The Only Best Place (32 page)

Wilma was bent over a roasting pan, basting a golden brown turkey. She looked up, her face flushed from the heat of the oven,
but her makeup impeccable, her hair stylishly cut. Her eyes held mine a moment longer than usual. She gave me a quick smile,
then her gaze moved to Nicholas in my arms and her features melted.

She put her oven mittens down and walked over, holding out her hands for my son.

“Here, let me take him.”

I felt my arms involuntarily tighten around Nicholas. I hadn't had nearly enough cuddling time.

But my resolve to learn to let go returned, and I loosened my hold on him, moving him toward Wilma.

He frowned and puckered his mouth, pulling back toward me with a whimper.

Oh, how my heart beat high with joy.

This won't last,
I reminded myself as I gave Wilma a regretful smile. “He's waking up,” I said. “Not himself yet.”

“Of course.” She pressed her lips together, then eased out a dubious smile. “I'm glad he's better and I'm glad you're home
again. Or, well, back at the house.” Her small amendment caught me by surprise. It was as if she finally acknowledged the
temporary nature of our stay.

“It's nice to be home.”

Wilma gave me a curt nod, then turned to Dan and Anneke. They hugged each other and Wilma cooed over Anneke and lovingly stroked
Dan's cheek.

As I watched mother and son together I thought of all she had lost. Thought of my own relationship to Nicholas and how fiercely
I wanted him to be mine. All mine.

I didn't agree with her methods, but I felt a connection.

Dan pulled away and came to my side, slipped his arm around me, and gave me a gentle kiss. “I love you,” he said quietly,
laying his forehead against mine.

“I love you, too,” I breathed, the words settling into my heart.

Judy urged me to sit down while the kids set the table and she and Wilma moved with purpose and calm through my kitchen finishing
supper, delegating tasks—all done with the carelessness of experts.

Half an hour later we squeezed ourselves around the table, Dan at the head, me at his side. Nicholas still clung to me. I
still savored his neediness.

As we all settled in, Dan looked from me to our kids to his family gathered around the table. “This is wonderful,” he said.
Then laughed lightly. “I'm not a speech maker, so, thanks for coming. For being a support.” He paused and cleared his throat.
“But I mostly want to thank our Lord for letting us keep Nicholas a while longer.” He looked at me. “We don't know how long
anything lasts, but I know Leslie and I have learned to appreciate each day we have together.”

Of course, my throat choked up, and of course, all I could do at that touching moment was give him a silly smile and then
look around at our family, blinking furiously.

But when Dan started praying, I let the tears flow. Happy tears. Thankful tears.

When he was done, people got caught up in the serious business of taking food out of bowls then passing them around. Conversation
ebbed and flowed, punctuated by the clink of cutlery on china and I savored the belonging. I still didn't recognize all the
names, and many of the stories were unfamiliar, but this time I didn't mind. In time I would “get” them.

“Judy, did you make trifle for dessert?” Dan asked, leaning back from the table after lingering over second helpings of his
favorites.

Judy clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes two horrified circles above her fingers. “I forgot. It's on the table at home
and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, you know what they say, brain cells come and go, fat cells stick around.”

“Oh, no… Aunt Judy… I love your trifle… What about dessert…”

Dan sighed. “What's a good turkey dinner without the promise of chocolate afterward?”

“I could go home…”

“Don't bother, Judy,” I said, “that's too far,” though part of me hoped she would pooh-pooh the comment and get up anyway.
But she shrugged and stayed where she was.

A thought slipped into my turkey-tired brain. I weighed it, measured it, then thought, well, why not.

“I'll be right back,” I said to Dan. I ran upstairs and ducked into our cupboard, then came back downstairs carrying my once
precious cargo.

“If anyone's interested, I have a box of Lindor chocolates. I believe there's about two hundred and fifty here. More than
enough for seconds and thirds.”

I could see Dan doing some quick calculations. He knew exactly how many I had bought and how many I should still have.

“What can I say?” I quipped, flashing him a smile. “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.”

But while I was trying to be smart, the teenagers whipped the box out of my hand and in seconds were inhaling the chocolates
like they were air. Minutes later the box returned to me, half full, or half empty, depending on your point of view. It was
like watching six months flash before my eyes.

Dan dug in the box and came up with a handful of chocolates as well. “Thursday, Friday, Saturday…” he intoned as he laid
them out beside his plate.

“What are you talking about?” Judy's puzzled glance went from Dan to me.

“Tell you some other time,” I said, digging out a handful myself. I could always buy more if I needed to.

If.

After checking Nicholas for the seventeenth time, I finally settled into bed.

“Are you done now?” Dan asked with a playful grin as I scootched into his arms and wriggled a moment, trying to get the pillow
just right.

“For now.” I pulled in a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, my eyes flickering over the water spots, barely discernible
in the half light of the bedside lamp. I didn't think I would come to a place in my life where I would be happy to see their
familiar shape. “Today was a good day.”

“Today was a good day,” he agreed.

“I like your family,” I said.

“I do, too.”

“In fact, I love your family. Judy is funny, Gerrit is kind, and Dayton is one of those solid people you can count on. The
kids are nice. When Gloria has her guard down, she's a good person.” My exuberance drifted off. What to say about Wilma? Would
he notice that I left her off my little mutual-admiration-society list?

“It's going to be hard to leave,” he said quietly.

I drew in a long, slow breath. “We don't need to talk about that yet.” In the dimmed light coming in from the hallway, I saw
a half-smile curve his lips.

“No. But we're going to have to face reality sooner or later.”

“We've had our share of reality,” I said, giving him a kiss. I slipped my arms around him and held him close, thankful for
him, thankful for where we were now in our marriage. My love for him had been weighed and tested, and with the help of family
and community it had held. “Let's live out some fantasies for tonight,” I whispered.

“We could eat some more chocolate,” he said suggestively.

“We'll save that for another fantasy,” I giggled. Then kissed him again. And again.

Y
ou'll be drowning in zucchini come fall.” Kathy yanked out another weed and threw it on the pile at the end of the row, then
crouched back on her heels. “You'll be able to single-handedly supply the county with the stuff.”

“I planted zucchini?” I asked, as I zeroed in on a plant. It rose above the rest, drawing attention to itself. Plus it stank.
I guessed it was a weed and pulled it out. “One of the sisters must have put it in. I hate that stuff.”

“Embrace the proliferation, honey. Whoever planted it put in a whack. And my goodness, could you have planted any more pumpkins?”

I looked up at my friend crouched in my garden a few rows down from me, her hair leaping up in glorious disarray. “I thought
it would be fun to have some jack-o'-lanterns at Halloween.”

“You have some scary idea of fun. Well, I'm done,” Kathy said, getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off her pants. She
walked over to Nicholas, who sat quietly in the bench on the side of the garden. “Hey, buddy, how are you doing?”

He lifted his hands to her, and she easily swung him up in her arms. He looked pale, but each day brought some new improvement.
Some small triumph.

“He's going to be all right, isn't he?” The worried note in Kathy's voice resonated with the niggle of concern that lay tucked
in a dark corner of my mind.

“The doctors gave him a clean bill of health.” I dug out my last weed and looked over the garden, pushing my damp hair back
from my forehead. All tidy until the next onslaught. I felt a rush of well-being that had everything to do with Nicholas watching
us, Kathy helping me, and my garden's neat tidy rows growing and producing. Another miracle. “It's the only decent bill we
have in our house these days.”

“Tell me about it. We always have more month than money at our place. But we struggle on.”

Kathy said this with a sigh of resignation, but at the same time I knew, as Judy had also said, that she wouldn't trade her
life for anything. I looked over the yard again and smiled. Each time I left and came back, it was as if tiny tentacles caught
and anchored me here. It wasn't paradise, but hey, what is? And even though it wasn't paradise, it still had its snake. Keith
had phoned this morning demanding his money. When Dan had hung up the phone, he told me he had to go to town this afternoon
to ask the lawyer what the reality was and what our final options were. I said I would come with him, for moral support. But
all morning the meeting with the lawyer hung over me like a dark cloud. Questions and possibilities flew through my head like
errant Ping-Pong balls. Finally I couldn't sit still, couldn't concentrate, so I took the kids outside and sought refuge in
weeding the garden.

Kathy, who had come to babysit, found me crouched between the peas and the potatoes and pitched in. Nothing like pulling weeds
to cement a friendship.

I glanced over my shoulder at the house, thinking of all that had happened since I reluctantly moved here. Thinking of what
could happen if we stayed.

“If you were to paint this house, what colors would you use?” I asked Kathy, pushing my hair back from my face.

Kathy's eyebrows lifted only a fraction but she gamely played along. “It's a great style. You'll have to work with the shingles.”
She stopped, tapping her finger on her chin. While she contemplated my house, I heard Carlene's shriek and Anneke's laugh.
Familiar sounds, softened by the open spaces around us.

Home.

“I'd go with a dark taupe-y beige, sage shutters, and dark grape trim,” Kathy said, glancing over my shoulder as if to check
my reaction. “Would up the resale value.”

I ignored her last comment as I imagined the changes. “I'm liking that.”

Anneke's shrieks grew louder, and in seconds we were surrounded by three children demanding something to drink. Something
to eat. So, to the house we went.

“Wow, look at all the chocolates,” Kathy said, zeroing in on the bowl on the dining-room table. “You win some kind of prize
or something?” She unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth, sighing in bliss. “I love these. My favorite waste of time.”

I poured iced tea for the kids, handed out useless stern warnings about spilling, and put the kettle on the stove. “Just call
it an experiment that had its day.” I glanced out the window just as Dan drove up the driveway. My heart kicked in my throat.
“Hey, Kathy, I've got to go change. Dan is here.”

“You go make yourself gorgeous. I'll just make a dent in these chocolates.” She unwrapped one for Nicholas. “Here, buddy,
this'll put some hair on your chest.”

She nuzzled him, he laughed, and I felt pure joy pierce me at the sound. No matter what lay ahead of us, Dan and I had our
precious son and daughter. We had family and friends.

I took a moment to kiss Nicholas and brush my hand over his head, then ran upstairs.

I showered in record time, brushed my hair, checked my lipstick, and pulled a face at my hair. Still needed a cut, still hadn't
had time. I pulled out the scissors and trimmed my bangs so I wouldn't look like a badger had taken residence on my head,
double-checked the makeup, and retreated un-gracefully from the field of battle.

Dan had changed and was helping Kathy put a dent in my chocolate stash by the time I came back downstairs. He gave me a tired
smile as I joined them. I gave him a hug. Me. Supportive wife.

“Are you ready?” He brushed some loose hair from my face and dropped a kiss on my forehead.

“I suppose.” I touched him again, reconnecting, rebuilding one small step at a time.

“Then let's go,” he said, pushing himself away from the table.

I kissed the kids, waved to Kathy, and as we walked down the sidewalk, petted Sasha's head. The chickens were scratching in
the yard, softly clucking to each other, and the horses, sensing our presence, started whinnying.

Our farm,
I thought as I got into the car with Dan.
Our place.

As we reversed out of the parking spot and headed down the driveway, I turned back toward the house again, imagining the colors
Kathy had suggested. They would make the house look cheery. Welcoming.