“Let’s drive over to the clinic and see how the blood sugar is this morning.”
“I know how it is—I have my Glucometer—”
“Doc says he wants to test you personally.”
I got into his pickup, and in a few minutes I was inside the clinic. I couldn’t get sick while I was here. Sara would never forgive me if I stayed longer than my allotted time.
The reading was down, an acceptable ninety-two. I wanted to burst into song.
“No lasting effect from your Coke fight?” Vic grinned.
I was far too old for a girlish blush, but my cheeks didn’t seem to know that. “None, and it was sugar-free Coke, not real Coke. I’m not that tough.”
A brow shot up. “Tough enough to eat my meat loaf tonight?”
Most women would recognize an invitation to dinner, but I wasn’t most women. I was rusty at this man-woman business, and besides, this was Vic, and admittedly I do silly things. “Not that tough. Why don’t I make lasagna?”
“Okay by me. What time?”
“Provided the stove will light? Six. That too early?”
“I’ll be there. What can I bring?”
“An appetite.”
He drove me back to the vet clinic, and I left a few minutes later, humming. I liked lasagna. Hadn’t had it in a month, and dinner—an innocent dinner with an old friend—had nothing to do with my sudden burst of well-being.
I doubled back to a convenience store some five miles away, not wanting to bump into anyone until last night’s debacle had faded from memory.
On second thought, I couldn’t stay hidden that long.
I reached for the cell phone and punched in the number for a plumber that I’d gotten from an old telephone directory at Beth’s house. Here’s hoping the place was still in business. The line rang ten times before someone finally picked up.
“Yup?”
“Kelo Plumbing?”
“Yup.”
“I need a hot water heater replaced, and a drippy kitchen faucet repaired. Can you help?”
“Yup.”
I rattled off the address. “Know where that is?”
“Yup. You Herman’s kid?”
And so it begins. “Can you come today?”
“Nope.”
“Monday?”
“Yup. Afternoon. Late.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Yup.”
I clicked off, humming a tune at my progress. Now all I had to do was find a ceiling man and a roofer who could talk in complete sentences.
Mayer’s Quick Shop was like any home-owned stop-and-shop. I pulled up to the pump and filled my gas tank, enjoying morning sunshine and the lack of traffic. Parnass Springs’s slower pace suited me just fine. Ingrid and Beth’s great-great grandfather had founded the town and built the covered bridge. The town drew a fair amount of tourists with the historical landmark and trendy gift shops.
I browsed the shelves, picking up basic food items: milk, bread, eggs, canned goods, D-Con, and mouse traps, plus stuff for lasagna. I was looking forward to the impromptu dinner date. Vic was still the only man who made me giddy.
Yeah, giddy.
The thirtysomething lady behind the counter had long, straight brown hair, and braces on her teeth accentuating a friendly smile. She totaled my purchases and raised her eyebrows. “Will that be all?”
“Yes. No…wait.” My nose detected fresh doughnuts. Not Krispy Kreme, but close. “I’ll take a dozen glazed.”
Not on my diet, but one wouldn’t hurt. The sugary fragrance tormented me on the drive home.
Back at Aunt Beth’s house I washed the cabinet shelves and put away the groceries. The plumber had recognized my address. That didn’t surprise me, but I’d hoped the memory of Herman had faded. I’d loved Herman, of course I had, but a part of me resented him. And yes, a bigger part of me was ashamed of him. One didn’t easily overcome the stigma of a father accused of molesting a young woman.
“Herman isn’t all there.” Ingrid’s words from so long ago rang in my ears. “You have to be kind to your father—he has the mind of a seven-year-old.”
Unfortunately, he also had a youth’s hormones. So it was that Herman Moss, Aunt Ingrid’s stepson, impregnated a girl living in the same assisted-living home. The result? Me. Marlene Moss—innocent victim of a mentally challenged couple. Some insisted Herman had molested the girl, but Ingrid vehemently denied the charge. Herman was simple, not a pervert.
Ingrid and Eugene allowed the pregnancy and refused to discuss adoption. Why Ingrid and Beth wanted to raise Herman’s child was beyond me, but maybe that was the answer: they both wanted their way and their way was me. Both women were strong pro-lifers. The girl’s family favored adoption, but Ingrid and Beth fought for Herman’s “parental” rights. Though Herman certainly couldn’t raise me, neither could the young woman involved. After custody was awarded to my aunts, my mother was immediately moved to another facility.
I was left to face collateral damage. Namely me, Aunt Ingrid, and Aunt Beth.
Parnass Springs was a close-knit town, and the incident created a real scandal. Cruel accusations flew back and forth about Herman, the funny man that stood head and shoulders above others, whose front teeth hung over his bottom lip. Who was loud. So loud. People excused his unacceptable behavior because of his innocence, and Aunt Beth and Ingrid upheld their decision. For unfeeling women, they showed unusual compassion to an infant who had no say in the matter.
I shook the uninvited memories away, surprised they were still so strong. I wasn’t going to think about Herman. That part of my life was over.
On impulse I picked up the box of doughnuts and walked across the street. The parsonage hadn’t changed much, and neither had the small white clapboard church with the narrow steeple. I pictured the polished solid-oak pews, the round white globe light fixtures, and the oak cross at the back of the baptistery. The church was as familiar to me as Aunt Beth’s house.
I stepped up to the porch and knocked. Joe Brewster answered. We studied each other for a moment. He was older; his hair as white as the clouds skipping overhead, but his sturdy frame was unbowed. Warm brown eyes still saw through my facade right to the heart. His smile was as genuine and full of mischief as the day I’d left all those many years ago. I walked into his arms. He hugged me close and I hugged him back.
“Marlene. Let me look at you.”
I smiled, knowing what he would see. The passing years hadn’t been kind to the young woman he’d known. A wayward husband, raising a daughter alone, keeping the wolf from the door—it all took a toll. But neither Joe nor Vic knew my secret. Nor, for that matter, did anyone else in Parnass Springs.
I assumed when Vic married Julie that I’d lost him forever. By then I’d dug myself in so deep with my made-up stories that I didn’t know how to find my way back to the truth.
Joe kissed my forehead. “Still pretty as a picture. Come on in here, little one. You’ve stayed away too long.”
The warmth of his greeting wrapped around me like a favorite blanket. I floated over the threshold and into the kitchen on a wave of goodwill.
“Are those doughnuts I smell?” Joe bustled about the small kitchen, clearing a place at the cluttered table.
I stared at the contraption that looked like a modern moonshine still sitting on the kitchen counter. Coffee bubbled through coiled glass tubing before rushing into the waiting cup.
“What is that?”
“My latest invention.” He grinned. “State-of-the-art coffeemaker. Does everything but put it in a saucer and blow on it. It double filters the coffee so it’s extra pure, even adds cream and sugar.”
“Extra pure. How about that.” I sipped from the cup he handed me and made appropriate lip-smacking noises, rolling my eyes. “Heavenly. So, you’re still inventing?”
“Vic swears the machine is nuts, but with a little more tinkering, I can get the bugs worked out. The widow Hanks wasn’t too pleased with my new back scratcher, but
that woman doesn’t appreciate what it takes to come up with hightech quality.”
I choked on my coffee. “What happened?”
“Well shoot, the thing almost took the hide off her back. I had a bolt set a little too loose and it slipped into high gear. Got to scratching a bit too furious and Verna got all vexed. Said it clawed like a riled cat.”
I burst out laughing. If Verna Hanks was anything like I remembered, I’d bet Joe got a tongue-lashing he hadn’t forgotten. “Was she upset?”
“You could say that, but there wasn’t any reason for her to call me a menace to society. I offered to give her money back.”
He filtered another cup of coffee. There were similarities in father and son’s features, but Vic favored his mother. Odd. Vic and I had talked every New Year’s Eve—hadn’t missed a year since the day I left Parnass Springs. I’d kept up on everything going on in town, and what Vic hadn’t told me, Aunt Beth and Ingrid had. Yet I hadn’t seen him in what? Twelve years? Not since he’d been in Chicago for a veterinary convention and I met him for dinner downtown. We’d talked for hours. Noel had left me, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to tell Vic that I’d made a terrible mistake by leaving Parnass and him. Besides, by then he was happily settled with Julie.
That night was crystal clear in my mind, the night I’d first deceived this man. I was crazy, confused, so happy to see him, but sick at heart that I had made the biggest mistake of my life by walking away and marrying Noel. Of course the subject came up over dinner.
Stirring his coffee, Vic had faced me, solemn faced. “You loved Noel enough to run away and marry him? Without talking to me? That hurt, Marlene.”
Looking anywhere but at him, I’d said softly, “I thought I loved him. When you’re eighteen, you’re not thinking clearly—at least I wasn’t.”
“But you’re happy? “His eyes searched mine, looking for—what? Confession that I had been the biggest of fools and wished I’d never heard the name Noel Queens? If I spoke the damning words, what difference would it make to him now? Julie was waiting at home—a lovely woman whom Vic loved with all his heart and soul.
And so the lies began.
“Very happy!” I pasted on my brightest smile and asked for the dessert menu, as if Key lime pie would absolve sin. Only briefly had I thought I loved Noel Queens. I was an idealist at eighteen. I thought I wanted to spare Vic a life without children. At the time I was so sure I had his interests at heart, but within a couple of years my sacrificial instincts had turned to rot, and I knew I’d married Noel to get away from Parnass and Herman’s memories.
What sort of person admits she’s so shallow that she has to run—and continue to lie—to avoid her past?
Me. Marlene Queens.
So shallow that I would rather live a lie than let Ingrid, Beth, Vic, or Joe know I was that sort of wretch. And once the lie was spoken, it was relatively easy to keep alive.
Joe brought me back to the present when he offered the doughnuts. I shook my head. “Diabetes. I thought I might have one when I bought them, but I think I’ll pass.” The lower blood sugar reading this morning had encouraged me. “So, what’s going on in Parnass Springs?”
“I’m retiring and the church is throwing a big bash next Sunday night.” Joe stirred his coffee.
“Retiring?” I couldn’t believe it. Of course, he had to be sixty-five at least. “How many years have you been the pastor at Mount Pleasant?”
“Forty years this spring. Sure seems longer than that.” Forty years preaching the gospel. How many souls would be in heaven because of his ministry? How many familiar faces would be there to greet him when he entered the gates? I was humbled just thinking about it. “When did you say the celebration is?”
“Next Sunday night. You’ll come, won’t you?” He reached for a second doughnut.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Sara didn’t expect me home until Monday evening. “Do you remember the time Vic and I emptied four quarts of red food coloring into the baptistery?”
“And I had a baptism that morning?” His eyes lit with humor. “The water turned Mrs. Bradley’s silver hair a serious shade of pink. She joined the Methodists shortly after that. Claimed they took sacred rituals more seriously.”
“I can’t believe we did that.” I shook my head. Kids. My daughter had embarrassed me more times than I cared to remember. I guess she was her mother’s daughter.
Joe chuckled. “You know the time that sticks in my mind? When you two troublemakers turned a couple of gerbils loose in the middle of Sunday morning worship service. I don’t believe anyone got much out of the sermon that day.”
“When the pets scattered under the pews, everyone on that row swung their legs up. And one got in Ed Rankin’s pant leg.” I laughed so hard I spilled my coffee. “I never saw a man move so fast.”
We visited for the better part of an hour before I realized the time and left. If I’d let myself, I’d have stayed forever.
My cell phone rang late afternoon. I fumbled for it, knowing who it must be. “Hello, Sara.” I was surprised she waited this long to call after her panic on Friday evening.
My daughter’s breathless voice came over the line. “Mom!”
“Hi. Where did you find the bear?”
“Under the sofa, but Mom! I forgot to tell you that I went to the doctor on Friday, and he just called. I have the most exciting news! “Before I could ask what, she barreled on. “Can’t you guess?”
I sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, my heart suddenly hammering in my throat. I’d welcome a diagnosis on why my daughter had been under the weather for the past month and a half, but the mother in me always feared the worst. What if she had some horrible, incurable disease?
“You’ll never guess what he said!”
“Flu?”
There’d been a particularly nasty strain going around, and I feared Sara would get it. She hadn’t fully regained her strength from the last bout.
“Not the flu.”
“Mono. It’s flared again.”
“No, silly. I’m expecting!”
I nearly dropped the phone. Oh, please, tell me you’re joking.
“Did you hear me, Mom? Isn’t it exciting? Petey and Emma Grace will have a brother or sister in December!”
Thrilling. From the silence, I realized I was expected to rejoice, but three kids in less than five years? “Oh…my.”
“Pete’s walking on air. Oh, wait a minute, Mom. Petey just took a neon tetra out of the aquarium. Petey! Put that fish back in the water!” My daughter’s voice came back on the line. “Isn’t this wonderful, Mom? I am just too, too excited.”
Another baby. Sara, have you lost your mind? I closed my eyes, taking a moment to stem my concerns. She couldn’t handle the children she had.
“Another baby. Well, imagine that.” Twenty-three and a third child on the way.
Enthusiasm didn’t exactly pour from my mouth. All I could think of was a mountain of diapers and getting up at night to feed a crying baby while Sara slept, content to let someone else do the grunt work. I was too old to raise another baby, and I had no illusions as to who would take over when Sara collapsed from fatigue. I had to talk to my son-in-law, Pete. When God said to go forth and replenish the earth, I’m sure he didn’t intend for Pete and Sara to take it on as a one-couple commission. At any rate, it seemed we had another baby on the way, and I would be expected to stay with the family until Sara recuperated.
I tossed and turned most of the night, then finally got up before dawn and made a pot of coffee. Mornings had always been my favorite time of the day, but today I could barely relish the peace. The house was so quiet.
The sun barely topped the trees now, bright green growth, glistening with dew as I drove the familiar route to the country cemetery, past Eddie’s Café and Parnass Park where families picnicked and children caught fireflies on the summer nights and stuck them in mayonnaise jars. I’d heard the café had a fire recently, but repairs had been made and it was open, o
nce again the hub of the coffee-drinking set.
The cemetery appeared ahead. I took a deep breath and braked. Almost anyone who’d ever lived in Parnass Springs was buried here. Even those who moved away sometimes came back to be planted in the town burial ground, much like pigeons returning to the roost.
Our plot sat…where? You’d think I could remember the exact location, but it had been a long time since I was last here. I hadn’t made it back for Herman’s services…
No. I wasn’t going to give in to regret this morning. That was five years ago. Past history.
The annual cemetery cleanup was scheduled for a week from today, a hoopla that included the whole town. I’d participate then, but I wanted to get a head start on our plots. If I knew Ingrid, and I knew Ingrid, years of dead branches and winter’s remaining debris buried the granite and marble headstones.
Loaded with tools I’d brought from the car trunk, I clanged toward the gravesites. Juggling a 32-ounce Styro-foam cup of coffee, a rake, shovel, and plastic pail containing a trowel, my gloves, and a cushion to kneel on, I was amazed the noise hadn’t caused the dead to waken and gripe at my intrusion.
I paused at the headstone where Uncle Eugene’s foot was buried. Poor Uncle Eugene. He loved the women. His first wife caught him in a compromising situation with the town strumpet; she divorced him and left him with their handicapped child, Herman. Ingrid married him a few years later, and then Prue Levitt claimed him. This gravesite was surely one for the record books. When he died a few years back, his parents planned to bury him in his hometown, Olathe, because Prue, the third wife, didn’t have the funds to transport him to Hawaii where she planned to relocate, to be near her son by a previous marriage. Aunt Ingrid had a conniption when Hawaii was mentioned and coerced Eugene’s parents into burying him in their family plot in Kansas. Well…most of him. Years before the divorce, Eugene had lost a foot in a hunting accident. Since he’d been married to Ingrid at the time, the foot rested here in Parnass Cemetery.
To some families that might seem a weird story. For my family? Par for the course.
Simple Gifts Page 3
