Read Online The Big Shuffle by Laura Pedersen - Free Book Online Page B

be what happens at the hospital but the scene awaiting me back at the house.

FIFTEEN
    L OUISE!” I CALL OUT. THERE'S NO SIGN OF DINNER BEING STARTED and the table isn't set. Not only that, there are no signs of children. I look out the basement window to the backyard. No one. Racing up the stairs to the second floor, I'm relieved to see light coming from underneath the closed door of Louise and Darlene's room.
    Louise is alone, totally engrossed in reorganizing the closet.
    “Louise! Where
is
everybody?” Panic edges my voice.
    “Francie and Lillian's room,” she replies without looking up from her pile of sweaters.
    I dash down the hall and open the door to the girls’ room. Uncle Lenny is seated on Lillian's small bed, leaning forward so that thick muscled arms balance on tree trunk legs, telling them a story. Three little faces stare up at him transfixed, while the twins lie sleeping in their car seats. Great, the man whose address is a bar somewhere in the Caribbean is not only baby-sitting the little kids but also the ten-week-old twins.
    Catching my breath I manage to say, “Okay, we're back. Lunch in half an hour.”
    Davy excitedly fills me in on what I've missed. “Hallie! There was a man and his dog shitwrecked on an island—”
    “Thipwrecked,” Darlene corrects him. Sort of.
    Davy doesn't miss a beat. “And when they found the man's clothes and the dog's bones they couldn't tell which eated the other!”
    Davy reaches out and touches Uncle Lenny's beard. “You're God, aren't you?”
    “Don't be stupid,” says Darlene. “He's Santa Claus.”
    “You're stupid,” says Davy. “Because Santa is back at the North Pole. He only comes at Christmas. Everyone knows
that.”
    Uncle Lenny shakes with laughter. Not unlike Santa Claus. Or perhaps God after hearing a really funny joke.
    The doorbell rings. I've made it only to the landing when I hear the cheerful voices of the church ladies. They unpack casseroles and fruit salads and pineapple upside-down cakes.
    I'm grateful they've come to the rescue once again. However, I'm also aware that their visits will become fewer and further between. They have their own families to get off to work and school in the mornings, and a list of community activities that require constant attention. Plus, they view Aunt Lala as one of them, probably due to her print dress, and believe that things are more or less under control.
    If only the church ladies knew that a large portion of Aunt Lala's day is spent playing Memory with packets of herbal tea and artificial sweeteners. Honestly, if that's all she did, I wouldn't care. But every time our paths cross Aunt Lala asks, “What's going to happen? Whatever will you do?”
    The churchwomen, on the other hand, instinctively understand that no matter what calamity is playing itself out, you keep repeating, “It's all going to be just fine! You'll see.” Andthough I don't believe them for a second, it's really the only thing I'm interested in hearing right now.
    As the churchwomen march past me and into the kitchen with their bright smiles and hair pulled neatly back, I wish I could be more like them, absorbing life's unexpected turns as easily as they adjust to changes in the weather.

SIXTEEN
    O N THE MORNING OF THE FUNERAL I WAKE UP JUST AFTER four A.M. I'm ground down by exhaustion and sorrow and yet it's impossible to sleep.
    Finally a sliver of pink dawn begins to creep over the horizon. Outside the window snow falls softly through the bare trees and onto the empty yards and rooftops.
    I rise and drag myself through the paces of feeding and bathing the younger children while Eric heads off to the hospital to see if Mom will be able to attend the funeral.
    At half past one I start herding the kids into the car. “Come on, it's time to leave for the church,” I announce in my best let's-sound-like-Mom voice. Eric has the station wagon and there's no way we can fit ten people and two babies into the van, so Aunt Lala,