On Herring Cove Road by Michael Kroft

Author:Michael Kroft
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jew, jewish, family saga, friendship, Post traumatic Stress disorder, Rosen, Halifax, Canada, heartwarming, feel-good, christian, Arthur Truluv, ove
Publisher: H & S Publishing
Published: 2014-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Something about the Dixons

Avriel, today is the beginning of our new life, and together, we shall start living it to the fullest.

·

Avriel folded the small piece of paper, placed it back in the paper bag with the wrapped roast beef sandwich and returned his reading glasses to the glove compartment. Taking a deep breath, he placed the lunch bag on top of the uncovered cardboard box beside him that contained seven elastic band-wrapped bundles of envelopes.

Before the signing of the sales contract, the Rosens had decided to award their employees with a purchase bonus, giving each employee a check for his or her dedication to the store. The part-time employees would receive a straight amount while the full-time employees would receive two weeks pay for each full year worked, and one employee, who had been with the Rosens since before the opening of their second location, would receive a check equal to three times that employee’s yearly salary. To make sure the letters properly communicated their appreciation, Ruth had them printed up by a wedding invitation printer and both she and her husband signed each one. There were ninety-eight letters and by the time they had finished signing them, Ruth’s signature remained elegant while Avriel’s was almost illegible.

That morning, Avriel would play deliveryman, delivering the bundles to each location with a request that they be handed out the following Monday. He would save the last bundle for his final exit from their Spring Garden Road office.

**

The August sun gently woke Dewey out of his deep sleep. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and thought he heard someone crying. Getting out of bed, he struggled to pull up his Spiderman pajamas. Realizing his heel was on the end of one leg, he lifted it and then pulled them up with ease. Groggily, he made his way down the hall to his parent’s room, where their bedroom door was open and his mother in her pink nightgown was sitting up on her bed with her back against the oak headboard. Her eyes were puffy and red and she had a piece of tissue sticking out of her fist.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Dewey asked, expecting her to tell him to wash his face and brush his teeth.

“Nothing, Honey. I’m just tired. Coming up?”

Dewey climbed up on the side of the bed that had been undisturbed the night before, leaned his back against the headboard and touched arms with his mother.

“Where’s daddy?”

Both recognized the sound of his father’s car parking.

“Oh, uh...,” she replied, trying desperately to make the situation sound normal, “...he couldn’t come home last night.”

“Why?”

“He...he was sick...and stayed at a friend’s.”

“Did he have to go to the hospital?”

She fought not to cry again. “No, it wasn’t that serious.”

Both heard the front door open, the dropping of heavy work boots, the closing of the door and then the kicking off of shoes.

Mrs. Dixon whispered, “Dewey, go to your room, please. Daddy and I have to talk.”

Dewey obeyed and as he walked down the hall, his father spotted him.

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