She’d learned the verses in Sunday school and sang all the kiddy songs. “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” “Jesus Loves Me,” “God Loves You, God Loves Me,” all with actions to remind them.
What did truly loving mean? What did it look like? What did it feel like? According to the Bible she was supposed to love everyone. Right. Friends and family. Check. So how about loving her mother when she was at her most irritating? Instead of staying as far away as possible. What about the man who made the mother leave Dawn to die in the woods? What about Amber last night? Love her, cow’s bells, she didn’t even particularly like her. And yet she’d given Amber her business card and said she could call. How would she deal with that? If Amber called? Which she doubted she would.
Why did she care if Amber was hitting on Ben?
She jerked her runaway mind back to the time and place. Worship. Focus, Esther!
“It’s not easy but God never commands us to do something without providing the tools to do so. Our excuses run rampant. When I get around to it. Maybe next week. Perhaps after they make the first move.” He paused, slightly nodding and looking around at the congregation. “Love is a choice, not a feeling. Folks, we are on an adventure called Learning to Love. Let’s all learn together. Over the next weeks we’ll be studying this commandment: Love one another, even as I have loved you. Amen.”
He bowed his head to pray. All Esther wanted to do was leave right that instant. When they stood to sing another hymn, all her flight symptoms overrode her stay commands and she left.
Out in the car, she fought the tears that seemed omnipresent lately. Was she still that tired? What was causing her weepy state? Not that stress could cause this or anything. After blowing her nose, she turned right to the highway, rather than left toward the little house she loved and called home. She pulled into the drive-in for an extra-large cup of coffee with one cream and headed south. Refusing to allow her mind to take off on tracks where she did not want it to go, she turned the radio on louder than usual and focused on a discussion between an avowed atheist and a Jewish priest or rabbi or something. Anything to keep her mind away from the topics eating at her, and her mind was always free to float with music.
The devastation of the countryside eased up about fifteen miles outside Pineville. There were still a few downed trees as she drew closer to her parents’ farm. It had been in the family now for three generations. Her brother Kenneth was farming with their dad and planned to take over more as the years passed. Esther knew that right now, her father had no intention of relinquishing the farm yet.
A new dog ran beside their basset Artie as he came to meet her when she parked in front of the garage. “I see you have a friend,” she murmured to the aging dog as he leaned against her legs. The younger basset hesitated, barked at her, then when Artie was happy came up for pats. “When did you come to live here and how come no one told me?” Artie whined and pushed the youngster out of the way. “Obviously you are top dog, which is as it should be.” She knew she was prolonging the entrance to the house. So many questions, comments on how she was looking mighty tired, all the while she would be fighting to keep her public mask firmly in place.
And staying away from her father’s hugs. That would do her in for sure. Keep it light, keep it general, and get out. Those were her personal orders.
Dogs at her heels, she strolled up the steps to the wraparound porch. The door opened to frame her grandmother, Alma Hanson. Arms wide, she waited for Esther to come in.
“I am so happy to see you.” The hug brought a boulder to Esther’s throat. Of course Gramma would be here, Sunday dinner and she lived in a small cottage right behind the old farmhouse.
“Thank you.” Esther hugged her back. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “You look as good as always.”
“Oh, phfff, stuff and nonsense.” She locked her arm through Esther’s. “You and I are going to do some catching up, but right now I’ll grudgingly share you with the rest.”
Esther stopped in the arched doorway to the family room where the men were watching football. She could hear her mother and Joan in the kitchen.
Her brother Kenneth held up one finger, meaning “hold on,” until the play was complete and he leaped to his feet. “Told you they would take it.” He crossed the room to hug his sister. “Took you long enough.”
“You know I don’t drive fast.”
“Not what I meant and you know it.”
Her father, Peter, waited right behind him, then elbowed him aside. “My turn.” He hugged Esther and whispered in her ear. “So glad you could come.”
“Me, too.” And she realized she meant it. “Sorry your team lost.”
He snorted. “They didn’t just lose, they rolled over, paws in the air. Pathetic.”
“Where are the others?”
Kenneth grumbled, “Jill has school, and Andrea’s kids have the mumps.”
“Mumps! You mean they were never vaccinated?”
“Hey. When did Andrea ever do anything right?” Kenneth turned back to the TV remote.
Andrea did lots of things right. Esther bristled. In fact, Kenneth was all too often the screwup.
“So, you’re stuck with the rest of us.” Kenneth put down the remote and picked up the little blond toddler clutching his father’s pant leg. “This is Auntie Esther. Been awhile since you saw her, I think you were just crawling the last time she was here.”
Esther shook her head. “Knew you’d get the barbs in somehow. I was here the week before the storm hit.”
“No, you weren’t.” Her mother, Madge, wearing her normal slight frown, came through the arch. “Been more than two months since you were here, but who’s counting?” She’d tried to lighten her criticism but it was too late as far as Esther was concerned. It never failed. Her mother always had something negative to say. Even when Esther visited, it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t quite perfect.
For a change Esther chose not to respond. She gave her mother a big Brownie smile and glanced to see the woman behind her. “Well, Joanie, look at you!” She turned away from her mother to hug her sister-in-law. It was difficult; the closest she could get to Joanie’s shoulders was about three feet. “When are you due?”
“March. I wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone.”
“What a wonderful surprise. Do you know the sex of the baby yet?”
“No, the ultrasound was inconclusive. But that’s okay. Johnny will have a playmate no matter which. I just want a healthy baby.”
Esther knew they had lost a baby before Johnny and then one after. “You’re taking it easy?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Sorry, can’t help it.” She dug in the purse still hanging on her shoulder and pulled out a sucker. “This isn’t enough to ruin an appetite and it’s sugar-free.”
“Tell Auntie Esther thank you,” Kenneth instructed his son, who was instantly picking at the wrapping.
“Tank you.” He handed his dad the sucker. “Pwease.”
“You want me to eat your sucker?”
The little boy shook his head. “No! Mine. Open.”
Esther rolled her lips together to keep from laughing out loud. “He’s sure learned a lot of words.”
“No was the first one.”
Her mother barked, “Dinner is ready. We’ll dish things up while the rest of you come to the table. Johnny’s chair is by yours, Kenneth.”
When they were all seated, Dad bowed his head and waited for the rest to become quiet. “Lord God, we thank you for this day, for our family, for bringing Esther home for a visit, for healing our grandchildren. And for the food that is always delicious. Amen.”
Johnny echoed “Men,” making everyone chuckle.
Esther dodged questions until the coffee cups were refilled, after the apple pie had disappeared.
“Mom, your apple pie is the best anywhere.”
“She won the top ribbon again at the county fair, too; I heard talk that one should not be able to enter havin
g won more than three times. Or was it five?” Her dad wrinkled his brow trying to remember.
“Mom wouldn’t be able to enter any baked goods with that kind of stipulation.” Kenneth used the side of his fork to scrape up the last smidgeon of pie juice from his plate. “You’re going to have to teach Joanie to make pie like this.”
“She’s tried. I’m hopeless.” She looked to Esther. “Did you learn how?”
“I bake a mean pie, but no one can touch Mom’s.”
“Tell us about the storm!” her mother asked.
“What did you read in the newspapers?”
“It was bad.”
“Doesn’t begin to cover it. We ran out of all our supplies at the clinic, two people with fatal injuries just in the clinic, a baby was born, another found out in the woods, a man still might lose his leg, and too many other tales. Right now one of the old men in town has offered a million dollars to help build a clinic if we can not only break ground but start the foundations in ninety days.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so, too, but he has an ingenuous plan. Make it privately or municipally owned, funded by Pineville itself, starting with his gift and what he can convince others to add to it. Last I heard he had grants or donations of two million more. All these years some of us have been fighting for an up-to-date clinic and now we might get one.”
“I heard you even had a druggie attack!” Yes, Mom would be up on all the bad news.
“We did. Ben James took him down single-handedly. You remember Ben James, quarterback on the Pineville team the two years they went to state?”
“That boy could sure throw that ball.” Kenneth had been a couple of years behind Ben. “I’m surprised he didn’t try for pro ball.”
“He certainly performs well under pressure. He’s with border patrol now, has EMT training, and worked at the clinic all through both storms. You know we had a second storm on the heels of the first? I couldn’t have made it without him.” She started to tell them about Chief but changed tack when she realized that was not a good idea—too difficult for her to handle yet.
“But good will come of it, when you get the new clinic.” Gramma Alma left off playing with Johnny and joined the conversation. “God sure is good at that.”
“We paid a high price and the town meeting is this week. Wood chips will fly in the devil’s workshop, of that I am sure.”
Alma shook her head. “How could anyone be against that? You said two died.”
“Change. There is a large percentage of people, especially in the local government, who don’t want change. And frankly, a lot of skinflints, too. They don’t like to spend money for anything if they can get by with something less. Our X-ray machine, for instance—”
“I don’t like to spend money, either.” Alma scowled. “You don’t toss the old away just because something new’s come out.”
Esther almost had to smile. Gramma Alma still popped corn by vigorously shaking a pan on the stove. “We don’t even have a real estimate yet on what it is going to cost. The estimate I gave them years ago isn’t good anymore. Or recent plans drawn up. I’m sure we’ll form a committee to do that, but that takes time, too.”
“That’s an impossible restriction; nothing can happen in ninety days.” Dad snorted, the snort he used to declare end of discussion.
Kenneth asked, “You have a location in mind yet?”
“Yes, the city owns the land that the present clinic is on and several undeveloped acres beyond the parking lot.”
Her dad shook his head. “You pull this off and it will indeed go down in history as a bona fide miracle.”
“Along with the military bringing in and installing a pontoon bridge until they can get our bridge repaired?” She thought of telling them about her conversations with the two doctors, but figured that would lead to more questions. She glanced across the table to see that Gramma had taken the little guy on her lap and he was sound asleep in her arms. Leave it to Gramma. Esther couldn’t help but smile. That little boy got plenty of attention for sure, living that close to grandparents and a great-grandma.
Joanie rose and brought the coffeepot back into the table. “Anyone for more?” She filled Kenneth’s cup and then Peter’s. “I’m drinking tea, Esther, if you would rather have that. There’s both herb tea and regular.”
With a smile, Esther shook her head.
“So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?” her mother asked. “I assume you can join us this year.”
Feeling like Bambi in the headlights, Esther made herself take in a breath before answering. Why did she take everything her mother said as an accusation? It was the tone of voice, she realized. True, she’d missed the last two holidays, but she’d not given this year a moment’s thought yet. That was months away.
“Less than a month till then.” Mom could even correct her thoughts.
“I’m not sure, Mom. All I’m trying to do is get caught up on the paperwork from that storm. During the worst of it we treated nearly a hundred people and didn’t keep any records—it was coming at us too fast. And dealing with this clinic thing.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I need to get home before long. I’ve not been grocery shopping since before the storm.”
“How long were you without power?” Kenneth asked.
“Two days or so. Good thing I had so little in the refrigerator. That meant I only lost milk and some leftovers. Since I wasn’t there to open it, the freezer stayed pretty near cold enough. Some things got soft but nothing was rotten.”
“You were lucky.”
“I know.” She pushed back her chair. “How about I help with the dishes?”
“How about you sit down and visit? We can always do the dishes later. They won’t go anywhere.” Her mother’s reply caught her by surprise. The dishes were always at the top of her list.
Esther shot her father a glance only to get a slight nod in return. Since when was she company and not expected to help with the chores?
“When did you get the new dog?” Should be a safe topic.
“A month or so ago. He showed up here one day, someone must have dumped him along the woods road. We asked around but no one claimed him. Arthur growled a bit but then decided he liked having another dog here.” Her dad smiled at her mother. “Your mother named him. Since we have an Arthur, she said we needed a Lancelot. So he’s Lance.”
“You need to come home more often to keep up on the news.” There it was again. Thanks, Ma.
“You know, the road goes both ways.” Esther also knew how hard it was to be away when no matter what, chores time rolled around. Her father ran Black Angus cattle along with farming hay, beans, and sunflowers. “I have a perfectly fine guest room if you wanted to spend the night.” Besides, it is only about four hours away. You can’t drive a few hours to come see me?
Esther could feel the restlessness coming at her again. Why didn’t she invite them more often? Because she didn’t want to get into an argument. And if she was around her mother much longer, that would happen. She pushed back her chair. She had set her phone on vibrate and felt it going off. “Excuse me, I better check on this.” Checking the screen, she walked into the family room to go stand by the front window. She’d not recognized the number.
“Hello, this is Dr. Hanson.”
“Esther, this is Amber Harden. You said I could call, is this a bad time?”
“I’m at my parents’ house. Do you need something?”
“It’s not that important. If you would call me back when it is convenient?”
“Sure. Perhaps on the way home.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your family.” She hung up and Esther clicked her phone shut.
She analyzed the voice. Frightened? Anxious? No. Bored. Amber was lonesome. So she’d stop at the crossroad and pull over, talk to Amber, and then pretend she was needed elsewhere. Had she made a major error giving Amber her business card?
Back in the dining room, the table was cleared,
and in the kitchen Joanie was loading the dishwasher while Mom was putting food in cottage cheese containers and such, what they laughingly referred to as Norwegian Tupperware.
“I’m fixing these for you to take. That way you won’t have to cook tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I need to be going.” She waved her cell as if the call had been important.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Dad grabbed her jacket, held it for her, then hand-hugged her shoulders. The burning started behind her eyes.
“Thanks.” Esther stepped out the door, her father right behind. The sun stained the sky with vermillion and glorious pinks, gilding the clouds. Esther paused. “That is one of the things I think of when I think of home. The sunsets we always saw from this porch.” Her father matched her step for step, their shoulders brushing.
“Now that it is just us, how are you holding up—really?”
Esther swallowed once and then again. How easy it would be to turn and collapse into her father’s arms. “I-I’m fine.” As long as I don’t have to confess the meltdown and what is causing the post-traumatic stress I’m fighting. If he only knew. If only she knew, at least knew for sure. She could no longer keep track of what was memory and what was imagination. She set the sack of cartons on the floor in the back and slid into the front seat while her father held the door open.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “When you decide you can talk to me or the load gets too heavy, I have a shoulder and a ready ear.”
“Thanks, Dad.” But if you ever learn my secret, you will hate me.
Chapter Twenty
He hated meetings. That’s one of the things Chief chewed on him the most about: being late to meetings. And those were border patrol meetings with only six or seven people. He hated town meetings a thousand times worse. There had to be 300 people milling around here, in a room the fire marshal thought ought to hold 176.
Ben poured himself a second cup of coffee and parked close to the refreshment trays, the better to grab Mrs. Peterson’s fresh, moist, peanut butter cookies with the crosshatching on top; there was no cookie finer. Even Lars irritated Ben tonight. Hizzonor the mayor took a chair in the middle of the big long table at the front of the room, but he didn’t sit in it. He shuffled papers and answered questions, smiling and nodding a lot. A whole lot. That meant he would probably try to please everybody, and that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.
Wake the Dawn Page 20