“She had it all together, didn’t she? Her own car, a hairstyle, and a best friend.”
“Actually, I was a Goosebumps fan.”
Mercy. “Sorry. I’ll stop babbling.”
“No prob.”
I try not to think about the fact that I miss my father like he died yesterday, and normally I can go on, but today, here at the library where we spent so much time, I feel it rush me down into a vortex. After he died, Jace and I moved into the big house on Loch Raven, the big house needing so much to fill it. So much time to spend picking out drapery and upholstery fabric, landscaping options, a new driveway.
She raises her hand off the mouse. “Aha! Here he is. Xavier Andrews, Grand Rapids, Michigan. Tax records. Owns the house, apparently. At least he did in 1993. It’s the latest documentation I can find. So far.”
She swivels her chair a bit and writes down the address and phone number. “You want me to keep looking?”
“No thanks. I’ll take it from here and see what happens.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you want to find him?”
Wow, that was a librarian faux pas. I like it. “To apologize.”
“That’s refreshing.”
Just for old time’s sake I check out a coffee-table book of the photographs of Ansel Adams. My dad would be glad for it.
* * *
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” I step lightly into the house. Anna is on her hands and knees wiping the baseboards in the foyer.
She sits back on her heels. “My, you look happy!”
“I found Xavier Andrews’s phone number. In Michigan.”
“And did you get the paint?”
“Yes.”
“So when will you call?”
“I don’t know. Soon. I guess. I’m still sitting on your question as to my motivation.”
“The answer will come, Heather.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m ninety-two years old, honey. Some things you just pick up along the way.”
TWENTY-SIX
Liza’s shadow falls across the deck planking. “Oh my! That’s quite the blue color, isn’t it?”
I’ve painted only two boards. “I thought the cobalt would be pretty with the green of the trees.”
Liza looks upward and nods once. “And it adds a postmodern flair to the modern. Just a tad. I think my Alva would approve. He wasn’t a man who got something stuck in his craw ad infinitum, you see.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Certainly. Alva had vision. Shame he couldn’t get through the day without a drink.”
“I had an uncle who was an alcoholic. Nicest guy, though.”
“There wasn’t a better man than Alva Stephens. He wasn’t a mean drunk, either, and always handed me the keys. But it got to his liver anyway. We just didn’t know things in those days like we do now.”
“That’s for sure.”
“And there are plenty of mean drunks too.”
“I know. My aunt was a closet drinker, but we all knew when she’d tied one on, no matter how much she brushed her teeth and sucked on breath mints. I hated Thanksgivings at her house.”
“Right, then. I’m off to go pick up Anna.”
“I thought she took her car.”
“Yes, she did. But I need to post bail.”
I set the brush on the paint can. “Post bail?”
Liza sighs and places her hands on her hips. “She went and got herself arrested again. That makes fifty-two times.” She shakes her head. “I think she gets a kick out of it, if you want to know the truth. Which makes me wonder if she’s getting any brownie points at all!”
“I was wondering where she went to. She was gone before I woke up. I’ll just stay and keep working.”
“Oh, please do. Truthfully, it’s not like this is a big deal anymore. But what is she going to do when baby sister’s not around to bail her out? That’s what I’d like to know.”
I don’t want to think about the world without either of these two women binding its wounds.
“Was she demonstrating against the war?”
“What else? When I heard on the news a few years ago the president declared war, all I could think was, I’ll be running hither and yon after Anna now! And now I have to drive all the way down to DC.”
Which could take days, if I know Liza.
* * *
The clock on the piano in the living room chimes noon. They’ll be home by dinnertime, I’ll bet. I root through the refrigerator and find a roaster and, glory be, some asparagus and pearl onions. Ah, I can already smell the meal. Chicken slow roasted with herbs and garlic and pearl onions. Steamed asparagus.
I check the pantry.
Yep, egg noodles. Buttered egg noodles with fresh parsley; a nice hearty dinner after the jailhouse.
Mercy!
* * *
They return around five thirty. Anna has a sheepish glow; Liza looks like she’s whiled away the day in a hornet’s nest, hair frizzing out of its normally sleek bun.
“That I-95 is going to be the death of me!”
“You and everybody else on the road around you,” Anna quips.
Well, Anna!
“Not a particularly peaceful response from someone who just got herself arrested in an antiwar demonstration, Anna.”
Anna winks in my direction. “Liza’s driving would make even the president go to combat just to get away from her.”
“Well, come have a glass of wine. Dinner is almost done. I chilled up your favorite Chablis, Anna.”
“I’ll take a martini.” Liza. “I’ll fix it myself.”
She walks through the foyer and back into the family room to a small liquor cabinet next to the sliding doors.
“You want ice?” I call from the kitchen.
“Thank you, no.”
I pour Anna a glass of wine, and she sits down. “I hope you don’t mind if I just rest here while you finish up. I’m exhausted.”
“Were you treated all right?”
“This time. DC police are used to us, honey.”
I pull the chicken out of the oven to let it sit before carving. “Why do you do it, Anna? Aren’t we as Christians supposed to obey our rulers, Romans 13 and all of that?”
“Not when they are going against God.”
“You believe we are?”
“With all my heart.”
“I just don’t know about any of this anymore.” I set a pan of shallow water on the cooktop to steam the asparagus.
“Well, that’s good. It’s when we believe we have all the answers that we find ourselves in trouble.” Anna’s voice curves with humility. I never knew people like her really existed.
“Besides, my father was a Marine.”
She smiles into my eyes. “I’m sure he was a fine soldier, Heather. A fine man.”
“Anna, have you ever seen a kangaroo in these parts?”
“No, dear. Why do you ask?”
“One hopped across the road the night I found you all. He was the reason for my accident.”
“Oh my! Lucky for Liza and I, he did just that.”
“Lucky for you?”
“Yes, dear. You’re teaching us many things.”
The onions. I scoop them into a serving bowl. Ah, browned and caramelized. I could pop one into my mouth right now if no one was looking.
I’m afraid to ask exactly what it is they’re learning from befuddled Heather Curridge. “Like how a deck looks when it’s painted blue?”
She pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Yes, Heather. Exactly that.”
“What would you think about yellow railings?”
She takes a sip of wine. “Now that, my dear friend, would be going a little too far.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Liza strides through the kitchen and pours her drink down the sink. “Sometimes I forget we’re not too old to be stupid.” She looks up. “Right, Alva?”
She sits next to
Anna and watches as I carve the roaster, then bowl the asparagus and the noodles. I serve them their meals, and this is my privilege.
TWENTY-SEVEN
My clothes, freshly laundered and folded in tidy stacks at the bottom of the bed, smell of the dried lavender Anna tucked between them. I lift my suitcase out of the closet.
They’ll arrive soon, my family. All will be layered inside this brown leather case. But more than clothing, shoes, and toiletries will accompany me back home.
I tread over to the window, pull aside the curtain, and look out over Loch Raven. I swear I hear a bell chiming. An airy ring of promise, a signal saying, Come and worship.
Oatmeal sleeps on my bed. She’s been sleeping with me for a week now. She’s a young dog, and I cringe at the thought, but someday she’ll need another home.
Liza enters the room. “Ready to go?”
“Just finishing up.”
“Mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all.”
She lowers herself into a chair formed of black leather straps and chrome piping. “Ah, Breuer. Now he could design a chair.”
“I have to admit, it’s unexpectedly comfortable.”
“We’re sad to see you go.”
“I’m sad to leave.”
“And happy?” She crosses her legs, ankles bare beneath the hem of her moss green pants.
I scoop up the stack of shirts and shorts. “I’ve missed my family.”
“Naturally. We’ll miss you, Heather. You’ve been a delight to us old gals.”
Next the nightshirts and unmentionables. “Ah, yes. I keep forgetting you’re old.”
She waves a hand. “So do we. That’s why you’ve fit in so well. What will you do once you get home? Other than taking care of your family, of course.”
I place my work tennies along the back of the bag. “I have no idea. I’m a little frightened. I’m not sure I’m the same person I was when I left.”
“Certainly you are. You just have some extra bits now.”
I sit on the bed across from her chair and fold my hands in my lap.
She reaches out and jostles my knee. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Liza arises, sits next to me, and places an arm around my shoulders. “Heather, you’re facing new things about yourself and the world around you. You’re choosing to no longer ignore what’s been staring you in the face all along. That’s a courageous act, my dear. One not a lot of people are capable of handling.”
“I don’t know if I can see it through to the end.”
“And what might that end be?”
“I have no idea.”
She takes my hand with her free hand. “Right. For once I’m with my sister on the obscurity angle. You only have to commit yourself to tomorrow; you can decide about the next day when it comes.”
“I don’t know if I can live like that.”
“Oh, Heather. We’re always living like that. Each day we choose to go on, whether we realize it or not.”
“There’s truth in that.”
“Of course there is. And you will go on and go forward. I have every confidence in you.”
I shake my head. “But how can you? I’m a mess.”
“God took you aside, Heather. He was here with you, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Do you have any reason to believe He won’t go with you from here on out?”
“No good reason.”
“God won’t fail you.” She squeezes my shoulder and kisses my face, her lips so soft and fragile. I feel the warmth of it travel from my cheek down through my limbs. “You have our prayers, for what they’re worth, as well.”
“They’re worth a great deal. More than you’ll ever know.”
She stands to her feet. “I know a lot about the meaning of prayer, dear. More than I ever hoped I would.” She places her hands atop my head and kisses it, blesses it. “And you’re hardly a mess.”
She leaves the bedroom, her pain tucked somewhere inside, her love shimmering on the surface like water beads after a summertime rain. A soft hint of her perfume lingers in the air around me. I press it down into my clothing.
* * *
The grille of the Suburban glints in the sunlight as the car turns into the parking pad. Two seconds later, Will jumps out of the back and runs to me, slamming himself into my arms, burrowing his head into the base of my neck.
I’m still in love.
Jace next, hands in pockets, sidles up. He hugs me with that fleecy warmth, a calm, still hug that he holds until he steps back and says, “Wow, it’s good to see you. I missed you so much.”
The sisters stand on the steps by the front door and welcome my guys. Anna shows Jace the suitcase sitting in the foyer, and he loads it into the car. Oatmeal skitters around Will’s legs, and he scratches her ears.
Liza pats an imaginary errant hair back in place. “We hate to lose her. But I’m sure you’ll be glad to have her back.”
“Oh yeah!” Will.
“Absolutely.” Jace. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”
Anna smiles. “Nonsense. She took good care of us.”
Jace takes my hand. “She’s got that way about her, doesn’t she?”
Liza points to Will. “Now how old are you, young man?”
“Fifteen.”
She looks at me. “You take good care of him, Heather, you hear me?”
I hug them as quickly as I can to get it over with. I want to go home, but I don’t want to leave them. “Why don’t you come live with us?” I ask.
“Can you imagine?” Liza. “Us two? Always bickering.”
Will. “Oh, we don’t mind.”
Anna lays a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Well, you never know, then, do you?”
We climb up into the truck.
Liza shuts my door and I roll down the window. “My, this is a big vehicle. You drive this thing?”
“Yes.”
“Goodness. How brave.”
Jace starts the engine, then backs up.
We all yell good-bye as we head toward the street.
“Go in peace!” Anna cries, picking up the dog and cradling her in her left arm.
And Liza reaches for her sister’s free hand.
They stand there, linked together, waving fragile hands, wishing goodness for me and my family from their stalwart, ocean-sized hearts.
* * *
I lie on the couch. Say what you will, but overstuffed furniture, while not sleek and clean like modern, just feels good. I’m going to switch the blue dots from the living room set to this one. Jace sits down and hands me a cup of tea.
I shift to a sitting position. “Thanks for dinner. It was really good.”
“Grilled hamburgers are a real culinary feat.”
“Yours are.” I sip my tea. “How’s Jolly? Have you seen him?”
“Yes. He looks a little rough. How old do you think he is, hon?”
“I don’t know. Seventy? Seventy-five? It’s hard to tell with African-American men. No offense, Jace, but they age better.”
“I’m a little worried. I tried to talk him into an appointment with Brad, but he balked. Maybe you can talk to him.”
Brad is one of Jace’s friends from med school.
“Maybe he’s just not eating like he should. But I’ll give it a shot.”
“Right. Even for just a checkup. Now finish that tea, and I’ll give you a back rub.”
A back rub? How can I refuse?
A few minutes later he’s massaging my shoulders. “Jace, we’ve got to talk about Chicago.”
“Hold on, I didn’t tell you. I had two procedures on people from the Hotel last Monday. Can you believe that? Sister J visited one of them while I was there. She said she figures I’ve done several surgeries on her clients. I guess our paths never crossed.”
“No kidding.”
“Right. I just found that a little eerie.”
“Me too.”
“So you had a good time with the sisters, huh?”
“Chicago, Jace. What were you really doing there?”
“Why are you so interested in Chicago?”
I blow a stream of frustration from between my lips. “Urrrrrr! I overheard your phone call with Bonnie, okay?”
He stops the massage. “Oh.”
I’m trying to think of something to say. Nothing comes.
Then he lays his hands back on my back. “Does that have something to do with the tennis court being canceled?”
“Yes.” I sit up.
“Oh, hon.” He puts his arms around me, but I’m not having that. I move away from him.
“Why did you keep this all a secret? Don’t I deserve to know what you’re thinking?”
He reddens. “You’re spending my paycheck as fast as I can make it, and I don’t know how I can keep it all going and still do mission work on the ship.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“It’s what the conference was about. In a year they’re losing their cardiac surgeon. But there’s no way I can take a year and do that, now, can I?”
“What about Will and I?”
“You all can go with me. We’d be a little cramped, but can you imagine the experience it would be for Will?”
“What about the Hotel?”
Confusion lowers his lids. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I’m supposed to be there, Jace. But if you say it’s the ship . . .”
He takes both of my hands in his. “We’ve got a year, hon. Let’s see what kind of miracle God’s got in store before we worry about how things are supposed to be in the future.”
I lay my forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry for chaining you like I’ve done. I never realized what all those purchases were doing to you. I just thought you loved your job, and the money was good, so where was the problem?”
“I do love my job. Just not where I do it.”
“I’ll put a buying moratorium on myself.”
“I can’t tell you what a relief that would be. It was really starting to affect how I felt about you.”
Plain Perfect & Quaker Summer 2 in 1 Page 45
