All in One Place

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Eve with a lid, cold cow in the alley.”

  “You're making that up,” Jack said.

  “Just the cold cow part. Couldn't find a reference to ice cream,” I said, pouring his coffee.

  “Well done,” Father Sam said. “I think it's fun.”

  I gave them all a mocking curtsy and as I rose, caught a smile from Jack that didn't bode well for the detachment I was still cultivating.

  Then the lunch rush came in earnest. I had a chance to use a few more slang terms, which garnered me an ice-age thawing from Mathilde. Polar ice caps do not melt in a day.

  Helen and I picked up the pace, and Mathilde redirected her energy to getting orders out, but the third time I came to Father Sam and Cor's table to give refills, Jack was gone. Cor must have noticed my surprise. “Jack got a call but he left his money, and said to keep the change.” Cor handed me a sheaf of bills and added a smirk.

  Normally, I'd be thrilled with a tip that high, but knowing it came from Jack created a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort.

  I pocketed the money, filled Cor's cup and Father Sam's pot, and ran off to take care of the next tableful of customers.

  The rush slowed to a trickle. Kingdoms rose and fell, and still Father Sam and Cor sat, secure in their preeminence over anyone who might want that table.

  “I hear confession as a sacrament,” Father Sam was saying, leaning back in his chair as I lingered, cleaning up the tables close to them. “Community needs to celebrate God's love in a tangible way, and confession is a part of it. Spoken confession releases sins to the community of believers. As Karl Adams says, ‘The absolution granted in confession is more than an expression of hope; it is a consolation.’”

  Those words were as much a foreign language to me as the diner slang I had used was to most of the patrons of the diner. But I tucked them away, liking the way Father Sam spoke them. Something small and unformed was resurrected with the words consolation and confession. I couldn't see my way clear to consolation; my life was too full of mistakes and sins. But maybe Amelia, who had her baby to think of, could use some solace. Some consoling. Some comfort.

  “Hey, Terra,” Cor asked me as I filled their cups again, “how do you get an elephant into a matchbox?”

  “Open it up?” I hazarded.

  “Take all the matches out.”

  I laughed obediently, but as I looked up, my heart fluttered.

  Through the large plate-glass window that Cor and Father Sam usually sat beside, I saw Leslie getting out of her car.

  Chapter Nine

  There she is,” I heard Anneke's energetic cry, and then my niece was dodging the chairs in the diner, her arms wide open as she ran toward me. “I missed you, Auntie Terra,” Anneke said, catching me by the waist and throwing me off balance. “I missed you so much.”

  I gave Anneke an awkward pat on the head as patrons in the restaurant gave us both an indulgent smile. I realized that I looked the part of the doting aunt being embraced by a loving niece, but I knew the reality was that Anneke had a forgiving nature mixed with a flair for the dramatic.

  “Hey, Leslie,” I said to my sister as I gently extricated myself from Anneke's spindly grip. “Good to see you.”

  Leslie's curt nod told me that in spite of my very responsible phone call before she left for Virginia City, my name was still written in pencil on the birthday calendar, to allow quick removal in case of further familial disappointment. But as she came closer, I caught the heartening glimpse of a faint smile teasing the corner of her mouth.

  I pulled myself away from Anneke, grabbed a couple of menus, and led them to an empty table.

  “After you hike-hitched, we had a wiener roast,” Anneke said, trotting alongside me, her words spilling out as fast as her lips could move. “And Tabitha fighted with Jennifer, and Auntie Judy burned her tongue on hot chocolate, and I gave her a kiss but didn't give a kiss to Joseph when he got a bloody nose. Auntie Gloria made s'mores, and Uncle Gerrit said they were lec… lecable… What was that word, Mommy?”

  “Delectable. It means tasty,” Leslie replied.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I asked Leslie as Anneke paused her play-by-play long enough to wiggle onto her chair.

  “Sweet tea for me, and Anneke will have a chocolate milk.”

  “Auntie Terra, Nicholas ate a worm,” Anneke informed me, folding her hands primly on the table. “And Mommy said his tapeworm would give it money for the run.”

  “Thank you for sharing, Anneke,” Leslie said as I tried not to laugh out loud. “I'm sure you've given the customers of the Harland Café something else to digest along with their soup and sandwiches.”

  I hurried away, determined to show myself efficient and caring. Helen came by as I dropped ice into a pitcher. “I'm going to take my break now,” I told her. “Then I'm done for the day.”

  “Sure. I'm guessing that's your sister?” Helen said, poking her thumb over her shoulder.

  “Yeah. Leslie VandeKeere.”

  “Isn't she a nurse?” Helen's question was innocent, but I heard her underlying question: So why are you just a waitress?

  I knew how our lives compared better than Helen did. “She's the smart one in the family,” I said as I pulled Anneke's chocolate milk from the cooler.

  Anneke was still chattering, swinging her feet, and making a pyramid out of the plastic cream containers.

  She frowned as I set the container in front of her and unwrapped the straw. “This is s'posed to come in a cup.”

  “I thought you would think it was fun to drink out of the little container,” I said, pulling up a chair. I turned to Leslie. “Remember that time Mom gave us some money and you and I went to the corner store and bought chocolate milk for the first time?”

  “I thought we got the money from the neighbor,” Leslie said.

  “No. Mom had some extra cash. I remember seeing her take it out of her jewelry box.”

  “Wow. She actually had some left over from buying cigarettes and liquor.” Leslie's faint sarcasm bothered me.

  “She didn't blow every extra penny she had,” I said, defending our mother.

  “Every other extra penny, then.” She ducked her head and took a sip of her tea.

  Irritation flared through me. It was as if Leslie was determined to see just the negatives of our past. But I had to let that slip. I had my own mistakes to make up for. “So how are the visitors from Holland?”

  “They left yesterday.” Leslie stirred her iced tea with her straw, the ice clinking against the glass. “Refresh my memory on why you took this job?”

  “You know I have to stay until I get this whole stupid assault thing cleared up.”

  “Is that the only reason?” The hurt in Leslie's voice burrowed deep.

  “Of course not. I want to pay you back. And I knew you would fuss if I told you.”

  Helen came to our table, coffeepot held aloft as she glanced from Leslie to me, still trying to figure out how Leslie got the brains and I got the dim-witted genes. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

  “I need to pee,” Anneke announced.

  I pushed my chair back to take her, but Helen laid her hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “You stay and visit. I'll take her.”

  I smiled my thanks, but as soon as Anneke was out of earshot, Leslie zeroed in on me.

  “You don't need to pay me back. I'm your sister. I wanted to help you.”

  “I think I'll save the financial aid for something more permanent. Like a house. Besides, I know what kind of trouble you've been having with your mother-in-law.” I caught a twitch of her lip and felt her infinitesimal shift in attitude, so I pressed on. “My bumping up against her every time we see each other causes you problems. You don't need me complicating matters any more.”

  “Mom—Wilma—has a tendency to be judgmental,” Leslie said with a light sigh, “but she does have her good points.”

  Mom indeed! “That woman was making you crazy just a year ago.”
How could she so easily defend Wilma VandeKeere and so quickly find fault with our own mother?

  “Things have changed in my life. Wilma and I have come to an understanding. I'm learning to respect her commitment to her family and her faith.”

  “Faith.” As I spoke the word, I tried to fit it in with the sister I thought I knew.

  “Yes, faith. I go to church—and not just to satisfy the family like I did at first. I go because it means a lot to me. I find peace there.” She hesitated, and I sensed she was uncomfortable telling me this. She should be. My mind flashed back to a scene of the two of us sitting on the balcony of an apartment in a sketchy neighborhood in San Jose. Our legs hung out between the bars of the balcony as we called out rude comments and dropped empty beer cans in front of an older lady on her way to church every Sunday, trying to see how long it would take for her to get angry.

  By the time we moved, all we had to do was yell out, “Praise the Lord, sister!” as she stepped into the parking lot and she would shake her fist at us, her Sunday peace shattered before she even got to her car.

  “Things have changed for me. I've come to know a God who cares about me and knows everything that happens to me. You should come with me.”

  “To church?” She had to be kidding.

  Leslie gave me a tight smile and nodded.

  Not kidding.

  “Can you feature me in church? I've been places, done things… No.”

  “Terra. God knows your heart.” Leslie stopped, then laughed. “I'm all wrong at this. You should be talking to my friend Kathy.”

  “How about we just leave the whole religion thing for now. I get enough from Father Sam and Cor over there.”

  Leslie turned around in time to see Cor waving at her with a benign smile on his face.

  Right then, Helen returned with Anneke, saving me from any more uncomfortable discussion about church and God and what He could and couldn't see.

  Anneke was full of news about the bathroom and the kitchen and how the icemaker worked.

  “Where are you staying?” Leslie asked when Anneke took a breath long enough to blow more bubbles in her chocolate milk.

  “At Helen's.”

  “You can stay at our place, you know.” Leslie sounded a little put out, but I let it slide.

  “I don't have a car, Leslie, and Helen lives in town. Besides, I think it's a good idea to give us some space.”

  She gave a tight little nod, which bothered me. I had to confess, I was hoping for a hearty declaration denying my very wise statement.

  “So, what are your plans? Or do you have any?”

  “I think I'll stick around until I get this court thing done, then head out east. I've never been to Chicago or New York.”

  Our conversation drifted randomly. The window of opportunity to rehash the past had been shut. We were now moving on to the future. A safer place for me, to be sure.

  During one lull in the conversation, Leslie reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I'm glad you're here, Terra. I missed you.” The hitch in her voice caught me as tightly as her fingers caught mine. “I want to find out what's been going on in your life. Any special guy?”

  I shook my head. That was a cesspool I'd rather not splash around in.

  “There are a few single guys around here…” Leslie offered with a hopeful note in her voice.

  “I met some, at the bar. No thanks.” Even as I gave her those brave words, I thought of Jack and his rescue the other night.

  “Expand your horizons, girl. The bar isn't the best place to pick up a guy.”

  I gave her a wry look. “I keep forgetting: When you met Dan, was it beer you were drinking, or shooters?”

  The flush on Leslie's cheeks gave me the first upper-hand moment I'd experienced since I came here.

  “Regardless,” Leslie said quietly, giving me a warning look. Anneke blissfully slurped down her chocolate milk, unaware of how easily her Auntie Terra had annihilated her mommy's precious argument.

  “Regardless of how that happened, you want me to behave differently? Kind of a double standard, don't you think?” I pressed my advantage, but kept my voice down.

  “Things have changed in my life. I'm starting to find a purpose beyond being a wife, mother, and nurse. I want the same for you.”

  Her voice held a faint note of conviction I'd never heard before, and I felt my sister slipping away from me. “Well, my life is pretty much the same as it's always been. You didn't think I needed to change last year. I think I'll stay on course.”

  “But are you happy?”

  Her question shot like an arrow into the hurting places in my life. The places I kept tucked away because rehashing them didn't help and didn't change things. There was no point in looking back.

  “Yeah. I'm happy.”

  But Leslie, who had consoled me when Tom Merrihew took Bethany Aronson to the prom, and who had been with me after I passed my dreaded biology test, knew the Twenty Moods of Terra.

  And the skeptical look she shot me proved it.

  “Okay, so I'm not ecstatic. But for now I have a job, and—”

  “And then what? You'll leave again? Keep moving, keep bending rules until they break? Getting into trouble…”

  I held up my hand to stop the words that stormed at me, pushing at my defenses. “Innocent until proven guilty, Sis.”

  Leslie's gentle sigh was like a soft slap.

  “You had the same problem here in Harland, as I recall,” I said, pulling no punches. “A certain Dr. John?”

  “I dealt with it, okay? And nothing happened.”

  And there we were. Glaring at each other across a wooden table while my niece laid down a burbling sound track with her chocolate milk.

  “Anneke, don't make so much noise,” Leslie said absently, glancing away from me to her daughter.

  “I'm making bubbles,” Anneke protested with the peculiar logic of a four-year-old.

  “You're making noisy bubbles,” Leslie corrected as she picked up a napkin and wiped the chocolate-milk mustache off Anneke's face. Then she slipped the cuff of her shirt back and glanced at her watch.

  I beat her to the punch and pushed my chair away from the table. “I should get back to work.”

  Regret tightened her features. “I didn't come here to fight with you or to come across as better than you. I want us to be sisters—to be friends.”

  “So do I,” I said, clutching the back of the chair. “But every time I turn around, I see a different Leslie than the one I used to be able to joke with.”

  “My life has changed—for the better. And I want the same for you. The same knowledge that God is in control of your life. The same comfort.”

  A chill feathered down my spine. If I didn't know my practical sister better, I would say she had all the makings of a religious fanatic.

  Leslie never took on new things without first knowing the risks and repercussions. She spent the last year of high school figuring out where she wanted to take her nurse's training, bookmarking Web sites until our computer crashed. After she met Dan at the bar, she made a list of reasons for and against dating him. Then, when he proposed, she kept the wedding budget on a spreadsheet.

  So for her to say that she wanted me to share in this new religious experience showed me how serious she was about this God stuff.

  “I don't think I want to go there,” I said quietly, holding her steady gaze. “The last thing I need is some all-knowing, all-seeing God taking charge of my life. Every girl needs a few secrets.” I threw in a quick grin to show her I was borderline kidding. The thought of some pushy power honing in on my inmost thoughts did not bring me comfort.

  “What secrets?”

  I just laughed and waved away her sisterly concern. “The usual. Passwords to my credit cards. Weight. Bra size.”

  Leslie stood up and laid her hand on my shoulder. “I care about you. You know that. You're the only sister I have. I'm glad you're here…”

  “And the way you let
that sentence trail off, I'm guessing there's an unvoiced addendum.”

  “Are you done, Anneke?” Leslie asked, avoiding my comment.

  Anneke nodded and ran the back of her hand over her mouth before Leslie could attack her again with the napkin. “Can I have another little milk box?”

  “Maybe next time,” Leslie said as she wiped Anneke's sticky fingers. She looked back at me, her eyes piercing. “You don't do things without a reason. You came all the way here for something…”

  “Sisterly bonding,” I protested, uncomfortable with the intensity of her gaze.

  “…and I hope that one day you'll trust me enough to tell me.”

  She held my gaze a bit longer, as if to underline her dramatic statement.

  “The real reason is… I missed you… and, well, I felt bad… about Nicholas.”

  Her gaze never faltered as I fumbled along.

  “I did feel bad about Nicholas,” I protested, trying to find the proper tone of indignation. “I should have been here for you. I know that.”

  Leslie's mouth softened, and I felt like I had gained a partial reprieve. “Thanks, Terra. For that, at least.”

  I shrugged, gave Anneke a quick stroke on her cheek, and bent over to give her a kiss.

  She snaked her arms around my neck and gave me a strangling hug. “I love you so much, Auntie Terra.”

  Anneke's exuberant outburst started a cozy warmth deep inside. “I love you, too, punkin,” I whispered, crouching down to ease the pressure on my esophagus.

  Anneke pulled back a little and grabbed my face in her still-sticky hands. “You gonna come and visit me?”

  “You could come on Saturday,” Leslie suggested. “And stay overnight?”

  “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

  “Let's go, Mommy. Daddy is waiting for us.” Anneke ran out of the café ahead of Leslie, and with an apologetic glance, Leslie followed.

  As I picked up their glasses, I caught Cor's benign glance. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I guessed that he approved.

  Chapter Ten

  One of these days I am going to buy my own car,” I muttered as a pickup whizzed past me, ignoring my thumb, leaving a swirl of dust and paper in its wake. “And when I do, I'm going to pick up every hitchhiker I see.”