The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String (11 page)

She handed Allie more socks. “Anyway, that’s
adiaphora
: choice about non-essential items. I don’t get my tail in a twist over frou-frou.”

“But that’s what I like about the church—the different colors of the church season and the mysterious symbols everywhere.”

“Actually, we stole that from the Roman Catholics when we split. The Episcopals took it too. Grace is our big thing. So simple. So complex.”

“The-I-can-do-anything. I’m-covered-because-of-grace doctrine. Right?”

“Ha.” Kay shot a pair of stretchy socks off her fingers at Allie as though they were a rubber band. “That’s like saying, ‘If I cut off my head, I won’t have any more bad hair days.’ If you do something wrong or hurt yourself or someone else, you’ve broken the harmony and justice of life. You have a mark against your name.”

“Wow, Kay, you probably have a lot of marks against your name.” Allie made giant eyes of horror.

Kay returned the look with a flat stare. “Just takes one. The penalty is death.”

“But Jesus took my place so I’m free from your scare tactics.” Allie shook her head.

“Yeah,” Kay’s voice dropped, “but when someone takes your place for death, it does something to you. When a friend of mine was little, he was sitting in a jeep on top of the river bluff. The rest of his family had gotten out to admire the view. The parking brake gave way. As the jeep slowly edged over the cliff, Bill’s mother jumped in and threw him to safety.

“She made it out?

Kay shook her head. “She sacrificed herself so her son could live.”

The silence spun out. Kay finally interrupted their thoughts. “It makes you wonder why anyone would die for another. Especially a stranger.”

“Love.”

“It’s unfathomable.” Kay rubbed a furry sock between her fingers. “Unmerited love. It changes you. Makes you want to do the best you can. Perhaps it’s some small way of saying ‘thank you for saving me.’”

Sobs shook Allie’s body.

Kay stared. “It worked out okay. Bill grew up to be a wonderful man.” She patted Allie’s leg. “I just meant it’s impossible to truly understand grace then do anything you want—like be an axe murderer.”

Allie clung to the ladder, bawling even harder. In-between shuddering breaths, she gasped, “I’m such a bad mother.”

“Come here.” Kay guided her down. “Let’s sit in the sanctuary.” Allie shook her head.

“It’s a
sanctuary
, a place of refuge. You don’t have to talk. I’ve cried buckets in there. It’s better than the women’s restroom, believe me.” Kay herded her through the door.

Beams of sunlight shafted through the stained glass windows. The light of the eternal candle flickered in its red vase. Squeezing Allie’s hand, Kay leaned back in the padded pew and closed her eyes, letting the hushed serenity creep over her. Occasionally she heard a whimper next to her. Smells of old hymnals, extinguished candles, and former floral arrangements hung in the air. Kay had forgotten what it was like to let the sounds of the church settle around her. The silence was different than being alone in her car or by herself in the middle of the night. This silence was peaceful.

After some time, Allie took back her hand and wiped her face. “Johnny has an old second-hand hamster. One morning it didn’t move, so I rubbed its little chest. I stuck a straw in its mouth and puffed. It came back to life. No tears. No kid drama. About once a week I had to CPR the hamster, then every day.

“I couldn’t keep sneaking around resurrecting him, so I thought the humane thing would be to end it. I put Hairy in a bag and attached it to the muffler.” She glanced at Kay. “The bag caught on fire—in the garage. Five hundred dollars of damage.”

“Oh crap,” Kay said.

“What kind of mother am I? I’m a hamster killer. And I don’t want to be pregnant again.”

“You are?”

Allie nodded, tears trailing down her cheeks. “It’s selfish, but I was looking forward to a change. For a few precious hours, both kids will be in school next year. I was going to have time to myself. Now I’ll be tied to diapers, night feedings, two little ones, and a baby. I’ll be trapped again. Then I feel guilty for feeling this way.”

Kay nodded. “I had a friend who called it: I-Want-To-Read-A-Book-Without-Pictures syndrome. I called it: I’m-Tired-of-Being-Stepped-Spit-and-Pooped-On.”

“You don’t think I’m bad?” Allie asked.

“I once considered leaving my kid in the baby-food aisle. I figured anyone shopping for kid-chow must have a baby and would know how to take care of another one.”

“You didn’t.”

“It seems funny because now I’m worried about my kids leaving
me
. You’re normal, Allie. You’re stressed, but it’s a normal thing.”

“I still feel like an awful mother.”

“You should talk to my ex-mother-in-law. She’d tell you about my failures. You’d feel better in a jiffy.”

“But you never wished you weren’t pregnant.”

“I use a different, more sinister technique. I wish my kids’ lives away. When they were born, I wished they were older so they’d sleep through the night. Then I wanted them a few months older so they’d be potty trained. If they were just a few years older, they could dress themselves. Then I add more years so they’ll get off the phone, go to college, or get out of the house. Next, I’ll be wishing they’ll come back for a visit.”

“Everybody does that.”

“Yeah, we wish our lives away instead of living in this moment. It’s simpler than changing ourselves. It’s easier to stay in a crummy job, complain about our kids, or avoid people we’re annoyed with than do the internal repair work.”

They sat in silence.

Dust motes drifted in the shafts of sunlight. The large wooden beams of the church creaked as the wind blew outside.

Kay frowned at her own words. She preferred to poke fun at Vera or better yet, avoid her, rather than do the repair work. She didn’t even want to help Hettie with a heart to heart.

“This would probably be a good time to remember grace,” Allie said.

Kay shook away her thoughts, patting Allie’s knee. “Indeed. Let’s slap the rest of those socks in the windows and go have a cup of hot chocolate.”

“What about plastering them on the ceiling, surprising Vera?”

“Maybe I should change instead. I’m sorry I had you on a ladder.”

Allie waved away the apology. “Thanks for listening.”

“Don’t feel like you have to carry your burdens by yourself,” Kay said.

“You mean like sitting in the car and crying alone?” Allie gave her a meaningful look.

Kay blinked. “Now I don’t know whether to follow my own counsel, or stop giving unrequested advice.”

Allie smiled, raising her eyebrows twice. “Neither,” she said.

A FEW DAYS later, an empty Taco Bell cup skittered across Hettie’s path. The schoolteacher held a hand above her glasses, shielding them from the drizzle, and watched the wind bounce the cup across the parking lot. Her coat flapped against her legs as she ducked her head and pushed toward the doors of the church. Once inside, she combed her curly hair with her fingers and made her way to the Fellowship Hall. The rain always fuzzed her locks into a Chia Pet. “Half of the leaves of Kansas have blown into Oklahoma,” she greeted everyone. “And they’re all congregating in my front yard.” Women murmured in agreement, patting their hair or pulling their sweaters to their chests.

“Ladies, let’s get started,” Vera said, waiting for the usual interruptions. Silence and a circle of faces peered at her. She hesitated. “Okay. We haven’t had a treasurer’s report in a while, Hettie?”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Vera. I didn’t bring it.” She shucked out of her coat as she sat down. “We’ve got money. The youth made over $340 on sandwiches for the Super Bowl and they reimbursed us for all purchases, including buns.” She shot Kay a keep-your-mouth-shut look.

Instead, Nan expressed everyone’s thoughts. “Wasn’t Vera baking the buns?” All heads turned to the chairwoman.

Vera cleared her throat. “Roger and his sons signed up to help, but…were unable to assist in the baking, so we bought the bread.” She didn’t add that Roger had said she’d “already baked his buns” and she could “wait till the Apocalypse” before his kid apologized. No wonder the child acted unmannerly.

“Great,” Kay said. “Now pass the chocolate.”

“The youth have a good start on their fundraising.” Vera kept her eyes on her hands. “So how much is in our account, Hettie?”

“Let’s see. We bought wine and cheese trays for our Christmas party, but we’ve got plenty of dollars left.”

“Let’s have a Valentine’s Party or trip,” Nan said.

“The money is not to fritter away.” Vera aimed a stare at the organist. “It should be spent on mission projects and needed church items rather than party supplies.”

“Yeah. What’s the matter with you?” Kay squinted at Nan.

The organist became busy with her knitting, mumbling, “How’s wine and cheese an approved expenditure?

Kay picked up a chocolate chip cookie. “You should’ve drunk more. It’s definitely a needed church item.”

“Hettie, I was not aware that came out of our account,” Vera said.

“Well,” Hettie rubbed her forehead, “it started out as a cookie-exchange. Of course, we were supposed to bring something to eat, too. Then a few folks wanted an ornament swap. So everyone needed to bring three dozen cookies, the recipe, an ornament, and an appetizer.

“Then the phone calls started. Ladies complained they were too busy to gather all that stuff. To make it easy, I told everyone to just come; there’d be food.”

“I brought cookies to exchange,” Micki said, “but I was the only one, so we ate them.”

“Ooooh, I remember the Triple-Chocolate-Fudgies. Can you give me the recipe?” Kay patted her fingers together.

Vera jerked her hand to a halt signal. “You’ve already had your chance for recipe exchange. Hettie, in the future you need to run all expenditures by me. Now who has the minutes of the last meeting?” The room was silent. Kay leaned across the table to scoot a piece of paper toward Micki. Vera watched, saying, “Are you passing around a copy of the minutes?”

Kay opened her mouth, but Hettie shoved an elbow in her ribs. Kay narrowed her eyes at the curly-haired teacher then faced the chairwoman. “Sorry, Vera. That was my e-mail address for the recipe.”

Vera stared at the two for a moment then asked, “Who is secretary?” Silence blanketed the room. “I do the correspondence, reports and anything important. Are you telling me I gave one assignment, and that person couldn’t be compelled to take minutes?”

“Do you remember who you punished with the task?” Kay said and received another nudge from Hettie.

“Nan.”

The organist’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Wasn’t me. I’m knitting, minding my own business. Not saying a word.”

Vera gazed around the table, her eyes resting on, “Micki. You seem to be fidgeting.” Kay gave a snort and ducked under the table. “Kay,” Vera tapped her pencil on the table, “do you have something you’d like to say?”

“Yes. I have a lot to say,” Kay sat up, clutching her purse and a metal box of mints, “but Hettie would elbow me again. Besides, I need to get home early to help my darlings test their theory of nuclear fission, so could we move along?”

Vera closed her eyes, shaking her head, and let out a breath. After a moment she turned her focus to the agenda in front of her. Micki mouthed thank you. Kay mouthed, recipe. Both nodded.

“We’ll move on to Lent, a time for repentance and reflection,” Vera began. She waited for the inevitable interruptions.

Silent, waiting faces surrounded the table. Kay made keep-going hand gestures. Vera hesitated, suspecting a prank. Seeing no booby-traps, she asked, “Would anyone like to help the Sanctuary Arts committee decorate for Lent?”

Lorena’s hand shot up.

“Allie, you’re new. Would you like to learn about Lent by helping?” Vera asked.

“She’s not interested,” Lorena said.

“Allie?” Vera pressed.

“I don’t know much about Lent, and Lorena wants to do it.”

“I’d like someone from the Ladies Circle to oversee the Sanctuary Arts.”

“I’m part of the Circle too,” Lorena said. “I just don’t come.”

“We don’t let Lorena decorate for Lent,” Micki explained to Allie.

“Because of that “adi-furry” thing?”

“No because…” Micki gazed upward, casting about for the right words. “Because Lorena loves Lent a bit too much.”

“In other words, it looks like a morgue when she decorates,” Hettie said.

Lorena nodded. “The darker the mood, the brighter and more uplifting Easter will be.”

“Lent is an old Anglo-Saxon word meaning ‘spring,’ not ‘death’.” With her eyes, Vera tried to encourage others to volunteer. “Kay? You and Allie did a nice job on the sock campaign.”

“Did you just give me a compliment?” Kay cocked her head sideways, looking at Vera. “You
are
desperate.” She turned and gave Hettie a worried glance.

Vera sighed. “Lorena, do you truly understand that Lent is a time for renewal and growth? A time to spend working on our discipleship and recommitment?”

Kay took another cookie from the plate. “Then what’s with the ashes, sackcloth, and fasting during the season?”

“Worship aids.” Vera gave the table a couple of pencil-taps.

“I set the tone.” Lorena floated a hand in an artsy manner. “Just a splish of black here and there to remind us of the season.”

“Yes, you walk into one of her Lent-themed rooms,” Hettie frowned, “and you feel death is sitting next to you in the pew.”

“Lorena can decorate, and the Ladies Circle can host a pancake supper for
Faschnacht
,” Kay said. “We haven’t done that in years.”

“That’s the German version of Fat Tuesday—without the parade, bourbon, and nudity,” Micki whispered to Allie. “It’s pretty much about eating.”

“
Ja! Ja!
” Kay rubbed her belly, getting a giggle from Nan who was trying to be quiet.

“Actually,” corrected Vera, “on
Faschnacht
the Germans served a type of potato doughnut,” she cast a glance at Kay, “and paraded around in fools’ masks. The doughnuts used up the grease and eggs in the household before the Lenten Fast began.”