All Manner of Things

by Susie Finkbeiner

  “They’re cute little fellows, aren’t they?” I said.

  “Oh, so cute.” She twisted off the top of the jar of cinnamon. “He climbs up and down the tree and cranes his neck to see if I have a treat for him in the feeder. Oh, I love to see him come.”

  I worked a rolling pin over a lump of dough to be cut into molasses cookies, sprinkling a pinch of flour over it every few rolls to keep it from sticking.

  “I haven’t told you much of Pieter, have I?” she asked.

  “No,” I answered.

  Oma didn’t speak of her family very often. And she especially didn’t bring up Oom Pieter, her younger brother. Mom had told me that it was just too hard for Oma. There was simply too much grief in the stories. When we looked through the old photo albums she’d brought from the Netherlands, she’d point to the people and tell me their names and little else.

  Mostly, what I knew of Uncle Pieter was that he was tall with a strong jawline. He was less than a year younger than Oma and two years older than their younger sister. That was all that Oma offered usually.

  But the way that she drew in a good breath and nodded, I knew that she was working up to talk about him. I didn’t push but instead waited for her to begin.

  “When your opa and I came to America, Pieter was still in university in Amsterdam, studying to be a teacher. He’d wanted to be a teacher since we were small.” She smiled. “Always had to teach someone something, even if it was just the lambs my father raised.”

  I left my dough, sufficiently flattened on the counter, and watched her as she told her story. The lines on the outside corners of her eyes deepened, and I knew she was glad to remember her brother.

  “And he did just that,” she went on. “He taught in the little schoolhouse in our village. Even after the Germans came, he continued to teach.”

  “You mean the Nazis?” I asked.

  “Ja. From his letters, he tried to keep on like normal for the sake of the children. I imagine they were frightened. It was a terrifying time. Many of their fathers were taken away to work for the Germans. Several of their classmates were removed to the camps. These were the Jewish children, of course. The children and their families.” She rested her hands on the edge of the counter. “Pieter joined the resistance. My mother wrote about this to me years ago and I seem to have forgotten all he did to resist the Germans. But he was caught. Arrested. Mama seemed to believe it was one of their neighbors who informed against him.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “It was. It was there, in the prison, that he was killed.” She released a sigh. “That winter was the worst I’ve had. I could do nothing for them. Here I was, the world between them and me, and I could do nothing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a dark winter and gray. Your mother was about your age then, I believe, just married to your father. I would stand here in this kitchen.” She pointed her finger at the small window in front of her. “And I would look out into the gloomy days, praying. Mostly I asked God where he had gone. ‘Where are you?’ I’d call to him. Many days, he gave no answer.”

  I hardly dared to breathe, her voice had grown so soft, and I worried that I might miss a word. Leaning forward, I waited for her to go on.

  “In those days I didn’t keep a feeder for the birds,” she said. “Your opa thought it a waste, paying money for seeds that a bird could forage in the woods for free. I suppose he had a good argument. But the birds didn’t visit as often then because I offered them nothing.”

  She glanced my way and smiled.

  “One day, as I prayed and cried, a cardinal came to rest in the branches of my tree there.” She nodded at the maple in her backyard. “His red stood out against the gray, so vivid. Behind him, through the clouds shone a sliver of sunshine. Just for a moment, it bled through.”

  Back to mixing, she smiled again.

  “Achter de wolken schijnt de zon,” she said. “Behind the clouds the sun is shining. If only we have eyes to see it.”

  She used her fingers to separate clumps of dough, rolling them into balls between the palms of her hands.

  Dear Frank,

  This is your official invitation to join us for Christmas. Believe it or not, it was Mom who reminded me to invite you. She even beat Joel to the punch. So, will you come? If you wanted, you could even show up on the Friday before and spend the whole weekend. It would be nice to have you here.

  Please say yes.

  Annie

  Dear Annie,

  I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll bring dessert.

  Frank

  53

  Joel paced through the living room, taking peeks out the front window every time he heard a car drive by. His face was drawn in a sullen expression and I thought he looked more like Frank in that moment than ever before.

  “Sit down, honey,” Mom said, looking up from the book she was reading. “You’re making me nervous.”

  He did as she asked, dropping onto the couch. “Why isn’t he here yet? He said he’d be here.”

  “It’s only seven o’clock,” I said. “Give him just a little more time, okay?”

  “But he said he’d be here for dinner.”

  “No. He said he’d bring dessert. He probably had to work all day.”

  Mom shook her head, rolled her eyes, and went back to reading.

  She wanted to seem as if she wasn’t waiting with bated breath. But her freshly set hair and newly lipsticked mouth didn’t escape my notice.

  Joel could hardly help himself, he turned from his seat on the couch and looked out the window again, slumping back around and sighing.

  “Maybe the roads are bad,” I said. “Give him a little time.”

  But part of me held a niggling fear that he’d decided not to come.

  Frank’s knock on the door came at half past eight and Joel popped right up from his spot on the couch to answer it. He threw open the door and stepped to one side so Frank could come in.

  “The roads were a bit slick,” Frank said, standing in the middle of the doorway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t pick up a dessert after all.”

  “That’s all right,” I said, standing. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “You know what, though.” Frank put a finger to his temple. “I brought somebody with me who had a little something on hand.”

  He stepped to one side, making room for Grandma, a covered pie tin in her hand.

  “I thought you’d never get to it, Francis. I nearly froze to death out there,” she said, handing the plate to Joel and then patting him on the cheek. “Look how you’ve grown.”

  “I even shaved this morning,” Joel said, feeling his jawline.

  “Good for you.” Grandma laughed and turned toward me. “Annie. Pretty as ever.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed my hair behind my ear, not knowing what else to say.

  Compliments from Grandma typically didn’t come in my direction.

  “And, Gloria. So nice to see you again,” Grandma went on. “I hope you don’t mind an old lady showing up unannounced.”

  “Of course not,” Mom said, her voice tense. She closed her book and put it on the end table beside her. “You’re always welcome.”

  “Especially when you bring dessert,” Joel said.

  Mom stood and walked in the direction of the dining room. “Should I get out plates?”

  “I’ll help,” I said, following her. Once we got into the kitchen, I whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t like surprises,” she said, not bothering to talk softly. “He knows that.”

  “It wasn’t a surprise meant for you.” I grabbed a stack of napkins. “Did you see how happy Joel is?”

  “I hate it when you’re right.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I strongly dislike it.”

  Grandma served slices of treacle tart and Mom brewed coffee for Frank and me. Joel declined, even though Frank tried to talk him into giving it another try. We got out a deck of cards and played a few rounds of brid
ge well into the evening. Joel and Grandma played as a team, taking nearly all the tricks there were to be had.

  When Grandma started yawning, she asked Frank to take her to the hotel.

  “Nonsense,” Mom said, tensing. “You can have my bed. There’s no need for you to go to a hotel.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Grandma said. “But Rose put me up for the weekend at the new Lakeview Grand Inn.”

  “How nice.” Mom’s shoulders relaxed.

  “It’s my Christmas present.” Grandma pushed her chair out from the table and stood. “I think Rose was feeling bad about going away on vacation and leaving me behind.”

  “Well, you’ll have to tell me what it’s like,” Mom said, gathering the cards into a pile. “It sure got a nice article in the Chronicle a few months ago.”

  “Why don’t you come drop her off with me?” Frank said. “You could look around a little.”

  “Aren’t you staying there too?” I asked.

  “Rose doesn’t like me that much.” He smirked. “I was just going to get a bed at the motel here in town. Glo, I could bring you back after you see Mother’s room.”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose.” Mom touched her strand of look-alike pearls. “It would be out of your way to drive me home.”

  “Only a few miles,” Frank said.

  “Joel, Annie, did you want to come?” Mom asked.

  Joel put a fist to his mouth and faked the most exaggerated yawn I’d ever seen.

  “I’m beat,” he said. “Excuse me. But I’d better stay home.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.” Mom raised an eyebrow at him.

  “And Annie has to work tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I should probably get to bed.” I gave Mom my sweetest smile. “Maybe I’ll go see it tomorrow.”

  “All right.” Mom shook her head.

  “I’ll get the truck warmed up,” Frank said, grabbing his coat off the back of Mom’s easy chair.

  “And I should powder my nose before going out into the cold,” Grandma said, headed to the bathroom.

  Once alone with us, Mom lowered her voice and put her face close to ours.

  “Listen, you two,” she said. “I’ve seen Parent Trap. It’s not going to work.”

  I thought the goofy grin on Joel’s face would never fade.

  54

  Mike had once discovered that if he lay flat on the landing between his bedroom and mine, he would be unseen by anyone looking up the stairs. But, if he stayed right there, he could hear nearly any conversation being had in the kitchen, the living room, and sometimes even the dining room.

  Not that anything too exciting ever happened in the house that Mike hadn’t either instigated or participated in. But he’d said it was good to know just in case.

  And, as any good big brother would, he’d told Joel about it too.

  That was why I was unsurprised when I stepped out of my room and nearly tripped over my little brother, spread out in front of my bedroom door.

  “Unless you hadn’t noticed, they aren’t back yet,” I said, stepping over him.

  “I want to be ready when they get here,” he said, sitting up. “Come on, be a spy with me.”

  “Not a chance.” I went down two steps. “Mom would tan your hide if she knew you were going to eavesdrop.”

  “How would she find out?”

  “You aren’t exactly quiet.”

  “I can be if I need to,” he said.

  “Uh-huh.” I went all the way to the bottom of the steps and to the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush.

  Just then I heard the rumble of Frank’s truck and Joel hissing, “That’s them.” Without even thinking about what I was doing, I clambered up the steps, hitting the deck beside Joel and shushing him, trying not to giggle.

  The front door opened and closed, a single pair of shoes clipped across the living room floor. The rumble of Frank’s truck sounded again and I could almost feel Joel’s disappointment. He got up from the floor and went to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

  “You might as well come down,” Mom called up the stairs. “I know you’re there.”

  “Sorry,” I said, popping my head up and looking down at her.

  “Oh, I expected your brother.” She took off her earrings. “I was thinking of having some tea. Would you like some?”

  We sat at the kitchen table, tea bags of chamomile floating in our steaming cups. Mom had changed out of her dress and wore her housecoat and slippers. The bright red had been washed off her lips and the false pearls unclasped from her neck and, I assumed, tucked back into the jewelry box on her dresser.

  “Was the hotel nice?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t as grand as I’d expected.” She sighed. “If anything, it’s grossly overpriced.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “I’m sure it will be booked through the summer, though.” She bobbed her tea bag up and down in her cup. “Do you think Joel still hopes Frank and I will get back together?”

  “I believe you know the answer to that,” I said, fishing my bag out of the cup with a spoon and twisting the string around it to squeeze out all the water. “Of course he does.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She picked up her cup, blowing into it before taking a sip. “There was a time when I would have taken Frank back. It would have been hard, but I was determined I could have made it work out.”

  “But you wouldn’t anymore?”

  “Well, I didn’t say that.” She sighed. “Never say never. Right?”

  “Do you still love him?” I asked.

  Putting her cup down, she raised a hand to her lips and looked to her right. “That’s a hard question to answer, honey. If you’d asked me six months ago I might have said no without hesitating. Now I’m not sure how to feel about him.”

  “Do you think he loves you still?”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “What if Frank wanted to come home?”

  “I don’t know that he would,” she said. “But if he did, it would take me a long time to make up my mind. What if I couldn’t be a good wife to him? Sometimes I think I’ve been alone so long that I couldn’t be with anybody. I’ve grown too headstrong over the years.”

  “You weren’t always headstrong?” I grinned at her.

  “I told him tonight that I don’t want that divorce. Not for now, at least.” She put up her hands. “That’s not to say he’s coming back.”

  “Are you going to talk to Joel about this?”

  “I wouldn’t know what to tell him,” she answered. “I don’t want him to get his hopes up and I don’t want to break his heart.”

  “Mike would know,” I said. “He always knows what to say.”

  “Goodness, I miss him.”

  “Me too.”

  We sipped our tea until our cups were empty and then we turned off the lights and went our separate ways. At the top of the stairs, I put an ear to Joel’s door, trying to hear if he was still awake or not. All I could hear was a light, airy snore.

  All he wanted was a normal family.

  It seemed such a small thing to want.

  And such a difficult thing to have.

  Ho-Ho-Ho! Merry Christmas, Family!

  I tried to send this out in time for you to get it right before Christmas. Did it work? Or am I late? Golly, I hope I got the timing right.

  This week the guys in my hooch (just a funny word that means the shack we have the pleasure of calling home-sweet-home) got ahold of some red streamers and hung them up around our bunks. They had a little Christmas tree somebody brought with them from home, just about a foot tall, that they put in the corner with the smallest ornaments you’ve ever seen all over it.

  It almost feels festive. We sure could use some snow to really put it over the top. I’ve been told that it never snows here. Too bad. These folks don’t know what they’re missing.

  I didn’t get around to shopping for all of your presents. Don’t worry, I’ll bring a few t
hings back with me when I come home next year. Joel, I asked if I could bring home a monkey for you. My commanding officer wasn’t amused.

  But what I did was get a picture of me holding a monkey to send to you. Joel, you’re going to have to share with everybody, though. Can you do that, pal? We can’t have you bogarting the image of my good looks.

  Well, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas. Eat all the cookies you can (I hope some are coming my way too!), sing a few carols, play in the snow, and take pictures of every single moment and send a few of them my way.

  Love,

  Mike

  PS: My fingers are all healed up now. Rats! Looks like I’ll be back on the dust-off in the next few days. Well, the busy work was fun while it lasted!

  55

  It was still dark when I woke up. The house quiet. Squinting at my alarm clock I saw that it was just five thirty in the morning. I tried closing my eyes and going back to sleep, but it was no use. After sitting up and putting on my glasses, I pushed open my curtains.

  The snow fell in clumps on the other side of my window. The clusters dropped lazily, as if they had all the time in the world to reach the ground.

  Trying not to make a sound, I bundled myself in a sweater and extra socks, pulling my hair into a messy ponytail, and tiptoed down the stairs. Coat and boots, hat and mittens. I closed the door behind me as softly as I could.

  Most of the people in my neighborhood had left their Christmas trees lit all night as if in an effort to guide Santa to their homes. I walked on as-of-yet undisturbed snow, the bulbs glowing bright in my periphery.

  Before long, I stood on the sidewalk in front of the church. Using my mittened hand, I brushed off the dusting of snow that had gathered on the painted plywood. Last of all, I wiped off the cutout of Jesus, tracing the perfect pink smile with my finger, the wooly yarn of my mitten scratching against it.

  The little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.

  Standing upright, I wondered if that was true, that Jesus hadn’t cried.