Hello Loved Ones (12 page)

“You don’t have to see him,” Sally said.

Nell didn’t know where to begin! “Sally, he’s trouble. We’ve told you—”

“Shut up! He never even liked you!”

Nell gasped. There it was, her secret, out in the open. Her own father hadn’t liked her. How could Pastor Voss ever love her? How could any man?

“Sally!” Prudy said.

Sally crossed her arms. “I’m sorry Nell, but there’s no way you can understand.”

“Neither do I!” said Prudy. “Why would you do such a thing? Behind my back, no less.”

Grandma was shaking her head. “Sooner or later, like I’ve always said,” she muttered.

“You don’t have to tell me
over
and
over
and
over
what you think of him.
God
, I know by now! But I’d like to find out for myself. I just might like him!”

Prudy put her head in her hands. Then she looked up at Pastor Voss. “You see?” she said.

He flattened his lips and said carefully, “Let’s not overreact.”

But Prudy began to cry. They all stared at her, shocked. Prudy didn’t cry, and certainly not in front of a
guest
.

“Mom!” Nell hissed. Her lovely meal! All her plans! If her mother had an ounce of consideration, she’d pull herself together.

“Prudy, really,” mumbled the pastor.

“I should have known this would happen,” Prudy said, wiping her napkin across her face.

“Well. You should have,” Sally said stubbornly. “It’s only natural that I would want to meet my own father.”

“Oh God,” Flookie said, dropping her fork on the table.

“Richard was a very good dancer,” Grandpa said thoughtfully. “That’s one thing you might like to know.”

“How is that relevant?” Prudy snapped.

Nell wanted to die. What must Pastor Voss think of them! Could they possibly draw more attention to the fact that they were a broken family? That they always had been and always would be? Could they manage more perfectly to send him running from their house, thanking his lucky stars that he only had to see the Van Sloetens three times a week at church? Could it get any worse?

The pastor made a little humming noise. “Prudy, why don’t you tell Sally
your
suggestion regarding the banquet?”

Prudy sniffed and turned to Sally. “Pastor Voss and I were talking earlier and we thought it would be nice for the two of you to go to the banquet together.”

Sally’s mouth fell open. “Me… go with him?”

Flookie was staring at Prudy. “Hon, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s a terrible idea!” Nell blurted. Talk about worse! This was disaster. She wasn’t about to stand by like a
nobody
while her sister got a date with the pastor. Especially when Sally wouldn’t even have the sense to enjoy it.

Pastor Voss ignored them. “What do you say, Sally? Would you be
my
date?”

Sally was shaking her head vigorously. “I’d look like a charity case,” she wailed.

“What about Uncle Ollie?” Nell asked frantically. “I went with Uncle Ollie.”

“No way!” Sally said.

“So he’s good enough for me, but not you?” Nell sounded petty and mean-spirited. Better to roll her eyes at the pastor, as if to say
we adults have so much to deal with, don’t we?
But she couldn’t manage it. This was all wrong! Pastor Voss escorting Sally to the banquet? Where did
that
idea come from? It made no sense at all to Nell. Neither did the idea of having her own father at the banquet. When it had been her turn, Nell had considered the possibility of going with her Dad for maybe a split second. She knew it would never happen, and she’d made peace with it. Peace like a river. Well, maybe not a river. A trickle, for sure. Over time, a gurgling little stream of peace.

She didn’t appreciate Sally damming it all up.

The pastor spoke patiently. “Let’s just suppose your father doesn’t respond. Why not come as my special guest? If you like, I could ask a couple of other girls. Dora De Jonge comes to mind. Her father broke his leg. Then there would be a group of us. How would that be?”

“Listen, nothing personal,” said Sally, “but there’s no way I’m going with you. I
have
a father.”

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.