How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini

by Heather Horrocks

  The dart had landed just a few miles from the center of the seat of the church she used to attend: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. LDS. Mormons. “Oh, I am so not moving to Brigham City, Utah.”

  Still chuckling, Greg handed her another dart. “Forget the game. You’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. Why don’t you just take a vacation and come back refreshed? Take your favorite brother along.”

  “I was aiming for Hawaii.” She twirled her necklace, the one Grandpa Scott had given her.

  “Maybe it really is fate.” Her mother would think that, of course. She was the Relief Society president in her ward. And by the ethereal smile on her face, she obviously thought Lori’s aim had been off because of divine intervention. “It would be good for you to go to church.”

  “Give Lori some space, Mom. She’ll go when she’s ready.”

  Lori spoke up. “I will not go back. I swore I never would after what Dad did, and I always keep my word.” Neither of them seemed to believe her, though she thought she’d made her feelings clear numerous times.

  “It’s been thirteen years, honey. It’s time to let go of the past. There’s a reason we’re supposed to forgive, and it’s because our own healing can’t begin until we do.” Her mother sat on Lori’s twin bed and smoothed the flowered quilt. “How long has it been since you called your father?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” Lori realized she’d twirled her necklace into a knot, and she carefully unwound her finger.

  “Well, if you don’t believe in fate,” her mother said, teasing, but not really, “you can stay here in your old room. I’d be glad to have you back.”

  But Lori already knew she couldn’t stay here.

  So why not Brigham City, Utah? She wanted to forget she ever had aspirations of writing plays and screenplays, and that seemed the perfect place for an ignominious forced retirement. Besides, she planned to forget all about men and relationships. Utah was full of Mormon men, and she would definitely never become romantically involved with a Mormon man. So that would work too.

  Lori squared her shoulders and flashed a grin at her brother. “I said I’d go. And I will.”

  “Then it is fate.” Her mother’s face softened. “This could be a wonderful thing for you.”

  Lori laughed, seeing the wheels turn in her mother’s head, expecting the Utah Mormons to be able to reconvert her daughter. Fat chance. “If it really is fate, and I’m meant to go to Brigham City, then I’ll find a job online in the next hour, just like we agreed. Right?”

  Greg stared at her. “You’re not serious about this, are you? Because I was totally joking.”

  Lori shrugged. “It was a great idea.”

  “It was a very bad idea.” He shook his head. “You need to be around family right now. Let us rally around you, and all that.”

  Lori shook her head. “We’ll stick by our original agreement. If I can find a job in sixty minutes, I go.”

  Reluctantly, he said, “Okay, but if you don’t, you stay.”

  “It’s a deal,” Lori said.

  ~

  “I brought you a drink.” Greg carried in two cold cans of pop and two glasses with ice, setting one of each on the computer desk. “Just in case you’re wondering, the drink is root beer. There will be no caffeine for obstinate people going to Brigham City. You could probably get arrested just for having it on your breath.”

  “Very funny.” Lori took a sip and enjoyed the coolness of it sliding down her throat, the chill of the glass against her hand.

  He motioned toward the monitor. “Any luck?”

  “There’s a lady looking for an underpaid assistant at a small publishing house and a semi-well-paid newspaper columnist taking a sabbatical to China who needs a three-month replacement.” She shrugged. “I doubt I’ll hear back from either of them, though, especially in the next”—she checked her watch and smiled—“thirty minutes.”

  A tone sounded, indicating she had a new e-mail. When she opened it, she said, surprised, “The columnist wrote back. He wants my writing credentials.” She stuck her small jump drive into the USB port of her laptop, pulled up her resume and samples of some articles, typed a brief note, and clicked SEND.

  “Twenty-four minutes. He’ll never make it.” Greg pulled up a chair. “But what if he does? You wouldn’t really go, would you?”

  “I said I would, didn’t I?” Suddenly nervous, she clicked on another job-search Web site and started a new search.

  “Do you think that’s wise? You don’t even know anyone there.”

  “That’s the whole point.”

  “Aren’t you scared?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “Are you kidding? I’m scared of everything.” She laughed. “Now I’ve gotta get back to work or you’ll claim I’m cheating. And we can’t have a lawyer thinking that.”

  He snorted. “I could sue you for that comment.”

  “Go for it, bro.” She busied herself searching for anything else that looked like a legitimate job offer in or around Brigham City, Utah, and kept checking her watch.

  Twenty minutes. Fifteen. Ten.

  With only five minutes to go, she began to relax. Perhaps fate would be kinder than it had at first appeared. This time, she’d skip the dart and determine her own destiny.

  She took another sip of her root beer and held the glass against her forehead. Hawaii, here I come.

  When the theme song from The Pink Panther sounded from her phone, she caught Greg’s eye. He raised an eyebrow as she grabbed her cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Lori Scott?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t recognize the voice.

  “My name is Charles Dobson. You sent me your resume and are interested in covering my gardening column while I’m traveling.”

  Lori nodded at Greg. “Yes. It’s good to speak with you. I am interested. Was there more information you needed from me?”

  “Oh, certainly not. What you sent is more than adequate.” His voice had a gravelly sound to it, and he spoke slower than she was used to in New York. “Though I have a question or two for you.”

  “All right.”

  “I can see that you can write, and that you do it well. But I need to know . . . do you garden?”

  She had grown flowers in pots on the balcony of her apartment, and really, how hard could it be to transfer that knowledge to outside flower beds? Surely it was the same principle, just more sun. “Yes, I do.”

  “You wouldn’t, by any chance, happen to be a Master Gardener?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  A pause. “Oh, well, it can’t be helped.” He chuckled. “Congratulations, my dear. The job is yours.”

  That was it? Two questions? She gardened and wrote and so she got the job even though the only thing she knew about Master Gardeners was that she wasn’t one? This guy was obviously desperate to leave for his Asian experience.

  After the briefest of pauses, she said, “That’s great,” wondering if it was a lie.

  “Let me tell you about the column. It’s for the Brigham City Daily. You’ll write three columns a week, five hundred words in length. They begin with a question and answer and then an article and an occasional recipe. I suppose I could write my column from China, with the World Wide Web, but I am taking a true sabbatical from all my writing.”

  Though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “That sounds nice.”

  What was she doing? Greg was right—she didn’t know anyone in Utah. She didn’t have anywhere to stay, for that matter. But perhaps Charles Dobson had some ideas. “Do you have any suggestions for apartments in the area? I realize I could do the column online, but I’m also looking to get away for a while, and I’ll need to find a place to stay while I’m there.”

  “Well, my house will be em
pty, but . . .” He paused for a moment. “I would prefer to rent my home to someone who is LDS. You know—Mormon. Just one of my little idiosyncrasies. Sorry. But I’ll prepare a list of phone numbers for local rental properties and

  e-mail them to you.”

  “I’m LDS.” Why she let those words slip out, she didn’t know. Now would he expect her to attend church? And would he double her rent when he returned and learned she hadn’t?

  Greg grinned at her, and Lori turned away from him, her cheeks warm. So what if she hadn’t been inside an LDS chapel for thirteen years? She’d been baptized, she’d attended mutual activities with her best friend Marti, and she still wore the pretty silver CTR ring her mother had given her years ago.

  “That is almost too good to be true.” He paused again. “Oh, the column also involves recipes, so I hope you have a few. Perhaps you know what vegetable goes best with green Jell-O?”

  Where had that question come from? “Carrots. Though I’ve never known anyone who actually eats it that way.”

  “Since you live in New York, perhaps you’ll find it interesting to know Joseph Smith dug up the silver plates in your part of the country.”

  Oh. She repressed a laugh as she got it—he thought she was pretending to be LDS just to get the house. She decided to play along. “I didn’t know about the silver plates.” She paused for a beat, just to put a little fun into the game, then added, “I only heard about the gold ones.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “How silly of me. And I suppose you’ve heard about the Mormon synagogues?”

  “You mean temples?” She decided to cut him some slack. “Perhaps you’d like to get a reference from my Relief Society president mother?”

  As he realized she knew what he was doing, he had the good grace to chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. You’ve got the job. And if you want the house, you’ve got that too. If you promise to take good care of my garden, I’ll only charge you three hundred dollars in rent.”

  “A week?”

  “A month, my dear.”

  Three hundred dollars a month in rent? She’d spent more than that for her last pair of Jimmy Choo sling backs. And after all, how much care could his flower garden require? A paying job, extremely low rent, and a chance to get away from the spotlight—perfect. “Mr. Dobson, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “And if you need a vehicle to drive, I will leave you my Ben, though I would expect you to pay the difference in insurance to have you listed as the principal driver for the next three months. And you must promise to take very good care of him. He’s a classic car.”

  “I’m not sure I should do that. I can rent a car.”

  “No, really. As long as you take care of him and promise to drive him at least once a week, I’ll be glad to share. Besides, if he sits in the garage for three months, he’ll start to deteriorate, and right now he runs great. And you’ll love Ben. Really. He’s cherry-red with a 327 engine and headers. He’s a real head turner, all right.” He paused. “You can drive a four-speed, can’t you?”

  “My brother taught me.”

  “Good.”

  “Sounds like you’ve just made me an offer I can’t refuse, Mr. Dobson. I will be very careful with your classic car.”

  “All right.” He sounded pleased. “Your first article will be due two weeks from Monday.”

  Amazed, she realized she was really doing it. She was moving to, of all the unlikely places, Brigham City, Utah. “Thank you.”

  As she hung up the phone, her brother batted his eyelids melodramatically and pressed his hands to his heart. “Mom is right. This is fate.”

  “Jerk.” Lori tossed a pillow at him.

  “So now you’re LDS, huh?” He caught the pillow and fell onto the bed, laughing. “I still think you’re nuts.”

  “I probably am.” Lori grinned. “Wish me luck.”

  “You’ll need more than luck.” He tossed the pillow back at her. “Better get some Prozac.”

  Chapter Two

  This was exactly why John Wayne Walker hadn’t brought a woman home to meet his oversized, bossy, and noisy family since high school—because they made such a big flipping deal about it.

  It wasn’t like he’d asked Dawn to marry him. He’d just brought her home for Sunday dinner. But even now, John’s mother and three sisters-in-law were hustling Dawn into the kitchen to help with the dishes—as if she were already one of them.

  But if Dawn fit in so well with his family, why was he having trouble breathing?

  More relieved to get away than he ought to be for someone who, just two weeks earlier, had taken his relationship to a new level, John followed his father and three brothers into the den.

  As he closed the door behind him, muffling the sounds of women and children, John drew in a deep breath for the first time in thirty minutes.

  His father grinned widely and pointed to a fancy new Bose docking system for the latest iPod. “Check it out. My new mini sound system.”

  They all made appreciative sounds. John’s older brother Kirk whistled. “Gotta have the latest toys, don’t you, Dad?”

  His father chuckled. “Gotta have rewards for all those years of hard work.”

  John’s younger brother, Roy, picked up the credit-card-sized remote. “So how does it feel to be retired, Deputy Fire Chief Walker?”

  His father, who’d retired only two months before, grinned. “Darn good.”

  At thirty-six, John’s eldest brother, Clint, was also a firefighter/paramedic like John and Roy, though in the nearby town of Logan rather than Brigham City. “Tell the truth, Dad. Don’t you miss fighting fires?”

  Their father paused for a moment. “It’ll be an adjustment, that’s for sure. But I’ll try to plug the holes with some exciting hobbies.”

  Clint snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  Roy laughed. “That’ll have to be one heck of a hobby.”

  “That’s great,” John teased, glad to have his unfamiliar anxiety fading. “Does that mean you’ll go hang gliding with me and Travis next time we go?”

  “Maybe a hobby not quite that exciting.” Dad looked at John. “I’m glad you’ve brought a nice girl home, John. You know what Brigham Young said about single men over twenty-five being a menace to society—and you’re seven years past that.”

  John rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Dawn seems nice.” Roy raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice dramatically. “So when is the wedding?”

  Irritated, John said, “You know, this is why I don’t bring women around you guys.”

  His father pushed a button on the remote and the husky vocals of Nat King Cole filled the air. “Don’t you think you ought to limit your extreme sports now that you’re getting serious with a woman?”

  “It’s impossible for John to get too serious with a woman, Dad. He gets bored with them.”

  Roy had that right. Lately John always seemed to be bored, no matter which woman he was with. The more he dated, the more he realized he was tired of the whole scene. He was ready for marriage—and children. And that had led to Dawn being in the family dining room, which had led to him feeling like the walls were closing in.

  Why would that be? He’d been dating her with no problem. He even liked her enough that two weeks ago he’d suggested making the relationship exclusive. At least Dawn carried her end of the conversation, was easy on the eyes, and she could make him laugh. The boredom he’d experienced on many of his dates was held at bay with her—but he still missed the spark he felt should be there, the spark his brothers seemed to have with their wives.

  “Plus he has that commitment phobia thing going.” Roy laughed. “In fact, I’d bet fifty bucks John hasn’t even asked Dawn to our family picnic at Lagoon this Saturday.”

  “That’d be a
fool’s bet,” said Clint. “Of course he hasn’t.”

  “I don’t know.” Kirk raised an eyebrow. “After all, he did bring her here today and that’s a first.”

  His father and three brothers looked at John, waiting for the answer to a question that was none of their business.

  “I do not have a commitment problem. And, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m ready to settle down. Just as soon as I find the right woman.”

  “I knew it.” Roy punched the air. “He hasn’t invited her.”

  “Since when do you guys care if I have a date or not?”

  Clint put his hand to his chest. “Come on, Johnnie boy, you’re killing us.”

  John had been thinking about inviting Dawn to Lagoon, but not here with his nosy family watching. Disgusted with the lack of privacy in his family, he said, “No, I haven’t asked Dawn.”

  His brothers laughed, and John changed the subject. “Did you hear about the fires moving closer to Heber?”

  That did the trick. His father jumped on the new topic with both feet, Roy followed suit, and Clint chimed in. In moments, they were discussing the similarities with the forest fire they’d fought the summer before in California. Even Kirk, the renegade brother who’d turned policeman rather than firefighter, could hold his own in the conversation since he’d gone up as a volunteer on several of the fires they’d fought.

  John relaxed and enjoyed the guy talk.

  All too soon, Roy’s wife, Becky, opened the door. She’d gained some weight in the past few months, though now she just looked softer and prettier. “Ah, ha. There you are.”

  Dawn followed her in, smiled at John, and surprised him by taking his hand. He could feel his face flush warm as his brothers smirked.

  Becky casually said, “I was just telling Dawn about our get-

  together this Saturday.”

  Dawn nodded. “It sounds like you’ll all have a lot of fun. It’s nice you’re so close.”

  John felt an instant flash of resentment toward Becky. And toward Dawn. Why did he feel this resistance, he wondered. He’d been ready to ask her. Was it because she’d brought it up first? Was he really that much of a Neanderthal that he needed to make all the moves himself? He didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t like being pressured. He’d ask her later, away from the prying eyes of his family.