Laura, being the oldest, married early. Connie, 26 by now, wasn’t even born when Laura left home and so had never met her. Since Dotty was the last Terhune sister to leave the family home in Rankin, she was the one who pretty much raised Connie.
Some searching by one of our private investigators revealed the youngest Terhune’s residence at a fleabag mobile home park. A few $50 bills proved persuasive enough for her neighbors to reveal that Connie lived alone now after kicking out her worthless boyfriend for cheating, and she worked the 11pm — 7am shift here at the diner. So here we were.
I was dressed in a polo shirt and khakis, as usual. Walter took the opportunity to dress like a mob enforcer — black suit, black patent leather shoes, and a white shirt with black silk tie. This was no accident; my partner actually liked dressing this way, since he’d done it for 30 years as a mob enforcer. The big man looked around, and remarked in his deep basso profundo voice, “Man, if an outhouse had a dining room, this place would be it.”
I nodded in agreement, and that’s when our waitress came out of the back. One look was all it took to see that, oh yes, she was a definitely a Terhune sister. Although taller and slimmer than either of our wives, there was no mistaking those green eyes and red hair. Her waitress uniform was a dingy pink thing (with some obvious repairs sewn into it), and a grease-stained apron. Because she was a Terhune sister, however, she still looked like a million bucks in it.
Taking her order pad and pen out of her apron, she wearily asked, “What can I get you boys tonight?”
I took a $100 bill out of my pocket, and slid it across the table. “Just some answers. My partner and I have a few questions.”
She looked nervously around, but the only eyes on her were mine and Walter’s. “Are you guys cops?”
Walter chuckled, “Not hardly.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you looking for sex or something? Because I don’t do that shit, I ain’t a whore.”
I quickly interjected, “Relax, Connie. We’re family.”
She took a step back and snapped, “Bullshit. You’re no kin of mine, I’ve never seen you two before.”
I laid my hands flat on the table. “True enough,” I said, “we’re not blood relations. Walter and I are your brothers-in-law. He’s married to your sister Dotty, and I’m married to your sister Laura. We live near Oklahoma City, and we’ve been on the road all day to be here. Your sisters sent us to tell you they want to see you, and would love for you to come home with us.”
At the mention of Laura’s name, Connie sneered. “Laura? You mean perfect Laura, the golden girl who never did nothing wrong and whose shit didn’t stink? I got so sick of my parents telling me, ‘You should be more like Laura’, I still hate her.” Inwardly I flinched. Silas and Ruth may have been prolific breeders, but it sounded like their parenting wasn’t exactly optimal.
Connie’s edgy attitude changed completely when Walter pulled out his wallet and showed her pictures of him with Dotty and their three kids. Connie teared up and began reminiscing how it was basically Dotty who’d raised her, helped her with her schoolwork, and stuck up for her when got caught sneaking out at night, which apparently happened frequently. By the time Walter had put his wallet back in his pocket, Connie had written her resignation on the back of a paper placemat and told us to pick her up at her place after she got off work.
Once we picked Connie up, after leaving Decorah we drove straight through, stopping only for gas and to switch drivers. When one of us wasn’t driving, Walter and I mostly cat-napped. Connie, on the other hand, crashed on the bed in the back of the motorhome, apparently from the collective exhaustion that went along with being a graveyard shift waitress.
It was past 10pm when we arrived at my farmhouse in Wellston. The kids were all asleep, but Dotty and Laura were waiting. Seeing Dotty, Connie ran straight into her arms and they had a good cry. Connie’s reaction to Laura was cordial but formal, a quick hug, nothing more. Given Connie had never met Laura but only received her parents’ lectures about her not measuring up instead, this was understandable. Having raised their little sister, Dotty suggested Connie come live with her and Walter. Laura agreed, but was clearly disappointed at their unemotional reunion. After they left, she went into our room and cried.
++++++++++
May – Wellston, Oklahoma: Knocking On Heaven’s Door
Walter and I were in the cabin office three days later, working on the blueprints for his new unit. He and Dotty liked the plans on the unit Laura and I were building, and wanted the same layout except with a few modifications. I was working my architect’s magic when I heard the crunchy sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway.
We came outside, and saw a long black limousine now parked next to the house, Kansas license plate ‘SHHHHH1’, classic Quiet Sal humor. The driver got out and opened the rear door. Sal got out, carrying a small oxygen canister, clear plastic tubing feeding it into his nostrils.
He walked up to us and shook hands. “Sal, welcome to my home,” I told him. I almost said ‘Eli, go fetch Mom,’ out of habit, because as a little one Eli was my constant shadow. The memory was quick but painful; I corrected myself mentally when it hit me, realizing I was looking at TJ instead. Despite everything he’d done, I still missed Eli. I shifted brain gears and asked TJ to go fetch Laura. She came out, carrying Ruthie on her hip.
Sal turned on the charm and bowed slightly, taking Laura’s free hand, and kissing it. “Mrs. McFarland, always a pleasure. These are for you.” The driver took a dozen white roses out of the passenger side front seat and handed them to Laura. I had to admire Sal, even with oxygen tubes in his nose, the old man still oozed charm.
Laura leaned forward and kissed Sal lightly on both cheeks, “Mr. Bartolo, it’s good to see you again, and it’s wonderful you took the time to come all the way out here personally.” From the look on Sal’s face I could tell that had Laura been a widow, she’d definitely have a shot at being the third Mrs. Bartolo. He’d seen her red hair and green eyes in full daylight now; as I well knew, resistance was useless.
Stirring himself from the enchantment of the Terhune family eyes, he turned and called to the limo, “Boys, come on out. Let me introduce you.”
Sal had shown us pictures of the boys’ mother at dinner, but not the boys themselves. They got out of the limo and walked up to Sal, and I heard Laura whisper something under her breath along the lines of ‘holy shit’.
Dressed in matching tan khakis and light blue polo shirts, the boys were 6′ tall and slim, their faces matching Sal’s angular good looks, but with their mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes. I swear, they could have been models.
“Walter, Tom, Laura, these are my sons, Delavan and David. Boys, these folks are your new guardians, Tom and Laura McFarland, and Walter Connor. Walter’s wife Dotty isn’t here right now, but she’ll be watching over you as well.”