Are You Tiffani Caine? Ch. 02

As always two churches were splitting the day's duties, so the Holy Light people were not surprised to see the other three spots in the lot filled by cars from New Covenant Pentecostal, a church in the western suburb of Hopkins. They parked and quickly moved inside - the gangs did promise protection, but it was never smart to offer desperate people more of a lucrative target than they could resist.

Inside the place was buzzing. The three local volunteers who had spent the morning cooking and readying the meal were hard at work, and the New Covenant people were just putting on aprons over their Easter best. Already the dining space was half full and poor, hungry folks were lining up. Sara joined the service line and in a few minutes she was handing out one of the biggest dinners that most of the attendees would eat all year: ham, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, sweet potatoes, okra, bread with real butter, cornbread, and bread pudding for dessert. There were hot pots of coffee and hot water for tea along with ice water and milk. Normally food served here was neither as fancy nor as plentiful, but the sponsoring churches budgeted for bigger meals on a few of the major holidays. Everyone deserved a feast once in a while.

As always when working in a charity kitchen, Sara ran through a gamut of emotions. On one hand it was proper and Christian to assist those in need, and Sara took genuine pleasure and satisfaction from it; on the other hand, the seemingly endless parade of needy people couldn't help but make her sad. Way too many people she gave food to were thin, wide-eyed children astonished at being given so much food just for themselves, and most of those children were accompanied by single mothers too young to have so many hungry mouths to feed. There were people crippled by missing limbs, the mentally ill, addicts crushed under the weight of their needs, and just people brought down by the terrible misfortune that infected Hawthorne like a plague. Every new face broke Sara's heart a little, and every plate of food she gave out healed it a tiny bit.

Lunch at the Lord's Bounty, or any of the other food shelves and charity kitchens the people from Holy Light assisted at, was not the end of the day. Once the needy had all eaten and departed, those from the churches washed dishes, scrubbed everything from the kitchen to the bathrooms, took out the trash, assisted in maintenance and minor repairs as best they could, and stocked the food shelves for the coming week. Much of the food and sundries were supplied through donations from the participating churches, but almost every grocery store donated food that was approaching the use-by date to one charity or another, and Lord's Bounty got its share. During the week Lord's Bounty gave food to who-knew-how-many hundreds of people who otherwise might have had nothing, and it was an honor to stock those shelves.

Still, there were 30 volunteers working that day and many hands make light work, so they were done by mid-afternoon. The two church groups had spent a lot of time chatting during the day and now spent almost half an hour in friendly discourse. There were just as many good people at New Covenant as there were at Holy Light and it was good to meet other saved people of like mind. Easter came with social obligations, however, so soon enough Sara was walking out on Isaac's arm, jamming into the ride, and heading back to Holy Light to pick up her car. Once there, Isaac gave her a gentle kiss on the lips and asked, "6:15, right?"

"That's right," Sara nodded. "And don't be late this time, it bugs my mom to no end."

"I hate to bug your mom," Isaac admitted. "You know I love you, right?"

"I may have heard something about that."

"Well now you have it straight from the horse's mouth."

"I love your horse-mouth."

Isaac chuckled. "OK, see you then."

Sara slid into her car and pointed it toward home, arriving a few minutes later. The first thing she did when she got inside was to take off her shoes - three-inch heels were an inch higher than she wore anywhere else and more than enough to make her feet hurt. Even so, she couldn't help but notice that the pains up into her ankles and calves weren't quite as bad as they always were when she wore these shoes, and before she could stop it the thought These new stockings must help flitted across her brain.

She sighed. Of course they helped, they were beautifully made by experts. And now she had a whole bunch more unwanted, expensive, beautifully made things to hand wash.

Sara found that the limiting factor for how much washing she got done was less time than clean towels to lay the wet things on and space to lay out the towels. Her apartment wasn't tiny, but it was sufficiently messy that some surfaces she might otherwise have used were filled with clutter instead. Still, she got over half of it done, including garter belts and stockings; no matter how trashy they seemed to her, there was no denying that the hosiery did make a difference in how her body felt...and besides, if she got a sudden call that resulted in an underwear check (which was still so weird) then the person doing the checking would probably want to see her in full regalia so she'd better get used to wearing them.

Isaac appeared at 6:10 and Sara climbed into his car wearing a less fancy but still nice dress, flats, and no stockings. They kissed again (no tongue obviously) and chatted happily as they drove to her family's house for Easter dinner. Her parents and three of her siblings still lived in the house she had grown up in, a big place in the middle-class suburb of Burnsville. She was the eldest of five children, and when she was born the house was a tidy little three-bedroom place; as children kept coming first one and then another bedroom were added, along with a play room, a games room, and more storage space. The old place was a bit of a Frankenstein's monster now, but it was still home to her, and the familiar sights of the neighborhood and the house kindled a pleasant flame in her heart as they pulled up and parked. They walked hand-in-hand to the door and went inside without ringing the bell.

Sara's father Dave appeared from the kitchen and advanced toward them. He was a tall, fit man pushing 50, with steely gray hair and a face that age had given gravitas instead of decrepitude. First he gave Sara a tight, proud hug, and then Isaac received a warm handshake. "Food's almost ready," Dave said. "Come on in."

"Is mom in the kitchen?" Sara asked.

"Where else?" her father asked. Mrs. Morehead was obsessive about the meals she served to guests; as Isaac was not yet family, that included him.

"I'll just pop in and drop off my gift to the lady of the house," Isaac said. The normal procedure when going to a dinner party might be to bring wine for the hostess, but since both he and Sara were strictly abstinent his custom had always been to bring flowers. Originally he had brought them in vases until Sara's mother Jennifer had asked him to stop with the vases, there were vases coming out of her ears, so since then Isaac had just brought a boxed bouquet.

They found Jennifer at the stove working on the sauteed mushrooms. She was of medium height with hair dyed her original brown and a once-trim figure that had become wider and less willing to give up fat after birthing five children - she wasn't obese, but she constantly fretted about her weight and the damage it was wreaking on her health. Turning from the food, she gave Sara a smile and a peck on the cheek, and laughed when she saw Isaac. "You and flowers, honey. Sara, would you mind getting those into a vase?"

Isaac had selected a lovely bouquet of lilies, tulips, and daffodils, and once he had passed them off to Sara he beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen. Jennifer barely tolerated Sara in the kitchen when she was cooking, more from the conviction that a soon-to-be-married woman needed to be able to cook a decent meal than from the limited assistance Sara could provide; anyone else was unwelcome. As Sara trimmed and arranged the flowers she chatted with her mother; she knew things weren't going great at home, but with her mother so focused on the cooking any serious conversation would have to wait until after the meal when they were doing dishes together. Instead Sara did the fetching, the carrying, and any other non-skilled work while Jennifer gave her cooking advice.

The entree had come out of the oven and was sitting inside its tinfoil castle when Nicky came in. At 15 years of age, Nicky was Sara's youngest sibling and the last of her three brothers. He was a thin, short boy who was still waiting for puberty to hit him good and hard, and like all of the three younger kids he was driving his parents insane. When he saw Sara he shot her his lopsided, cocky grin and said, "Hey, Sar-Bear, what up?"

For some reason her childhood nickname brought to Sara's mind the fact that she was wearing obscene underwear like she had never worn even before she was saved, and the incongruity of it gave her stomach a nervous flutter. Nevertheless she pushed it aside and replied, "Nothing much. Upwitchoo?"

"Same old. Oh, I got a part in the spring play. We're doing The Man Who Came to Dinner. I'm Richard Stanley."

"Oh, congratulations! Is it a big part?"

"Pretty big. I've got some good lines." As he spoke, he casually let his hand drift under the tinfoil tent to sneak a morsel. Sara grinned and said nothing to alert their mother as Nicky said, "Rehearsals are going really good and we started blocking last we - OW!"

Without looking, Jennifer had brought a sturdy wooden spoon down onto Nicky's wrist. "NO STEALING FOOD BEFORE IT'S READY!" Sara could only grin wider; no matter how quiet or how sneaky you were, even with her back turned, mom always knew.

Nicky scuttled out of the kitchen rubbing his sore wrist and affecting a limp, which made Sara giggle. All three of her siblings still at home were in trouble or causing it or both, but Nicky's brand of trouble was the most benign. He was a mischievous and high-spirited kid with a good heart, sort of like an older Bart Simpson. Nothing he ever did was actually bad, but he somehow ended up with detention a day or two per week.

Jennifer interrupted Sara's train of thought with a series of commands: put the mushrooms and asparagus in dishes, chop some parsley, slice the fresh-baked crusty rosemary bread, all things that someone of Sara's limited culinary abilities could accomplish without difficulties. Finally it was time to serve the food, and the two women bore the meal out to the dining room in dish after dish. By the time the entree was brought forth in all its savory glory, Dave and Isaac had corralled Sara's siblings and everyone was present at the table. Jennifer placed the heavy entree before Dave for cutting as Isaac seated Sara.

The family said no prayers - they never did. She and Isaac held hands beneath the table, bowed their heads and closed their eyes, and said a silent blessing. Her parents had never been anti-religion exactly, but they never had sympathy for it either. When Sara had been saved, they handled the situation by talking about it briefly and never discussing it again...just like a lot of other things in the family.

By the time the prayer was done, Dave was slicing into the meat, which smelled delicious. Not everyone was pleased, however, as her sister Danielle sighed theatrically and said, "I don't understand why we have to have lamb for Easter. Eating lamb is barbaric. Why can't we have ham like normal people?"

"Because ham for Easter is banal," Jennifer said quietly but with a firmness that indicated further discussions along this line would lead to an argument. Sara shot a look to Isaac and hid her grin. Five years ago her mother had made the switch to Easter lamb for that precise reason without consulting anyone, and every complaint since had been answered in that way. For her part Sara loved the lamb her mother made, rich and juicy with a delicious pancetta stuffing and topped with a dark brown lamb gravy, served on a bed of wilted greens - she preferred it to the traditional ham by far.

Danielle hmmphed, but she didn't turn down the thick slice that was passed to her. Short and petite with naturally blonde hair, Danielle definitely took after the women on their dad's side just as much as Sara took after her mother, and the dissimilarity between sisters was only enhanced by the fact that Danielle sported a nostril ring on the right side and an eyebrow piercing on the left, and at the moment her hair was dyed a bright aquamarine with vivid pink ends. She was 18 and chronically dissatisfied with everything, and sunk deep in what Sara thought was a standard "rebel without a clue" phase. She'd grow out of it the way almost everyone did and her future would be fine, as long as she didn't make any grievous mistakes on the way just for the sake of making them.

Slices of lamb were laden on plates and passed, and once everyone had theirs the other dishes passed around in a circle, and before long everyone's plate was full. Jennifer's holiday cooking might have been a bit pretentious and not to everyone's taste, but at least it was plentiful.

Once the eating began, Danielle lightened up a bit (if only by virtue of her mouth being full most of the time) and Nicky behaved himself. Her father liked Isaac and the two of them kept each other busy most of the time discussing such male esoterica as football, fishing, automobiles, and brands of aftershave. Jennifer spent her time as she usually did during family dinners, watching her children to supervise their table manners and issue correction when necessary. Sara talked to each person in turn, keeping the table talk light and pleasant and enjoying the food.

The only real problem came from her brother Chuck. He was on the verge of turning 17 and had recently hit a growth spurt, his formerly meager frame now filled out like a linebacker's so that he seemed to take up more space at the table than anyone else. When he was younger he had always been a quiet, reserved, and sweet boy; less so now. He loudly criticized Dave and Isaac when the subject was their mutual love of the Minnesota Vikings, he loudly criticized the food, and he loudly criticized Danielle for being a "progressive flake" and Nicky for being a "fucking pussy." Mostly he criticized Sara and Isaac for being "religious idiots" and "superstitious assholes." He only shut up when Dave told him, in a perfectly calm voice, that if he uttered one more word Dave would smash his PlayStation and all his games to tiny pieces. Chuck fell silent for a few moments, then stood and stomped up the stairs; when he got to his bedroom he slammed the door so violently that crystal in the china cabinet rattled.

It was a shocking display. Sara knew that Chuck had been causing problems, and she knew in a vague way that Chuck had been into trouble lately, but she'd never seen anything like this from him. She stole glances at her parents and siblings as all this was unfolding, but none of them seemed surprised. Even the pause in conversation after Chuck's display was of brief duration, and once he had gone upstairs talk resumed as though nothing had happened. Sara and Isaac exchanged glances but went back to the dinner and tried to act like they weren't disturbed by what had just happened. The others seemed unbothered, but Sara was more subdued for the rest of the meal.

Dessert was Sara's favorite, a decadent carrot cake whose recipe had been passed down for four generations along her mother's line. It was a thick, heavy cake laden with a cream cheese frosting, so sweet it could make teeth ache but so delicious that it was impossible to stop eating it until the plate was empty and the fork licked clean. Isaac had a second piece.

After dinner Danielle and Nicky vanished to their rooms and Dave kept Isaac busy watching NBA basketball. In the kitchen, as Sara dried and put away the dishes her mother washed, Sara asked, "How long has Chuck been like this?"

"This bad? A couple months." Jennifer did her best to keep her voice emotionless as she always did, but weariness was leaking through around the edges.

"I know he had a hard time when Frank left," Sara offered. Frank was the sibling who was absent tonight, the brother who was hardly more than a year younger than her. For a long time it had been just Sara and Frank and they had been very close, but when Sara was nine Danielle was born, with the other two following in rapid succession. Because of the age difference, she had never been especially close to the younger three, although it didn't seem to bother Frank as much. Chuck in particular had idolized his big brother, so when Frank left after high school to study geochemistry at Columbia the younger boy had faced difficulties. By then Sara had gone through her own darkest of dark times and was experiencing the first glowing rush of salvation, so she wasn't plugged into her family the way she could have been, but she'd still been aware of Chuck's struggles. Still, she had no idea it had become this grievous.

"He's been having a hard time ever since," Jennifer said. "It's getting worse. He's been running with a bad group of friends, thugs and criminals. He's gotten into fights, and he's so much bigger than most boys his age that he could really hurt someone. And two weeks ago we got called to the police station because he had been found with drugs."

Sara stopped what she was doing. "Oh no..."

"Marijuana, eight joints. He's damned lucky it was under the felony limit. As it was, it was a $200 fine."

Sara looked at the ceiling as though she could see through it into Chuck's room, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, mom."

"Between him, the other two, and your father..." Jennifer paused, gave a brief but decisive head shake, and finished, "Never mind. How's work?"

Work was awful, abysmal, and exactly what Sara deserved, but part of bearing just retribution from the Lord was not complaining. With a smile she said, "Fine. No problems worth talking about."

Jennifer nodded. She kept her voice neutral, but Sara knew the depth of feeling when her mother said, "Keep your career. Keep your skills sharp. A woman has to look after herself."

Sara didn't reply. Jennifer considered giving up her career to take care of her children and her house to be her original sin and she knew Sara was planning to make the same "mistake" as soon as she got a baby from Isaac. It was a topic of repeated dissension between them. Not arguments and certainly never fights, just the cold-iron disapproval that she and her siblings had seen so often as they grew.

After the goodbyes were said and Sara and Isaac were headed back north, he quietly asked her, "How's your mom?"

"Not great. Chuck's in trouble, Danielle and Nicky are driving her nuts."

"You know, your dad told me something tonight. He said to enjoy my bachelor life. He's never said anything like that to me before."

"Mom hinted there are other problems than just the kids."

"She didn't say what?"

"I knew better than to ask."

Pause, then, "Every family goes through challenges."

"Yeah."

The rest of the drive was pleasant enough, but Sara felt like she was under a cloud for the whole way. In part it was the scene at her family home and what it might portend, but that wasn't all of it. At one point during a lull in the conversation Sara found herself looking at her fiance's profile illuminated by the dashboard lights and the headlights of oncoming cars, and before she knew it the thoughts that she had purposefully been avoiding all day came in hard. Isaac, darling, I love you so much. Would you forgive me if I were forced to cheat? Would you forgive me if I were forced to be with a woman? And could you forgive me if you knew about the other secret, the one so terrible that adultery pales before it? Do I deserve your forgiveness? Do I deserve you?