me out.”

“Anyway, some fools in the company bragged about the action and word got back to the division Colonel, who seemed impressed. I was just doing my job, and doing it badly since there were so many casualties. He didn’t seem to think so, and recommended me for a medal. Some generals wanted a Canadian VC, so that is the one I got. I did get to see the King, who pinned the medal on my tunic, although it was after three weeks in hospital trying to get strong enough to stand in front of him.”

“Wow,” Mikki said. “That is so cool. Who would think that a hero like you would be living in little old Ingersoll. Why hasn’t this been in the newspapers?”

“It was, many years ago,” M. Verdun said. “Marie used to be so proud when I wore my medal on Remembrance Day each year. But after she passed, I stopped going. It didn’t seem right to wear a medal that I got for saving my own butt when so many others didn’t get out.”

“But what you did saved so many more,” Rachael exclaimed. “You should be proud of what you did. If anything, you can consider that the medal was for all the men, and only your name got placed on it.”

“Ma petit cheri, you are so good to me,” he said. “I want you to take that medal. I was surprised that you knew what it was, for someone so young.”

“NO,” Rachael shouted. “I can’t take this. It is too valuable. It should go to your son, or your grandson. These medals are worth more than your entire house.”

“Marie and I never had little ones. She wasn’t able. I have nephews, but none of them are close. No doubt they will be interested in me when I die, and there is an estate to divide up, but I really don’t see any of them. They all have their own lives and an old uncle is not a part of them.”

“I wish you were my Grandpa,” Bobby said.

“Ah, but you have your own grandpas, don’t you?”

“Actually no,” Rachael explained. “My mom was still in high school when she had me, and my father felt trapped in the marriage. When Bobby was on the way he split, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. His parents, my grandparents, didn’t want anything to do with us either.”

“But your mother’s parents?” M. Verdun asked.

“Not much better. Mom’s mom and stepdad were upset that she got pregnant before marriage, and kind of disowned us. We do get a Christmas card from Grandma every year with a few dollars in it, but Grandpa won’t allow us to even come to their house.”

M. Verdun looked at Bobby. “I would be honored to be your Grandpa, ma cheri.”

Bobby stood immediately and looked at the old soldier and then exploded into his arms, giving him a long and fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the boy said. “I have always wanted a Grandpa like the other boys have, and now I have one. I have the best Grandpa ever.”

M. Verdun and both girls had tears in the eyes. “Little hands around an old man mean so much,” he said. “Am I your Grandpa too, cheri?” he asked Rachael.

“Yes please,” Rachael said between sobs. “I would be honored to have you as a grandfather, real or adopted.”

The rest of the session did not see much more cleaning done. Bobby spent the entire time on his new grandfather’s lap, and it was clear that the old man was thrilled with that. Mikki and Rachael did get the kitchen ship shape, and made the downstairs bed with clean linens. The upstairs was not the hoarder’s mess the living room had been, but tidying it up was going to have to be put off for another day. At least M. Verdun would have a clean bed to sleep in.

After tearful farewells were made, Rachael and Mikki took Bobby home. Since Maria was not going to be home until after 7, Rachael made a quick dinner of hotdogs for Bobby after Mikki left. Then she got on the phone.

At 7 an exhausted Maria walked in the door. Bobby immediately ran up to her and told her about his new grandpa. She raised an eyebrow and then sat down for supper with Rachael: a feast she called the Hobo’s Casserole. It was hotdogs sliced into inch long pieces served in canned pork and beans, with grated cheese over the top. Bobby was sent up to have a bath while they ate.

“So what it this Grandpa thing?” Maria asked.

“Well, I told you about M. Verdun the other day?”

“The old soldier you have stopped and chatted with?”

“Yes. Well, his house was a real mess, so Mikki and I decided to spend the afternoon over there tidying it up for him. He really can’t afford a cleaning lady, and he is so good with Bobby. I just wanted to help him.”

“You are too sweet, Rachael,” Maria said.

“As we were cleaning up, we discovered that he really is a hero, like Bobby said. He has a Victoria Cross.”

“That is pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Yes. About as good as it gets. He took out two machine gun nests in the war, saving his men and lots of lives. The king gave him the medal. He was actually wounded three times.”

“So how does the ‘grandpa’ fit into this?”

“He wanted me to have his medals, and I said he should give them to a son or grandson. It turns out he never had children, and isn’t close to his nephews. That is when Bobby asked him if he could be his grandpa.”

“I explained how we don’t have grandparents, and I guess we pretty much agreed to adopt each other. Bobby was thrilled. Apparently the other boys all talk about their grandparents, and he never could join in.”

“Another way I failed my son,” Maria pouted.

“Stop it Mom. You are a great parent, and it is not your fault that we have shitty grandparents. Don’t make it about you. You are great, and neither Bobby or I would trade you for anyone. But I really would like to bring M. Verdun into the family.”

“So how would that work?” Maria asked.

“Well, he can’t move in, of course. And I don’t think he would want to. He likes his little house. I mean, that’s why he’s not in a retirement home, I guess. But he really loves Bobby. You should have seen his face when Bobby hugged him, or when he sat on his lap.”

“And I want to look after him. I took him soup and a sandwich. Do you know he was going to go all weekend with no food … other than some cereal?”

“So I want to invite him over for supper tomorrow, and make it a regular thing for Sunday dinners.”

“It is three or four blocks to his house, isn’t it? Can he walk that far?” Maria asked.

“No, he can’t, and that bothered me. I was wondering about a taxi, but then I thought about the Legion. I called up and told them about M. Verdun, and asked if they might have a volunteer driver. Right away they said yes, and someone will pick him up and bring him over at 6:30 tomorrow. I’m making a roast, so there will be lots of food. Bobby can entertain him while I am cooking it. He wants to show ‘Grandpa’ how well he can read.”

“It sounds like you have it all planned out, honey,” Maria said. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing Mom, except to say it is okay. I haven’t told him yet, but I’m sure he’ll come over. Are you okay with it?”

“It sounds wonderful dear. But it sounds like there is someone upstairs wanting to read some Harry Potter. Let me do the dishes just this once. There don’t seem to be many, and I think reading to your brother is one of the most important things you do in this house.”

After over an hour of Harry Potter, Bobby fell asleep. He had been active all morning, and Rachael hoped that the exercise was helping him. He was already much better at baseball, no longer shying away from the ball, and throwing accurately about half the time now.

Dear Lord

Thank you for all you do for me, and for this family. I hope you approve of my adding M. Verdun to our little family. I know he is one of your special chosen people, since you kept him alive in that horrible war, and brought him back intact. Please bless him, Mom, Mikki and her cute little brother, and of course my own cutie: Bobby. Amen.