The Only Best Place (17 page)

In one corner of my conscience I heard a faint warning.

This is gossip.

Maybe, but it's also the truth.

She's Dan's mother, and he loves her.

Well, yeah, but his mother doesn't love me. And no one seems to get that.

“Thanks for that,” I breathed.

“Don't worry. I know exactly what you're dealing with.” He let his smile deepen, paused another moment, then pushed away from
the desk. “I should go,” he sighed. “You take care.”

He held my gaze a split second longer. A compatriot who knew. I smiled back, and it was as if we now shared a subtle bond.

And when he left, I couldn't help but sneak a quick glance at myself in the glass panel beside me. My features were juxtaposed
over a fire hose but I could make out the faint flush on my cheeks and a heightened sparkle in my eye.

You've still got it,
I thought, winking at myself.

You have time for tea?” Kathy asked when I stepped onto the porch that afternoon after work.

I was falling into a rhythm. Thanks to a couple of nurses who preferred working evenings and a hospital that preferred eight-hour
shifts to twelve, I was able to work day shifts. Which meant I often dropped the kids off and picked them up myself.

“The kids are in the playroom,” she continued. “Nicholas had a long nap this afternoon, so he's not going to be ready for
bed when you get home.”

Most of the time our chats moved from the doorway to the porch to the stairs and finally to her kitchen table if I had time.

“I'd love a cup.” Dan was seeding on the higher land. Wilma had called me at work and informed me that since I was too busy
working, she would make sure Dan got a warm meal for once. All of this was delivered with a subtle reproach that made me feel
guilty, which then made me resent feeling guilty, which, in turn, I felt even more guilty about. She was technically doing
a good deed, and I should be grateful. Something else she made sure I realized as I struggled to untangle the confusing emotions
she raised in me. So, for now as far as feeding Dan was concerned, I was off the hook.

Kathy waved me in. “Always time for a friend.”

Friend.
I liked the sound of that. I kicked off my work shoes, wiggled my tired toes, and relished the feel of the cool floor on
my hot feet as I strolled into her kitchen.

Today Kathy looked like a G-rated version of Daisy Duke with a pair of old blue jeans cut off at mid thigh and an oversized
cotton shirt tied at the waist. “So, how was work?” she asked.

“Busy,” I said with a sigh. “Today was national ‘I've-been-sick for-two-weeks-and-now-I-demand-immediate-care’ day.”

“I didn't see that on the calendar. Is that a holiday?”

“Only for doctors. We couldn't scare one up for love or money. Finally, long-suffering Dr. John showed up. He's just great.”

“Dr. John? You mean Dr. Brouwer?”

“Yeah.” Dr. John had informed me with a conspiratorial smile, that though he would have preferred I call him simply John,
he realized the necessity of maintaining professionalism, so could I please call him Dr. John. I did, simply because of all
the doctors in the hospital, he was by far the easiest to work with. Always friendly and smiling and helpful.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Kathy studied me with a frown of uncertainty on her face.

“What subliminal message are you sending me?” I asked.

“Nothing.” The frown melted away, replaced by an uneasy smile which, I sensed, had something to do with my casual use of Dr.
John's name.

“How were the kids?” I didn't want to talk about Dr. John. Right now he was an ally, and I didn't want to analyze the relationship.

“The kids were great. Anneke helped Jimmy and me plant a garden, and Nicholas played with Cordell and Carlene.”

“You put in a garden with four kids watching? How did you find the time?”

“Are you kidding? Look around and smell the toast burning, honey.” Kathy's wave encompassed plates from dinner stacked on
the counter and an overturned box of cat food in one corner of the kitchen. “Gardening vs. Cleaning House. Guess which one
triumphed?”

“The dilemma of the ages,” I said.

“So, next couple of days off. Whatcha goin' to do?” Kathy set the mugs on the table, brushed a cat off her chair, and plopped
down.

I didn't want to tell her that I was going to clean my house. Not when my elbows now rested on a table covered with crumbs
of cookie, grains of sugar, and a little pile of powdered coffee creamer.

“I don't know. Hang out. Read. Work on my unhealthy cancer-causing tan while Dan goes to church and try not to let the collective
pressure of his family pull me into going as well.”

Kathy nodded and I felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

“Don't tell me you think I should go?”

“Okay, I won't.” She shrugged then took a sip of her tea.

“It doesn't make sense, you know. I never went before.”

Still she said nothing.

“It would just be hypocritical. Right? So, don't pressure me, okay?”

“You're the one who brought it up. Now, and just about every time I talk to you.”

“My guilty conscience prods me to justify my absence.” I flashed her a quick smile to show her my humorous side.

“So, come and you won't feel guilty anymore. There's not a lot going on in Harland, after all. The theater usually has second-run
movies, and we don't have much else going on. Church is kind of the only show in town.”

“I've discovered that,” I said with a grin. “First time ever I heard an advertisement for church on the radio. Seemed almost
sacrilegious.”

“What could it hurt to come? You could test out Pascal's Wager.”

“You've read Blaise Pascal?”

Kathy placed a hand on her heart and affected an injured tone. “Some of us here in Harland have an edjumacation, you know.
Yes, I've read Blaise Pascal. I took two years of a liberal arts degree before I met Jimmy and moved back to Harland.”

I wanted to ask her more about what made her come back here but couldn't abandon Pascal just yet. “So tell me about the wager. Though
wagering, I understood, was a distinctly non-Christian thing to do.”

“Only if you do it for money,” Kathy said with a wink. “It goes like this: If you believe, and God exists, you will be rewarded
in the afterlife. If you do not believe, and He exists, you will be punished for your disbelief. If He does not exist, you
have lost nothing either way.”

I had to make a mental shift to ponder that one. “Okay. So, believing God exists is a ‘cover-your-angles’ philosophy.”

I glanced outside again. Anneke was running from Cordell, shrieking. Nicholas toddled after a butterfly, his hands in the
air, followed by Carlene, who dragged a teddy bear over the grass. As I watched the kids, I considered what Kathy told me.
I've always thought of my children as mini-miracles. When they were babies, I used to marvel at the perfection of their fingernails,
their ears, eyes, tiny toes.

“You know, if I'm honest with myself, I can't completely dismiss God… or a god,” I mused, voicing thoughts I had never spoken
aloud to anyone. Not even Dan. “I know enough about human anatomy to be consistently amazed at how complex and intricate it
is. How fragile and yet how strong.”

“So, why not start finding out a bit more about Him by going to church?”

I tested that suggestion a moment. It couldn't really hurt to go. It would ease the guilt I felt lying in bed while Dan got
himself and Anneke ready. Goodness knows, I had enough guilt already.

“I suppose I could,” I said reluctantly.

“It would ease the tension between you and Wilma and the rest of the family.”

“Is that a good reason?”

“Good enough. Church is a great place to be.”

Kathy had the same look on her face that I saw on Judy's when she talked about church. That peace called to a deeply hidden
yearning that surfaced in my own life between bouts of hectic activity. It always caught me at odd times. Once I was kneeling
on the living-room floor, phone tucked under my ear as I juggled shifts with another nurse, folded Nicholas's diapers, and
tried to ignore the rustling pages of newspapers that Dan dropped on the floor beside his chair. Anneke called from her bedroom
for her fifth drink of water and Nicholas protested his incarceration with intermittent shrieks. When my conversation with
my nursing friend was over, I hung up the phone, looked around my house, and a whisper of “Is this all there is?” invaded
the edges of my mind.

Trouble was, I never knew precisely what else there was or how to find it.

“The only time I've been in church were the few Christmas services we attended when we came here. I'm sure it was a shock
to dear Wilma and the sisters to discover that they'd been harboring a perfect, or imperfect, heathen in their midst.” I tossed
the words out with a flippant air to cover the faint hurt I still felt at their censure.

“I know they're not perfect, but they do care.”

“You're not allowed to defend them,” I said with a pained note in my voice. “You're my ally in the battle against the VandeKeere
machine.”

Kathy laughed again. “Okay, I know you are having severe Wilma issues. If it's any comfort, you're not the only one. But even
she has her good points.”

Kathy poured me another cup of tea, and I didn't protest. In spite of the faint squirmies Kathy's defense of the VandeKeeres
gave me and her admonishment to go to church, I wasn't ready to end the conversation.

“Judy can be a lot of fun—” Kathy added.

“Judy's great,” I said, taking the mug. “She and Dayton were the only ones who came and visited us when we lived in Seattle.”

“Judy is a sweetheart. But you know, Gloria is the kind of person you want in your corner when you're stuck.”

First Wilma, now Gloria? “I can see that I'm not going to get anywhere with you right now. You are obviously in the VandeKeere
cheering section.”

“Hey, I'm trying to make your life here in Harland easier for you and Dan's family. Besides, they're good people—warts and
all.”

“I appreciate the help. I do.” I gave my tea an extra-vigorous stir. “But we're not going to be here long enough for it to
matter.”

“So. All the more reason to try to get along with Dan's sisters. And one of the best ways to do that for now is to have one
of them over.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What we're doing now? This is called visiting. Sometimes it happens at your house. Then you get to be the hostess. What you
should do is try that. Start small and start easy. Invite Judy over and practice on her. Then, when you're really good at
it, you can graduate to Gloria and Wilma.”

I gave her a “duh” look. “Thanks for the step-by-step instructions.”

“I thought breaking it down would make it more understandable.”

“It would make Dan happy,” I conceded.

“And a happy Dan is easier to live with. It'll make your time here easier.”

She mentioned that so casually. “And it doesn't bother you that I'm only going to be here for a short while?”

“Why should it? It's your life. Harland isn't heaven, though I know most people here would disagree with me on that point.
Besides, you're a city girl. I don't blame you for wanting to go back.”

“Well, not right away.” A defensive note crept into my voice.

“But someday. And once you've mastered the VandeKeeres, you can move on to other women around here. You'll find out there's
an interesting mix of people in this community. At Coffee Break, for instance.”

“I'll think about it.” I wanted to keep the one-step-at-a-time concept. To avoid leaps and bounds into the bonds of community.

“For now, think about the inviting Judy thing. I know she looked forward to having you and Dan move back home.”

I nodded, seeing the wisdom in her advice. Family harmony was a good thing to aim for.

As for church, also a small thing to do for family peace. Besides, it would give me a chance to dress up.

A
untie Judy is here,”Anneke called out from her lookout point upstairs, just as Sasha started barking.

Thank goodness for a long driveway and Sasha's early warning system. I had a chance to give the kitchen a quick look over.
A plate lined with toast crumbs tilted toward the kitchen sink. Quick. I didn't have much time. Rinse it off.
Where's the tea towel?

All right, then, a quick swipe across the stomach of my clean T-shirt would have to do.

Everything else passed nervous inspection. Coffee brewing, cups out, cookies on the plate. House clean and tidy. Leslie VandeKeere,
ready to entertain.

Judy's delight at my invitation made me feel like I had done a Boy Scout–worthy good deed. I actually looked forward to the
visit.

I called for Anneke, already thundering down the stairs, and caught Nicholas before he crawled into the kitchen. Anneke's
steps never slowed on her way out the door. “Auntie Judy, Auntie Judy!” she yelled, even though Auntie Judy couldn't hear
a thing.

Nicholas's hair was a tangle of curls. I had been more focused on the floor than my son, so I gave him a quick finger comb
and wiped a smear of jam from his cheek. He swung his head away from me and pushed at my chest, but I held on. One of these
days he would clue into the fact that I was his actual mother.