The Only Best Place (26 page)

“Give me a chance to make the cultural shift,” I said with a laugh. “I'm still getting used to paying for things with a personal
check.” It still surprised me that the woman holding the garage sale took a check from a complete stranger with only my last
name as security. “VandeKeeres are good for the money,” she had said when I told her I had no cash.

The vehicles were loaded, the kids settled and bribed with some candy Kathy had brought along. As I closed the car door, I
looked back at Kathy. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“What shifts are you working next week?”

I told her and we chatted some more about inconsequential, drowsy subjects. A few flies buzzed lazily around our heads, and
in the distance I heard the buzz of a lawnmower, the hissing tick-tick of a sprinkler. I wanted to hold fast to this glorious
summer day. Me, spending ordinary time with a friend after a fun afternoon.

Life was good, and as I got into my car and waved goodbye to Kathy, I felt a sense of warm well-being. In Seattle, Josie and
I had spent precious little time together outside of the hospital. Always our shifts interfered with the care and maintenance
of a friendship.

Since coming here, I'd spent more time with Kathy than I had in the previous six months with Josie. She was the first good
friend I'd had in a long, long time.

I glanced over at Nicholas, fast asleep in his car seat, his cheeks bright red with sun and fatigue. He'd been uncharacteristically
quiet and patient with me as I poked and prodded and snooped through the sale items. He'd probably be up most of the night
in payment for these few moments of peace, but I didn't begrudge him the rest.

The warm sun shone through the windshield as I drove, the purr of the car engine making Anneke drowsy, and I saw her head
slump to one side as she drifted off, as well.

I hummed the song I remembered from church. I had gone again a couple of times when Nicholas was in a good mood or I wasn't
working. I recognized a few people who had come through the emergency department and a few more from my shopping trips at
the co-op. I didn't feel as much a stranger as I had the first time. Each time the minister spoke I discovered more about
God, but I kept my guard up. No sense in jumping into this all the way without knowing where it would take me. Dan was happy,
and it made his family happy, which, by extension, made my life a little easier.

I made the last corner out of town, then headed down the road toward home. Soon I came to my favorite part of the drive. Up
and up through wooded hills, then cresting a ridge and then, suddenly below me lay our valley. A broad wide basin, mountains
rising up on three sides, pale blue, snow-covered. Solid. Protecting.

I saw the patchwork of fields in the valley, some bright green from irrigation. The fields higher up looked as if a giant
comb had raked through them creating green furrows alternating with brown cultivated fields. It didn't seem that long ago
that Dan had planted the higher land and now it had been up for over a month, growing more every week.

Below us the silver ribbon of a creek unspooled through the pastures and fields heading toward the Gallatin River and then
the Missouri.

I felt a beat of expectation as I headed down into the valley, thinking of Dan and looking forward to telling him about the
garage sale when he got back from spraying tonight. He'd get a kick out of the hat.

As I drove into the yard, I slowed down by the garden. I had weeded it yesterday, taking peculiar pleasure in sorting out
the bad from the good. Restoring order to the neat rows. The carrots were finally recognizable, and the peas were starting
to crawl up the fence. I still found it semi-miraculous to see the changes every week brought. I looked forward to tasting
fresh vegetables, harvested myself.

For now, I was excited to help Anneke set up the doll-house. Like any mother of a little girl, I'd been wanting to buy a dollhouse
for years, but we simply didn't have the space. It would fit perfectly in the corner of her room now, just under the eaves.

I parked in the yard and got out, a feeling of accomplishment flowing through me.

Dan came out of the house, and walked toward the car. Why was he home already?

“How was town?” he asked as I got out of the car. He glanced at our sleeping kids.

“Kathy and I went to a garage sale. I didn't think you would be back until after supper.”

“That's why you didn't come straight home from work?”

“Yeah.” I gave him a puzzled look. “Is something wrong?”

“Why isn't Kathy home yet if she went with you?”

“I don't know.”

“And you really went to a garage sale?”

What was with the good cop–bad cop routine Dan was pulling off all by himself? “The evidence, Mr. CSI, is in the car,” I said,
an edgy tone entering my voice at the mistrustful one in his. “One dollhouse and three lily plants.”

He looked from me to the car, his eyes narrowed, an unwelcome slant to his mouth, and a question breathed through me.

“Where did you think I went?” I asked carefully.

Dan blinked, then shook his head. “It doesn't matter.”

“It does,” I said, trying to hold his gaze. But he shoved his hands in the back pocket of his blue jeans, not looking at me.
“You're angry, and I haven't done anything wrong.”

“I don't know about that.”

“Enough with being vague. Something is bothering you. What is it?”

Dan sighed, then turned to me. “What's going on between you and Dr. John?”

I endured an instant of guilt so intense and familiar, it felt like a friend. Right behind that came a mocking soundtrack,
the velvet voice of Elvis singing “Suspicion” thrumming through my mind. I mumbled out a non-dramatic, “Nothing.”

“Really? Then why did he have his hands all over you the other night?”

I pulled a face. “First off, that sounds gross. Second, that sounds
really
gross.” He made Dr. John seem like a lecherous old man who couldn't keep his hands off me.

But other than the lecherous part, he did touch you a lot.

“That's no answer, Leslie. Is there something going on between you two?”

You two.
Like we were a couple.

I knew I had been skirting along the edge of trouble when I encouraged Dr. John. Yes, he understood what I was dealing with.
No, Dan didn't. Yes, Dr. John was caring and considerate.

But nothing really happened, I wanted to say, even as a small voice mocked my self-righteous protestations.

You liked his attention. You encouraged it.

Not much.

Enough to let him think he could carry on.

But I didn't want him to carry on. And how did Dan know?

I looked at Dan. Really looked at Dan. Saw the hurt in his eyes and felt my world twist and spin as the very things I had
accused Dan of now faced me.

Did it really happen this easily? Was it so simple to slip into unsuitable relationships? A glance. A shared laugh. A spouse
who was so busy with other things and other people that you felt a seismic shift of loyalty in your own relationship and desperately
needed confirmation that you were desirable. Wanted. Needed?

“Leslie, you're not saying anything. He called here today. Have you and he—”

I swallowed my pride. I didn't really want Dr. John. Only support. I took a breath and started down the same road Dan had
taken over half a year ago. “Yes, I thought he was attractive. Yes, we spent time chitchatting and visiting.” I held his troubled
gaze and saw the hurt I had felt with Miss Bilingual reflected in his eyes. “If I talked too much to Dr. John, it was because
I could vent to him about Wilma and Gloria. Because he knew what I was dealing with. Because he sympathized with me and I
could tell him things I could never tell you.”

“Gloria said he could be like that,” Dan said with a sorrowful note in his voice.

“Gloria? When did you talk to her?”

“She was the one who told me. Warned me, actually. She saw you and Dr. John.”

My mouth opened and shut like a fish as I tried to find the right thing to say, the right thing to do. I had never truly understood
the full meaning of the word
flabbergasted
until this moment.

The irony of it all. I had said nothing about Tabitha, wanting to spare Gloria. I assumed, from her hesitantly spoken words,
she was going to allow me the same courtesy.

“I can't believe this,” was all I could come up with. “I can't believe she would have the nerve… After what I had to
clean up… what I had to do…”My voice halted as hurt fought with pride and shame.

Dan stood rock-solid, his arms across his chest. “She told me about Tabitha. Don't think she's not grateful for what you did.”
He glanced at the kids in the car. They were stirring. The statute of limitations was running out on this discussion, and I
was trying to encapsulate my confusion, my anger, and, yes, my guilt, into something resembling a coherent sentence.

“Why didn't she talk to me?” was all I could come up with. I thought Gloria and I had come to an understanding. That gentle
soundtrack moment in the hospital room had been wiped away by her self-righteous attitude. One step forward, two steps back.
“Doesn't she care?”

“I know my family's not perfect,” he said. “But you can't accuse them of not caring. They're involved in our lives. They care
about our marriage. And I do, too. I had hoped that moving here would help us. I thought you wanted the same.”

“I do…”

“Then why were you spending time with this doctor?”

“Why were you spending time with Miss Bilingual?” Guilt made me lash back.

“Her name was Julie. And I spent time with her because I was weak and because I was confused and because she was around and
you weren't around,” and once again we revisited ancient history.

“I was trying to keep our family financially afloat,” I said.

“Like I am now. And you may not see it, but I appreciate the help we get from my family. I don't see your sister helping out.
Or your mother.”

My face stiffened as the blood drained to my chest and pain lanced through my very being. “Low blow, Dan. You know as well
I do that I haven't heard from my mother in months…” My voice broke. Did he think I liked how dys-functional my family
seemed compared to his? Didn't I get to see enough disapproval from Wilma and, yes, Gloria? Had he moved so firmly over to
their camp that he could no longer see my point of view?

“If she ever stayed in one place long enough, maybe you would hear from her.”

“Don't you think I want that?” I cried, my voice breaking. “Do you think Terra and I chose to have an absent mother? Do you
think I enjoyed wondering if my mom was going to be home when I got home from school, wondering how we were going to makeit
through the week? Do you think it's easy for me to be surrounded by your family, who have always been here and probably always
will be, a reminder of what Terra and I don't have?” I pressed my lips together. Dan knew about my past, but I seldom spoke
about it. The past was, well, the past. I didn't want to spend too much time comparing memories. Dan's would always eclipse
mine. “Your mother is far from perfect, either, Dan VandeKeere. And each time I see your family I see a family so different
from mine, but yet not so different. From the first time your mother met me she made her mind up about what kind of person
I was, and she doesn't seem to want to change it no matter what I do. Yes, my mother is a failure in the mother department,
but I would be careful how you throw around accusations. They can come back and smack you in the face.”

And I should know
, I thought as Dr. John's face suddenly superimposed itself on Miss Bilingual's. Our combined failures.

“My mother has had her own difficulties…” Dan said, aligning himself on Wilma's side.

“Your mother had a husband who loved her and gave her a home. That was your father. That her second husband was a snake is hard.
But she had and still has people around her. A community and people who care. My mother had no one. And maybe I'm not perfect,
I've never claimed to be, but I hope that if Nicholas ever gets married, I don't treat his future wife the way your mother
treated and still treats me.” Dan blanched as my words spun like a cyclone, gathering speed, words spat out in anger and self-defense.
But I couldn't stop now. “And if you're going to blame everything that's wrong in your mother's life on the fact that some
man recently left her in the lurch, then you're only making it easier for her to be unkind, and uncaring, and controlling.”
And I should know
, I thought, but I wasn't going to give him any more ammunition.

“She's not controlling, Leslie.”

“If she's not, why does she insist on controlling the farm accounts?”

“Because we were only going to be here awhile.”

Were. He said were. “And now?”

“Things change.” He drew in a deep breath. “In spite of what you've just said about my mother, I don't want to leave.”

A wail from Anneke scattered the conversation. I blinked, trying to ground myself back in the present. I needed to retreat
and regroup. Regain my own control.

“I can't talk about this now, Dan. I just can't.” Too many emotions churned around us, too many words had been thrown on the
ground. We needed some time and space before we took them up again.

The next few hours were painfully silent as we ate. Dan read the story Bible again, but I couldn't listen. My feelings were
a patchwork quilt of guilt and pain stitched together with anger. Not comforting at all.

Afterward Dan carted the dollhouse into Anneke's room and helped her set it up, a job I had been looking forward to doing.

Instead I planted the lilies, watered them, and stood back to garner what precious enjoyment I could. The woman at the garage
sale had told me that if I clipped them off they would grow better next year. I didn't care about next year, I wanted to enjoy
them now.

Stay here?

I know my kids loved it here. They loved their grandma—correction, Oma—even if I didn't. They loved their aunties, the chickens,
the dog, Dan's horses.