When Mark was 20 minutes late for work on Tuesday morning, none of the Hansons who were out in the shop said anything, although Dale did make a point of taking a good look at his watch and Dale’s father, Ed, would definitely have said something if he’d been there.
On Wednesday, Mark was 25 minutes late. Dale bit his tongue, looked at his watch again, and looked pointedly at his son, Jeff. Jeff looked back at his father, shrugged, and gave Dale a “what-am-I-gonna-do-about-it?” type of look. Dale frowned, and pointed at his son, as if to say, “you’re the boss now.”
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Then Dale and Jeff both looked over at Mark, who had been watching them and grinning.
“My turn to guess?” Mark said. “Movie title? ‘Shawshank Redemption?’”
Jeff laughed.
“We’re not playing charades,” Dale said. “We’re trying to figure out whose job it is to tell you to show up on time.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said, sounding sincere. “I had to give a friend a ride to work. I’ll stay late.”
Yesterday, Mark’s excuse was that he had to pick up some medicine for his girlfriend. One story, they could live with. But another?
“Don’t worry, I’ll show up on time when seeding gets going.”
“I hope so,” Jeff said. Jeff didn’t care much if Mark showed up exactly on time, but he hoped it wasn’t an indication of any other problems. Hiring was risky. Mark already knew where they kept the keys for the vehicles and buildings and what was in all the bins. Some days Mark would be alone in the yard with Jeff’s wife and kids. Jeff needed someone he could trust.
Other than the time troubles, Mark’s first month on the job was going well. The weekend before, the whole Hanson family had held an informal performance review while they were waiting for their Easter ham to cook and were sitting around the table, pooling the promotional stickers they’d brought home from the Co-op grocery store to see if, collectively, they’d earned enough of the right-coloured stickers to win a prize.
“Does anyone see any more orange stickers?” Ed’s girlfriend Helen asked.
“I have three yellow ones marked ‘Swan River,’” Jeff said.
“No good,” Helen said. “If we get an orange one that says ‘Cabri’ we can win a $50 gift card.”
“For a kid from the oilfield, Mark’s all right,” Dale said, ripping open another ticket and not finding ‘Cabri’ inside.
Jeff didn’t bother pointing out that Mark wasn’t a “kid,” he was only three years younger than Jeff.
“He… picks things up pretty quickly… for a city kid,” Dale’s father Ed said in his new post-stroke slow-talking style. “He puts his back into a job,” Ed went on. “Not what you expect… from somebody from Edmonton.”
An Alberta oil company had transferred Mark to a rig in southeast Saskatchewan a couple of years ago. When oil prices fell and he was laid off, Mark wanted to stay in the area. As he admitted to Dale and Jeff at the job interview, “Well, there’s a girl. And she doesn’t want to leave Weyburn.” Ed was sold on Mark as soon as he heard the details. Ed knew the girlfriend’s family. “Anybody who can get along with that bunch… has to be all right,” Ed said.
“There was a learning curve,” Dale said, gluing green stickers into the booklet and remembering how long Mark had taken to figure out the augers and legs at the Hansons’ seed-cleaning plant.
“He shovelled the spilled oats himself,” Jeff said. “And he hasn’t made that mistake twice.”
“He was good with Connor the other day,” Elaine said. The little boy had escaped from the house when his mom thought he was napping. Mark had piggybacked him safely to the house before he got hurt.
“He tells good jokes,” Donna said.
“You only hear the clean ones,” Dale said. “That kid can turn the air in the shop blue. I like him. I just wish he’d show up on time.
“I think he’s been late more than he’s been on time,” Dale said. “And some of his excuses are getting a little thin.”
“If that’s the biggest problem, it’s going to work out fine,” Elaine said. “Jeff, can you take a look at that orange sticker? Are you sure it isn’t ‘Cabri?’”
“He can’t just show up any time whenever he wants when we’re seeding,” Dale said. “And what about harvest?”
“Well, let’s hope for the best,” Donna said. “Can you clear away those stickers and set the table, Dale? The ham’s finally ready.”
So the week after Easter when Mark had arrived late on Tuesday and late again on Wednesday, everyone was silently relieved when he pulled into the yard at 7:59 on Thursday morning. But when Mark still wasn’t there at 8:40 on Friday, Dale spoke up.
“What sort of excuse do you think he’ll come up with this time?” Dale asked.
When Mark showed up at 8:50, he didn’t offer an excuse. “Sorry,” he told the Hansons. “I couldn’t help it.”
Jeff was at a loss. He liked Mark. And he needed the help. Ed was able to drive now, but he could barely get in and out of his truck since the stroke, let alone operate a tractor.
“Let’s talk about it later,” Jeff said. “The trucker from Estevan should be here any time to pick up that durum seed. Why don’t you move the auger so we can load him up?”
Dale’s phone rang almost as soon as Mark left the shop. Dale took the call, then shook his head when he pressed “End.”
“You won’t believe it,” he announced. “It was Brian Miller.”
“I believe it,” Jeff said. “He calls all the time.”
“Ha,” Dale said. “Do you want to hear my story or make jokes?” Dale didn’t wait for an answer. “Brian ran out of gas out on the highway. Mark picked him up when he went by and gave him a ride to town to get a jerrycan-full of gas.”
“Why didn’t Mark just tell us that?” Elaine asked. “We’d never get angry with someone for helping a neighbour.”
“Brian asked Mark to keep it quiet,” Dale chuckled. “He should be embarrassed. What kind of grown man doesn’t check the fuel gauge? But then Brian changed his mind. Thought he’d better call and tell us, keep the kid out of trouble.”
Jeff let out a sigh of relief.
Mark came back into the shop. “Going to need booster cables to charge the battery before I can move that auger.” He picked up on the vibe in the building. “Sorry if I interrupted something.”
“No problem,” Dale said. “Brian Miller just called. Told us you helped him out.”
Mark grinned. “He came clean? Wasn’t sure he would. He was pretty embarrassed.”
Then he turned to Elaine. “Did I hear you say you were collecting those damn Co-op stickers? They gave me one this morning when I bought a coffee, while Brian was filling up his jerrycan. You might as well take it. I’m not playing that game.”
Mark picked up the cables and headed back outside.
Elaine opened the Co-op ticket. ‘Cabri.’
