The Matchmakers Read Free

arrived, she was the one who held up their departures, but Roger came through again and assumed the roll of gatherer. While she bundled little ones, he stuffed diaper bags with all the miscellaneous items that babies and new mamas seem to need.
    Cynthia stirred from her reverie and turned back to her sons. Justin was finally zipping up his jacket. Todd was standing with the door held open, even though the morning held a sharp chill. “We’ll be late,” he said again in a dull voice, impatience causing a deep frown to crease his forehead.
    “Never been late yet,” responded Justin.
    Todd scowled. “You would be late lots of times if I didn’t make you hurry.”
    Justin shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
    Finally they were out the door and in the car. Cynthia felt that the worst part of her morning was over. Dealing with customers at the bank where she worked was easy in comparison.
    “Is Grandpa Paul comin’ for dinner?” asked Justin.
    “’Course. He always does,” responded Todd before Cynthia could even open her mouth.
    “I hope he got my watch fixed.”
    “What’s wrong with your watch?” Cynthia had heard nothing about a broken watch.
    “He broke it going down the slide backward,” put in Todd.
    “It caught when I fell,” Justin said simply.
    The watch had been her father’s idea. With a timepiece to make the boy more aware of fleeting moments, Justin might realize that there were times when hurrying was perfectly in order. It hadn’t worked. But Justin loved the watch. It was his prized possession.
    “What broke?”
    “Just the strap piece. Just a little bit. Grandpa Paul will fix it.”
    Yes, thought Cynthia. Grandpa Paul will fix it. Grandpa Paul fixes everything  … well, just about everything.
    Cynthia’s eyes teared up. What on earth was she thinking? What ever would she do without her father?
    “I’m gonna ask him if we can go ice-fishing tomorrow. Darren’s dad is takin’ him ice-fishin’,” continued Justin.
    “It’s too cold for ice-fishing,” Cynthia said as she negotiated a corner, her eyes on the road.
    “No, it’s not. You wear your warm clothes—an’ jump an’ run around on the ice to keep warm an’ stuff.”
    “I thought maybe you’d like to go with me to the craft show.”
    “Craft shows are for girls.” This from Todd who had gender roles well sorted.
    “There’s a whole section there for kids,” Cynthia corrected.
    “Girl kids.”
    “Not girl kids. There are—”
    “I’d rather go with Grandpa Paul,” Justin said simply.
    “You don’t even know if he’s going anyplace,” Todd reminded him. “He hasn’t said that he’s going ice-fishing.”
    “I’ll just stay home with him, then.” The matter was settled as far as Justin was concerned.
    “Maybe we can go to the craft show for a few minutes after church on Sunday,” Cynthia suggested hopefully. She wanted some time with her sons but could think of nothing they could do together in the dead of winter.
    “Grandpa said he’d help me build my new model,” Todd announced. “He said we’d start right after dinner.”
    So the plans for Sunday had already been made as well.
    Cynthia eased the car up against the curb. “Get out on the sidewalk,” she cautioned as she always did when she let them out at school.
    “Bye, Mom.”
    Todd was gone almost before she had completely stopped the car. Justin leaned forward to plant a moist kiss on her cheek. “Bye, Mom.” Then he slowly began to gather his lunch box, reader, mitts, and scarf. “Bye, Mom,” he called again before he shut the door, then stood, belongings dangling, mitts held in his hands instead of on them. “Bye, Mom,” he called again, struggling to wave with hands full of little-boy school items.
    He’s going to lose another mitt, thought Cynthia, shaking her head and smiling at him. He’s already been through three pairs this winter.
    He stood and waited. She knew he would not leave to trudge toward the school building until