“I’m so glad you’re here, son,” she said, hugging him again. “It feels more like two years since I’ve seen you than a few months. Of course, we had so much to do the last time you were here, what with the auction and everything. In some ways my whole life has changed. . . . I feel kind of bad you’re coming back to a project again. But you know,” she said, her voice brightening, “life is the way it is.”
“Don’t feel bad about anything, Mom. I’m here and I’m glad we’ve all got something distracting to do. But I’m most glad to see you alive and kickin’, as Dad used to say.”
“Well, I don’t know about kickin’, but I’m definitely alive!” she said, tossing her hands in the air. “Bring your things on in and let’s have us a nice glass of iced tea. I brewed some special for you this morning right after you called and said you were coming in.”
Jacob walked out to the street to retrieve his suitcase from his rental car. Just as he turned around and slammed the door, bag in hand, a cashmere-colored Lexus SUV went careening by, the driver all but gunning the vehicle as it approached him. He recalled Katie Durbin owned a light-colored Lexus SUV and he doubted there was another vehicle like that big LX450 in Partonville. But he hadn’t gotten a look at the driver’s face. Considering the vehicle was now already two blocks away, though, from the distant rear this driver looked more like a man. Maybe it had been Josh. He remembered an e-mail where his mom had mentioned “the Joshmeister has his license now.”
Katie checked her SUV’s digital clock when she hit the WELCOME TO PARTONVILLE sign. Four-fifteen. Jessica probably wasn’t back from the doctor’s yet. She might as well get used to people seeing her looking like this so she decided to swing by Dorothy’s to give her the first chance to faint. It wasn’t until Katie got nearly all the way up to the curb in front of Dorothy’s house and that guy with the nice rear end backed out of the car that she recognized Jacob. She took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on top of her head. Next thing she knew, she’d all but floored the accelerator pedal.
Katie sat in her vehicle in front of unit number six at the Lamp Post. She was waiting for Jessica’s car to appear. She looked in the rearview mirror at her head. She was going to have to cancel her spa day. She simply could not let any of them see this . . . this. People at the salon would laugh her out of the place. When she first saw Jessica’s vehicle, her instincts were to flee, but she forced herself to stay the course, get out of the SUV and step up behind Jessica, who was now leaning into the car unbuckling Sarah Sue’s safety belts. When Jessica turned around, her eyes flew open and she screeched.
“I know it’s bad, but I didn’t think it was scary, too!” Katie wailed.
“You stunned me is all; I didn’t know you were standing right there!” Jessica, Sarah Sue on her hip, stared at Katie’s head and face, then spent what seemed like two years circling her. Katie stood frozen, waiting for the laughter. When Jessica returned to face Katie, her eyes brightened. “It’s the most perfect haircut for your face—your whole head! I mean it’s taken five years off you!” Jessica’s face reddened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply you looked old before, it’s just that this is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen! Maggie has outdone herself,” she said, nodding her head with approval. She hitched Sarah Sue higher on her hip and reached a hand around to Katie’s neckline, fluffing the little wisps of hair with her fingertips.
Katie’s voice sounded like doom. “What? Did you find two hairs she forgot to cut off? You don’t need to placate me, Jessica. Friends tell friends the truth.”
“Placate? I’m not sure I know what that word means. But if it means I’m just trying to tell you something nice and I don’t mean it, I am not placating. I promise you. Katie, I’m not kidding; this haircut makes your beautiful eyes just pop! It’s uncanny.”
Katie studied Jessica’s face. One thing Jessica could not do was to lie. It was true: she really liked it; it was clear by her expression. The sound of a vehicle pulling in behind them went unnoticed until they heard a loud wolf whistle. They both turned to see Paul, window down, little fingers still in the sides of his mouth from the whistle.
“Thanks, honey!” Jessica called out. “Nice to know this pregnant wife still has it! . . . Or maybe he’s whistling at you, Katie?”
Paul got out of his car, lunchbox in hand, and strode to his wife and daughter with his arms open. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful news! I’m happy for us, aren’t you, Sarah Sue? You’re going to have a little sister or brother,” he said, gently chucking his daughter under the chin with his knuckle, then giving his wife a kiss.
“Jessica!” Katie said. “I’m so caught up in my own hair that I didn’t even think to ask! I’m happy for you, too!” Paul unleashed his wife so the two women could hug; he just knew they were going to.
28
It had been exactly a week since the scene at the grill, and over two weeks since Herm and Vera had arrived from Indiana. Miracle of miracles, the Landers clan was getting along. Herm and Vera were starting to miss their home, however, and had announced they’d be heading back at eight-thirty on Friday morning in order to beat the weekend traffic. Before they’d gone to bed last night, Arthur said he thought they should all have breakfast at Harry’s one last time. Herm asked him if he thought that was a good idea and Arthur said he needed to set the record straight with Lester. “After all, it’s Thanksgivin’.”
When they arrived, Lester was at the grill, his back to the door. He was caught up in his usual routine of one-handed egg cracking. “Arthur!” Harold Crab yelled. “We thought you’d left town!” Lester swung around so fast the guts to one of the eggs he’d just cracked went flying and splatted on the floor. Arthur grabbed hold of the bill of his cap and gave Lester a nod. He didn’t exactly smile, but it was a friendly gesture. Lester, plenty wary, finally turned his back on Arthur and went about cleaning up his mess, which was easiest done by pouring a huge dose of salt onto the egg. Helped congeal it.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you hit the floor with an egg before, Lester,” Sam said as he watched the cleanup.
“First time for everything,” Lester muttered in response. “Hope it’s the last—for lots of things.”
While Arthur made his rounds at the counter slapping backs, swapping insults and curtseying to queen lady Gladys, the rest of the Landerses seated themselves. Lester stayed aware of Arthur’s movements, until he was at last settled at the table with the rest of his kin. Vera was already reading the menu to Herm. It was definitely time for those two to head home, Arthur thought, but he was determined to play nice.
A minute later, Lester arrived with his pad in his hand. “Me and Art will have his usual,” Herm said with more perkiness than was called for, but oh, how he was trying to make up for what couldn’t be talked about, ever again.
“You?” Lester said, looking to Vera.
“Let’s see . . . I just can’t make up my mind.”
Arthur rendered a dramatic sigh. “How about ya jist go with our special and end the pain,” he said. Jessie’s impulse was to kick him a good one under the table, but she decided it was a tad too early in their fragile peace for such a move.
“You know, I think I will,” Vera chirped. “What a good idea!”
Then Lester’s eyes diverted to Jessie, but only for a flash of a second. He stared at his pad real quick-like. “I’ll have the special, too,” she said, not looking up.
“Aw, fer Pete’s sake!” Arthur said, banging his hand on the table. Everybody froze. “Jessie, this here’s Lester. Lester, this here’s my wife, Jessie. And me, Lester, well, I guess I’ve been yur friend fer so many years I’m just stuck with ya as a friend till we both die.” After a brief moment, there was a group exhale. It dawned on all of them at the same time that they’d just heard an apology of sorts, and as far as Arthur was concerned, that was that.
Thanksgiving morning Katie stood at the back of the house and watched her baby drive away in the SUV. Although they’d originally pl
anned for him to leave Wednesday after school, Katie had heard on the news that there’d been a major pileup on I-57 northbound and traffic was backed up for seventeen miles. Travel the night before Thanksgiving was always terrible; one wreck and it was impossible. Josh hadn’t even argued when she suggested he wait until early Thursday morning to head out since the way it sounded from the news, he probably wouldn’t arrive at his dad’s until then anyway. Besides, that would give him a chance to swing by Dorothy’s Wednesday night—with Shelby, of course—and say hello to Steven and Bradley, Dorothy’s grandsons, whom he was sorry to miss spending time with. Next time, he thought. I hope Christmas.
As it turned out, their plane had been late getting in from Colorado and Josh was going to have to get up early, so it was a quick visit. Before Dorothy’s grandsons opened the door after hearing the knock, they took note through the window that Josh was holding Shelby’s hand. “Still going strong with those two, huh Grandma?”
“Thicker than molasses soaked into a buckwheat pancake,” she quipped.
Steven opened the door and extended his hand. “Good to see you, man! You, too, Shelby. Come on in. Grandma tells us you’re heading back to Chicago to see your dad,” he said as they passed through the door. When he was shutting it behind them, he quipped, “Bet you’re sorry you have to miss all the cooking.” Everyone chuckled, including Jacob and Vinnie, who were sitting on Dorothy’s couch. Dorothy scurried over and gave Josh and Shelby a hug.
Josh looked around Dorothy’s living room. Suitcases were piled everywhere and the air was laced with the fragrance of Dorothy’s crock-pot spaghetti. Dorothy was positively beaming. He saw how happy it made her to have her family around and he wished he could stay and be a part of it. “Gathered for the big day tomorrow, huh?”
“That we are,” Vinnie said, getting up along with Jacob to shake Josh’s hand and extend a greeting to Shelby. “The boys and I were no sooner in the door before Mom here,” he nodded his head at her and gave her a playful smile, “was reading us the timetable and the list of things we gotta do tomorrow. She sounded like a drill sergeant.” He gave her a quick salute.
“Wow!” Josh exclaimed. “I thought I was the only one with a sergeant for a mom!” Since Dorothy’s sons were grown men, it always felt funny to imagine them in the role of the . . . sons. “Now that cracks me up,” he said, breaking into a big laugh. “I’ll see you in a whole new light from now on, Dorothy!”
“Come on and sit down,” Dorothy said. “Let me take your jackets.”
“We can only stay a minute. It’s late and I’ve got to get Shelby home before her sergeant mom comes looking for her,” he said, grinning at her. “I’ve got to be up at the crack of dawn anyway so I for sure make it to Chicago for my dad’s dinner.”
Their visit was indeed a short one, but it was so energized that more than ever he hated to have to tear himself away from the swirl of happiness, drop off his sweet thing and head out alone tomorrow, but such was life. By 11:30 P.M. he was pulling into the driveway at Crooked Creek, his good-bye kiss from Shelby still lingering on his lips. He realized being with Dorothy’s family had actually made him a little anxious to see his dad. He hoped they’d have a good visit; sometimes watching his dad with his Daily Kids made him jealous, or lonesome . . . he wasn’t sure what it was. He tried to imagine Dorothy’s sons missing their dad, whom they could never see again, and Steven and Bradley having to be away from their mother. . . . He guessed life was complicated for everybody.
As instructed, though, while he’d been at Dorothy’s he’d passed along a hello to all the Wetstras from his mom, who didn’t come along but said she’d see them all tomorrow. He also said his mom wanted to remind them to send somebody out to get her tomorrow since she wouldn’t have a car; Jacob told Josh to tell his mom not to worry, that somebody would be there at the specified time—whatever it was.
When Dorothy had asked Josh about his mom’s hair, Josh hesitated before he answered. Shelby filled the gap. “I stopped in the shop just when Grannie M was finishing Mrs. Durbin. It’s really s-e-x-y. Grannie M outdid herself!”
“Gross,” Josh said. “Moms don’t have sexy hair. They have mom hair.” He wasn’t sure what he thought about her new haircut, to tell the truth. Moms were supposed to look a certain way—at least his mom always had. This new haircut looked so different that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it and he kind of hoped she’d grow it out again, get herself back to normal.
As soon as Josh was out the door, for lack of anyplace else to put them, Dorothy’s sons piled all the suitcases in front of the closed front door to make room for the rollaway, then began making the decisions about who was going to sleep where. Everybody was tired and tomorrow was a big day. They quickly settled down but livened themselves back up again rambling through their own personal spin of a “good-night, John-Boy” routine. Dorothy’s heart was so happy listening to it that she couldn’t help but get up off the rollaway (Vinnie and Steven had landed in her bed; Jacob in the poster bed and Bradley on the couch) and make one quick walk through her house to give them each a kiss on the cheek. She’d been right; they did look like a pile of puppies. Her pile of puppies. Lord, she prayed as she moved from one to the next, even though I do miss the farm, I THANK You for gathering my family together. This, it became clear to her as she circled around again and kissed them each on the other cheek while brushing tears from her own, is what makes a home a home.
The mom who had been described as the one with the sexy hairdo, the mom of the kid who was leaving on his first long-distance solo road trip on Thanksgiving Day, stood in her driveway crying and waving. She’d held back the tears until she was sure Josh couldn’t see them; she’d walked halfway down the drive, still waving, before she could no longer fight them. She cried and cried and then sobbed her way back into the house. “Please, God,” she’d said aloud after entering her kitchen, “look after my baby.” A brief wave of satisfaction washed through her to realize she’d progressed enough in her “prayer life”—although that was a huge exaggeration—to spontaneously talk to God at all. Maybe she was her pastor half brother’s half sister after all. She smiled at that bizarre thought as she blew her nose. She would see Delbert today at the Thanksgiving dinner. She would see him and his wife and her half of a niece and nephew, as Josh had reminded her when he told her to tell them all “Hi and Happy Thanksgiving” for him.
But first, she had to wrestle with the turkey. She needed to get it out of the freezer and read the cooking directions she’d spotted on the back of the package yesterday. I remember Mom used to start early.
The smell of roasting turkey wafted throughout homes in Partonville and the surrounding countryside. The Landers clan was cooking a stuffed twelve-pounder, Jessie and Vera having put it in the oven early, none of them liking to eat too late. They’d already decided they could have turkey sandwiches later in the evening while they played one final round of euchre.
The smell of the giant mess of bacon and onions Lester had sautéed for the green beans momentarily offset the aroma of the twenty-two-pound turkey he’d ordered after he heard through the grapevine that the number of reservations continued to swell. Worst-case scenario, they wouldn’t need it but he could serve turkey and gravy sandwiches for his Friday special and turkey soup on Saturday. Two large pans of dressing were being readied. Even though the sign on the door at Harry’s Grill said CLOSED, he was glad to be fast at work within, looking forward to sharing a meal with people he’d grown to care a great deal about over the years. Thanksgiving had always been kind of a down day for him, but the joy of cooking and knowing he would be part of a crowd made his heart happy. He hoped the Landers clan had a nice day, too—every single one of them. And he meant it.
Gladys was in the church basement in a dither of a tither bossing around the setup and serve volunteers. (She just couldn’t keep herself away.) Vincent, Bradley, Steven, two men and two teen girls from St. Auggie’s tried to get the tables, chairs and table se
ttings to her liking before she took off for her family’s celebration. Twice she had them rearrange all the tables—no small task—realizing she couldn’t get her own backside through the far corner with the tables at a T like that and, “NO! We can’t possibly orchestrate any order in here if we try to do a square inside of a square! Who’s crazy idea was THAT?” Vincent held back his response since he was the one looking at the scrawled diagram she’d handed him. It looked like a square inside a square to him. Theresa Brewton just bit her lip since even though she was supposed to be overseeing things, she was on Gladys’s turf. While Gladys was busy with the tables and chairs, Theresa quietly redirected the food lineup into a more sensible formation. Vincent couldn’t help but notice his sons hadn’t complained once about all the work, especially since the girls had shown up. Much to the boys’ mortification, he bragged to the girls how great his sons’ baking efforts had been that morning, he and the boys deciding they’d rather eat their own attempts at May Belle’s recipes—instructions thankfully written out in great detail—than to endure their grandmother’s baking. (The three of them had actually had a grand time together, a time they would go on to talk about for years.)
Although May Belle and Dorothy had both tried to encourage Earl to go to the church to lend his strong self to the setup project, he wouldn’t go until someone he knew well—like his mother or Dorothy—would go with him. This wasn’t a part of his routine. Jacob, Dorothy, Vincent and the boys had been in and out of his kitchen several times already as they whisked back and forth from Dorothy’s house and oven to Earl’s. It was all too unusual, Earl thought, all this coming and going, and it unsettled him. May Belle did her best to sit at the kitchen table as long as her back would allow, trying to reassure him everything was fine. It just about drove her crazy to be unable to help, but she kept remembering God’s lessons about receiving. Dorothy kept Earl as busy as she could, sending him on missions between the houses to get one thing or another, Sheba fast on everyone’s heels. Even though it was chilly, Sheba’s little tongue was hanging out from all the exercise. It occurred to Dorothy that she wasn’t the only one who missed those daily jaunts down to the creek!
Dearest Dorothy, Who Would Have Ever Thought?! Page 28