Hello Loved Ones (48 page)

Soon a nurse in a white dress and white cap appeared and called, “Miss Periwinkle, please.” And on it went this way, more nurses coming at intervals to pull another color from the room. Each time a different girl was called, Sally’s knees went weak with relief. She still had time! She could find a phone if she had to. Call a cab. Ride anywhere, away from here, and jump out at a light before the driver discovered she couldn’t pay. It was the same feeling she’d had at the Stuckey’s, when Cash ditched her.

“Miss Magenta?”

Sally smiled, suddenly calm. This was it. Her way out. She’d been thinking of it the wrong way. She was lucky to even be here. Lucky to have family willing to pay for this. And these people, why, they were so friendly, so helpful! They were performing a lifesaving service.

She followed her nurse down a wide, carpeted hallway to a back bedroom. Inside was a hospital bed covered in a white sheet, and some metal trays beside. So professional. You might say
elegant
. On the windows hung beautiful blue velvet curtains, thick and plush, with gold tassels along the top. There was even velvety wallpaper that looked soft to the touch.

Really very lucky!

“You can change in there,” the nurse said, motioning toward a large closet. “Everything off and leave the gown open to the front.”

Sally stepped into the largest closet she’d ever seen, big enough to fit the entire Young Miss collection from Steketees, with built-in shelves for shoes, and hanging rods on every side filled with pink padded hangers. She took her dress off and hung it carefully, then put on the gown.

“Come on,” said the nurse, and Sally could hear impatience in her voice, but she froze. The closet was safe and warm and reminded her of the forts she used to make from sheets when she was a kid. She wanted to crawl into the corner and pretend she lived here.

She couldn’t go through with this.

She could. She
would.

She managed to climb onto the table, feeling the white paper crinkle beneath her bare bottom. It was comical, in a way. She was sitting on a giant paper
napkin
and she was very naked. And there was a bright light hanging over the table that would soon be pointed right at her like a stage light.
Drumroll
….Intro
duc
ing…. It would shine on her most private parts while a strange man examined her and touched her and —
oh!

“I’m going to be sick,” she said.

“That’s right,” said the nurse in a soothing voice, handing her a bucket. Sally put her head in it. Nothing came up, but her mouth would not stop salivating.

When she was able, she put the bucket down and lay back. The nurse covered her with another white paper sheet.

“The drapes are nice,” Sally said, as a distraction. She looked at them a moment longer, noticing how they blocked out every particle of light.

“They seem a little out of place,” she added. Cloak and dagger came to mind. The cloak was on her and the dagger was hiding beneath the white cloth on the table beside her.

“I suppose so,” said the nurse. “I never thought about it before.”

Never thought about it?
So it was possible to work in a place like this, performing one abortion after another, and not question every detail? To not ask who pays the mortgage? Who buys the cookies? What if the doctor is arrested? Or I am? Should I pray for these girls’ souls? For my own? To think only
hmmm, wonder if Meijer still has those pork chops on sale.

“What’s your name?” Sally asked, curious about this sort of person, and wondering how she might become one.

“Beth Anne.”

Sally stifled a groan. She disliked people with two names. Like Patty Ann. And a girl called Mary Paige who was Lenny’s age and used to call him on the phone, treating Sally like she was so
dumb
if she answered the telephone.

“Does the doctor live here?” Sally asked.

Beth Anne gave her one of those patient, tight-lipped looks. “Hon, let’s just get you comfortable.”

Hon?
Sally hated that too.

“What’s his name?”

“You can call him doctor.”

Beth Anne didn’t get it. Sally didn’t want to call him anything. She only wanted to know if he was a Michael or a Thomas or a David. She liked
Paul
. It was solid but sensitive. She hoped he was a Paul.

With a tap on Sally’s legs, Beth Anne directed her to put them into the stirrups. The simple act of lifting and bending made something in her unhinge. Her heart pounded fearfully and she gripped the edge of the bed. Closing her eyes, she turned her head to and fro. She felt feverish, overcome by a painful, bruising wish to go back in time, before she mailed that letter. Before she climbed into Cash’s car.

“What will he think of me?” she whispered, not sure who she meant. Richard? Cash, or Pastor Voss? Maybe Lenny. Maybe all of them.

Beth Anne patted her arm, startling her. “The doctor?” she said.
Yes, him too!
“Why, he won’t think a thing. Will you, doctor?”

Sally’s eyes flew open. There stood a man in a white coat, his hand on the open door.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “We’re not allowed to think.” He chuckled heartily.

Oh.
He was one of
those.
The kind who think a dumb joke will put a person at ease. Sally’s cheeks burned as the doctor turned and, serious now, took a pair of rubber gloves from a small cardboard box on the bureau. The room grew very quiet. The only sound was her own thumping heart and the squeaky pull and pop of rubber as the doctor put on the gloves.

Stepping close, he said, “Move your bottom down please. A little more.”

She fought another wave of nausea and did as he asked. When his hand touched her
there
, she flinched.

“Relax. You’ll feel some pressure.”

Cold metal pierced her and she clutched at the white paper beneath her, her breath coming in short, noisy bursts. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed in the corner of her mouth. Its saltiness brought to mind oceans and earth and all things natural. There was death in nature. And destiny. Her mother knew it, too. Clearly, she saw her mother doing this to herself, trying not to feel the poke of cold metal, wondering if the roar in her ears was the voice of God. Trying desperately to make out his words. Failing. What she felt then wasn’t hate. It was something sad. Sorrow, perhaps, though this was a word that made Sally think of church hymns, or the book of Job. Too ancient a feeling for sixteen.

She squeezed her eyes shut again and felt the doctor lean over her. His foot kicked the plastic bucket underneath the table. “Nurse,” he said, and his voice had a reaching tone to it that let the nurse know he needed something. Sally heard the rustle of her dress, then the sound of the bucket being dragged.
That’s right. Move it over. Catch whatever’s about to spill from me.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Sally whispered.

“Of course not,” said Beth Anne. “You couldn’t know.”

Sally frowned. Did she mean Sally couldn’t know she’d end up here, as in
we never know what the future holds?
Or that she was too stupid to know the birds and bees?

If only she’d listened to her mother! But she was listening to her mother now. Prudy wanted her to be
here
, doing
this
. The two of them knew what it was to be unwanted.

She steeled herself. “Carve away,” she said. It was her turn to make a joke. Horrible!
Horrible!
But she felt like a giant turkey on a platter. Scoop out the stuffing! Remember to be thankful! She imagined a Thanksgiving dinner with an empty seat where this child would have been. It wasn’t so different from the empty seat she’d been seeing for years—the place where her father would have been.
Richard.
No. Get it right.
Voss.
She tried to drop
him
into that seat. It wouldn’t work, and she suddenly realized why. Richard was the one choosing her.
I hope I can get to know you better
, he’d said.

A sudden swell of tenderness moved through her. Tenderness toward all that was imperfect. The tree at Tunnel Park with the bulging, scarred bark. The way Nell sometimes backcombed her hair when she was dressing up, how even though it didn’t look good, it looked, well...sweet. Lenny’s deaf ear that made him wrinkle one side of his face and say
whassat?
How her Aunt Flookie always said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and how it made her funny and surprising and alive. Her mother’s fried potatoes, burned to a near-black crisp, the kind a restaurant would never serve.

Her floaty feeling disappeared, replaced by a sharp, expectant focus. Recent events became curious objects in her hands to be turned over and inspected. Lenny coming home holding a World Series ticket in his hand,
laughing
. She had never seen such a wide grin on his face. It was as if a door had been cracked open, making her wonder what was on the other side. And
Nell
, saying what she’d said about the baby—though it was pure craziness (as unthinkable as Sally lying on a table with a mysterious doctor’s hands between her legs), it too made her wonder.

What was she doing? Who was this
she,
anyway? Who did Sally
want
to be? Certainly not her mother, scared and alone. Waiting so long—years!!— for love, but instead being tossed aside. Why did people do that to each other? Why did they throw away love given willingly and without question? And what was that word?

Precious.

A prickly warmth washed over her, along with the urge to wiggle, squirm, rise up and
go.

“Can you take that thing out of me?” she said.

“It won’t be long now,” the doctor said. From the corner of her eye she saw his hand, strong and capable, stretching toward the tray.

“No.
Stop.
Can you stop?”

Beth Anne made a clucking sound with her tongue. “There are no refunds,” she said. “And no rescheduling.”

But Sally was sliding away, gathering the white paper gown in her hands, fistfuls of courage. Beth Anne began moving about briskly, clearly annoyed, but the doctor only stepped back and shrugged.

“Call me when the next one’s ready,” he said.

Sally ducked into the closet and changed so quickly that when she heard the soft thud of the padded hanger hitting the closet floor she didn’t bother turning around to pick it up. Then she was
out
, past the rainbow of dresses, through the heavy front door, into the yard. The sun was nearly gone, throwing its light against the clouds. The autumn air was cool and the wind was rising, raising an eddy of leaves around her ankles, fiery orange and red, rich green and tarnished gold, each leaf changing—dying even —but lovely. Lovely, too, were the branches, each one stark and bare, that let them go.

Epilogue

Mr. And Mrs. Gerald Ten Harmsel

are blessed with the arrival

of their daughter,

Maggie Prudence

born June 21, 1969

at Grand Rapids Memorial Hospital

6 lbs. 7 ozs.

It’s hard to know what to say to a sister who practically hands over her life to you.
Gosh, you shouldn’t have! How very kind. Could you pass the butter?

What the Van Sloeten sisters will never know is that they are each thinking the same thing. Their arrangement is a leap of faith, but if either of them has doubts, they aren’t admitting it. How can one more family secret hurt when there is JOY surrounding them? If they were in church, they might raise their hands in praise. Even now little Maggie is reaching a tiny arm upward.
Here I am! Look at me!

If it’s a weekday at the Van Sloeten house, a letter might arrive from Hope College. Gizzy will pull it from his pocket at the dinner table, a devilish grin on his face. Everyone will gather around, watching Sally’s reaction.

I thought it was a federal offense not to put it in a mailbox
, she’ll say, causing him to laugh.

It’s a stupid rule, isn’t it?

If it’s a Sunday dinner, and warm enough to eat outside, they’ll sit around the picnic table watching while Aunt Flookie pushes little pieces of watermelon into Maggie’s mouth, her long red nails flashing like daggers while Nell tries not to cringe. Lenny will show up late, Richard likely on his heels. Seeing him, Prudy will hand Nell a glass of lemonade to give him.
Go ahead
, she’ll say, motioning with her head. She’ll excuse herself and go inside, where she’ll stand at the window watching, waiting patiently for him to finish and leave.