All in One Place

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Grade four all over again. Alicia Semenuk trying to take Cordy Mueller away from me.

  I shouldn't have resented Kathy's presence in the part of Leslie's life I had foolishly hoped still belonged to me. Kathy was Leslie's friend. Leslie and I knew, intimately, how valuable a commodity good friends were.

  When we were younger, our very survival in each new school we attended depended on a wise alignment of social groups. We learned to spend the first few days discreetly staking out the territory, watching carefully, then collating the data at home.

  In those situations, finding a person who fit the above criteria and who then, on top of that, genuinely liked us and wanted to be with us, was a treasure to be nurtured and guarded.

  I didn't begrudge Leslie her friend, but I was jealous of Kathy. And, if I were to be totally honest, of Leslie herself.

  I had friends littering the country. But, as with Leslie, I'd experienced a slight cooling trend in relationships in the past months. I didn't have the energy to fan any of them into even a glow, so some of them had burned out.

  “What color do you think I should use with these, Terra?”

  I looked over her shoulder at a couple of photos of Anneke with her tiny baby brother cradled in her lap, a look of utter bliss wreathing Anneke's face. Nicholas was just a tiny bundle, wrapped in a bright green blanket. In the second picture, a close-up, someone else held Nicholas. All you could see of the person was a hand curved around the blanket.

  “Are these the only pictures you have?”

  “Yeah. I had another one, but it's out of focus.” She handed me a fourth picture. A blurred face was pressed up against Nicholas's.

  “…I just can't figure out who is holding Nicholas, though,” Leslie was saying, tapping one finger on the picture as if trying to resurrect the memory.

  “That's me,” I said. “And that's my hand. I recognize the rings.”

  Leslie looked puzzled. “I didn't know you'd come and visited.”

  “Of course I did,” I said, letting a slight edge slip into my voice. “I wasn't always irresponsible.”

  Leslie's expression shifted, her mouth softening as she offered me an apologetic smile. “Of course you weren't.”

  “In fact, I spent a couple of days with you,” I said, building on the fragile foundation I had just established. “I took care of Anneke so you could rest.”

  “That's right.” Her voice shifted upward, putting emphasis on the last word. “You used to take her to the park.”

  “And we even made a tour of the underground city,” I added, further cementing my goodwill moment.

  “And you lived in San Francisco at the time?” Kathy said, displaying a surprising knowledge of my comings and goings.

  “No. Los Angeles. San Fran came after.”

  “With all that moving around, I'm surprised you don't have a car,” Kathy said, her tone suggesting that I was irresponsible for not doing my part to keep carbon monoxide pumping into the atmosphere.

  “Cars require too many decisions,” I said, choosing to take her comment at face value and not as a commentary on my lifestyle. “Which insurance policy, how much deductible, what kind of gas, do I speed and run the risk of getting a ticket or tick off fellow commuters by being a keeper of the speed? And at night time there's the whole ‘when do I dim my brights’ game of chicken to play. And I won't even mention the whole tire issue and what kind of oil to put in. I just can't live with that kind of pressure.”

  Leslie laughed. On my side again.

  Kathy's mouth twitched betraying a mild entertainment. I knew I wasn't going to win her over completely. Her first impression of me was Irresponsible Sister, and she seemed like Loyal Friend. I had a lot of ground to make up.

  “So, which color paper to put with them.” Leslie's practical comment brought us back to the subject at hand.

  “How about the blue…”

  “There's not enough blue in the picture.”

  Kathy tapped her jaw with her finger. “You're right. Maybe green?”

  They both looked so solemn, I couldn't hold back a chuckle. Or a comment. “My goodness, you two look more serious than Condoleeza Rice negotiating a point in NAFTA.”

  Kathy's glance bespoke tolerance with an unenlightened mortal, and Leslie looked a tad perturbed.

  Oops.

  The outside door burst open, and Anneke thundered into the house. “Mommy, I want to go see Daddy.” She stood beside Leslie, her hands clasped dramatically in front of her like a supplicant beseeching an audience with the queen.

  “I don't want you and Carlene going there by yourselves.”

  “You come with us, Auntie Terra!” Anneke shouted, grabbing my hand.

  Leslie glanced over at me, and I could read between the lines on her forehead. Time to bid a strategic retreat. “I'd like to see Dan's horses anyway,” I said, getting to my feet. “You know me. Never really got out of the My Friend Flicka stage.”

  “Can Carlene come?” Anneke shouted.

  “We're not across the room, Annie bo Bannie,” Kathy said. “And yes. Carlene can go, too.”

  Kathy's casual reprimand of Anneke and the easy use of an unknown nickname effectively pushed me back to the periphery again.

  Anneke was joined by Carlene, and both tugged on my hand with the easy acceptance of young children. “You bring us, Auntie Terra.”

  Once outside, I had a faint notion of lifting my face to the sun and letting the milieu of country living wash over me in a peaceful wave, but Anneke and Carlene were little girls on a mission, so I let them pull me along and put off appreciating nature for a quieter time. As we came nearer to the corral, I heard the steady thud of horses' hooves and a few brief commands from Dan.

  Anneke leaned away from me, but I kept my grip tight on her hand and pulled her back. “If your daddy is working with the horses then you'll have to be quiet and stay by me.”

  Anneke's features hardened as if to challenge my authority, but I kept my grip firm and maintained eye contact. I knew Dan's opinion of me, and I didn't want to run the risk of his daughter frightening the horses on my watch.

  Then her hand clutched mine again and the moment of rebellion slipped away like clouds over the sun. “Of course I will,” she said primly.

  “Anneke always gets into trouble,” Carlene said, as righteous as a nun.

  “No, I don't!” Anneke leaned past me, her face full of indignation. “You get into trouble.”

  “You do! You do! You do!”

  Anneke was about to protest this intricate argument when I gave both their hands a shake. “If you don't behave, we're going back to the house.”

  “Are you a mommy, too?”

  “She's not a mommy, silly billy,” Anneke scoffed. “She's just an auntie.”

  And from nowhere, twin hands of regret and guilt caught me in a stranglehold.

  “You're squeezing too hard,” Anneke complained, pulling her hand back.

  “I'm sorry,” I murmured, easing off on my grip while scrabbling for equilibrium again.

  Maybe it was the pictures of Nicholas, maybe it was being around Amelia and her baby that brought out feelings I thought had been dealt with and effectively disposed of.

  Obviously not.

  Thankfully, I wasn't expected to say anything. I was, after all, “just” an auntie. And I was older than Anneke's and Carlene's mothers. Borderline antique.

  By the time we got to the wooden fence on the side of the corral, I had things under control again. Through spaces between the rough planks I saw figures moving. I caught a flash of four white legs, then booted feet.

  “She looks a bit Roman-nosed,” I heard a gruff voice say.

  jack, I thought, surprised at the little jump in my heart.

  “She'll be okay. At least her feet are good.”

  “That's my daddy.” Anneke put her finger to her lips and with exaggerated motions, tiptoed toward the corral.

  I heard a faint woof, and then Sasha squirmed under the fen
ce, barking at us, her tail waving a happy greeting.

  Anneke pulled her sweaty hand free from mine. I made a quick grab for her shirt, but caught only air.

  “Surprise, Daddy!” Anneke shouted as she disappeared around the corner, the dog joining in with a couple of happy barks.

  I chased her around the corner in time to see a horse rear and Dan hit the ground with a thud, the reins from the horse's bridle swinging free.

  Dan rolled away as Jack jumped down from his perch on the corral fence and caught the reins.

  I grabbed Anneke's shirt with one hand and Sasha's collar with the other, and yanked them both toward me.

  “Why aren't you at the house with Mom?” Dan demanded. The glare he sent my way did not bode well for any future brother-sister bonding moments.

  “Nicholas is here,” Anneke whined, deflecting his question.

  “Nicholas is sitting quietly by the other gate,” Dan said, beating a misshapen felt hat against his leg. “Not yelling and screaming and scaring Jack's horse.”

  “She wanted to surprise you,” I said in Anneke's defense. He didn't need to be angry. Jack had the horse under control and was even now stroking its head, talking in low, almost hypnotic tones.

  Dan brushed his hand over his pants, and I saw the smear of dirt on his shoulder and hip. He caught the direction of my gaze, and, to my surprise, a light smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Sorry. Not my best moment,” he said.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dan rolled his shoulder, as if testing it. “A direct hit on my ego, but otherwise everything is intact.” He looked down at Anneke, who was staring at the ground. Sasha sniffed her hand, oblivious to her part in the mini drama.

  “Hey, punkin,” Dan said, touching her head with one hand. “I'm sorry I got mad at you.”

  Anneke pushed a clod of dirt with the toe of her shoe, making him wait a second longer for absolution, then she lifted her eyes shyly to him. “That's okay, Daddy.”

  He gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Anneke.”

  He looked back at Jack leading the horse around the corral. “Whaddya think, Jack? Should we try the round pen again?”

  “I can try to get on her again.” I couldn't see Jack's eyes past the sunglasses, but I caught a definite smile. “If Terra can keep those kids under control, it's worth a try.”

  “I'm just the babysitter,” I said. As far as snappy comebacks go, this one had all the zip of broken elastic. Jack seemed to have that effect on me.

  “Can we watch, Daddy?” Anneke asked, tilting her head to one side in a childish parody of a beguiling flirt.

  “You'll have to go to where Nicholas is sitting,” Dan warned.

  “Come on, Carlene!” Anneke called out. But this time I was wise to her and caught her by the shoulder before she could scamper off.

  I knelt down in the dirt, preferring not to think of what my knees might possibly be resting on. Control over my young niece was more important than the state of my new blue jeans. “You have to be quiet, remember? I don't want to get into trouble again.”

  Nor did I want to see Jack getting pitched onto the ground.

  Anneke nodded solemnly, and I gave her shoulder an extra squeeze just to underline my warning.

  I held tightly to her and Carlene's hands, and this time not even a murmur of protest was forthcoming from either.

  I may not have been a mommy, but I was getting this aunt thing down.

  Nicholas was standing on a walkway that ran along the outside of a chute alongside the corral, his hands clutching the rough-hewn wood of the fence in front of him.

  As we took our spot alongside him, the beginnings of a squeal gathered in Anneke's throat, but I clamped my hand on her shoulder, and she obediently choked it off.

  And the score was two to one for the crabby auntie.

  Sasha dropped down into the shade of the fence, her head on her paws, and emitted a sigh, disappointed in our lack of action.

  “Horse,” Nicholas said, pointing to the horse that Dan and Jack were talking about. Jack held the reins in one hand, the other rested on the horse's neck.

  Jack gathered the reins, grabbed them and the saddle horn, and pressed his hands down on the saddle. The horse didn't flinch. Then he put his foot in the stirrup and slowly put some of his weight on the saddle.

  Bit by bit, he got the horse accustomed to more of his weight, each time getting off and then leading the horse around the corral before he tried again.

  The sun grew warm, and sweat formed on my hairline, bringing out the curl that I'd spent half my life fighting. But the scene in front of us was hypnotically peaceful.

  Finally, after a long stretch of slow movements, Jack lay across the saddle, slowly slipped one leg over to the other side, and sat up straight.

  The horse twitched her ears and gave her head a little shake, but didn't move.

  “I think we're gonna be okay.” Jack's voice was a quiet rumble, and Dan gave him a gloved thumbs-up.

  Jack gently nudged the horse in the flank, and she took a hesitant step ahead.

  “Good girl.” Jack leaned forward and gently stroked her neck, then tried it again. And when he achieved the same result, praised her again.

  A few more tries and the horse was walking quietly around the corral. “She's doing well,” Jack said, throwing Dan a gloating look.

  “Don't rejoice too soon.” Dan leaned back against the boards, his arms crossed over his chest, his shirt still holding the smudge of dirt from his dismount. “She's unpredictable. Could still get away on you.”

  “She trusts me.” Jack patted the horse gently and kept her moving.

  The only sound in the still afternoon air was the muffled thud of the horse's feet as they hit the ground, accented by small puffs of dust. I caught a faint whiff of warm horse as a breeze teased the dead air, feather-light.

  Jack looked at home in the saddle. And from the relaxed set of his mouth, at peace. He looked more cowboy than cop.

  “You want to try to get her moving a little faster?” Dan asked finally, his voice slipping into the quiet.

  “Patience never ruined a horse.”

  Jack made a few more circuits of the corral, then gently eased himself out of the saddle and hooked his arm under the horse's neck, patting it gently, talking to her in soft, low tones.

  That was the first time in my life I'd ever been jealous of a horse.

  “I'm thirsty,” Carlene whispered.

  “Me, too,” Anneke chimed in. “Nicholas, are you thirsty, too?” she asked. “Do you want some juice?”

  “Stay,” was his succinct reply, his eyes intent on Jack and the horse.

  Sasha got to her feet, waving her tail expectantly. Maybe this time the humans were going to do something interesting, like chase some cows or, at the very least, go for a walk beyond the boundaries of the yard.

  “I'm taking the kids to the house,” I told Dan, trying to ignore Jack, who was now watching me. “Nicholas wants to stay.”

  “Tell Les that we'll be coming in in a bit,” he said.

  I herded the two girls away from the corral, escorted by Sasha, who ran on ahead, jumping up and down like a rocking horse, her head twisting back to make sure we were still coming.

  When she realized we weren't going anywhere near the driveway, she slowed her pace and dropped her head, telegraphing her disappointment with our lack of vitality.

  I stroked her warm, dog-smelling fur to make up for our deficiency. “Maybe some other time,” I promised her. “I'll come over and we'll go for a long walk.” Still petting her, I looked past the farm to the blue mountains beyond, envisioning myself walking over hill and vale, this faithful dog at my side. In my vision, I dangled a straw hat with ribbons that trailed over the grass, a wide peasant skirt flowing in the wind as the dog frolicked beside me. I laughed and turned to the shadowy figure at my side. Not too tall. Brownish hair. Hazel eyes. Long eyelashes. Deep voice, compelling in a rough kind of way…

  Okay. Enough.
I glanced guiltily around the yard for the girls I was supposed to be taking care of. There they were. Heading up the sidewalk to the house, each holding a bouquet of dandelions.

  I caught up just as Anneke pulled open the screen door.

  “I got you flowers, Mommy,” Anneke called out as she toed off her running shoes and kicked them into a corner of the porch.

  “Anneke went faster so she could be first,” Carlene grumbled, dropping onto the floor and yanking off her shoes. “She always wants to win.”

  “I bet if you put your shoes away nice and neat, that will make your mommy a lot happier than the flowers will,” I said, hoping my feeble words would encourage her.

  Carlene looked from me to the shoes as if weighing my authority on the subject. “Mommy says I'm a grub.”

  Kathy wasn't too far off the mark, I thought, noticing the dirt smudges on Carlene's pants, the orange ring around her mouth, and the tangles in her hair. I gave her a quick smile. “But I bet she loves you anyway.”

  Carlene nodded, then with a sigh pushed her shoes into a cubbyhole. She grabbed her flowers and slowly got up. “You talk like a mommy.”

  My heart took a slow, rolling plunge, pulling my smile with it.

  But Carlene was already heading into the house, holding her awkward bouquet and leaving me behind to deal with the pain of her innocent comment.

  I allowed myself a tiny sting of hurt before I pulled in a breath, conjured up the smile, and joined the party.

  Leslie was putting Anneke's flowers in a vase when I came in. “How is Dan making out with the horse?”

  “He bucked Dan off.”

  “What? Is he okay?”

  “I know a great orthopedic surgeon who will have those discs fused faster than you can say co-pay.”

  “Did he swear?” Kathy put in with an expectant grin. Which, in spite of our earlier moment, made me laugh.

  “Kathy, please,” Leslie protested, glancing at both Anneke and Carlene, crouched at their feet playing with the paper scraps, as if assessing any potential damage to their delicate psyches.

  “Not in front of the girls.” I shared Kathy's wink, eager to capitalize on this mini connection.

  Leslie's eye-roll expressed her antipathy. “That guy. I thought he would have left bad language behind in Seattle with the mechanic business.”