All I knew was I needed help. In fact, “help!” was the theme of my morning prayers as I somehow managed to peel potatoes, chop carrots, and slice an onion before dumping them, along with my roast, into my trusty Crock-Pot. Of course, all the while I ran in and out of the kitchen in an effort to get both myself and my cantankerous mother ready for church.
By the time I sat down in the pew with Mother, Dad, and Fred on one side and David and Donna on the other, I was ready for a mid-morning nap. And I would have taken one too, if the sermon’s topic hadn’t been based on the text of Psalm 37. As the pastor read it in his NIV, I’d underlined bits of text from verses eight through eleven in my Living Bible: “Stop your anger! Turn off your wrath. Don’t fret and worry—it only leads to harm. . . . But all who humble themselves before the Lord shall be given every blessing and shall have wonderful peace.”
Peace? What would that be like? And as for anger, I’d been more than a little familiar with the feeling of late.
I stole a look at my mother sitting so straight in her pale pink knit suit. Judging by her elegant appearance, no one would suspect how difficult she’d been.
My mind began to wander from the sermon. . . . It wasn’t that Mother had mistreated me as a child. She’d been decent enough, but she’d hurt me over my first husband. Then, she’d betrayed me over my baby, tricking me into signing David’s adoption papers after she told me he died at childbirth, a birth I’d slept through due to the strong medications I’d been given. Yes, I was angry. Yes, I’d love to turn off that feeling, but how? How does one get to that “wonderful peace”?
The only solution I could think of was for God to heal my mother so she could go back home. Lord, please?
But it was my home she would return to this afternoon. Mother and a band of hungry men would soon be expecting Sunday lunch, compliments of Vonnie, cook and self-sacrificing slave to all.
So help me, I sighed as I thought about getting everything on the table, taking care of Mother, then cleaning up the mountain of dirty dinner plates that would be left behind.
How I missed having Donna around. She’d been like a daughter to me and was such good company, as she always stayed until the last dish was clean and resting in the cabinet. But lately, she’d pretty much disappeared from my life. I mean, I was glad to have found my son David, but how I missed my time with Donna.
I was comforted by the fact she still sat with us at church. And this morning, though she sported a new red turtleneck that made her look like the fabulous young woman she was, her eyes told me her very soul was weary. I raised my brows. “Tough night?”
She settled beside me and sighed. “Yeah, we had a rough child abuse case.”
I put an arm around her and patted her shoulder. “Oh, Donna, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
When David joined us, dressed in black slacks and matching turtleneck a few moments later, he looked at her. “Surprised you’re not home sleeping.”
“Too much adrenaline.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I felt guilty then and silently prayed, Oh Lord, here I am complaining when there are others out there with real problems.
After the message, Donna turned to leave and gave me a quick hug. “Gonna head for bed.”
I grabbed her by the arm. “Donna, wait.”
When she turned to look at me I blurted, “Donna, I know I ask every Sunday, but won’t you join us for lunch, please?”
She shifted uneasily. “No, I couldn’t.”
I squeezed her arm tighter and pulled her closer, to whisper in her ear. “Donna, I know you’re uncomfortable with David and all, since your breakup, but you have to understand something.”
“What’s that?” She seemed startled by my unusual boldness.
“I need you to come.”
“Need me?”
“Donna, I’m overwhelmed. Could you, as a friend, please come and help me this afternoon?”
She stood straight, as she suddenly understood my plight. “Oh! Vonnie, I hadn’t realized.”
I patted her arm. “Then, you will come?”
“Of course.”
David, who overheard her last comment, looked overjoyed. “That’s great news.”
Something like irritation flicked across her eyes, but before she could answer, Wade, who had been loitering just behind us, piped up. “Uh, I hate to be a bother, Vonnie, but are you still having problems with that leaky faucet?”
I looked at him then to see the cowboy he was, dressed in his jeans, boots, and a dark blue flannel shirt, with a big silver buckle at his waist. “Are you still planning to come over to take a look?” He smiled, first staring at me, then at Donna. “How about right now?”
I realized I’d have to set yet another plate at the table. “Sure. That would be fine. You’ll join us for lunch?”
I wasn’t terribly surprised when Wade grinned. “Why, I’d love to come.”
What a full house we had. But what a help Donna was, setting the table, filling the glasses with iced tea while I helped Mother change out of her Sunday clothes. Soon Donna and I were in the kitchen, pulling the dinner rolls and green bean casserole out of the oven while the men, minus Wade, who was fixing the leaky faucet in the master bedroom, hovered over ESPN in the living room.
Donna turned to me just before we called them to the table. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed my help before now?”
“I knew things were tense between you and David and I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation. But now that Mother’s going to be here another six weeks, I . . . well, I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t worry about David. I can handle him. Besides, he’s still dating Velvet.”
I must have looked stricken because Donna patted my shoulder. “He says it’s not serious. For his sake, let’s hope not.”
I nodded as I put the steaming platter of sliced roast on the table, surrounded by my onions, carrots, and potatoes. I wiped my hands on the dishcloth and called to the crowd, “Lunch is ready.”
David and my dad helped get Mother to the table, while Wade hovered near Donna, determined to sit next to her. He landed in the chair to her right, while David, undeterred, sat on her left. Oh my.
It was comical, really; every time Wade got her attention, David tried to steal it, and so it went for the entire meal.
“Donna, didn’t you like the pastor’s sermon?” Wade asked.
“Of course she did,” David would answer. “Say, Donna, maybe we could try the singles group next week.”
Wade would respond, “Well, if you two are going, you can count me in.”
I finally interrupted the seesaw. “Uh, Donna, I need your help to scoop the ice cream.”
She hopped up. “Sure.” We slipped into the kitchen, and I lowered my voice. “My heavens, Donna, you’ve got those two men coming and going.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wade hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, but as soon as he thinks David’s interested, he’s all about protecting his turf.” She crossed her arms and leaned back on the kitchen counter. “Then there’s David.” She shook her head. “If he’s so interested in me, why is he dating my sister?”
She turned to pull my blue glass bowls out of the cabinet while I got the tub of ice cream from the freezer side of the refrigerator.
“Still, Donna, are you interested in either of the guys?” I opened the top to the ice cream, and Donna pulled my scoop out of the drawer and dug it through the creamy vanilla.
“I don’t know, Vonnie. I think I’d be better off to live my life alone, you know?”
I looked at her then, seeing her pain. “You don’t mean that, Donna.”
She handed me a bowl with one large scoop in the middle. “I think I do.”
I trotted the bowl to the living room and plopped it in front of Mother, who looked delighted. “More ice cream, coming right up,” I said to the boys, hurrying back to the kitchen.
Soon everyone was seated around the table w
hile I passed the squeeze container of chocolate syrup around.
“Can’t stay much longer,” David said after wolfing down his last bite. “I’m going to run by the hospital to check on Pete.”
“Who’s Pete?” I asked, taking another slow bite of the cold dessert.
“Our child abuse case from last night,” Donna answered.
“Whoa,” Wade said. “Ours, as in yours and David’s.”
“That’s right,” David said. “Donna and I are on the same beat.”
Wade stared hard at Donna. “Is that so.” He turned and looked back at David. “I wonder how your girlfriend feels about that.”
Donna raised her eyebrows while David looked chagrined. “Velvet? Well, she’s not really my girlfriend.”
“That’s not what she told me,” Wade challenged. “When I had lunch at the café with her the other day, she seemed to think you two were an item.”
Donna turned to Wade. “You and Velvet had lunch together?” Wade shrugged. “What if we did?”
Both David and Donna stared at him. David said, “Like I say, we’re free to see other people. And, well, maybe Velvet is your type.”
“My type would be Donna,” Wade said.
“Really?” David said. “I heard you stood Donna up for Valentines. That’s not how I treat a girl.”
Wade shot a look at Donna. “Is that what you heard? As I recall, it was Donna who stood me up.”
“No kidding!” David looked at Donna. “That’s good to know.”
Donna held up her hands. “Okay, stop it, you two. It doesn’t seem to me that I’m dating either one of you knuckleheads.”
The boys fell silent until David stood and said, “Well, I’m off to check on Pete.”
“What happened to him?” I asked, standing up to pick up the dirty plates and bowls.
Donna did the same. “His dad broke his arm, and he’s in the hospital.”
“How sad,” Wade said.
Donna nodded. “Yeah, he’s only twelve, and now it looks like he and his little brother and sister are going into the system.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“They’ll have to go into foster care unless a suitable relative can be found.”
“What’s Pete’s last name?” Wade asked.
Donna looked alarmed then. “I can’t tell you, unless of course you’re a relative.” She furrowed her brows and frowned. “But in this case, I believe you are. Wade, aren’t you related to the Horns?”
Wade looked alarmed. “The Horns? I have a cousin named Mike and he’s got three kids, including a boy named Pete. It’s not Pete Horn who’s in the hospital, is it?”
Donna nodded. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. I’m telling you officially. Wade, it looks like it’s your family who will get a call from social services.”
Wade turned to David. “I’m going to follow you to the hospital, do you mind?”
The men got up to grab their coats from the coat closet, and Wade picked up his tool kit. “Guess not,” David said, zipping up his jacket. “See you there.”
Mother, who had until now been entertained by the romantic suspense at the table, said, “I’m ready to go to my room, Vonnie.”
“Sure, okay,” I said as Dad and I stood up to help.
“I’ll start the dishes,” Donna said, “then I’ve gotta get home to bed.”
“Thanks, Donna, I’ll join you in just a minute.”
Soon, it was just the two of us standing in the kitchen, wiping and stacking the freshly washed and rinsed dishes.
“So, Donna,” I teased, “about your love life.”
She laughed. “Despite appearances, Vonnie, I really don’t have one.”
I smiled. “I really wouldn’t be so sure about that, dear. There was more going on at my dinner table than meets the eye.”
“Maybe, but what I saw didn’t impress me.”
So help me if I didn’t laugh. “Well, I can understand Wade and David’s frustration.”
She looked surprised. “You can?”
“You’re a pretty girl, Donna, and those two are smitten.”
Donna hung her damp, blue dish towel over the edge of the sink and put a hand on one hip. “Well, they put on a show today, but I don’t hear my phone ringing.”
“You will.” I smiled knowingly. “It’s inevitable. The only question is, whose call will you take?”
Goldie
18
Deep-Fried Secrets
“Two weeks,” I said to my sister Diane. “I can’t believe I’ve been here this long already.” We were in the bedroom we’d shared as children, the one Mama had changed from a girly shade of pink to deep hunter green, trimmed in white and decorated in the popular palm tree motif. Though the windows still boasted old but dustless Venetian blinds that clattered like dropped plates when opened and closed, the window treatments were new and flowing, pooling on the floor, and the framed artwork was sparse, complementing the new theme of the room. The only thing that remained from our past was our antique sleigh bed and the two of us perched upon its downy covers.
Diane, leaning against the footboard of the bed, took a long sip of hot cocoa then closed and reopened her eyes before speaking. “When do you think you’ll go home?”
My eyes left the loveliness of my baby sister—her dark hair that held no strands of gray and olive skin that showed few signs of aging—and scanned the room until they rested on my suitcase in a corner of the room. “Friday,” I said, just above a whisper. “I need to get back to work . . . to Olivia . . . and to Jack.”
Diane had never much cared for Jack, even when the rest fell in love with him. When we were younger and Jack had come for his first visit to our home the Christmas after we’d met and months after we’d secretly corresponded, I thought her cool demeanor toward him was jealousy. Over the years, however, as Diane fell in love and married a local boy named Jeff and had a child of her own, her attitude still hadn’t warmed up much. So, I figured it was something else. Exactly what that something was, I had never been brave enough to ask.
“Jack,” she said in response. “I’m still a little shocked that he didn’t stay any longer than he did after Daddy’s funeral. After all, a man’s place is with his wife in situations like this, Goldie.”
My back was against the headboard, the pillows carefully moved to one side so as not to upset Mama. “I explained it to you.” I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle as I pressed my spine against the wood. “He would have found it difficult to be away for this long from work, and I . . . I . . .”
Diane pursed her lips. “You . . . you . . . what?” She slipped off the end of the bed, careful not to spill her cocoa. She placed the mug on the bedside table, then walked around the footboard and leaned her forearms against the curvature of the weathered oak. “Tell me the truth, Goldie. What’s it been like, married to someone like Jack Dippel all these years?”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead I wrestled with what I wanted to say as opposed to what I should say. What I wanted to say was: “No, Diane. You tell me the truth. Why have you always had such negative feelings toward Jack?” But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t risk having Diane tell me that during that first visit he’d tried something with my sister, who would have been all of fifteen at the time. But she’d been a voluptuous fifteen and so much prettier than I’d ever dreamed of being. My only consolation over the years had been that, when pregnant with her son twenty-two years ago, she’d put on weight she’d never quite managed to get off while I had returned to my, as Jack put it, not-thin-but-not-heavy-just-right-pre-pregnancy weight and stayed there.
What I did say was, “We’ve had our ups and downs. I guess most couples do.” I wanted to change the subject. “What about you? Being married to Jeff?”
Jeff was a part-time piano player for a traveling Southern gospel group and a full-time piano teacher in their home. Between his two jobs and Diane’s employment in our family produce store, they managed to eek out a fa
irly good living. Though, I had to admit, Diane lived and breathed as if they were the crème de la crème of society around these parts. Jack has always said that they live way beyond their means—owning a new brick house with an inground pool and substantial acreage—and that Diane liked to put on the dog (as we say in these parts) so people would think she and Jeff were doing better than they were.
“Being Jeff’s wife is just fine.” She frowned. “Except for the traveling he does.” She returned to her place on the bed. “Sometimes I . . . I worry.”
I shifted a bit. This wasn’t what I was expecting. “What do you mean? You worry about what?”
Diane shrugged. “You know. All those women out there, sitting in the pews. Thinking about getting more than spiritual food from my husband. Jeff’s a good-looking man, and I . . .”
She was right about that. Jeff was a good-looking man. “But, he’s a piano player in a gospel group.”
She coughed out a chuckle. “Don’t be naïve, Goldie. Your husband stays home, except for out-of-town football games, and even then he returns at night. You’re lucky you’ve never had to wonder what Jack was up to like I have with Jeff.” She stared down at the bedspread and began to trace its stitched pattern with a finger.
This time I laughed, but it wasn’t for humor’s sake. “Diane.” She continued to trace the pattern. “Look at me,” I said in my best big-sister voice. When she did I lowered my lids and moistened my lips before going on. “You’re right when you say I never had to wonder. But I never had to wonder because I always knew. Until recently Jack’s been carousing like a seventeen-year-old boy with his first set of wheels.”
I could see Diane was clearly shocked, which—for the moment— was sheer relief for me. Maybe he’d not tried anything with Diane after all. Maybe her coolness toward him was for another reason. “Are you serious?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t make something like that up, Diane.” I leaned over and patted her hand, then straightened. “He and I are both in therapy right now. Mainly him. He’s had a very serious problem over the years, and I’ve been stupid enough and insecure enough to put up with it. Which means we both had a problem.” “Oh, Goldie.” She released a deep sigh. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
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