The Only Best Place (25 page)

Because he understands what you need. And these days Dan doesn't.

The ward nurses came to take Mrs. Harris away, and in the confusion, John and I ended up standing close.

“If things slow down here, we should go for coffee,” he said. As he held my gaze I saw raw longing and yearning in his eyes.
“I need to talk to you,” he said hoarsely, his hand holding my shoulder. He lifted his hand to my face, his fingers trailing
over my cheek. I couldn't stop a shiver—unsure of my reaction. Excitement? The knife-edge thrill of teetering on the brink
of an abyss? I had always been afraid of heights. I got shaky standing on deep-pile carpeting. But each time I stood on a
high building, I would inch to the edge and look down. And each time some perverted part of my psyche would wonder what it
would be like to jump.

That was what I felt now. This steady, inexorable pull toward a place I knew I shouldn't be. A place I felt drawn to by a man
who had made that fateful step past boundaries and borders and now invited me to do the same.

Unprofessional
, my mind cried even as a very female part of me was drawn to this attractive single man desiring me, a married woman. A man
who understood what I had to deal with.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I knew I was wobbling on dangerous ground.

And then, behind the warnings flashing in my mind, reared the indistinct features of Wilma. Gloria.

What would they think?

Their finger-wagging presence drifted a cool shiver down my neck and glided between John and me. And with them came Judy.
Kathy. A host of other witnesses.

And on the periphery, Dan.

This is how it happens,
I thought. This was how Dan got drawn into his relationship with Miss Bilingual. A smile, an argument with a spouse whose
faults had accumulated over a period of six years, creating an unfair comparison with a sympathetic presence.

It would have been so easy to carry on, to slowly break down one barrier after another until there were none left to cross—no
place left for retreat—no place left to hide.

Reality hit me like a fist.

I was no better than Dan. I could no longer accuse him from a point of self-righteousness. I had toppled as easily as he had.

I wanted to believe that my love for Dan was the force that finally pulled me from the brink of entanglement.

The truth was that fundamental and unwelcome notion of “What would other people think?” made me see this situation for the
tawdry thing it was.

If love could be gauged by emotion alone, then what surrounded John and I almost fell into that category. But I knew I loved
Dan. And sometimes love is simply a choice. A choice
for
a relationship.

And I wanted Dan and me to stay a couple. To stay married.

“I'm sorry, Dr. John,” I murmured as I took a step away from him. I didn't look him in the eye, letting him draw what conclusion
he would from my apology.

C
an I come in?” I tapped on the open door of Tabitha's room, taking a few steps into the room. The only illumination was the
light at the head of Tabitha's bed and the faint glow from the IV readout.

I had been done with my shift for over an hour, and during that time I hovered between going straight home to my husband and
my children and wanting to talk to Gloria who, I knew, was with Tabitha in the ward.

Gloria sat beside her daughter, reading. She wore no makeup; her hair wasn't curled. In the reduced light, she looked drawn,
tired, and vulnerable. Earlier, Gerrit had stopped by the ER, gave me a quick hug, quietly thanking me for what I did for
his daughter. I didn't know what to say. Normally I wasn't involved with the aftermath of an emergency procedure. In Seattle
the ER was often looked upon as a sorting house. Critical goes here, surgery goes there, others get a prescription and are
sent on their way. Once we triaged and treated, we seldom saw our patients again, unless they were “regulars.”

Now, here I looked at the clean and tidy face of a girl who had been much, much worse only a few hours ago.

“How is she doing?” I asked.

“She's fine. Still sleeping.”

Tabitha's hair shone, and the faint sprinkle of freckles over her nose stood out against her pale skin, but thankfully, she
looked as innocent as she had the day she and Allison had first burst into my kitchen.

“Did she wake up at all?”

Gloria nodded.

“That's good.” I checked Tabitha's pulse, taking refuge from the awkward moment in my job as a nurse. Pulse. Normal. Temp.
Normal.

“Will… will…” Gloria's voice faltered. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Will there be any long-term damage
from this?”

“I believe we caught it in time. The fact that she woke up is good. Means she's not too deeply unconscious.” I gave Gloria
an encouraging smile. “She'll be fine.”

Gloria nodded, then gave me a furtive glance. “I… I don't know what to say. Thank you for… for… what you did.
It was a hard… situation.”

I could see that Gloria was stumbling, and I wasn't sure what to say. Her hesitancy made me uncomfortable. But she was reaching
out to me, and in spite of the jokes I had made at her expense, in spite of my frustration with her and, yes, my jealousy
of her, I was thankful she wanted to make the connection.

“It's not that abnormal.” I stroked a strand of hair away from Tabitha's face. “I've seen it happen to all kinds of kids from
all kinds of homes. And it doesn't mean she's a bad daughter.”

Gloria sighed, her hand resting on the cover of her book. A Bible. Since Dan started reading the children's Bible in the evening,
I had picked up the Bible from time to time in the evening, trying to make a connection with a man who was changing on me.
I discovered I liked reading the Psalms and I liked some of the stories Jesus told, but a lot of the rest was hard going.
All that finger-wagging from the prophets. I couldn't figure it out.

“You know, you do the best you can, and yet…” Gloria's voice faltered and she ducked her head.

I tried to imagine myself in Gloria's place. Tried to imagine what it would feel like to be sitting by the bed of a daughter
who had messed up so publicly. Not only publicly but in front of the one person that you personally disapproved of.

“You didn't put the alcohol in her mouth, Gloria.” I spoke quietly. After what had just happened to me, I was in no position
to make any judgment.

Gloria flicked another curious glance at me, then sighed. “No. But I taught her better than this. We raised her to be a good
Christian girl. I don't know what we did wrong.”

I fingered Tabitha's hair again, soft and silky, all traces of what had happened washed out. Cleansed. “I don't know much
about raising teenagers, and I don't know much about being a Christian. If Anneke did the same thing, I would be horrified
and hurt. But I do know that kids are going to try things out, no matter what their parents teach them. They come to an age
when their peers are more important than their parents. I've seen this kind of thing again and again.” I paused, searching
for something that I could use. “I also know that the kids we seldom see again are the ones who have parents who keep caring.
Who keep loving their kids regardless of what they do.”

I noticed the faint glint of tears on Gloria's cheek, and in that brief moment of vulnerability, I felt a faint throb of caring
for this woman. She reached out and touched her daughter's cheek, and Tabitha became the bridge between Gloria and me.

I didn't want to leave. I wanted to maintain this fragile connection.

“Thanks for telling me that.” She sniffed and swiped at her cheeks, glancing across the bed at me. “I do love her. But right
now I am struggling between anger and plain, ordinary humiliation. She smelled so terrible. So common. She reeked of alcohol.
And I'm supposed to be a Coffee Break leader.” She laughed then and shook her head. “Pride. What a mistake.”

Her admission and her soft laugh did more than any Bible lesson she could have taught me. I smiled at her, then took a huge
chance and touched her arm.

“She's a good girl,” I said. “Give her some time. Her behavior is not a reflection on you.”

“I'll give her a good talking-to when she comes out of it,” Gloria said, shaking her head. She squeezed my hand lightly, tweaked
out a faint smile. “Thanks. This means a lot.”

We shared a look, then she let go of my hand and fiddled with the sheet covering Tabitha. “Leslie, I know…” She stopped,
bit her lip, then shook her head. “Leslie, please be careful with Dr. John. He's… he can be…” I caught a glimpse
of confusion and regret. “Just be careful.”

I clutched the bed as guilt and shame buffeted me.

Had she seen?

But she wasn't looking at me. Her words reminded me of how close I had come to doing something truly stupid.

Gloria stroked her daughter's cheek, graciously creating a space for me to regain what I had lost.

I nodded, understanding the suggestion subtly woven through her words. “Thanks, Gloria.” And as she smiled at me I sensed
a shift in our relationship. We now shared a vulnerability.

I had much to think about as I drove home through the night. On an impulse, I stopped on the hill overlooking our valley and
pulled to the side of the road.

Lights winked at me through the darkness from various farmyards below. I could see ours, the VandeKams down the road. One
of the many Brouwers whose names showed up above mail slots in the back of Harland church. I thought of the smiles I got when
I accompanied Dan to church. Delores had given me a hug the second time I had gone, loudly proclaiming how glad she was I
had come. As if I had given her a gift.

I turned off the car, killed the lights, and got out. The silence, now familiar, didn't hurt my ears like it did that first
day. In fact, I even welcomed it.

I rested against the warm hood of the car, leaning back to look up. Stars winked like crushed diamonds tossed over a velvet
sky that stretched from horizon to horizon. A wave of dizziness washed over me as my tiny mind tried to grasp the vastness
of our galaxy and the universe beyond. If I looked any longer I would shrink down, disappear like a gnat.

Snatches of verse from an old song came to mind. “O Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder… I see the stars, I hear the
rolling thunder… how great Thou art.”

I looked back over the valley, at the homes below, the people whose names and faces were becoming familiar. “Do You really
care about all these people, God?” I whispered into the evening silence. “Do You really see them and love them like the minister
said You do?” I shivered, then pressed myself closer to the car. “Did You see what happened with me and that doctor? Did You
know how, for a small moment, I wanted to be with him? That I wanted to feel special to someone?”

I waited a moment in the cool silence of the evening for some kind of revelation to my whispered confession. Some judgment.

A small breeze teased my hair and tugged at my sweater, but other than that, nothing.

Well, it was worth a try,
I thought, slipping back into the car.

As I drove down into the valley, I thought of Dan and my children and suddenly I pushed my foot harder on the accelerator.
I wanted to be home.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

U sound confused, sis. Stay the course, hand on the tiller. Don't get sucked into the cult. God is just a fantasy made up
by people who can't explain things. Course, I can't explain things either but at least I admit it. Come to the light, sis.
Come back to Seattle.

'Til Then Terra

I
'm glad you had fun,” Kathy said with a selfsatisfied smirk as she helped me load the large plastic dollhouse into my car.

It was late afternoon. Kathy had called me at work and asked if I wanted to go to a garage sale. I got off at four and Dan
wouldn't be home until later on that evening. I had gotten used to having my husband around more often and didn't always like
being home when he wasn't.

“Okay. You got me,” I admitted, smiling as I set a large box of dollhouse accessories beside the dollhouse. “Pawing through
someone else's used stuff was more fun than I thought it would be.”

“It's the adventure,” Kathy said. “You know exactly what you're going to get when you go to Wal-Mart or Costco. Garage sales
are all about the thrill of the hunt.”

As well as the dollhouse, I had also found a cute push-toy for Nicholas and a goofy farmer hat for Dan that the garage-sale
lady had thrown in for free. But the best discovery was a couple of lily plants I found hiding in a corner. The lady who ran
the sale told me they were perennials and if I wanted them to do really well next year, I would have to cut the blooms off.
I had no intention of doing that. The lilies were beautiful and starting to open up. I had the perfect spot for them right
outside the back door. Provided I could keep Sasha out of the bed, they would add a wonderful splash of color.

Kathy had bought a couple of lawn chairs, some clothes for her kids that Carlene was already trying on, and a large beach
umbrella that Cordell dragged down the sidewalk.

“Good job, buddy,” Kathy said as she took the umbrella from her son. She gave me a teasing smirk. “And are you sure you're
done?”

I glanced back at the house, remembering the other things I had looked at but put back—the cute shirt I had found with the
price tag still on it, and the funky lamp that would look so cool in our bedroom. “Yes. I am.”

“And did Madame have a good time?”

I didn't change my expression. “You're liking this, aren't you?”

She nodded, her glance cutting to the amount of stuff I could barely fit in my car.

“I told you already, I had a lot of fun.”

She yelped and made two fists. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a convert.” Her eyes sparkled at me. “Whaddya say? Hit town
again next week? There's two happening in the new subdivision. Should be pretty good.”