The Only Best Place

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Dr. John must have caught my look, because he gave me a quick wink of understanding. I hoped the Harrises didn't catch it. This quick rush of adrenaline was what emergency-room nurses lived for. It was our drug of choice, and every time we handled an emergency smoothly or cheated death, the charge came. The more complicated the situation, the stronger the rush.

  I tried to explain this to Dan once but I may as well have been speaking Urdu. Sometimes when a bad case had gone well, when once again I had helped snatch a patient from greedy death, I wished he could see so he could share my thrill, understand why I needed to be here as much as with him and my children at home.

  For now I had John, and as he surreptitiously squeezed my hand, I felt a connection I never had with my own husband.

  Mrs. Harris was stable for now and her daughter held her hand. Their eyes were closed, and Linda's lips were moving. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered over and over again, smiling as she did so.

  Whatever gives her comfort, I thought, though at the same time I felt a flash of envy. She at least had someone to talk to when all was said and done. Well, she could keep talking to God—I still kept my eyes on the vital-signs monitor.

  John laid his hand on my shoulder. “And again, nice work. Glad you're on my team.”

  I was still coming down from my adrenaline rush. “Thanks,” I said, adding a smile. As he returned it, his eyes singing into mine, I heard a faint niggling voice.

  He's coming on to you. Keep your distance.

  I chanced a sidelong glance, surprised to see his eyes holding mine. A little too intensely. I knew I should listen. My rational self told me to be careful. But the lonely self, the one whose self-esteem had been battered by the woman who had held my husband's attention, and now by his family, who seemed to be drawing him away from me, not only continued to hold his gaze but lifted her hand up, covered John's hand with hers, and gave it an extra squeeze.

  It's innocent. Means nothing.

  He should be watching Mrs. Harris. So should I.

  Confusion and professionalism fought with the basic need of any woman to know that she's attractive to a man.

  So why do I have to remind myself of that? And why is this man so appealing?

  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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Can 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: tfroese@hotmail.com

  To: lesismore@montana.net

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  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 b
e pretty good.”

  “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.