Prudy’s hand hit the table. “You are not going with Richard!”
“Why not?”
“I expect you to accept the pastor’s invitation graciously. Or you’ll stay home.”
Aunt Flookie raised a finger. “Prudy, could I talk to you in the kitchen?”
“Flookie, this is not your concern.”
“Oh! So I’m the bad guy now?” Flookie snapped.
“All this hollering’s giving me indigestion,” Grandpa said.
“What about my letter?” Sally asked. “If he writes back…”
“He won’t,” said Lenny.
“He better not!” said Prudy. “You think I need this right now? On top of everything else? First Lenny, now you. Thank God I’ve got one sensible child!” She motioned toward Nell.
Sally glared. “That’s right, I’m not Nell.”
“At least I’m not so selfish,” Nell said.
“You’re just jealous!”
“Sally, I’m warning you,” Prudy said.
“If he comes back here, it’ll just upset everyone,” Flookie said.
Lenny raised his voice. “Would everyone stop worrying? He won’t write back.”
Prudy whirled on Lenny. “Don’t tell me not to worry! You do nothing but cause me worry.”
He shoved his chair back hard. “Aw, screw it! Screw everything! I’m going to the beach. Call the cops if you want.” He stormed out.
“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Grandma asked.
“Stop him yourself if you’re so damned concerned.”
Pastor Voss sighed. “Let’s all just slow down here.”
“You want me to go with my dad, don’t you?” Sally asked him. “Isn’t that the whole point of the banquet?”
He frowned. “I think we should consider what your mother wants.”
“It’s not her banquet! It’s mine!” She pushed her plate away and stood up. “Nobody cares about me!”
She stumbled out of the room.
“I give up,” Prudy said.
Nell squeezed her eyes shut. What was that expression? It’s not the hardships that matter. It’s how you handle them.
“Teenagers are so…driven, aren’t they?” she said cautiously. “It’s nice to be grown up. To move on to new things.” She stole a glance at Pastor Voss but he was studying his hands, his chin tucked into his chest.
“What about Lenny’s cake?” Flookie asked. “Shame to waste it.”
Prudy wiped her eyes.
“It’s just like Nell said. Teenagers are a handful.” She looked at the pastor. “You wouldn’t know unless you live with one,” she added, a hard edge in her voice.
Pastor Voss stood abruptly. “I must get back,” he said curtly. “Thank you for a lovely meal, Nell.” He took her hand and shook it. It happened so fast! Before she could begin to memorize his touch, he’d let go and was shaking her grandpa’s hand.
“Prudy, you’ll keep me posted,” he said, and was gone. Out of there nearly as fast as Lenny. All she could do was stare after him thinking No! Not like this! She wanted to walk him out. To give him that parting smile that he could carry with him like a fresh, clean handkerchief (which, as his wife, she would make sure he always had). But she hadn’t gotten to do or say anything especially charming, and now it was too late.
Oh, the two of them together was just impossible! And she wasn’t being cute about it, like Betty Crocker when she named her recipe Impossible Cheeseburger Pie. She wasn’t being sappy or melodramatic, like Nat King Cole when he sang how sweet a kiss could be...impossible, impossible for me. She was stating a fact. No fancy recipe or silly banquet was going to change that. How could she manage it? How could she rearrange everything so she was front and center? How could she achieve the wonderful tableau she imagined, the one that looked so comfortable and warm?
Flookie shrugged. “What do you say? Cake or no cake?”
Prudy stood up and left the room without a word.
“Oh for God’s sake!” said Nell. “Pass it over!”
That’s right. Slop a little pink icing on something bland and spongy and shove it down with a fork. Nell wished every ugly thing could be glazed over the same way. A little sugar here. A little lipstick there. It seemed unlikely. She sighed and pushed the dirty plates out of the way. Later she would scrape her beautiful meal into the garbage to be forgotten. Thrown out. Left to rot. She took the cake, cut four squashed, misshapen pieces, and handed them over to Flookie and her grandparents. Just passed them down, without the sprinkle of red sugar or the little crown of Lifesavers like she planned. Passed them over the way the church passed down second-hand clothes to the Van Sloetens. The way a mother passed a bad son off on the Lord. The way a silly girl might say to a certain man please pass the salt when what she meant was give me your heart. All I ever want is to be yours!
Sally
Sally, why didn’t you tell me about the letter? asked her mother. Did you ever stop to think this through? asked her sister. Her brother just rolled his eyes and said you’re pathetic.
Really, they didn’t have to take it so hard. Couldn’t she have anything to herself? It wasn’t as if the banquet had to be any of their business. If she were just a few years older she might go on a date with someone they didn’t like. They couldn’t stop her. They could only watch out the window while she jumped into Mr. Unlikable’s car and peeled out. Of course she would never date someone who didn’t come to get her at the door, but never mind that now. The point was, her decision didn’t have to affect her family. If they were so upset about Sally bringing her dad to the banquet, they could go hide in their rooms that night. Let them pace the floor, brimming with questions. She wouldn’t tell them a single thing! Afterward, she’d breeze in with a mysterious smile, breathe a happy sigh, nighty-night, sleep tight.
But how lonely that would be. She had to admit, she was caught up in the hoopla. It was hard not to be, listening to the other girls go on about dresses and hairdos and how to do the box step without looking at their feet. If Sally got to go to the banquet, she’d want to dissect every detail with her mother and sister. That was half the fun. But she would also want to say see? Wasn’t this a great idea? I got my father back and you didn’t!
What they didn’t understand was that, beside the banquet, Sally had nothing else in her whole life to look forward to. Sometimes she thought about college. Only because her best friend Frannie was planning to go, but her dad was a professor at Hope. That meant she got to go for free. And even though Frannie tried to tell Sally that it wasn’t impossible for her to go too, (My dad can help you! There are scholarships! If you’d just bring your grades up a tiny bit!) it seemed a lot easier to get a dad than a college degree. Besides, when she mentioned it to her mom, guess what? Mr. Valkema says… she got a flat look. Don’t count on it.
Sally hated that downtrodden acceptance. This is my lot in life and I thank the Lord for it. She thanked the Lord that her dad was going to come and save her from all that.
If only he’d write back!
She sat on the front porch watching for the mailman, even though she didn’t expect anything today. It had only been a few days since her letter went out. But since she was still grounded and had nothing to do, she waited. And considered.
What would she do if a letter never came? For one thing, she wouldn’t go to the banquet. She remembered the way the girls at school had made fun of Nell when she went with Uncle Ollie. And Pastor Voss, that would be even worse. One would elbow the other why is she here with him? The other would hiss because she doesn’t have a dad, stupid! Then they’d puff up, all proud of their ability to be kind to poor Sally.
No sir. She didn’t spend years acting like she could care less to go and blow it in one night.
She would wait exactly one week. Then she’d shrug. That silly banquet? Oh, I lost interest in that a long time ago. She’d go straight in, crack open a book and concentrate on bringing up her grades.
When she finally saw the knobby
white knees of the mailman round the corner, she jumped up and ran toward him.
“Gizzy! Got anything for me?”
He smiled and flipped through his bag. “Sure do.”
Already? Could it be? That meant her dad wrote back the second he read her letter. Like he’d been waiting to be invited. Oh, she should have done this years ago!
“Give it here!”
Gizzy frowned at her. “No, ma’am. No can do.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked, jumping up and down.
He shook his head. “It’s my job to put this in your box. Federal offense to do otherwise.”
“I’ve seen you hand mail to plenty of people.”
“Adults maybe. Not children like you.”
“Why not?” she asked. Could she wrestle it out of his hand? He was a very large man.
“There could be something in here you don’t want your mother to see. Something from the school, for instance.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gizzy! School hasn’t even started yet.”
“All the same. I believe I’ll keep my cautious ways.” He walked past her.
“If it’s got my name on it, it belongs to me,” she said, running beside him. “Give it here!”
“Why don’t you go have a seat on your porch? I’ll be along shortly.”
She groaned and stomped her foot. A stickler for rules. She hated that in a person. There was nothing she could do but watch his wide backside waddle away. How could a person who walked all day stay so large? She should have brought a cookie out. She bet if she held a cookie in front of his face, he’d drop his bag in a second.
At last he thumped up her stairs. “OK now,” he said, dropping a bundle of envelopes into the black box beside the door. “Patience is its own reward.”
She snatched the letters up and flipped through them. There! Written in strong black ink: Miss Sally Van Sloeten. She started to pry one corner open, ever so slowly, then stopped, her mouth suddenly dry. In seconds her whole life would change. She watched Gizzy walk away. Not just ordinary Gizzy, but The Man Who Brought the Letter. Years from now, they would reminisce together about this day, thinking back with a happy sigh about how he helped make her dream come true. He would tell everyone that it was people like Sally and her dad that made his job worthwhile, and she’d laugh and slug him affectionately in the arm. She imagined the reunion soon to come. First the banquet, then Thanksgiving and Christmas with her dad. They could even invite Gizzy. Dear, sweet Gizzy. Her heart filled with gratitude, until she saw him stop in front of the Blakes’ house and wipe his nose with the back of his bare arm.
She ripped open the envelope. Inside was a white piece of notebook paper.
Dear Sally,
Thank you for your recent letter. It was a pleasure to hear from you. It sounds like you’re doing very well. I’ve thought of you often. It’s very kind of you to invite me to your banquet. Unfortunately I will be traveling at the time. Perhaps next year. Say hello to the rest of the family.
With love, your Dad
She stared, then read it again. It was like some kind of business letter, the kind of thing they practiced in typing class. Dear madam, we’re sorry to inform you that your qualifications do not meet the current needs of the company. As if she were applying for something. As if she were some stranger! She lowered herself slowly to the steps, her knees weak. It sounded like he dictated it to someone! His new daughter maybe? The one who worked with him, side by side, every day. Honey, will you jot down a quick note for me to someone named…uh, let’s see…Sally?
She should have known. She’d gone and put the cart before the horse. That’s what her mother would say. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, or some other tired phrase that had nothing to do with flesh-and-blood, heart-pounding situations.
Why did her mother always have to be right?
She read the letter a third time.
It was a pleasure to hear from you.
I’ve thought of you often.
With love.
She focused on those two words, letting them soothe her. But if there was comfort there, it was short-lived. Was he mocking her? She’d signed her letter with love. She’d meant it!
She looked at the envelope. The postmark read Holland, Michigan, which made no sense, since her dad lived in Kalamazoo. How could he send this letter from Holland, unless he was here, in town? For a moment she entertained a wild idea. This was all a set up! Her dad’s idea of a surprise. When I said I was traveling, I meant to you! And here I am!
How wonderful it would be if he drove up right now. Ha, ha, he’d say, tumbling out of the car. Got you! All her worries would dissolve as they shared a laugh. What a way to reunite! The two of them instantly at ease, bonded by blood. She looked around, but the movement that caught her eye was her mother, looking out the window. Prudy dropped the curtain as if she didn’t want Sally to see her.
Sally quickly folded the letter and hid it under her shirt, hoping her mother hadn’t seen, but knowing she had. She stood up, ready to bolt. She needed time to think! But Prudy was at the door.
“Well?”
Sally looked away. “Well what?”
“Is that a letter from him?”
Sally didn’t answer.
Prudy studied her a moment. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Sally tried to think of something flip, something to make her mother believe she hadn’t seen her with a letter in her hand. She couldn’t do it. Disappointment pressed on her too heavily and she sagged. “You don’t even know what it says.”
Prudy blinked and folded her arms around her waist. “Why don’t you tell me.”
“Oh, take a guess!” Sally pulled the letter out and threw it at her. “It’s just what you predicted.”
Prudy picked it up and read it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again.
“Sure you are. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, everybody’s sorry!”
Folding the paper carefully, Prudy said, “Never mind. You did what you felt you had to do. Now that you have your answer, you can just put him out of your mind.”
Like Sally could pluck the thought of him from her mind, drop it in the garbage can and let the lid fall.
“He could have rearranged his schedule!” she said.
Prudy pursed her mouth. “Sally, really.”
“And this envelope doesn’t make sense! Look, this was mailed from Holland. Not Kalamazoo. That means he’s here.”
Prudy sighed and shrugged. “I’m sure he passes through here all the time. For his work.”
All the time. Which meant that Sally was no more meaningful than the scenery out a car window. There’s the Tastee Dawg, the turn-off to Tunnel Park, my children’s house. Did he ever wonder about her or had he stopped years ago? How does a person do that?
“You’re only making me feel worse,” Sally said.
Her mother didn’t hide her impatience. “What difference does it make where he is? He’s not a part of us anymore.”
“He’s a part of me!” Sally said. Only he wasn’t. She had built him up from nothing.
But this letter wasn’t nothing.
“I have to see him. Face to face. I have to talk to him and make him understand.”
“It won’t do any good.”
“How do you know?”
Prudy looked around the porch, like she was searching for words. With a great heave, she threw up her hands. “Honey, he’s given you his answer.”
“But it’s only because he’ll be away! Anyway, forget the stupid banquet. He can come another time and we’ll go to…I don’t know, the drive-in or something!” Somewhere the other kids would see them.
Prudy reached for her. “I told you, you don’t have to miss the banquet. You’ll have a nice time with Pastor Voss. We’ll get you a beautiful new dress.”
Sally shrugged her away. “You don’t understand anything!”
There was a long pause. “I tried to prepare you for this. I know it’s pain
ful to realize that your father…” Prudy stopped. It was almost as if she was going to cry. Sally looked at her sharply. “…that he isn’t really interested. But you have to let this go for now.”
“Of course you’d say that!” She pushed past Prudy, through the front door, and threw herself down on the sofa. Could it really be over, in the space of five minutes? Her mother would love for her to settle for this tiny crumb. Well, I tried. Move on to the next obsession. In a few years Prudy could say remember when you were so gung-ho to find your dad? Oh, I hardly knew what to do with you!
But Sally had actually heard from him! She wasn’t about to let go of that. Besides, if she didn’t make something happen, what would her life be like?
When her mother followed her inside Sally turned her head into the pillow, then snapped it back.
“And another thing,” she said. “I might just go to college, so you’d better get used to it!”
Prudy looked at her, surprised. “That would be wonderful.”
Wonderful? Things were changing already.
Sally had never been eager for Vacation Bible School to start. Who wanted to spend all day in the sweltering church basement watching Mrs. Regneres’ bouncing bosom while they sang This Little Light of Mine? But this year was different. Sally’s light was a full glare, lighthouse beacon, guiding her father home to her. She wasn’t about to let her mother or anyone else blow it out. In fact, while Nell and all the other young people were memorizing the New Testament, Sally would be busy. She had to get to Kalamazoo. A letter was so impersonal. Face to face was the way to go.
You might say her new plan was her mother’s fault. You hear from your runaway husband after ten long years and all you can do is give your daughter a pat on the arm? Sorry dear, I guess I’ll go mop the kitchen floor.
Prudy only cared about saving face. That’s why she wanted Sally to go to the banquet with the pastor. She was just embarrassed about Lenny. She probably thought if everyone saw Sally at the banquet with Pastor Voss, they would think he was some special family friend. Then Lenny’s situation would look more like a favor than a punishment.
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