Fireworks From My Half of the Dock

“Fine,” she said. “Just keep them downstairs. Please. People are coming at seven.”

Hal came in from the deck with an armload of firewood. He is a big quiet man who works maintenance at the hospital in Gaylord, and he has been my brother-in-law for fifteen years.

He did not say anything. He just came over and gave me a hug, a long one, the kind that says he knows something is wrong and he is sorry about it and it is not his to fix. Then he went back out to the deck for more wood.

I took the kids downstairs. The walkout bunk room still smelled like Daddy, like pine and wool blankets and the faint old smell of the propane heater.

The bunks were made up. Somebody, Rachel or Hal, had put clean sheets on them before we came.

Even on the day she told me not to bring them, my sister made up the beds for my kids.

We spent the afternoon down there. I plugged in the little space heater and we played Uno on the bottom bunk.

I made sliders on a paper plate with the rolls and ham I had held back, and the kids ate them sitting cross-legged on the floor like it was a picnic.

At seven, we heard the cars start pulling in. Doors slamming, people stamping their boots on the deck, Rachel’s bright voice saying, “Come in, come in, let me take your coat.” Then music, and the heavy creak of the floor overhead, and a lot of laughing.

I could pick out voices. Uncle Rich, Daddy’s older brother, who has a laugh like a truck starting.

Uncle Ken, the youngest of the three, who sounds exactly like Daddy did, so much that for a second my heart stopped when I heard him. Aunt Jan. The Petersons from across the lake. Hal’s sister and her husband from Petoskey.

Jack lay on his stomach on the floor with his ear to the carpet like he could hear through it. “Uncle Rich is here,” he reported. “And somebody’s playing cards. I can hear them slapping the table.”

“That’s euchre,” I said. “Grandpa’s game. They’ll be at it till midnight.”

Hailey looked down from the top bunk. “But it’s Grandpa’s party too,” she said. “It’s always been Grandpa’s party.”

I did not have an answer for that, so I dealt another hand of Uno, and Jack won it and whispered “Uno” very loudly, which made Hailey laugh for the first time all day.

At about nine-thirty, somebody came down the stairs. My heart jumped, but it was only Aunt Jan, looking for the downstairs bathroom because the upstairs one had a line. She stopped dead in the doorway of the bunk room and stared at us.

“Melissa Kuehl,” she said. “What in the world are you doing down here in the dark?”

“Hi, Aunt Jan,” I said. “It’s okay. The party’s adults only this year. We’re just staying down here out of the way. We’ll do the fireworks at eleven and go to bed.”

Aunt Jan looked at me, and then at the kids, and then at the paper sack of fireworks on the dresser, and I watched her put it together.

“Adults only,” she said. “In Don’s house. On New Year’s.” She shook her head slowly. “Well. I’ll be.”

“Please don’t say anything, Aunt Jan,” I said. “I mean it. I don’t want any trouble. It’s her party. Let her have it.”