Pumpkin Roll
Page 34
“Delores,” Mrs. Wapple said, shaking her head before making brief eye contact. “I’m Delores.”
“Okay,” Sadie said with a nod, realizing that she’d never resolved why Delores went by Mrs. Wapple. It didn’t seem to matter anymore, though, and Sadie assumed it must have just been the result of Delores’s confusion. “Hi, Delores.”
The officer who had been posted at her door since she’d been admitted stood just behind the two sisters, and Sadie nodded at him so that he could return to his post. Sadie looked to Gabrielle and lifted her eyebrows in question. She hadn’t expected to see the two of them again and didn’t know what to say.
“Social services found a facility for Dee, at least for a little while.” Gabrielle looked over her shoulder at her sister, who was looking around the room and not paying them much attention. It was obvious that Delores wasn’t . . . normal, but she looked so much better than Sadie had ever seen her. Even her fingernails were clean and shaped. “She’s doing a lot better,” Gabrielle said with a smile, and Sadie smiled back, relieved to have them here—it was a closure she hadn’t expected. “We wanted to say good-bye,” Gabrielle said. “Before you went home. I also feel like I owe you an apology.”
Sadie shook her head. “No, you don’t. I’m the one who caused this. If not for me, none of it would have happened.” Despite four days in the hospital and the resolution of many things—Shawn was back at school, Pete had gotten the time off he needed to stay in Boston, and her injuries were healing well—she couldn’t resolve the guilt she felt at having drawn Jane to Boston where she’d used Mrs. Wapple as a way to get to Sadie. A million times a day she went back over what she could have or should have done differently.
“Something would have happened eventually,” Gabrielle said. She glanced at her sister again. “And regardless of how it happened, we both got some help. A social worker is coordinating things for Delores and me, and we’re going to do better than we did. You were a part of that.” She ducked her head slightly. “I just wanted you to know I appreciated it, and I’m sorry I was such a witch.”
The word startled Sadie and she glanced at Delores, who was touching all the flowers in the arrangement Pete had brought her after the surgery on Saturday. Gabrielle didn’t notice Sadie’s reaction and continued. “It’s just . . . well . . .”
“I know,” Sadie said, realizing that Gabrielle didn’t want to be critical in front of her sister. “I’m glad you both have the support you need.”
Gabrielle took a few steps closer to the head of the bed in order to take Sadie’s good hand. She squeezed it lightly and Sadie squeezed back. “Thanks,” Gabrielle said quietly. Sadie just nodded due to the lump in her throat at the sincere gesture.
Gabrielle had joined Delores at the foot of the bed when Pete stepped into view, causing an immediate silly grin to break out on Sadie’s face and the lump in her throat to disappear completely. He was dressed in pressed slacks, a blue button-down shirt, and a tweed sports coat. He must have gone shopping since he hadn’t packed such dressy clothes originally. She wondered if he’d come from the police station, where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t at the hospital.
“Pete,” she said, as though she hadn’t seen him for days, which wasn’t the least bit true. He took another step, and Heather appeared behind him. “Heather!” She’d had a good long talk with Pete’s daughter-in-law where they had resolved the lingering issues between them, and she couldn’t be happier to see her here.
“Oh, this is Gabrielle Marrow, and you know Mrs. . . . You know Delores Wapple.” She looked to Gabrielle. “This is Pete Cunningham, my boyfriend, and his daughter-in-law, Heather.”
Pete greeted them both and shook Gabrielle’s hand before Heather did the same. When he turned to Delores, she was looking at him with an adoring expression that made her eyes look wider and her cheeks fuller.
“You’re very handsome,” Delores said, causing Sadie to suppress a laugh and share a smile with Heather as Pete’s cheeks pinked up. He dropped his hand when Delores didn’t take it.
“Uh, well, thank you,” Pete said.
“Isn’t he handsome, Gabby?”
Gabrielle smiled and put an arm around Delores’s shoulder. “Come on, Dee, we need to go. The van is waiting for us.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at Sadie, which made Sadie smile even wider. Heather sat down on the edge of the bed, but Pete remained standing.
“Good?” he asked, nodding toward the door, which Sadie took as a question about her conversation with Gabrielle and Delores.
“Very good,” she said, surprised at how much better she felt knowing they didn’t hold anything against her.
Pete nodded. “So are you sure you’re ready to leave?”
“Are you kidding?” Sadie said. “Four days of hospital food and the hourly monitoring of vital signs isn’t as fun as it sounds.”
Pete laughed.
“I came along in case you needed help getting dressed or anything,” Heather said. “But it looks like you have that covered. You look great.”
Sadie shrugged, downplaying the two hours she’d spent on her hair and makeup that morning—having one arm made it a challenge. Getting dressed had been tricky, but a nurse had come in to help her. Sadie wasn’t exactly sure how she would do on her own tomorrow, but she didn’t want to make a big deal about it for fear of having to stay in the hospital even longer. They’d already kept her longer than usual due to her being from out of town and in need of police protection.
“Well, I’ll let the nurse know you’re ready. They have some paperwork for you to sign, and then I’ll bring the car around, will that work?” Pete looked between the two women.
“Sounds good,” Sadie said. Pete leaned in for a quick kiss and made his exit, leaving Heather and Sadie alone.
“I think he likes you,” Heather said, nodding toward the doorway Pete had disappeared through. “I mean really, really likes you.”
Sadie blushed while smoothing the covers over her lap. “Thank goodness. I thought for a minute Delores Wapple was going to give me a run for my money.”
Heather laughed. “The boys can’t wait to see you,” she said, lifting Sadie’s plastic bag of personal effects onto the bed.
“I can’t wait to see them,” Sadie said, though she frowned at the sling that would limit her interaction.
Heather picked up Sadie’s slippers and tucked them into the bag. “The boys told me about a swirly cake you made, and Pete figured out they were talking about a pumpkin roll. He helped me find your recipe book, and I made it to celebrate your release, though it’s probably not as pretty as yours.”
“It’s dark where it’s going anyway,” Sadie said. “Pretty makes no difference to me, and it sounds wonderful.” Anything would beat canned tapioca pudding.
Heather laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Pete agreed it was a perfect celebration dessert, seeing as how you have had so many roles while here in Boston.”
“Rolls?” Sadie repeated. Heather wasn’t referring to Sadie’s weight, was she?
“Well, you were a nanny for a little while, then a ghost hunter, and finally an investigator. You’ve been busy.”
Sadie laughed. Oh, that kind of role. “I seem to be busy no matter where I am.”
“I must have caught some kind of domestic bug from you because I put on my mom’s famous pot roast this morning. I’ll whip up some Yorkshire pudding once we get home. You’re in for quite a feast.”
“Bless you,” Sadie breathed. She was starved for homemade food.
Heather continued to smile, but a new expression on her face shifted the mood in the room. “Has Pete been keeping you updated on everything? With the case, I mean.”
“Mostly,” Sadie said. “Why, did you hear something?”
Heather shrugged. “He was filling Jared in before we left and said Jane still hasn’t returned to her hotel room. They’ve got the Denver PD watching her apartment. It’s really scary, Sadie, to think she’s
still out there.”
“Yeah, it is,” Sadie said, knowing she should act brave. But she was very anxious about Jane hiding somewhere, waiting.
“They found her family, but she hasn’t had contact with them for years. Apparently this isn’t the first time she’s become . . . obsessed with someone either, though it never got this far. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all this.”
Sadie shook her head, reaching out her good hand to Heather who took it. “Ignorance is not bliss,” she said. “I prefer knowing what’s going on.” But she could feel the all too familiar constriction in her chest. It was the same fear that made it hard to sleep at night and made her anxious when she was alone. She told herself—and everyone else who asked—that she was doing better, that every day helped her feel stronger and calmer. But it wasn’t true.
“I should also warn you that Pete doesn’t want you to go home. His sister, Jared’s Aunt Brooke, lives in Las Cruces, New Mexico, and Pete’s going to try to get you to agree to do your physical therapy there.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Sadie said, giving Heather’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “I want to go home, and no offense, but there’s no way I’m going to meet Pete’s family on my own.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Heather said with a nod. She stood up and looked around the room. “Is there anything else we need to pack up?”
“Just the flowers,” Sadie said. “Oh, and this.” She handed Heather the word search she’d been working on.
Heather tucked the word search in Sadie’s bag and raised the bed just as a nurse brought Sadie the paperwork she needed to sign. Within a couple of minutes, Heather was pushing Sadie down the hall in a wheelchair while Sadie held her bag and Pete’s flowers in her lap. Normally Sadie would be embarrassed to appear so feeble, but everything still hurt, and she was happy to keep her movements to a minimum. They were the only people in the elevator when the doors closed, and Sadie found herself brave enough to bring up something to Heather she’d wanted to talk about.
“Did I ever tell you about the exploding lightbulb?”
“Sure,” Heather said, moving to the side of the elevator so that they could make eye contact. “Or, well, Pete did.”
“I can’t explain it,” Sadie said bluntly. “I’ve tried, but it had nothing to do with Jane.”
Heather crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows. “That’s . . . interesting.” She smiled and Sadie knew exactly what she was thinking. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t know about that,” Sadie said, chuckling self-consciously. “But I’ve lost a lot of people I loved, and I’ve felt them, from time to time, lifting me up, pushing me forward, helping me make sense of something difficult. Maybe . . . maybe something like that played a part in this.”
“It is the first thing that got your attention,” Heather said. “Maybe someone got everything started, knowing you would take it from there.”
Instead of feeling self-conscious about her role, a calmness inside whispered that things had happened the way they happened because they were supposed to. In addition to being the babysitter and the investigator, Sadie had played her role in helping Delores . . . and Gabrielle. Perhaps even Mr. Forsberk, assuming he learned a lesson from all of this and got the help he needed. The thought that her involvement could be a good thing, despite the people who were hurt along the way, embarrassed her, but the embarrassment passed quickly and of all people, Timothy Wapple’s obituary photo came to mind. Why would the grave end his love for his daughters when life never got in the way?
The elevator came to a stop and Heather pushed her toward the main entrance where Sadie could see the minivan parked at the curb. She was eager to finish the conversation before they reached Pete, knowing he wasn’t as open to this topic as Heather was. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe Mr. Wapple wasn’t ready to leave until both of his daughters were safe.”
“I can’t think of anything else that would keep me here,” Heather said. “Knowing my children needed me? What bigger motivation would a parent need?”
Sadie nodded. “I agree,” she said, pondering it even more.
The main doors whooshed open and Pete stepped out of the van, hurrying over to open the passenger side door.
“I think,” Heather said as their opportunity to talk became shorter and shorter, “that there’s a lot more going on than we think there is, and the bigger picture is just too big for any of us to see clearly.”
For a moment Sadie reviewed the tragic loss of her husband, Neil, more than twenty years ago and the death of Pete’s wife not so long ago. She and Pete certainly wouldn’t be together if not for those devastating turn of events, and yet she couldn’t imagine a life without him anymore. It felt so right. She thought about other trials of her life that had shaped her and wondered how many hard things like Terry Michaels had made Pete into the man he was—the man she loved.
“I think I can live with that explanation,” Sadie said as Heather brought the wheelchair to a stop. “In fact, I kind of like it.”
“What explanation?” Pete asked, coming to her side in order to help her stand.
Heather lifted her eyebrows at Sadie as if wondering how Sadie was going to get out of this one. “Just that maybe faith isn’t any more complicated than simply believing there is a purpose behind hard things and allowing God the latitude to do it His way instead of ours.” Did that mean Sadie’s anxiety would go away? She didn’t think so, at least not immediately. But did it mean that perhaps she could learn something from that too?
“Perhaps,” Pete said as she gained her feet. Sadie took in a sharp breath at the pain that shot up from her ankle. He helped her to the car and had to lean across her in order to put on her seat belt. As he pulled away, Sadie reached out and touched his cheek with her good hand. He stopped, his face a few inches from hers.
“Thank you,” she said softly while Heather got in the backseat and pretended not to notice.
“For what?” Pete asked.
“Everything.”
He smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Right back at ya, Mrs. Hoffmiller. I feel the exact same way.”
Pot Roast and Yorkshire Pudding with Gravy
Pot Roast
2 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil
3- to 4-pound pot roast (chuck, top round, rump, bottom round, or brisket)
1 can beef consommé
1 quart of water
2 bay leaves
½ teaspoon pepper
In a 6-quart cooking pan, heat oil on high heat until it just begins to smoke.
Braise meat in oil, cooking each side a few minutes at a time until nearly burnt to seal in juices. The oil might splatter, so cover pan with a paper towel or grease screen, but don’t cover with a lid as that makes it difficult to get the right “crust” on the meat. When braised on all sides, add consommé, water, bay leaves, and pepper. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer roast for at least 6 hours, adding water if it reduces to less than 3 inches.
Yorkshire Pudding
¼ cup drippings from pot roast
2 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
2 cups milk
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
After the roast has cooked for six hours, use a large spoon to skim off some of the grease from the top of the liquid in the pan. Put one-fourth cup of the drippings into a 9x13 pan. Add butter to pan, and preheat oven to 450 degrees. Put all other ingredients into a blender and blend for 20 seconds. Stop and scrape down the sides of the blender. Blend another 10 seconds. Set aside. Put pan in oven to melt the butter and allow it to blend with the drippings. Cook until it’s bubbling—about 5 minutes. Add batter to pan and return it to fully heated oven. Bake 20 minutes, or until edges are crispy.
Note: For individual puddings, heat drippings and butter and divide evenly between 12 muffin cups. Add equal portions of batter and bake 15 minutes at 450 degrees.
3 cups pot roast stock
2 tablespoons cornstarch
⅓ cup water
While Yorkshire pudding is baking, move roast from pan to serving platter and cover with foil to let it rest. Taste stock and adjust the flavor by adding water, Worcestershire sauce, or salt and pepper accordingly. Remove all but 3 cups of stock (adjust thickening if you want more gravy). Increase heat under pan containing the stock to high heat, bringing stock to a boil. Mix cornstarch and water in a small bowl, making a slurry. Stir until smooth. Using a whisk, slowly add slurry to stock, whisking quickly to keep gravy smooth. Cook two minutes. (Add more slurry or more water to reach desired consistency of gravy.)