The idea of so much food, all free except for the seeds, made her dizzy. She wouldn’t waste one single bit of it, either. She knew how to put food away, in the freezer and into jars. Her mama had taught her that, and although Paris had hated it at the time, now she was grateful.
Behind her, Calvin came into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast, Mama?”
“How about Cheerios?”
He climbed into his chair and she kissed his head. As she poured the cereal, her stomach growled. Later, they could eat at the church, and this afternoon, she’d take that last five dollars and buy some eggs and bread, maybe a tiny bit more milk if she could squeeze it out. Eggs and bread and milk could keep body and soul together pretty well.
Chapter Ten
When she looped back home, Elsa could see the news vans from two blocks away. Antennas stuck into the lifting clouds, and even at this distance, she could see a handful of reporters in long camel coats milling around, coffee cups in their gloved hands. She paused on the sidewalk and tried to think of an alternative to plowing right into the middle of them. She ducked left and headed down the alley, cursing under her breath when it set all the dogs on high alert. Charlie loped along, ignoring them in his superiority. He looked over his shoulder at her, as if to say, Do you hear these cretins going insane?
“You are so supercilious, Charlie-Man.”
One intrepid reporter had set up camp in the alley and he whistled loudly as she appeared, moving forward to shove a mic at her. “Can you tell us where Scott is? When’s his wife going to spill the beans?”
Elsa held up a hand and hurried by him, letting herself in through the gate and closing it firmly behind her. She didn’t have the key to the back door, so she knocked on it, calling loudly, “Tamsin, it’s me! Let me in!”
Her sister appeared at the door, hair an uncombed tangle, her eyes swollen from sleep or wine or crying. Her phone was pressed to her ear and she raised a finger to her lips. Alexa, she mouthed.
A hubbub erupted in the alley as Elsa closed the door behind her and drew the curtains over the windows of the sunporch, an unheated space at the back of the house, lined with windows. In high school, she’d grown plants of various sorts out here, and her mother had kept small appliances on the shelves—a blender and a mixer, and all the things that wouldn’t fit in the cramped kitchen. There was nothing here now but the view of the backyard, which thankfully no one had yet breached.
Privacy secured, Elsa headed into the front room. Tamsin was making listening noises to her daughter, her tone upbeat and utterly unconcerned. Elsa caught her eye. Tamsin shook her head, again putting her finger to her lips. “That sounds like a great weekend, honey.” She laughed, lightly. “Not everyone can say they swam with royals.”
Elsa went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee—clearly Tamsin had only just rolled out of bed for Alexa’s call. She would need something heartening. When the coffee was going, she pulled out a skillet and the ingredients for pancakes, eavesdropping shamelessly.
Tamsin said, “I just haven’t had a chance to check my email for a couple of days.” Not strictly a lie. “I’ll read it after a while. I have plans with your aunt Elsa this afternoon.” Also sort of true.
From the freezer, Elsa took a package of blueberries, and poured some into a bowl to run under cold water. In the living room, Tamsin was finishing off her conversation. “Don’t worry about anything for this last month, honey, just enjoy every single second, okay? It’ll be back to the real world before you know it.”
Still holding the phone, Tamsin leaned on the threshold to the kitchen. “She called because she hasn’t heard from her dad since he was in Madrid,” she told Elsa. “He’s not answering emails and his phone goes to an error message.” In the early morning, without makeup, she looked suddenly older, her mouth pale, her eyes ringed in smudgy shadows. “I didn’t know what to say. I don’t want to lie, but she’s only there for another month, and I’d hate to see that ruined.”
Elsa broke eggs into a dish, nodding. Privately, she was pretty sure Alexa would hear the news before much longer, but she’d let Tamsin come to that conclusion herself. It wouldn’t hurt to let her have her delusion for a few hours.
“Do you think that’s going to come back and bite me, that I’m protecting her from the truth? What is she going to do differently? I mean, nothing, right? And there’s the possibility that it will all be sorted out by the time she gets home.”
“Sure. That’s possible.”
Tamsin looked at the phone and a long hank of hair fell down in her face. “You think I’m deluding myself. I don’t actually think it will be sorted out, either, but there is the possibility.”
“You know your daughter better than anyone, Tamsin. You know the right thing to do.”
She raised her head, hope giving new light to her blue eyes.
“You think so?”
“Good grief, who are you? Where is my mighty sister? The mistress of all she surveys? The queen of all things?”
She shook her head, balancing the phone in the middle of her upheld palm. “I feel winded. Like I can’t breathe.”
“Well, go wash your face and then we’ll eat breakfast.”
Shouts came from the front of the house and there was a knock at the door. “What are we going to do about them?”
“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do. You’re part of the story. They’re going to do what they can to get something out of you.”
“Should we watch the news?”
“No. Breakfast first, then we can decide on a plan of action. Seriously, sis, go brush your hair and wash your face and we’ll eat. It will make you feel better.”
“I need to go to church,” Tamsin said firmly. She looked at the clock. “There’s a Mass at ten. I can get a shower and go to that one.”
Elsa raised her eyebrows. “Mass, Tamsin? Seriously? Since when do you ever go to church?”
“I have to do something! I feel like I’m right on the brink of a panic attack.” She put her palm on her throat. “Like I’m going to throw up.”
“So say the rosary from here,” Elsa said. “Or, better yet, make something beautiful. That’s your worship.”
“No! Those, those … nosy pigs out there aren’t going to keep me locked up in this house.”
Elsa thought of Kiki’s memorial service, all of the reporters, the sensitive and the crass all mixed up together, their prurient curiosity creating a wedge and an unwanted distraction for those who were earnestly grieving. Their presence had interfered with what might have been a pivotal healing point for a great many of them.
Including, perhaps, Elsa herself.
“I get that, but you can’t go to church,” she said to Tamsin. “You have an obligation to do what you can to minimize the trouble this is going to cause for other people. You can’t do a lot to spare your neighborhood or even mine, but you can keep it away from San Roque during services. It’s only fair.”
“How is any of this fair?” Tamsin’s red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. “And why do I have to be the noble one? I’ve lost everything.”
“No you haven’t. You have more than a lot of people. You’re healthy. You have your daughter. Your life. Even if everything else is gone, you’ve got a lot of advantages.”
Tamsin bowed her head. “It doesn’t feel that way right now.”
Elsa hugged her. “I know, sweetie, but it will get better.” Releasing her, she said, “Now, go take a shower. Wash your hair. We’ll eat breakfast.”
“And say the rosary.”
Clearly Tamsin expected Elsa to participate. Whatever. She didn’t have to believe it to do it. “Yes. That, too.”
At a little past seven that evening, Joaquin came over for a late supper at Elsa’s house, at her request. She watched from the window as he wove calmly through the little knots of newspeople, holding up a hand and shaking his head as he made his way to the door. She cracked it open and ushered him in. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he
said.
“Tell us about it.” From the table, Tamsin rolled her eyes. Her hands were cupped around a mug of tea. “Things aren’t crazy enough without them, right?”
Elsa took his long black coat. He held a small package. “Come on in. We’re having chicken and dumplings because it’s Tamsin’s favorite comfort food and she needs a little comfort.”
“Smells great. And you know I love it.”
“Yes.” She hung up his coat as he went to Tamsin’s side and put his hand on her shoulder, that big, steadying hand.
“How are you?”
She shrugged. “I feel trapped.”
“Well, I brought you the sacraments, if you like. Perhaps it will help.”
Tamsin nodded.
As he chanted the words, Elsa stepped back, giving them space for the rite, watching as he carefully poured wine and wiped the chalice, as he offered it to Tamsin. Funny, Elsa never saw him in this role, as priest and confessor. It seemed to give him height, breadth. She listened to the words, loving as always the timbre of his voice, the depth of his reverence.
But her stony heart did not soften. Or crack open.
When he finished, Elsa took dishes out of the cupboard, wide shallow bowls, and ladled chicken and soft, biscuit-style dumplings into them, making sure there were enough carrots and celery to brighten each serving.
The bowls did not match. One was a Titanic replica she’d found at a yard sale, another was deep cobalt and gilt, which she put in front of Joaquin, and the third was a delicate china bowl with flowers at intervals along the edge. With a secret little smile, she put the Titanic bowl down in front of her sister. The ship’s name was hidden under the food.
“How were your sermons today?” Elsa asked, sitting down.
“Very good. There were a lot of people this morning.”
“And it’s not even Easter.”
Joaquin grinned, his hair falling down his forehead. “True. That always brings them in.” Capturing a dumpling, he admired it for a moment. “I think it’s the garden that’s bringing more people in. They feel included, like they matter.”
“That’s the whole point, right?”
“I thought it would take longer.” He tidily ate the dumpling. “Do you think it would make sense to have chickens?”
“To eat?” Elsa asked. “Or for eggs?”
“Both, I guess. I’ve never had them, so I don’t really know what’s involved, but maybe having fresh eggs and the odd old hen for the pot would be a nice addition. Teach the children about sustainable food, get some fresh eggs for the soup kitchen. What do you think?”
“Ew!” Tamsin cried. “How can you eat them after you’ve made friends with them, fed them? That will totally traumatize those kids.”
“Don’t be silly,” Elsa said. “Kids are sturdier than that.”
“Who’s the mom here?” Tamsin snapped.
Elsa looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“I haven’t had chickens, either,” Elsa said, “so I need to look into it, gather some facts. It might not even be allowed in the city.”
“But what if it is? What do you think of the idea in general?”
“Not sure, really.” She put down her fork and spoon and picked up her napkin, imagining plump black hens clucking around the gardens, speckled brown eggs still warm from the bodies of the birds. “I like the idea. You know, fresh eggs and teaching the children about where food comes from in a real, honest way.” She scowled. “But what about roosters? Do you have to have one to get eggs?”
“I have no idea!” Joaquin admitted with a big grin. “I guess we’ll need to find that out, too.”
“They’re really noisy.”
His eyes glittered. “Are you thinking of the roosters in Spain?”
“Yes! I am.” A memory of a cock crowing all night long somewhere along the Camino came to her—his voice ragged by the time the sun came up. “Where was that really obnoxious one? Estella?”
“Maybe. It’s been a long time. I remember they woke us up a lot, and the one I remember most is the guy at the end, right after everyone finally went to bed following that all-night fiesta.”
“Oh, I remember that! It was some festival for the dead and they had a band that started playing at eleven o’clock at night. We were exhausted.”
“Lavacolla.” He glanced at Elsa, then away. “The last day.”
She remembered, too. They had an unspoken pact to keep certain things off the table, some painful, some joyous, some—like this one—carnal. She tried to think of something to say, but the memory of the big open window of the hotel room, the stars shining, Joaquin’s skin against hers, was powerful.
In the silence, their spoons clicked against their bowls.
“Jeez,” Tamsin said. “You two sure got quiet. What happened that day?”
Joaquin shook his head. “Nothing. That just brought back a lot of memories. Do you still have your shell, Elsa?”
“Yes. And my passport.”
“Was the camino hard?” Tamsin asked.
Elsa glanced at him. Their eyes caught and tangled for the most fleeting of seconds. “Brutal, actually. We thought we were so tough, and we were whining within a few days.”
Joaquin carefully cut a piece of chicken, noticeably silent.
“You guys never really talk about that trip. What happened to you?” Tamsin asked. Her tone was flat, and she was barely eating, pushing food from one side of the plate to the other, which would undermine Elsa’s Titanic joke.
“It was a big adventure,” Elsa said lightly, and reached for the bowl. “If you’re not eating that, maybe I should pour it back in the pan.”
“Sorry. Not very hungry.”
“It would be good for you to eat,” Joaquin said gently, and touched her hand.
She looked at him for a minute, then picked up her spoon and ate a bite. Two. Elsa thought again of the camino, of a rainy day and the way her feet felt after fifty-six days of walking, and how her heart and spirit seemed to grow lighter and lighter with each new blister.
“Did Elsa tell you that they wouldn’t let me in my house today?” Tamsin said to Joaquin.
“No,” he said.
“They told me I’d be able to get in there, but then they wouldn’t let me go after all, not even for my personal things. The investigation is under way or something.” She tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what they think my underwear is going to tell them.”
“I’m sure they’re worried that you’ll take something else,” Elsa said. “We’ll talk to the lawyer tomorrow, and if they don’t let us in then, we can go to Target and get you some underwear and things.”
“With what money, Elsa? I don’t have anything. Not even one little bitty credit card or secret stash or anything. Nothing.”
“I have some savings,” Elsa said calmly. It wasn’t a lot, but it would stretch that far. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
Joaquin said, “We have a benevolence fund for emergencies. I’ll talk to Wilma in the church office tomorrow and she can order a check. It’ll cover a few clothes.”
She bent her head. Nodded.
“Eat,” Joaquin urged quietly. She obeyed.
Again, the thick ticking of the clock. “Maybe we need some music,” Elsa said. She pushed back her chair and turned the radio on to a pop station. But it was too jangly and she turned it off.
Joaquin finished his dumplings, placed his napkin neatly on the table. “ ‘All things work together for good for those who love God,’ Tamsin,” he quoted. “You asked what happened on the camino. In a way, I did. That’s when I was called to the priesthood.”
Tamsin raised her head, intrigued. “How did you hear a call? Like a voice?”
“People hear it many different ways, but for me, it was an actual voice.”
Elsa leaned on the table, pushing away her bowl. Let him do his work. Her sister needed him.
“What did it say?” Tamsin lifted a hearty bite
of stew. Ate.
“That’s private, but I can say that it was unmistakable, and true. I knew from the time I was seven that I was meant to be a priest, but I had been running away from it.”
“Why?”
Elsa watched his face, the weariness that moved over his temples, his mouth. He didn’t look at her. “Because it is not an easy road. Because I wanted the ordinary joys of a family.”
“And you were engaged. You guys were like the most solid couple ever.”
Elsa took a breath. It had been a long time, almost two decades, but in her current raw state, these memories could still sting. She had to fight a powerful urge to stand up and fuss with the food or do the dishes, start some coffee.
“We were,” he said. “From the eighth grade, there was nobody else for either of us.” He folded his hands, as if to keep them to himself, and Elsa smiled gently, a sudden softening in her chest making her breathe more easily. She rested her own hand on his forearm briefly.
“We were,” she echoed.
“I don’t see how God could want to take that away from you.”
“I knew what I was supposed to do from the time I had the measles, remember.” He lifted a finger, pointing it toward the heavens. “If I had been faithful to the first call, I would not have—” He cleared his throat. “I would have done things differently.”
“So would Elsa. It wasn’t very fair to her, was it?”
He started to speak, but Elsa held up her hand. She could spare him this, at least. “All things work together for good,” she said, and something rippled through her, a softness. “I had things I needed to do, too.”
Tamsin inclined her head. “I wish I felt that. Not the call, the God thing, because honestly, I don’t think there’s anything out there.”
“And yet you accepted the sacraments today.” Joaquin smiled.
She shrugged. “Maybe it will help.” She took a breath. “A sense of purpose would be nice.”
“You need only ask,” Joaquin said.
“But then watch out, right? What if I get called to do something I don’t want to do, like you did?”
“Oh, but I love being a priest,” he said, and put a hand on his heart. “It gives my life meaning, and shape, and purpose. I am honored every day to be so called. That’s how it works. You’re called to do work that’s right for you.”
The Garden of Happy Endings Page 10