Authors: Carolyne Aarsen
“Dan's in the corral already,” Leslie said.
As Jack left, Leslie pursed her mouth in a
Well, well, well
look that I knew all too well, well, well.
I leveled her a warning look, then glanced at Anneke, who was rapidly losing interest in me by the sheer fact that I wasn't
paying enough attention to her.
“Jack picked me up because I was hitchhiking,” I said, nonchalantly as Anneke took her friend's arm and ran off. “It was sheer
coincidence that he happened to be on his way here.”
“Well, that's good. That it was a coincidence.” Leslie pulled me close.
“And this public service announcement is given to me for what reason?”
Leslie shrugged. “No reason.”
I let it lie, but got a shivering suspicion that Leslie was less than thrilled with the whole Jack-and-her-sister scenario.
“I told you. Coincidence.”
“Sure.” She pulled me toward a chair by the kitchen table that was covered with stacks of colored and printed papers, photographs,
and assorted other paraphernalia. “Sit down while I make you a cup of coffee.”
“What's going on?” I picked up a picture of Nicholas as a baby and smiled. I recognized the cute sailor outfit. I had bought
it at Baby Gap.
“Scrapbooking.”
“And how does a noun become a verb?”
“Same way looking for something on the Internet becomes Googling?” A woman walked into the kitchen waving a piece of paper
as if letting it dry. She flashed me a quick smile. “Good to finally meet you. My name is Kathy. Friend of your sister.”
“Terra. Sister of the sister.” Leslie had written to me about Kathy, and she sounded like a good friend. I wanted to like
her. But though she smiled as she talked, her faint emphasis on the word “finally” pressed down on my guilt, like a finger
on a bruise.
“Your printer is awesome,” Kathy said to Leslie as she settled herself behind the large table. “These look as good as real
photos.”
“Kathy and I are both trying to get our baby albums done, so we decided to do it together,” Leslie said, setting the cookies
to one side as Kathy began whacking the pictures down with determined movements. “Monday didn't work for me, so she came today.”
This was not how I'd envisioned spending time with my sister, but then who was I to complain? Dropping in unexpectedly on
Leslie's life hardly gave me the right to set out the terms of engagement.
Kathy laid the pictures she had just hacked up under an oval template, pulled out a little blade, and with a few sure movements
cut the picture down again.
Why print them out full size if you're just going to make them smaller,
I thought, but I wisely kept the comment to myself and turned to my sister, trying to look ept instead of inept.
“Where's Nicholas?”
“He's with Dan,” Leslie said, picking up a couple of pictures and releasing a melancholy sigh. “Look at this little grublet.
He was such a cute baby.”
I leaned sideways just as Kathy came to look over Leslie's shoulder, pressing her skinny body into what I saw as my personal
space. “Oh, look at his hair. It's so thick and dark!” she exclaimed, taking the words right out of my mouth.
I resented her comment. I had seen Nicholas's hair when it was thick and dark. I had held him and snoozled him. Not this woman.
This Kathy of the “finally.”
Grade four all over again. Alicia Semenuk trying to take Cordy Mueller away from me.
I shouldn't have resented Kathy's presence in the part of Leslie's life I had foolishly hoped still belonged to me. Kathy
was Leslie's friend. Leslie and I knew, intimately, how valuable a commodity good friends were.
When we were younger, our very survival in each new school we attended depended on a wise alignment of social groups. We learned
to spend the first few days discreetly staking out the territory, watching carefully, then collating the data at home.
In those situations, finding a person who fit the above criteria and who then, on top of that, genuinely liked us and wanted
to be with us, was a treasure to be nurtured and guarded.
I didn't begrudge Leslie her friend, but I was jealous of Kathy. And, if I were to be totally honest, of Leslie herself.
I had friends littering the country. But, as with Leslie, I'd experienced a slight cooling trend in relationships in the past
months. I didn't have the energy to fan any of them into even a glow, so some of them had burned out.
“What color do you think I should use with these, Terra?”
I looked over her shoulder at a couple of photos of Anneke with her tiny baby brother cradled in her lap, a look of utter
bliss wreathing Anneke's face. Nicholas was just a tiny bundle, wrapped in a bright green blanket. In the second picture,
a close-up, someone else held Nicholas. All you could see of the person was a hand curved around the blanket.
“Are these the only pictures you have?”
“Yeah. I had another one, but it's out of focus.” She handed me a fourth picture. A blurred face was pressed up against Nicholas's.
“…I just can't figure out who is holding Nicholas, though,” Leslie was saying, tapping one finger on the picture as if trying
to resurrect the memory.
“That's me,” I said. “And that's my hand. I recognize the rings.”
Leslie looked puzzled. “I didn't know you'd come and visited.”
“Of course I did,” I said, letting a slight edge slip into my voice. “I wasn't always irresponsible.”
Leslie's expression shifted, her mouth softening as she offered me an apologetic smile. “Of course you weren't.”
“In fact, I spent a couple of days with you,” I said, building on the fragile foundation I had just established. “I took care
of Anneke so you could rest.”
“That's right.” Her voice shifted upward, putting emphasis on the last word. “You used to take her to the park.”
“And we even made a tour of the underground city,” I added, further cementing my goodwill moment.
“And you lived in San Francisco at the time?” Kathy said, displaying a surprising knowledge of my comings and goings.
“No. Los Angeles. San Fran came after.”
“With all that moving around, I'm surprised you don't have a car,” Kathy said, her tone suggesting that I was irresponsible
for not doing my part to keep carbon monoxide pumping into the atmosphere.
“Cars require too many decisions,” I said, choosing to take her comment at face value and not as a commentary on my lifestyle.
“Which insurance policy, how much deductible, what kind of gas, do I speed and run the risk of getting a ticket or tick off
fellow commuters by being a keeper of the speed? And at night time there's the whole ‘when do I dim my brights’ game of chicken
to play. And I won't even mention the whole tire issue and what kind of oil to put in. I just can't live with that kind of
pressure.”
Leslie laughed. On my side again.
Kathy's mouth twitched betraying a mild entertainment. I knew I wasn't going to win her over completely. Her first impression
of me was Irresponsible Sister, and she seemed like Loyal Friend. I had a lot of ground to make up.
“So, which color paper to put with them.” Leslie's practical comment brought us back to the subject at hand.
“How about the blue…”
“There's not enough blue in the picture.”
Kathy tapped her jaw with her finger. “You're right. Maybe green?”
They both looked so solemn, I couldn't hold back a chuckle. Or a comment. “My goodness, you two look more serious than Condoleeza
Rice negotiating a point in NAFTA.”
Kathy's glance bespoke tolerance with an unenlightened mortal, and Leslie looked a tad perturbed.
Oops.
The outside door burst open, and Anneke thundered into the house. “Mommy, I want to go see Daddy.” She stood beside Leslie,
her hands clasped dramatically in front of her like a supplicant beseeching an audience with the queen.
“I don't want you and Carlene going there by yourselves.”
“You come with us, Auntie Terra!” Anneke shouted, grabbing my hand.
Leslie glanced over at me, and I could read between the lines on her forehead. Time to bid a strategic retreat. “I'd like
to see Dan's horses anyway,” I said, getting to my feet. “You know me. Never really got out of the
My Friend Flicka
stage.”
“Can Carlene come?” Anneke shouted.
“We're not across the room, Annie bo Bannie,” Kathy said. “And yes. Carlene can go, too.”
Kathy's casual reprimand of Anneke and the easy use of an unknown nickname effectively pushed me back to the periphery again.
Anneke was joined by Carlene, and both tugged on my hand with the easy acceptance of young children. “You bring us, Auntie
Terra.”
Once outside, I had a faint notion of lifting my face to the sun and letting the milieu of country living wash over me in
a peaceful wave, but Anneke and Carlene were little girls on a mission, so I let them pull me along and put off appreciating
nature for a quieter time. As we came nearer to the corral, I heard the steady thud of horses' hooves and a few brief commands
from Dan.
Anneke leaned away from me, but I kept my grip tight on her hand and pulled her back. “If your daddy is working with the horses
then you'll have to be quiet and stay by me.”
Anneke's features hardened as if to challenge my authority, but I kept my grip firm and maintained eye contact. I knew Dan's
opinion of me, and I didn't want to run the risk of his daughter frightening the horses on my watch.
Then her hand clutched mine again and the moment of rebellion slipped away like clouds over the sun. “Of course I will,” she
said primly.
“Anneke always gets into trouble,” Carlene said, as righteous as a nun.
“No, I don't!” Anneke leaned past me, her face full of indignation. “
You
get into trouble.”
“You do! You do! You do!”
Anneke was about to protest this intricate argument when I gave both their hands a shake. “If you don't behave, we're going
back to the house.”
“Are you a mommy, too?”
“She's not a mommy, silly billy,” Anneke scoffed. “She's just an auntie.”
And from nowhere, twin hands of regret and guilt caught me in a stranglehold.
“You're squeezing too hard,” Anneke complained, pulling her hand back.
“I'm sorry,” I murmured, easing off on my grip while scrabbling for equilibrium again.
Maybe it was the pictures of Nicholas, maybe it was being around Amelia and her baby that brought out feelings I thought had
been dealt with and effectively disposed of.
Obviously not.
Thankfully, I wasn't expected to say anything. I was, after all, “just” an auntie. And I was older than Anneke's and Carlene's
mothers. Borderline antique.
By the time we got to the wooden fence on the side of the corral, I had things under control again. Through spaces between
the rough planks I saw figures moving. I caught a flash of four white legs, then booted feet.
“She looks a bit Roman-nosed,” I heard a gruff voice say.
jack,
I thought, surprised at the little jump in my heart.
“She'll be okay. At least her feet are good.”
“That's my daddy.” Anneke put her finger to her lips and with exaggerated motions, tiptoed toward the corral.
I heard a faint woof, and then Sasha squirmed under the fence, barking at us, her tail waving a happy greeting.
Anneke pulled her sweaty hand free from mine. I made a quick grab for her shirt, but caught only air.
“Surprise, Daddy!” Anneke shouted as she disappeared around the corner, the dog joining in with a couple of happy barks.
I chased her around the corner in time to see a horse rear and Dan hit the ground with a thud, the reins from the horse's
bridle swinging free.
Dan rolled away as Jack jumped down from his perch on the corral fence and caught the reins.
I grabbed Anneke's shirt with one hand and Sasha's collar with the other, and yanked them both toward me.
“Why aren't you at the house with Mom?” Dan demanded. The glare he sent my way did not bode well for any future brother-sister
bonding moments.
“Nicholas is here,” Anneke whined, deflecting his question.
“Nicholas is sitting quietly by the other gate,” Dan said, beating a misshapen felt hat against his leg. “Not yelling and
screaming and scaring Jack's horse.”
“She wanted to surprise you,” I said in Anneke's defense. He didn't need to be angry. Jack had the horse under control and
was even now stroking its head, talking in low, almost hypnotic tones.
Dan brushed his hand over his pants, and I saw the smear of dirt on his shoulder and hip. He caught the direction of my gaze,
and, to my surprise, a light smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Sorry. Not my best moment,” he said.
“Are you okay?”
Dan rolled his shoulder, as if testing it. “A direct hit on my ego, but otherwise everything is intact.” He looked down at
Anneke, who was staring at the ground. Sasha sniffed her hand, oblivious to her part in the mini drama.
“Hey, punkin,” Dan said, touching her head with one hand. “I'm sorry I got mad at you.”
Anneke pushed a clod of dirt with the toe of her shoe, making him wait a second longer for absolution, then she lifted her
eyes shyly to him. “That's okay, Daddy.”
He gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Anneke.”
He looked back at Jack leading the horse around the corral. “Whaddya think, Jack? Should we try the round pen again?”
“I can try to get on her again.” I couldn't see Jack's eyes past the sunglasses, but I caught a definite smile. “If Terra
can keep those kids under control, it's worth a try.”
“I'm just the babysitter,” I said. As far as snappy comebacks go, this one had all the zip of broken elastic. Jack seemed
to have that effect on me.
“Can we watch, Daddy?” Anneke asked, tilting her head to one side in a childish parody of a beguiling flirt.
“You'll have to go to where Nicholas is sitting,” Dan warned.
“Come on, Carlene!” Anneke called out. But this time I was wise to her and caught her by the shoulder before she could scamper
off.
I knelt down in the dirt, preferring not to think of what my knees might possibly be resting on. Control over my young niece
was more important than the state of my new blue jeans. “You have to be quiet, remember? I don't want to get into trouble
again.”