The Only Best Place (18 page)

Anneke was already skipping on the back step by the time Nicholas and I stepped out of the house. The rain shower last night
had washed the world clean, and I took a moment to inhale the fresh warm scent. Earthy and, yes, inviting. A bluebird swooped
past, and I watched its flight, flashes of blue against the green trees. That bird had been hanging around the house for a
couple of days now, fluttering against the windows, desperately trying to get in. Dan had set up an old birdhouse, but the
bluebird seemed more interested in ours.

I heard the mocking squawk of a magpie and laughed as it swooped across the yard, out of reach of Sasha, who was trying to
bring it to ground.

A perfect day for a visit.

As Judy parked the minivan, my heart filled with anticipation. Finally a chance to talk to her on her own and get to know
her better.

Then the front and back passenger doors opened and my fragile expectation was squashed flatter than a mosquito. I took a deep
breath, pulled out a smile, and walked down the steps to meet Judy, Gloria, and Wilma.

“Hope you don't mind that I brought Mom and Gloria along,” Judy said as they came up the walk. “They weren't busy today and
wanted to come, too.”

I did mind, but it was too late for that. How was I supposed to get to know any one family member when they always came en
masse?

“That's great. Glad you could come,” I said, shifting Nicholas more comfortably on my hip as they came up the walk. But he
was already leaning away from me toward our company.

Wilma headed the line and easily caught Nicholas in her arms. She gave me a Stepford smile and once again I felt eclipsed.

I knew Nicholas wasn't exactly bonded to me. I knew that guilt was woven into my relationship with a child I hadn't wanted
in the first place. But I was working on it. And that he would still prefer Wilma to me was a small sting every time.

I wanted one small part of my life where I shone brighter, where I had an ally. I thought of Dr. John and got a warm feeling.
He knew. He understood. I wasn't alone in this.

I invited them in. The house that had looked fine for Judy now took on an ominously dirty note when I saw it through the combined
eyes of Gloria and Wilma. I saw a line of dust edging the carpet, a discarded shoe lying behind a door—things I had missed
when I was cleaning for Judy.

“I'm surprised you put the couch here, Leslie. Wasn't it along the wall when you moved?”Wilma asked.

In our apartment in Seattle, I had the couch tucked away in a darkened corner of the living room. I viewed windows as strictly
an economic version of electricity. To be used but not faced.

When we came here, Dan, a creature of habit, automatically relegated the couch to the corner. And me, wife of the creature
of habit, left it. Then, a few days after the family meeting, as I was dusting, I heard nothing. Two children under the age
of four not making noise are usually cause for concern. So I stopped to listen. I detected the rumbling of a box of blocks
emptying onto the floor above me and relaxed.

Then I looked out the window.

We had been in the house two days and I had treated these multipaned pieces of glass the same way I had at home. Their sole
function was letting light in. But this time I really looked.

First thing I noticed was that they needed washing. Then I saw the bare apple tree in the yard and the empty flower garden
beyond the window, and then, as if for the first time, I saw the slowly rolling hills and the rugged mountains, snow stabbing
into crevices and crowning their peaks. And I felt awed and amazed that this calendar-worthy view was ours for the looking
any time of any day.

It took me about twenty minutes, but I moved that heavy couch so I could look out those windows whenever I had the chance
to sit down.

“I always liked the view out this window,” Wilma said quietly as I put out coffee and cookies.

I saw her dreamy expression, the faint smile threatening to crack the bright red polish of her lips.

And for the first time since I met her, I felt an affinity to her.

She let the smile come to fruition, then blinked and the moment vanished. As I offered her my lopsided cookies that had originally
been for Judy's eyes only, I saw by her forced smile that the old Wilma had returned.

I wanted the other woman to make an appearance again. I could learn to like that Wilma.

“You've been baking. Good for you,” Gloria said with approval as Anneke wiggled her way onto my chair. Anneke blew kisses
at Nicholas, who had switched allegiances to Judy and now sat on her lap, toying with the buttons on her faded and worn cardigan.

“Yes. I thought I would give it a try,” I said apologetically. For a moment I felt like a traitor for baking Kathy's cookie
recipe instead of Gloria's. “They didn't turn out that great, though. They look more like dog doo than cookies.”

Wilma's faint gasp and Gloria's suddenly pinched eyebrows signaled my mistake. Not only had I used mild emergency-department
words in the house, I had performed the nefarious deed in front of the combined decorum of Gloria and Wilma.

Judy laughed. “As long as they don't taste like dog doo we should be okay.”

“Judy, let's leave outside language, outside,” Wilma's reprimand, safely delivered to her daughter, ricocheted off her and
toward me. Which was probably their initial intended target.

“Oh, c'mon, Mom. We're on a farm, for goodness sake,” Judy said with a shake of her head. She took one of the offending cookies,
bit it, and winked at me. “Like I said, they taste great.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said in a small voice, hoping that by keeping a low vocal profile I'd escape causing further offense.

“Hey, did you hear about Belinda Ivor? I heard she broke her wrist,” Judy leaned back in the chair with her cup balanced precariously
on her lap.

Wilma perched on the edge of the couch and took a careful sip of her coffee, leaving only a hint of lipstick behind. “She
and Connor have four children, don't they?”

“I think the oldest is in the same grade as my Paul,” Judy said, laughing. “He's a pill. He ran away from home once because
Belinda made him eat cauliflower. Didn't come home until he heard the coyotes howling and got scared.”

“Remember at the Christmas program? How he hopped around at the back like a rabbit?” Gloria laughed. “Aunt Gerda had the hardest
time not laughing.”

I wanted to say something about Aunt Gerda and the chickens she brought us to try to make some connection to the discussion,
but lost the momentum as they moved on to names that I knew nothing of, so I sipped my coffee, smiled appropriately, and kept
my mouth shut. Gloria and Wilma passed over a few more names and stories while Judy ate another cookie and entertained Nicholas.

I sat and smiled, and let Anneke have small sips of my coffee, feeling like a stranger in my own home as I wondered how listening
to Gloria and Wilma chitchat about complete strangers would help me get to know Dan's family. I was going to have words with
my dear friend Kathy over her stellar suggestion.

“Hey, we didn't come here to bore Leslie to death,” Judy said finally, pulling herself out of the chair and swinging Nicholas
up into her arms. “I don't want those plants to sit in the van much longer, so I figure we should get at it.”

“Plants? Get at it?” I asked.

Judy smiled at my confusion. “We came to help you plant the garden.”

“But I don't—”

“Don't worry, city girl,” Judy said, gathering up the empty mugs and plate. “We'll help you through this step by step.”

I didn't want a garden. I had no intention of adding extra responsibility to my life. Plants needed watering, talking, caring.
I had a hard enough time keeping up with Dan and the kids, let alone some plants that would only wither and die under my watch.

“You don't have to worry about the seeds and stuff,” Judy threw over her shoulder as she set the dishes in the kitchen sink.
“We brought everything you need.”

“I'm not much of a gardener,” I said.
Actually, I'm not
anything
of a gardener.

“It's not a difficult thing to learn,” Wilma said, rising from the couch. “You might even enjoy it.”

So I followed them outside. Gloria took charge of Nicholas, and Anneke pranced alongside Judy, prattling away to everyone
about the chickens and Sasha and how Mommy was afraid to get the eggs.

Harland, Montana. Where secrets go to die.

As I watched Gloria and Wilma laugh at Anneke then exchange some more chitchat, I felt a twinge of envy at their relationship.
In spite of their feelings toward me, I wished, for a moment, that I could have a bit of what they shared. Bonding with my
mother, when she was around, had meant letting us finish the beer in her bottles or sit quietly with her while she watched
Wheel of Fortune
.

“Mom, you can put out the bedding plants in the raised bed,” Judy called as she set a tray full of green, lush plants on the
edge of a long box, framed with wooden timber and filled with dirt. The last time I saw that box weeds had taken it over. Dan
must have been busy here. “Leslie, you can work with Gloria and me in the garden, putting in seeds.”

“Sure.” How hard could putting in seeds be?

Actually, very hard.

Carrots went in only one eighth of an inch deep and had to be carefully tapped into a furrow from the package so that only
a few seeds came out at a time. Nicholas grabbed my arm and I dumped half a package in one spot.

Beans were spaced an inch apart and covered with dirt—but not too much or they wouldn't get the proper moisture and not too
little or they would dry out.

Peas, corn, beets, and potatoes also had specific rules. I gave up trying to remember the regulations and instead dumbly did
whatever Judy and Gloria told me to do. I was getting real good at that.

“Last row,” Judy said as we moved a long string, the heat of the sun now beating on my unprotected head. “This is great, isn't
it? Being outside and working in the garden. I just love it.”

I wiped a trickle of sweat from my forehead and glanced at the dirt lining my fingernails. My back was sore, and my thighs
ached from crouching down. “Yeah. Great fun,” I responded with forced enthusiasm. This was an entirely new project for me
and, thankfully, not one I would have to repeat.

“Just think, in a couple of months you'll be eating your own vegetables,” Judy said, looking over the rows we had already
put in.

I had been so busy bending, dropping, covering, tamping, and trying to keep Nicholas from sticking bean seeds up his nose,
that I hadn't had a chance to see what we had done.

Stakes holding the empty packages marked the rows of tamped-down dirt. As I looked over the large space of ground still empty
and bare, I tried to imagine plants coming up.

“That's a lot of garden,” I said hesitantly, wondering if I would know what to do with the plants once they made an appearance.

“Well, thankfully Mom kept the garden area pretty weed-free. As long as Dan didn't throw a huge load of manure on it, you
shouldn't have to battle too many weeds,” Gloria said, catching up to me and Judy. “It will be fun to can and freeze your
own homegrown vegetables. I have a great pickle recipe you can use.”

Can? Freeze? Weeds? Pickle?

I thought of the long rows of vegetables laid in artful arrangements in the coolers of the grocery stores. Seemed to me that
putting in an extra hour at work, then buying what I needed for the month, was a better use of my time. But I smiled and nodded,
like bringing in the bounty of a garden was a longing that occupied all my waking hours.

“There. All the bedding plants are in,” Wilma said, brushing the dirt off her hands. “Anneke helped me so nicely.”

Anneke squirmed with pride. “I want to do this again tomorrow.”

“We only need to do it once, sweetheart,” Wilma said, brushing Anneke's damp hair back from her face.

“What did you plant,Wilma?” I asked weakly.

“Cabbages, tomatoes, cauliflower, and some peppers for fun,” Wilma said.

Fun?
She had some crazy sense of humor, my mother-in-law did.

“I like the garden,” Anneke said with satisfaction.

“Soon the plants will be coming up, and you can help Mommy and Daddy weed them,” Gloria said with the same enthusiasm other
mothers use telling their kids about a water park.

“Can I help, Mommy?” Anneke asked, swinging Wilma's hand.

“Of course you can. Maybe you can help Mommy figure out which is a weed and which is an important plant,” I said, trying to
turn the joke onto myself.

“I have a foolproof method,” Judy said, surveying the garden with pride. “You give the plant a tug. If it's hard to pull out,
it's a weed. If it comes out easy, then it's an important plant.”

“Well, in spite of everything, that went well.” Gloria brushed the dirt off her pants, and, big surprise, it all sifted off.
She caught Nicholas, whose mouth was a huge smear of brown.

“He's been eating dirt,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. Dirt and who knows what else.

“He'll be fine,” Judy said, pulling out a Kleenex from her pocket and wiping his mouth. “It's good for him.”

The last time I checked the Good Health Eating Guide, dirt wasn't on the food pyramid.

“The ground has extra moisture,” Judy said. “Something we haven't seen in a while.”

“It will be a good year.” Wilma smiled down at Anneke as she spoke, and in the expression on her face and the soft tone of
her voice, I caught an echo of the emotion I had seen a few hours ago.

In those unguarded moments I caught a glimpse of the Wilma that I knew Dan loved. And I wished she would show that self more
often to me so that I could learn, as well.

“So, Leslie, I hope you can keep the garden weed-free. You need to work at it regularly, you know.” Wilma's comment dampened
the faint spark of warmth I had felt.

“I guess all I can say is that I'll try.”

“Do, or do not. There is no try,” Judy said in a female imitation of Yoda as she dropped an arm around my shoulders, waggling
her eyebrows at me. “So, cookies have you left? Hungry are we.”