The Fall of Alice K. (3 page)

Alice's mother stiffened, grasped Aldah's wrist, leaned over to whisper harshly in her ear, then stood up and tugged Aldah to follow her out of church. Alice pulled her knees back in the pew to let them get out. Alice assumed her mother was using Aldah's stained dress as an excuse to get away from a situation that she couldn't bear. Alice hid her alarm at her mother's behavior, and so did her father.

The open doors let in traffic sounds from the busy street outside, along with the distinct and ungodly smell of truck diesel fuel. The starling was still flying aimlessly through the sanctuary, bouncing through the air and against the windows. Then it flew to the front of the church and perched on the right arm of the wooden cross. Its chest was panting madly. Finally, as if in despair, it fluttered to the floor, edged itself between the long cylindrical pipes of the pipe organ that stood next to the wooden cross, and disappeared.

The men closed the doors.

Rev. Prunesma looked down at his notes and picked up where he had left off.

The starling hadn't bothered Alice as much as her mother's behavior. God only knew what crazy ideas were bouncing around randomly in her head until she needed to go off and hide. She was a little bit too much like the starling. Her mother was mentally disturbed and Alice guessed that everybody else must know too.

Alice glued her attention back on the Rev as he made his way to the last line of Psalm 23: “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

He stepped away from the lectern again.

“We understand ‘dwell' to mean ‘to take up residence in a place, to abide there, to be at home there.' We think of a place that is stationary and permanent. One who dwells is the opposite of a nomad. Dwellers are the opposite of Seekers. Seekers are unsettled: they do not know where they are going from one moment to the next. They are restless. Seekers are lost in lives of bootless desperation, never satisfied with the green pastures that God offers them, always wanting more: more money, more entertainment, even more knowledge.”

Alice sensed that the Rev was looking straight at her. He knew she was a big achiever in school, and he knew how hungry she was for success. He knew she was a Seeker! She felt cornered by his admonitions. She was one of the restless and unsatisfied ones who was outside the fold, a wayward sheep, living a life of bootless desperation. A life of futility. A life as empty as her mother's hopeless declarations.

The defensive shield of Alice's critical mind left her. She felt exposed. She felt pummeled by the sermon. She was not one of God's people as Rev. Prunesma had described them. Not only was she not at peace with the wackos sitting around her, she was not at peace with her parents. And she was not at peace in the presence of the Lord. She was not in his green pastures of contentment. I wish I were stupid, she thought. I wish I could obey every order given to me without asking any questions.

Some farmers were leaving church without going downstairs to the community room for coffee. Were they Seekers too? Were they feeling what she was feeling? Restless outcasts, all of us? Or was it that their farms were in as much trouble as the Krayenbraaks' and they didn't want to hear that awful question, “How are things going?” Her father wasn't moving toward the basement either, but he was probably concerned about Agnes and Aldah—wherever they were.

3

Alice walked out into the parking lot behind church to look for her family. Instead of seeing them, she saw Lydia Laats, her best friend at Midwest Christian. Beautiful Lydia. Witty Lydia. Smart Lydia—and Alice's only academic competition. The attraction was mutual. They sought each other out, especially when they were in school. To be in each other's company was to be free from what both of them saw as the shallowness of so many of the other students. Alone together, they could talk about what they were reading without some airhead saying, “Geez, get a life.”

“Hey!” said Alice.

“Hey!” said Lydia.

They flung their arms around each other, Alice's arms around Lydia's shoulders and Lydia's around Alice's waist; then Lydia put her hands on Alice's arms and held her away from herself. “Look at you, look at you,” said Lydia. “You look fabulous in that blouse and skirt. Blue is your color, girl. And your hair. I love it down like that.”

“Thank you,” said Alice, “but look at you!”

Lydia was about six inches shorter than Alice, but Alice always thought she was better proportioned with her larger breasts and more prominent hips—and she had a sophisticated European look about her, which should have been no surprise because her parents were born in Holland and lived in Canada before moving to Dutch Center when Lydia was a little girl. She was wearing a dark dress that had long triangles of bright colors shooting up from the hem and narrowing toward her waist. A delicate gold chain around her neck. Small teardrop gold earrings, dark eyeliner, and dark pink lipstick. Lydia didn't get this look from studying the way other people dressed in Dutch Center.

“You're the one who looks fabulous,” said Alice.

Lydia's head turned. “Talk about looks, look at those two,” she said.

Two young men across the parking lot were staring at them. Strangers: no doubt early-arrival new students at Redemption College. Alice tried to read their thoughts, wondering if they were staring at her or Lydia, or both of them.

Alice had liked what she saw when she examined herself in the mirror before leaving the farm for church, and now it was more than a slight pleasure to be stared at by living creatures besides hungry steers or a resentful mother.

The two young men saw that they had gotten Lydia and Alice's attention and shot them big toothy grins. They were both blond and handsome, but their grins looked practiced, if not just plain lewd.

“Here they come,” said Lydia. “You get the taller one.”

They approached at a quick pace, arms swinging and grins getting bigger. These two were more than confident, they were cocky: big-city boys ready to show their stuff to the small-town and country girls. They made Alice feel like a piece of divinity in a candy bowl.

The cuter one with the dimpled chin spoke first. “Hi there.”

The taller, athletic one with big teeth was right behind him: “Wow, you're something.”

He was looking at Alice when he said that.

The two stopped only a few feet from Alice and Lydia and flung out the lasso of their smirky smiles, but it was the noose of their aroma that caught Alice's breath short—something so sickeningly sweet that both Lydia and Alice's nostrils flared in defense.

“Good grief,” said Lydia, “have you guys been at the cologne sample table at Walmart?”

The big-city boys, or whoever they were, withered like thistles under a good blast of 2,4-D. It felt great to see how Lydia had nailed them, but Alice was just a bit disappointed that she couldn't hear what complimenting line might have erupted from their lips. The whole awkward scene with these wannabe Romeos was saved by the voice of Rev. Prunesma, who bounced across the parking lot with the whole Vang family following him.

“Alice and Lydia,” said the Rev, “I want you to meet the Vangs.”

“Nice meeting you,” said big teeth as the two walked away.

“Meeting us?” said Lydia, but the Rev was already upon them with the three newcomers.

“Hi! It's you!” said Mai.

“You've already met?” said the Rev.

“Sort of,” said Alice.

Actually, Alice had known more than she had let on when she had met them at the scene of Ben Van Doods's slaughtering pen. Alice knew the Vangs were living in a small house across the street from their church and that they were something of a church missionary project. They had come to Dutch Center because Mai had gotten a scholarship to Redemption College. The son, Nickson, would be going to Midwest Christian High School where Alice and Lydia went. Alice knew very little about the Hmong other than that they supposedly had a big thing about family—and that America owed them gratitude for taking sides against the Communists during the Vietnam War.

The Vangs and the Rev were within hand-shaking distance when Alice noticed the bumper sticker on a van a few feet away: “If You're Not Dutch, You're Not Much!”

Alice felt the sharp edge of the Rev's sermon cutting into her again—and then she felt resentment. How would this stodgy Dweller handle the little bumper-sticker message to their guests? Some missionary project: to slap them with an insult right from the get-go.

The Rev saw the bumper sticker too, but Alice had already covered for him by standing in front of it and putting her legs together. Lydia picked up on what Alice was doing and sidled close beside her.

The Rev wore his big missionary smile, his glad-tidings smile, his everything-is-beautiful-in-its-own-way smile. His huge cheeks mushroomed with good will.

Before the Rev could say anything, Mai held out her hand toward Lydia. “Hi, I'm Mai,” she said.

“I'm Lydia Laats,” said Lydia. “I am so delighted to meet you.”

“And this is my mom, Lia, and my brother, Nickson.”

“Mai? Nickson? Lia?”

“You got us,” said Mai, and then she turned to Alice: “You know, if you told me your name out there in Dead-Hogville, I forgot it, silly me.”

“Alice,” said Alice. “Alice Marie Krayenbraak.”

“Wow, that's a mouthful,” said Mai.

When Alice had first seen the Vangs sitting in their station wagon, they had looked small—but not as small as they looked now. Straightening up to greet them had been a mistake. Alice felt like a giraffe, but Mai's eyes were so bright and confident that she could have been six feet tall.

“This is my mother, Lia, and this is my younger brother, Nickson,” she repeated for everyone. The Rev stood by, nodding.

“Wassup?” said Nickson and did a little hand wave that Alice recognized as the same one he had given from the passenger seat in their station wagon. He shuffled a little toward his sister's side, grinned and nodded. He was maybe two inches taller than Mai, about five-five, but his shoulders were broad for his height. All of them had heavy eyelids that lifted their eyebrows high on their foreheads. The mother's face was round, but Mai and Nickson were narrow faced with full lips.

Mother Lia held out her hand and looked somewhere in the area of Alice and Lydia's knees. She was even shorter than her children.

“Thank you,” she said.

“So pleased to meet you,” said Lydia.

“Same here,” said Alice, “I mean to really meet you.”

Alice and Lydia stood in place as sentries in front of the humiliating bumper sticker, but Mai moved in closer to Alice and Lydia as if she thought they were the shy ones.

“Are you at Redemption?” she said.

“No, we're still in high school,” said Lydia.

“We're both at Midwest Christian,” said Alice.

“Oh, just like Nickson.”

Mai's eyes looked past them and directly at the bumper sticker. She cocked her head. She read the bumper sticker aloud, but with a question-mark lilt at the end: “If You're Not Dutch, You're Not Much?”

There was a stiff silence.

Alice tried to take a breath but couldn't. “We're kind of weird,” came her voice from somewhere.

Alice looked down into Mai's bright eyes and felt ridiculously tall and awkward, but Mai's eyes did not shift and her friendly expression
did not change. Their height difference didn't bother her one bit, and neither did Alice's blushing face.

“If you're not Dutch, you're not much? Not much
what
?” said Mai.

“Good question,” said the Rev—and they all joined in a relieved ripple of chuckles.

Alice saw a trace of farm dirt under her fingernails as they peeled back the edge of the bumper sticker with its white background and blue printing that imitated the colors of Delft china. “I'll just get rid of that thing,” she said and gave it a quick yank. It stuck together on itself as she rolled it into a ball in her palm.

“Good job. Good riddance,” said Lydia, and gave Alice a gentle punch.

“Hey, that was the Vander Muiden's van,” said the Rev in the voice of Jeremiah.

“Still is,” said Lydia.

The Krayenbraaks' Taurus idled impatiently across the parking lot with Alice's father staring in her direction while her mother stared straight ahead through the windshield. Aldah's pink-lipped face looked out smiling from the backseat. Alice excused herself to leave the Rev to clean up the pieces of whatever had been started with the Vangs. Mai kept smiling. She held out her hand to shake Alice's and Lydia's. So did Nickson. Their mother smiled and held out her hand too.

Whatever the bumper sticker had meant to the Vangs, it didn't intimidate them. Unless they really knew how to hide their feelings, it didn't even phase them.

“That was an experience,” said Lydia as they walked away.

“Those two guys?”

“We can do better than that,” said Lydia. “I meant the Vangs. They're interesting. Did you watch Nickson?”

“He seemed shy,” said Alice.

“He wasn't shy about the way he looked at you.”

“Give me a break,” said Alice. “I must be over a half foot taller than he is.”

“We all look up to you, darling.”

As Alice walked toward the Taurus, she knew she and Lydia had
entered a new circle of energy with the Vangs, a whole different kind of cultural fire than they were used to. These people, especially Mai, were fired up inside and wearing an invisible shield on the outside. They probably would have to tame down that foreign fire in Dutch Center, but the invisible shield? They'd need that.