Mona scowled. “I didn’t do anything. She fell down the steps.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you want. What do I care?”
Nell was stunned. She’d always tried to be kind to this…this…witch. Because she hadn’t known! Why hadn’t she known? How did a person live twenty-one years with her head in the sand? And how many truths had to be revealed before she opened her eyes?
“She needs stitches.” She made her voice sound certain to hide the uncertainty she felt. Because though she suddenly knew Mona had done this to Mandy, she had no idea what to do about it.
“Send her ass up here and I’ll take care of it.”
Mandy let out a soft moan. Like a plea. There was something familiar in the sound, a helplessness that made Nell remember her own childhood, when she was about Mandy’s age, and her mother had to go to the hospital for some vague female trouble. She remembered an overwhelming fear. And wanting to know why is no one around to help?
Then came a jolt, like a finger prodding her in the back: you’re the grown-up now.
She grabbed Mandy’s hand. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”
“You leave her be!”
Nell clenched her teeth and pointed at Mona. “Lady, if you knew the morning I’ve had!”
She picked Mandy up and began running, flushed and indignant. Try to be a good person and what happens? Suppose anyone says hey nice job! Think you can catch a break?
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said, breathing hard. “We’re going to fix you up.” Mandy whimpered as something warm spread against Nell’s hip. Mandy had wet herself. Nell tried not to panic. Was she making a mistake? She’d already sent one person to the hospital. But that was due to carelessness. This was different. This was a chance to show what she was made of. And to think she’d always wanted to go to Africa to do the Lord’s work! Her test was right here.
Mona stomped down the stairs. “I’m calling the police,” she yelled.
Didn’t she notice the uniform? “I am the police!” Nell yelled back.
She hoisted Mandy higher and tried to keep running but couldn’t. Slowing to an awkward lope, she reached Mrs. Dekker’s house. She could see Mrs. Dekker inside dozing in her easy chair.
Nell pounded on the screen door. “Can I take your car?”
Mrs. Dekker’s eyes flew open and her hand clutched at her chest. “What’s that?”
“It’s me, Nell. I have to get to the hospital.”
The old woman peered at Nell as she struggled out of her chair. Nell tried to set Mandy down but Mandy buried her face in Nell’s neck and clutched her tighter.
“Mandy? Are you okay?” Nell whispered.
Mandy lifted her head. Moving her lips carefully around each word, she said, “I’m an ugly little girl.”
“No! It’s not your fault! I’m going to help you,” she said fiercely. “Please!” she called through the screen. “Mandy’s hurt.” Mrs. Dekker was puttering toward the door. Before she reached it, Mona came around the corner.
“I’ve called the police, so you might as well hand her over.”
Nell didn’t believe her. “If the police come, it’ll be you they’re after.”
“That’s what you think. Mandy, let’s go.”
Nell hugged her tighter and stepped away. “She’s going to the hospital. Mrs. Dekker, I need your car.”
The old woman just stood there. “What’s this all about, dear?”
“Look at her face!”
“I told you, she fell down the steps,” Mona said. “Isn’t that right, Mandy?”
“I want my dad.”
“Your father will be very upset when I tell him this.”
“Oh save it!” Nell cried. “He’s going to know the truth about you. I’ll make sure of that.”
Mona grabbed her arm. “Who do you think you are?” she hissed.
Nell shoved her away with one hand.
“You pushed me!” Mona was incredulous.
“Yeah, not so nice, huh?” Nell scarcely recognized her own voice. Something uncontrollable had been unleashed in her. “Touch me again and you’ll be sorry.”
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Dekker said, rushing out onto the front porch. “Let me have a look at the poor thing.”
Mona came toward Nell again and Nell kicked her hard in the shin.
“Why, you…!” Mona tried to grab Nell’s hair. Nell had both arms around Mandy, but she managed to throw her elbow up. It hit Mona’s chin.
Mrs. Dekker gave a cry of alarm. “That’s enough! Stop this instant!”
Nell and Mona stared at each other, breathless, as a police car rolled up.
Mona really did it. She called the police. Well, good. They’d sort this out. Nell took a shaky breath. She’d hit someone! She’d never even hit her own sister or brother. It wasn’t in her. Except it was.
She watched two cops get out. The driver shook out his trouser legs and hiked his belt and Nell saw that he was the same cop from Gizzy’s accident. Officer Rinkema. She froze, afraid to face him again. She already had two marks against her, stealing the pastor’s car, and causing Gizzy’s accident.
Rinkema looked startled to see her. “You’ve seen more excitement today than I’ve seen all week,” he said.
She didn’t know how to take that. Before she could answer, Mona jumped in. “She’s kidnapping my daughter!”
“I am not! I’m trying to help.”
“And she attacked me. And threatened me. I want to press charges.”
“Whoa. Slow down,” Rinkema said.
Nell pried Mandy’s arms from around her neck. She set her down carefully and stepped in front of her, blocking her from Mona. That’s right. Slow down. Be professional.
“Officer, this girl needs stitches.” She pointed at Mona, “She doesn’t want her to go to the hospital because she doesn’t want to be reported for child abuse.”
“I told you she fell!”
Officer Rinkema turned to his partner. “Val, take the girl inside and check her out.”
Mona started to follow but he stopped her with a glare. “You. Sit down over there and shut up.”
He watched as Mona huffed across the driveway to the porch steps. Then he sighed and turned to Nell. Motioning with his head, he led her a few feet away.
“Mrs. Veenstra is her stepmother,” Nell began, but he cut her off.
“Did you witness it?”
“Not exactly. Does that matter?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to make a report?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Sometimes it makes things worse.”
“But…”
“Even if the kid says she was hit, she’ll probably change her story later. They tend to do that.”
They!? As if Mandy were part of some conspiracy of conniving little girls. Nell blinked. She had a lot to learn if she ever wanted to be a cop.
“Where’s the father?” he asked.
She nodded. Here she could help.
“He works at Vroman’s, on the line. He’s a nice guy, but kind of vacant, you know? I don’t think he has any idea what Mona’s like.”
“Okay. Let me talk to her. It’ll probably end up with Family Services.”
Nell hung back as he walked over, trying not to give in to a growing fear. Had she overreacted? Was Mandy’s injury really an accident? This could be a big misunderstanding, but not the kind to look back on and laugh. Remember that time you thought I hit Mandy? Can you imagine? Oh my! No, Mona would never forgive Nell for this, and they had to go on living as neighbors. She’d already lost her church friends. Now she’d feel like an outcast in her own house. Not that Mona had ever been what you’d call friendly. But civil, at least. And she let Nell spend time with Mandy. Nell felt a lump rise in her throat. Officer Rinkema was right. She’d just made everything worse.
Straining to hear their conversation, she heard never had any trouble like this, and sw
eet kid. Mona was gesturing emphatically, still managing to look poised, which made Nell feel more and more at a loss.
After a moment Officer Rinkema returned.
“Well, you’re right. She probably hit the kid. But she’s pressing charges against you for assault and that’s not gonna play well. I’ll have to get Van Zandt on the horn.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Take a seat in the squad car. This won’t take long.”
In the back of a cop car again. It didn’t seem a good sign, especially when she wanted to be up front, behind the wheel. Still, it must mean something that officer Rinkema put her in the car instead of Mona. Like they were on the same team.
He reached in for his radio. She listened as it crackled to life.
“Yeah, Phyllis? It’s Rinkema. Put Sergeant Van Zandt on, will you?”
Nell looked over at Mona. She was studying her nails, her head lifted in that snooty way she had. As if this was all such a bother. As if she were too cultured to raise her voice, let alone a fist. It was nothing but an act! Nell could only pray that the police would see through it.
Another burst of static, and Rinkema said, “I’ve got Nell Van Sloeten here at the scene of the domestic dispute.” There was a pause. “Auxiliary P.D. That’s right.”
He glanced at her and scratched his head. Then he turned his back so she couldn’t hear. They were talking about her. She tried to stay calm. From the moment she’d met Sergeant Van Zandt, when she went for her Crossing Guard interview, she could tell he was impressed with her. In positions of responsibility, she knew how to shine. Good eye contact, good posture, thoughtful nods, intelligent questions, and bingo! There it was, that look of respect. She imagined it was the way pretty girls felt when a man looked at them appreciatively. She had nothing to worry about.
The other cop came out and conferred with Officer Rinkema, who spoke again into his radio. Nell could see Mandy standing next door with Mrs. Dekker. She had an ice pack on her face and Mrs. Dekker was stroking her hair. Nell tried to catch Mandy’s eye to give her an encouraging wave, but the officers were blocking her way. Finally Officer Rinkema put his radio away and leaned in.
“The old lady told Officer Beyer that you did hit the mother,” he said.
Betrayed! By Mrs. Dekker? She’d known Nell since she was a baby. She knew Nell would never attack another person.
“She came after me. Maybe my elbow bumped her face, but it was nothing.” Nell looked frantically from face to face. “And Mona’s her stepmother. Not mother.” Did Mona have them so fooled that they forgot the distinction? It was an important one. Stepmothers were known to be evil.
“Listen, you did the right thing with the girl,” he said. “But these things can be tricky. You can’t give someone like that anything to use against you.”
He was only saying what she already knew. She’d made a terrible mistake. She never should have pushed Mona.
“Am I really in trouble?”
“I wouldn’t worry about the charges. They won’t stick. But…” He paused a moment.
“Listen,” he said finally, chewing a fingernail. “You’ve been on the job, what, a week? There was that stolen car business, and the accident this morning, and—”
She knew it! The second she heard the screech of tires and saw Gizzy’s bike flip in the air, she’d known it was over for her.
“I’m trying to help people.” she said helplessly. “That’s what I do.”
“Still. If your record was clean—”
“It’s clean! I’m clean!”
He shrugged. “Sorry. Van Zandt wants you to turn in your uniform.” He put up his hands. “It’s probably temporary.”
“But the Sarge likes me!”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head slowly. “Yeah. We don’t really call him that. But go see him. Explain your situation and see what happens.”
Explain? Where to start? See, my mother had an affair. And a baby. And ruined my only chance at happiness. And my father can’t stand the sight of me and I don’t know why. And I’m the only one who has always tried to do what’s right.
“What about Mandy?” she cried.
“We’ll take her to the hospital. Her father will meet us there. Come on out now.”
“Can’t I go along?”
“Nope. We’ll take it from here.”
She got out of the car and stood by helplessly.
“Family services will be out soon,” he said. He motioned toward Mona. “Let them deal with her. You two don’t have anything to talk about.”
She felt him touch her shoulder briefly but it was no comfort. She raised her hand in a silent wave to Mandy and crossed the driveway in front of Mona, staring straight ahead and reminding herself that she did the right thing. Mona might be arrested and thrown in jail. That would wipe that prissy look off her face. Then Mandy could come live with Nell and Sally and their mother. They might even adopt her. Oh, how she could turn Mandy’s life around!
Except. How could she forget? There was too much scandal on their family now. Between her mother the adulterer, Sally the bastard child, Lenny the thug and Nell the car thief, what chance did they have? Her job with the auxiliary police department had been her best chance to rebuild her reputation, and now she’d lost that.
She went to her room and stood looking at herself in her uniform. She pulled the blue blazer off slowly and unbuttoned the starched white collar, feeling miserable and unsettled. It wasn’t the job itself she was thinking about. It wasn’t the school kids or the paycheck or the foot in the door. It was something else bothering her as she folded the blue slacks carefully, crease to crease, and draped them over a hanger.
Her dad would never get to see her shine.
Sally
Sally dreaded returning to school. Before her humiliation, she’d imagined gliding down the hall, in love with every person she passed, every jock and burnout and stuck up snob, every misfit and plain Jane and pimply-faced Joe. They’d have something in common. They’d all have fathers.
Now, returning to the low, meandering rat maze that was Holland High, she imagined a big neon arrow hanging over her head, flashing Loser! Loser! Spawn of Sin! She kept her eyes on the floor as she shuffled down the hall, studying every pair of shoes she saw. Most kids wore new ones and she imagined them at Steketees or Sears, their patient mothers pushing a thumb into the toe. Enough room here, dear? Then counting out daddy’s money, each dollar a token of love. And were they ever even grateful? As grateful as she’d been when she put her new shoes on Saturday night? Oh, the way she’d sailed down the sidewalk in those ultra soft leather pumps, with her dad at her side! Now they were lying in Cash’s garage. Unless. Were they tucked carefully in his underwear drawer, and was he planning some exquisitely romantic way to return them to her? Her very own Cinderella story, with Cash as Prince Charming!
But he hadn’t even called. What if he hadn’t given her a second thought? What if he had sex with a different girl each week? What if he didn’t remember her name? Or gave her a vague look the next time they met? Hmm. Don’t I know you?
Or, worse, what if he remembered every second, but just didn’t care?
He had to care! She’d given herself to him. That meant something! And even though their….union had been far from pleasant, there was still a future for them. First, she’d get him to cut his hair, then get a better job, one that didn’t make his fingernails so filthy. She’d introduce him to her friends, and if he was rude, well, she’d give them a secret look and mouth he’s just shy! They didn’t have to have sex again. She’d explain to him all that crap from the other night. The difference between love and lust, and how love was patient. He’d understand. Look how he’d cleaned himself up that night, with his nicely combed hair and fresh, pressed shirt. He’d done it for her and wasn’t that worth a thousand words? Didn’t that buy him a few days of silence? She completely understood, because she understood him so completely.
Her plans fo
r the two of them—finally she’d have a boyfriend!—eased her past the crowds of sniggering faces. Probably everyone had heard about her and Pastor Voss. Her father. She’d never call him that! She could see her classmates at home, eating corn flakes or peanut butter toast, their toes tapping impatiently. Where’s the bus? I can’t wait to see if Sally’s at school! Even the unpopular kids who didn’t spend their weekends giggling on the phone would know what had happened at the banquet. What was it called? Collective consciousness. She’d heard a teacher ramble on about it once in social sciences class. If enough people knew something, the information became part of the universe, available to all human beings. So for the rest of her life anyone she met would think I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s just something not right about Sally Van Sloeten.
What she’d done with Cash must show too. You could always spot the loose girls. It was the way they walked, the way they slid their eyes around, sending secret signals. Could she stop herself from being that way? She checked her hips as she walked, don’t swing, don’t swing. She was determined to keep at least part of her downfall private. But what if Cash told? He might be whooping it up right now with his buddies, laughing about how easy she was. And would he tell them how she’d run off so fast without her shoes in the middle of the night? Wouldn’t that make him look bad? Or did he hang with the kind of crowd that would find that simply hilarious?
She did WHAT? Oh boy, Cash, you sure can pick ‘em!
He’d be cool. She’d be hated. Worse even than Weird Walter, who sat in class with his hands in his armpits and then smelled his fingers when the bell rang. Or fat and frumpy Lisa VanderPloeg, who chewed erasers and spit the pieces into her purse. Marybeth Van Dyke’s older sister used to babysit for Lisa and said she lined the bottom of her hamster cage with the pieces to make a soft spongy floor for the stupid thing. Kinda sweet, now that Sally thought of it. At least Lisa had a hamster who loved her.
Sally lifted her head. She might as well gauge the fallout. Maybe people didn’t know. Or didn’t care. Maybe she’d get sympathetic looks. Maybe she’d make new friends. My dad drinks, someone might say. Or, once I saw my mom naked with the TV repairman. Something, anything, to let her know she wasn’t alone. Not that she wanted that. God no. Not that. She didn’t want to be a loser magnet.
Hello Loved Ones Page 25