Hello Loved Ones (32 page)

The pastor spoke gently. “What I can tell you is that I care about you. Very much.”

She put her hands over her ears. “Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Sally,
sshh!
Do you want the whole church to hear you? Let me get your mother.”

She ducked away from him. She had to go! Out, anywhere, away from this crushing sense of doom. But before she could escape, there was a thud and Richard stumbled through the door.

“There you are,” he said.

She stopped, seeing him with new eyes—a beaten-down, disheveled, loudmouth mess with a flask in his pocket who, face it, was not what she had hoped. He was a stranger. She didn’t know what to do.

Richard put his hands on his hips. “What’s the problem here?”

“Get her mother. She’s in the kitchen,” Pastor Voss said.

“
You
get her.”

Pastor Voss reached for her again. “Sally, please. Let’s not do or say anything until your mother is here.”

Richard took a couple of threatening steps. “Voss…”

Sally felt a fury rising in her. “Why did you leave us? Why? None of this would be happening if you weren’t such a loser!”

He stopped. “What the hell brought this on?”

She wiped her hand across her face. There were tears on her cheek. “Is it true? What he told me?”

Richard looked confused. “Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Sally pointed at Pastor Voss. “He says
he’s
my father.” Her breath was locked in her chest along with the small hope that Richard was about to clear all this up. But she could see the possibility pulsing in his temple.

“I am her biological father,” Pastor Voss said quietly.

Richard swayed on his feet. He looked dazed.
Drunk
. He looked
drunk.

“You’re nuts.”

“It can’t be a surprise to you,” the pastor said. “You had to know.”

“Know
what?
”

“While you were gone, in ‘52, Prudy and I were involved.”

Richard’s face twisted. “You were screwing my wife? If I’d known, buddy, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

A voice from the doorway. “Let’s all calm down here.” There stood Prudy, her face pale and puffy, her arms rigid by her sides. Sally saw her and knew. She asked anyway.

“Is it true?”

“Did this piece of shit knock you up?” Richard said.

“It was a difficult time for Prudy,” said the pastor. He seemed bolder, now that Prudy was there. “You were drinking a lot.”

Prudy came into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I went to the pastor for help. We never planned—”

“I oughta bust your face!” Richard yelled, and Sally couldn’t tell if he meant the pastor or Prudy.

“Immature prick,” said the pastor, his voice thick with disgust. “You’ll never change.”

Richard smiled. “Spoken like a true man of God.” With that he lunged and tried to get a headlock on the pastor, but Voss was too quick for him. He sidestepped Richard and then gave him a shove, sending him to the floor.

Richard rolled over and just laid there, flat on the floor, panting. “Jesus Prudy, how could you do it?”

Prudy flared. “At least I could remember his name afterward!”

“You think fucking a whore is worse than fucking a preacher?”

“Stop it!” Sally cried.

The pastor stood over Richard breathing hard. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then Voss reached out a hand and Richard let himself be pulled up.

Once he was on his feet, Richard said, “How do you know Sally is his, anyway?”

Prudy pointed. “Just look at her.”

Everyone stared at her as if she had some indelible mark on her skin.

Richard rolled his shoulders a few times and rubbed his face.

“Christ, I thought we were having a good time here.”

Prudy had her hands pressed to her face. “Sally? Say something.”

Sally was having trouble breathing. If only everything would go back to normal. Only what was normal? She’d never been normal. Never been wanted. Or loved.

“I don’t care what the truth is,” she said. “I don’t want any of you.” She pushed past them and ran out the door.

Sally flew down the stairs, wanting only to be alone. She ducked into Lenny’s tiny room. Where was he? She felt a sudden, fierce kinship with him that made her swallow hard. Her
half
brother! But he’d always been on her side.

She heard heavy, uneven steps in the stairwell, then loud breathing in the hallway as someone passed by. Her dad. No.
Richard.
She didn’t know what to call him. And she didn’t know whether to let him go or stop him. If he was looking for her, people would start to talk. She wished he would just leave.

Suddenly a loud screech pierced the air. Feedback from the microphone. Oh
God!
It was Richard, trying to say something to the crowd. Sally rushed into the main room to stop him but it was too late.

“Excuse me, listen up folks!” Richard said, tapping the microphone. “I’ve got a little news about your dear pastor, the Reverend Phillip Peckerwood Voss.” He was enunciating every word carefully. “Turns out he’s fathered a bastard child. That’s right, my dear Sally, right over there…” The room went deadly quiet. Every eye was on her like a pushpin holding her in place. “…who I thought was my own, is actually a result of your pastor having an affair with my wife.”

Someone yelled from the back. “He’s drunk!”

“Yes, I am,” he said, slurring. “But I speak the truth. And she is still my wife.”

Pastor Voss and Prudy appeared next to Sally.

“You are still my wife, Prudy!” Richard yelled.

The pastor walked slowly toward him. “That’s enough,” he said quietly.

Richard gave a welcoming wave. “The adulterer would like to say a few words!”

Pastor Voss tried to take the microphone from him but Richard twirled away and laughed, “Let’s give him what he deserves! Who’s with me?”

Sally heard Frannie’s voice.
Dad, stop him!
As if gentle Verle Valkema could save her. Nothing could save her now. Her life was over. She stumbled toward the exit sign, the crowd parting to let her through, person after person stepping back reflexively, afraid to touch such disgrace.

“I love ya, Sally!” Richard called after her.

But Sally, whoever she was, was long gone.

Somehow, over the pounding of her heart, Sally heard Richard calling her name as she tore out of the church. She didn’t want his pity, if that’s what he’d offer. Or worse,
nice to meet ya!
A handshake and a wave and he’d be back at the Torchlight telling everyone
remember that girl came looking for me? Turns out she’s no relation of mine.
They’d slap his back and shake their heads, laughing
close call Richie!

How could she ever face him? How could she face any of them? He must think she was so childish, the way she’d fussed over bringing him to this stupid banquet. The way she’d wanted to parade him around for all her friends to see. Look at my dad! I have one and isn’t he snazzy? Doesn’t he love me?

And she could have loved him. She could have had exactly what she wanted, until Pastor Voss ruined it all. How she hated him! And her mother! Imagine her
sleeping
with him. Sally would never forgive her.

She pushed through the outer doors and took the steps two at a time, amazed she didn’t fall and break her neck, not caring if she did. All the other girls would be dancing, super charged with scandal. Forget their carefully crafted steps, every one of them would be content to stand like a stick in their fathers’ arms. Oh my God. Oh my
God
, they’d repeat like a bunch of dumb cows, while the sensible dads murmured things like
the excitement’s over, let’s just enjoy ourselves
. But really little pinball words like
yikes!
and
holy cow!
would be lighting up their brains.
Wait until I tell Margaret about this!

She’d show them. She’d run away. She could go to Detroit and live in a home for runaway teens. Or Kalamazoo. She remembered Aurelia, with the blind husband and chubby baby. If Richard was going to stay in Holland with his shack-up sweetie, then maybe she could go to Aurelia’s and live in that rented room. She could watch the baby, or help with the husband. She could clean house and cook.

But somehow Sally knew it would be different. Not the sunny, sitcom scene she remembered. Aurelia would have makeup caked under her eyes and spit-up on her shoulder and the baby would be screaming and even her husband in his blindness would make it to the door quickly enough to tell her to scram.

The night was still and dark, lit only by the Texaco sign across the street. She headed for it, desperate for a place to hide, and the alley behind the station was the closest place. When she saw the hood of Cash’s ‘52 Impala poking out from behind the building with its driver’s side window down, she felt something hopeful and clear stir in her.
When God closes a door, he opens a car window.

She got a quick glimpse of someone behind the counter as she went past the station window toward the back alley. Now she could hear Richard calling her name from the church steps, then the tumble of other voices, rising and falling, turning this way and that, finally fading away. She leaned against the cool cinder block wall and tried to catch her breath. There was a crunch of shoes on gravel and Cash rounded the corner. The light from the Texaco sign shone through his stringy hair, turning it to a halo.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“What time you closing up?” she said, her words coming in spurts.

“I been closed.”

She reached down to take off her heels. The gravel would ruin her nylons, but she didn’t care. “Then what are doing here?”

“I don’t know. Hanging out.” He looked over at the church. “What’s going on? I saw you go in with your dad.”

My dad
. It sounded so natural when someone else said it. Other people said it all the time, probably thousands of times in a lifetime, because other people had dads.

She fought back tears. “He’s not...never mind. Can you drive me somewhere?”

Here’s where he’d tell her to go to hell. She should have gone to the beach with him that day! She should have let him kiss her again instead of bossing him around. Finding her dad had been so important, she’d gone and ruined everything else.

“How many times you gonna come begging a ride from me?” he asked.

She pressed her hand into her side where a stabbing ache was starting. “Believe me, this is the last time. After tonight I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

He was looking her up and down.

“Quit staring at me!” she snapped. “You never seen a girl in a dress or what?”

“You look different.”

If only he knew! She was different all right. Ruined.

“Can we get out of here?” There were voices in her head. Mostly slippery starts that went nowhere. Why—? How—? And the loudest one: Go! Go! Just Go! The voices were hers, but who was
her
? Sally Van Sloeten? Sally Voss? The person she thought she was didn’t exist anymore.

“Go get in, then,” he said finally. “I’ll just lock up.”

She hobbled over the asphalt. What the hell was she doing? She wanted Frannie. Why didn’t Frannie and Mr. Valkema come looking for her? They would know exactly what to say to get her through this. She could stay with them until she sorted things out. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Valkema could even adopt her, and she and Frannie could be sisters. She’d visit her family on weekends and they’d bring out all her favorite foods like peace offerings. In return she’d tell them how wonderful it was to live with the Valkemas. A
real
family. That’s how she’d refer to them, casually, so they wouldn’t guess she was rubbing it in.

But Frannie and her father were in there, and she was out here. With Cash.

Why was God punishing her?

The car door opened and Cash threw one long leg in. He draped his elbow over the steering wheel, looked at her and sighed.

“So? You gonna talk?”

A panicky feeling rose in her. She couldn’t say it!

“You know Pastor Voss?” she managed.

Cash nodded. He was listening, but in that prickly way that said
I may or may not be interested
.

She could do this. Pretend it was a story about someone she once knew. She cleared her throat.

“He just told me that he had an affair with my mom. He says he’s my father.”