Jan stepped into the kitchen, and we all sat down for dinner. Yelena outdid herself. We started out with meat-filled dumplings in a clear broth called ‘pelmeni.’ Then she served us beef stroganoff. She’d made it with a creamy mushroom gravy and served it over egg noodles. For dessert, she made a sweetened cheese dish called ‘paskha.’ Everyone loved it.
During dinner, I told them about my trip to Cuba and how friendly the people were. Mrs. Pearson loved my story about the swamp and the crocodiles.
“Tell them what you did,” she urged her husband.
Typically, she was the one with stories that entertained me. It was a surprise that Mr. Pearson would have one.
“It was just a slight miscalculation,” he said to play it off.
“… that had us picking up stones out of our field for a week,” Grandma Dawson added.
What could they possibly be talking about?
“I think you need to tell your story,” I encouraged.
He looked over at his wife and saw she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. I hoped I was as good a sport when I was old and married like he was.
“I decided that we needed to clear out some stumps. They had the same problem over on the Bauer farm, so we got the boys to help us,” he explained.
“Sorry, man, I know what that can be like,” I told Roc. “My uncle made me dig fencepost holes all one summer. The capper was he had a tractor implement for the job, but chose child labor instead.”
“Between Dad and Mr. Bauer, they had Johan, Milo, and me working like dogs for almost a week,” Roc complained.
“It had to be done,” Mr. Pearson pointed out.
“I know, Dad, but digging out stumps is hard work,” Roc complained.
“We had a couple we couldn’t seem to get out. I remembered that I had some old dynamite lying around.”
“Who has old dynamite? And where did you get it in the first place? Isn’t that illegal?” I asked in rapid-fire fashion.
“All good questions, and the illegal part was why I thought we might want to use it up,” Mr. Pearson admitted.
“It had been around for years. I told him it wasn’t stable,” Mrs. Pearson said, sounding satisfied.
“Anyway … we decided to try it out, and it worked like a dream. One of the stumps flew about ten feet into the air.”
“You would have loved it,” Roc said with a big smile.
I could see how blowing some stuff up could be a good time.
“We thought we knew what we were doing.”
“The key word there is ‘thought,’” Mrs. Pearson reminded him.
“Well, it did make it all go faster,” he defended himself.
“What went wrong?” I asked.
“We had this big maple-tree stump next to an old shed. After doing a few, we’d gotten the hang of digging the hole to put the dynamite in so it would direct the stump to where we wanted it. But this time, we put a stick in, and when it detonated, it did nothing but blow dirt everywhere. This was the biggest and last stump, so I figured we could use the last three sticks to dislodge it.
“When we set it off, the stump shot a hundred feet into the air. Some of the root system must have been under the stone wall of the shed because it shot rocks everywhere. We had all ducked behind the Bauers’ pickup truck, and it was good that we did. It did over three thousand dollars’ worth of body and windshield damage.
“We also lost a few windows on the side of the house, which was about 300 yards away. Rock was found in fields almost a quarter-mile from where the stump had been,” he explained.
“Tell him about the police,” Mrs. Pearson urged.
“That was a bit of a problem. They got calls from all over, reporting a bomb going off. We’d used up all the dynamite, so they let me off with a warning.”
“Next time you do something like that, call me,” I said.
It was probably good that my mom wasn’t there, but my grandma had some pointed commentary on the matter. I just winked at Mr. Pearson to let him know that if he wanted a partner in crime, I was in.
◊◊◊
Zoe and I went for a walk after dinner. We ended up on the bluff that overlooked the river. It was the perfect place to build a home once the river was cleaned up and fixed. It was so peaceful back here. I sat down with my back to a walnut tree, and Zoe sat in front of me and leaned back into my arms.
“How’s your summer going?” I asked.
“We sold some horses, so I was able to buy new colts to train. Most of the early training is just spending time with them so they get used to people.”
“I didn’t know you did that,” I admitted.
“Dad decided that I could try it this year. My goal is to get them broken and saddle-trained so I can sell them. The money will go towards college expenses.”
“It seems everyone has college on the brain. Tracy is freaking out about where she’s going. Even Coach Hope was asking me where I plan to attend.”
“Where
“I probably won’t decide until the spring signing period, if I play football.”
“What do you mean, ‘if’? I thought that was what you planned to do,” Zoe asked as she turned her head so she could look me in the eyes.
“I might skip college, and either do movies or play baseball.”
She laughed at me.
“Your mom will kill you.”
