by Mary Campisi
Lily waited until Mimi closed the back door before she turned to Hope and said, “Did you ever eat a pizzelle?” When the girl shook her head, Lily lifted one off the plate, held it out to her. “They’re really good. These are vanilla ones, and I made them. It takes a long time to get good at it, because you have to know how to time it. If you leave them in the iron too long, they get burned.” She giggled. “If they’re only a little burned, I still eat them. Here—” she inched the pizzelle toward Mimi’s granddaughter “—try a bite.” Hope shook her head, gripped her lemonade glass, and scooted toward the very end of the swing. Far away from the pizzelle—and Lily.
Pop said sometimes people don’t know they need friends and they try to fight it. That’s when you have to let them figure it out on their own. You can’t shove something at them, no matter how much you know they’ll like it—like friendship, or a pizzelle. “Okay, you don’t have to try it.” She studied the pizzelle in her hand, traced the fancy edges. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.” Lily bit into the pizzelle, her first today. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Crunchy and sweet, her very favorite in the whole world. “Mmm. These sure are good. If you were staying longer, I could teach you how to make them. They’re tricky, but you just need practice. My friend Pop says everything is about practice. The more you do it, the better you get, even if you don’t like it at first.”
She slid a glance at Hope, who was staring at the plate of pizzelles. “That’s what happened to my brother. Nate didn’t like to talk much to anybody but me and Mom, but then he met Christine, that’s his wife. Now he talks a lot more, even to strangers, and he doesn’t use his scary voice on them either, unless he thinks they’re up to no good.” Lily reached for another pizzelle, punched out the center and popped it in her mouth. “Nate sings sometimes, too, but only when he doesn’t think anybody but his kids are around.” She let out a laugh. “I want to videotape him, but Christine says that would be ‘crossing the line,’ so I guess I won’t.”
Lily didn’t miss the itty-bitty smile that crept over Hope’s lips. So, she liked the story about Nate and the videotape. Well, there were plenty more of those, like tons about Uncle Harry. “I have an uncle who split his pants wide open when he tried to climb the jungle gym.” She leaned toward Hope, lowered her voice, “He had on red-striped underwear.”
Hope covered her mouth, but the giggle crept out. “Red-striped?” she repeated.
“Uh-huh. He didn’t know you weren’t supposed to use the sliding board and the jungle gym in your dress clothes. One time, he tried to run across the yard after Lizzie and he was wearing fancy shoes and boom, he slipped right on his behind. His legs went up in the air, and then he flipped on his belly and just laid there. We were so scared. We didn’t know what happened. Lizzie thought he might be dead, but I knew he couldn’t be dead, not unless he hit his head on a rock or had a big heart attack. I didn’t think it was a heart attack. I thought he was hurt and couldn’t talk.”
The girl bit her bottom lip, stared at Lily like she really wanted to hear the rest of the story about Uncle Harry and his shenanigans, as Mom called them. “I knelt down and got real close and listened. I could hear him breathing, nice and slow…and I got closer…” Lily’s voice dipped, turned softer, “Closer…”
Hope’s eyes got big, her mouth opened, and Lily figured she wanted to know the rest of the story more than she wanted not to talk because she whispered, “Then what?”
Lily smacked a hand against her knee and said in a very loud outside voice, “Then he grabbed my hand and said, ‘Gotcha’!”
Giggle, giggle. “Your uncle sounds silly.”
Lily giggled, too. “He is definitely silly.”
Hope giggled again, her face turning as bright as her hair. “Silly, silly.” She inched a hand toward a pizzelle, picked it up, studied it.
“Sometimes when you make pizzelles, you have to trim the edges, so they look nice, kind of like the bottom of a fancy dress. Pop lets me do it. We call it giving the pizzelle a haircut.” Giggle, giggle. “Pop’s really nice, too, and he teaches me lots of stuff.” She eyed her new friend. “Bet he could teach you a few things, too, if you wanted.”
Hope shrugged, nibbled on a pizzelle. “Oliver teaches me lots of stuff, too.” Another shrug, “He has a ponytail and an earring.”
“Cool. How come your dad didn’t come?” Hope’s expression got all confused like Lizzie’s did when Lily was trying to explain a chess move to her. “Where is he?”
Hope lifted her small shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.”
So sad. “Is he in Heaven?”
The girl pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose, darted a sideways glance at Lily. “Not sure.”
Poor girl. She didn’t know if her dad was in Heaven or if he was still walking the earth somewhere. That meant she didn’t know if he was alive or not. Nate said not every dad was a good one, and not every dad wanted to be one. Maybe Hope’s father was like that. So sad. “My dad’s in Heaven,” Lily said, pointing to the sky. “I talk to him all the time, but especially at night when it’s quiet and the stars are dancing in the sky.”
Hope frowned. “Stars don’t dance.”
“Uh-huh, they do.” Lily leaned toward Hope, whispered, “They move all around, and Uncle Harry says it’s probably the angels dancing.” She giggled. “He’s silly.”
“Oliver says that stars are for making wishes. If you find the brightest star and make a wish on it, your wish will come true.”
“Really?” Lily liked the sound of that one. She had a lot of wishes and she liked the stars. Nate would put on a frowny face if she told him about wishing on stars, but she bet Uncle Harry would like the idea.
“Oliver says he makes star wishes every night, and lots of them come true.”
There sure was a lot of talk about the man with the long ponytail who came with Hope’s mom. “Is Oliver your mom’s boyfriend?”
“Oliver?” Hope scrunched up her nose like she’d smelled stinky cheese. “No, he’s our friend.”
“Pop said friends could turn into boyfriends. Maybe he’ll be your stepfather someday.”
“Stepfather?”
Lily shrugged, nodded. “Maybe. Uncle Harry is A.J. and Lizzie’s stepdad.”
“I don’t know…”
“Uncle Harry said he loves them like they were his own kids and they love him like he was their real dad. Sometimes Lizzie even calls him dad. Maybe you can meet Uncle Harry and A.J. and Lizzie.” The look on the girl’s face made Lily ask, “Are you shy?”
Hope nodded, bit her bottom lip. “People make me nervous, especially new people.”
Lily reached out, touched her hand. “That’s okay. Everybody gets nervous about something.” Pause. “You just met me, so that makes me a new person. Do I make you nervous?”
A smile inched across Hope’s lips. “A little, but I like you.”
Lily smiled. “Do you like your grandma?”
“I think so. I like her dangle earrings. They’re like my mom’s.”
“Your grandma is a very nice lady and makes really good chocolate chip pumpkin bread. She puts lots of chocolate chips in it. Want me to ask her to make you some?”
“Do you think she would?”
“She’s your grandma. Of course, she would.” Sadness smothered Lily’s voice. “I never knew my grandmas, but I have two aunts. Aunt Greta and Aunt Gloria. Both have G names.” She giggled. “Aunt Greta has an accent and Aunt Gloria was very sparkly, but she died.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it’s sad. Do you know my friend Pop told me that your grandma said she couldn’t wait to see you and if she went to Heaven tomorrow, she’d be happy because she got to meet you?”
Hope clasped her hands together, said in a worried voice, “Is my grandma going to Heaven now?”
“Someday she’ll go to Heaven, but Pop says you never know when, and that’s why you have to make the time with people you love special.”
10
“I thought we’d start with the shelves on the back wall.”
He turned from her, gathered up the shop rags, and the bucket. His T-shirt stretched across his back, molding his muscles, reminding her of how they felt. Twenty-two years might have passed, but the man was still too attractive, too compelling. She bet women found him irresistible. One slow smile, his blue gaze traveling down a woman’s body… And when he spoke? Oh, yes, that voice, a velvet rumble of seduction and pleasure. Max Ruhland was definitely irresistible, no denying that. If she let herself, she could get caught up in the man’s magnetism, and if she weren’t careful, she might do something foolish. Something regrettable. A tiny voice whispered, something very memorable. Something you could carry with you the rest of your life. Isn’t it worth it?
“Why don’t you get the stepladder in the corner and start taking the cans off the shelf? They’re all labeled, and I think I’ve got an expiration date on them. We can haul the old cans to the disposal place later this week.”
Grace moved toward the stepladder, spotted an unmarked box. It was folded closed with the flaps of the box, no tape. She eased the first flap open, grabbed the second, and peeked inside. There were papers and binders, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were. She started to pull open the third flap, when Max grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “That’s not part of this project,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to tape it up, move it, or…?” Why was he looking at her as though he didn’t want her to know what was inside the box?
“Just leave it and I’ll take care of it.”
“Sure. Sorry.” Grace lifted the stepladder and moved toward the shelf with the metal cans. She glanced toward Max as he stood over the box, his gaze fixed on it. What was in the box that had him looking so intense? So disturbed? And why didn’t he want her to know about its contents? Seconds later, he grabbed the packing tape and sealed it shut. Then he straightened and turned toward her. “I don’t really feel like dealing with this today. Why don’t we pick up some burgers and shakes and go for a ride?”
Grace hadn’t had a milkshake in years. It didn’t fit with her healthy-eating lifestyle, or the extra pounds she’d battled since Natalie was born. As for the burger? There’s no way it wouldn’t come with French fries, and there was no way she could eat just one.
She should decline. Absolutely. Grace opened her mouth to tell Max “thanks but no thanks,” but when she looked at him, something else spilled out. “Sure,” she said. “Give me a minute to get changed.” After that night, she would remember the power and the pull of Max Ruhland, but right now, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered but a milkshake and a burger and a ride in a Chevelle.
Of course, it was so much more than that, and deep down Grace knew it.
Maybe that’s why she agreed.
She hadn’t expected him to suggest they eat their burgers at Boone’s Peak, but once she thought about it, she liked the idea. What could happen with a burger, fries, and a milkshake between them? It was a quick and painless way to complete the least desirable task.
And now, here they were, parked close to their old spot at Boone’s Peak, munching on burgers and fries and waiting for the sun to set. Alone, not a car in sight.
But Grace was too busy nibbling on her fries to think about it. “These are the best fries ever.”
Max nodded. “Just the right mix of salt and crispness.”
She sipped her chocolate milkshake, refusing to think about fat content or calories. Tonight she was just going to enjoy the taste. Max leaned back in his seat, his long legs spread out. He looked relaxed, carefree…and kind of like the drifter the town talked about. Was he a drifter? She’d wondered how he could take off so much time. Did he make his own hours? Or was he not working because he’d been laid off?
“What’s on your mind, Grace? You’ve been making faces and frowning like either the burger doesn’t agree with you or you’ve got a question.”
She eyed him over her milkshake. “How can you take off so much time from work?”
“Why? Worried I can’t afford a milkshake and fries? Or was it the extra charge for the cheese on the burger that sent warning flags?”
When he put it that way, her question sounded ridiculous, but wasn’t that what people did when they wanted to avoid answering? Made inquiries look far-fetched and silly? Those were avoidance tactics and she’d seen enough with Grant to recognize them. “It’s just a question. It doesn’t look like you’ve been at work since I arrived…” She let the rest hang in the air in hopes he’d fill in the blanks. How much money did a mechanic make anyway? It couldn’t be much in a town like this, especially if it was a small outfit. But still… And how was it that he never seemed to need money and insisted on paying whenever they went out? Even tried to reimburse her for the groceries she bought the other day?
A person couldn’t just leave his job indefinitely unless he didn’t have a job anymore. Grace pondered ways to ask about this last possibility when Max spoke.
“I took some time off to get things in order. It’s been a rough few months.”
“Did you work when she was ill?” What were you doing for money?
“I was in and out of the shop, and at the end I was here most of the time. Frances needed me and I didn’t want her to be alone. Hospice was here, too, so that helped.”
Grace said what had been on her mind for days. “I should have been here.”
“It would have been awkward, and I had to concentrate on Frances and what she needed.”
Meaning Max hadn’t wanted to deal with any emotions her presence might bring. Of course, he was right, but still she knew she let her aunt down. “I’m sorry you had to face this all by yourself. I never knew you and my aunt were so close, and I wish I had.”
He looked straight ahead, toward the sky and the mountains. “Better you didn’t know, because I’m not sure what that would have looked like.”
“Grant’s been dead three years. He would not have had a say in this.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched, the brackets around his mouth deepening. “I’m not talking about Grant. I’m talking about seeing each other again. I don’t know how I would have handled it, and I needed to focus on Frances.”
He was right, but it bothered her to know her own family hadn’t helped, hadn’t even known about the illness. Another possibility flitted through her brain, took hold. What if Aunt Frances had been supporting Max all this time? Paying him to care for her? Grace spoke before she lost her nerve. “I’m not trying to be nosy, and if it’s not my business, just tell me, but… Do you make enough money to support yourself?” There, she’d said it. He looked at her, his gaze hard, the brackets around his mouth, deeper. Heat crept up her neck, burst onto her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. That’s not what I meant.”
His gaze narrowed. “Yes, it is. It’s exactly what you meant. You’re wondering how close to bankruptcy I am, or if I’m sponging off some woman, or if I’m really making it on my own. Or maybe you’re wondering if that’s why I was living with Frances.”
He’d hit every point, dead on. “Well…”
“I’m not filing for bankruptcy, nor have I ever done so. I’m not sponging off another woman, and I didn’t move in with Frances so she could pay my bills. What can I say? I’m frugal.”
Frugal? She’d never thought that about Max, not when he’d been seventeen and spent most of his paycheck on a new carburetor for his Chevelle. And while his T-shirts might look worn, they were soft, well made…designer label, no doubt.
So, he wasn’t going
to tell her the truth? Fine, but she was not about to pretend she believed his frugal story. “If you say so.”
He shrugged, settled back in his seat, his next words signaling the end of the conversation. “How about we watch the sunset so we can check it off our list?”
11
Dear residents of Magdalena:
I have decided to write this letter to all of you as an apology. Some of you don’t know me but many of you do.
Have you ever trusted someone so completely and later learned that what they told you was a lie? You didn’t see it at first, because you thought they were your friend and friends don’t lie to each other. I committed a grievous offense because I trusted the wrong person, someone I called friend. I have a trusting nature and have always believed in the goodness of others. Some people have called me naïve; others have called me kind-hearted.
In this world, it seems that trusting and kind-hearted can often prove dangerous and lead to heartache. This has certainly been the case in my life. I was engaged to a man and later found out that while he planned to marry me, he’d also given a ring to another woman. Not only that, but he had a child with her—a baby—one I knew nothing about. Can you imagine my disbelief? My heartache? How could a person I love have such a lie in his life? When I discovered this truth, he told me it was all a mistake, that he loved only me. Oh, how I wanted to believe him! He filled me with so many sweet words that I almost questioned what I had seen with my own eyes.
But I could not ignore what I saw. The man was a user and a liar and had no real concern for me. (I also found out he’d gotten the other woman pregnant—again!) I was devastated and unsure how to navigate in a world where people used each other so easily with no concern for what was right or decent. They destroyed one another for self-serving purposes. How sad and tragic. My heart went out to the other woman. She knew nothing of me and perhaps still doesn’t.
