How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini

by Heather Horrocks

  “Thank you,” he said as he turned back to lock gazes with Lori, “but I need to speak with your daughter first.”

  Marti came up. “Hi, I’m Marti Owens—Lori’s best friend.”

  “Glad to meet you.”

  Marti studied him. “I told you he’d be back,” she muttered to Lori.

  “Shh,” Lori said. “He’s not back for me.”

  John tilted his head. “I’m not?”

  Lori turned to the other two women. “Could we please have a moment of privacy here?”

  “Hey, Lori,” called out Greg as he pulled up in his new suit and Jeep. “He looks freakishly tall.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “And you said my family was weird.”

  “I never said that.” She looked into his blue eyes and said, “Come inside.”

  She led him to the breakfast nook where they could be alone. She stood, nervous, not sure what to say.

  Finally, the words spewed out of Lori. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I couldn’t have children. At first I thought it didn’t matter because I didn’t plan on getting involved. I was just going to come home without falling in love. But then I fell in love, and then I didn’t want to lose you by telling you, and then I didn’t even know how to tell you.”

  He put his finger up gently to her lips. “Shh. I’ve forgiven you for that.”

  “Are you dating Dawn now?”

  He looked surprised. “Why would I be doing that?”

  “Because . . . I thought . . .”

  “No. I am not dating anyone else.”

  “Oh,” said Lori, a flicker of hope lighting her heart.

  “Lori, I’m sorry it took me so long to work through things. And to come to you. And now I need to know if you can forgive me for being so upset.” His blue eyes radiated love for her—the same love she could feel within herself. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course.” She smiled just a tiny bit.

  “It doesn’t matter to me that you can’t have children.”

  “John, we can’t survive a marriage built on guilt.”

  “Guilt?”

  “I will feel guilty forever.”

  John shook his head. “Our marriage will be built on love. And I want to have children with you. We can adopt.” He looked at her, his hands clenched as if he was nervous. “If you want, that is.”

  “I’m just afraid it won’t be the same for you as having your own children. I know you’ll be the kind of parent Quinn and Tricia are. They adore their kids. And I want that for you. You deserve that.”

  He started laughing. “You want the same thing for me that Quinn and Tricia have?”

  She didn’t see what was so funny. “Yes.”

  “Oh, Lori.” He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “I have missed you so much.”

  She went to him easily and clung to him, not wanting to ever let him go. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  With a low rumble in his chest, almost a chuckle, he said, “Quinn and Tricia adopted Evan and Emma.”

  Surprised, she pulled back just enough to look up at him. “What?”

  “They adopted. And I could adore our adopted children just as much as Quinn and Tricia adore theirs.”

  Joy filled her heart. “So that’s how Tricia got her figure back so quickly.”

  He laughed again, and this time she joined in.

  But then she grew serious. “But you said you wanted girls who looked just like me.”

  “I want you, Lori. I have spent practically every waking moment since I first met you thinking about you. My world finally came alive when you entered it. Suddenly, there were sparks.”

  “And I know how you like sparks,” she teased.

  “And it’s been horrible for me these past two weeks thinking I might have lost you.” He hugged her again and then held her out from him, his hands on her arms. “Heavenly Father will send us children, one way or another. The children who are meant to be ours.”

  He leaned over and kissed her.

  “Ah, how sweet,” said Greg.

  Lori ignored her brother and wrapped her arms around John’s neck. After a long moment, they pulled back.

  Lori turned to see the three of them—her mother, brother, and best friend—clapping loudly.

  “I’m sorry about my family,” she said to John.

  “Don’t be. I like ’em.” He relaxed his hold on her and took her hand. “Oh, wait, I have something to show you.”

  He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a print.

  It was a picture of people on a roller coaster. Lagoon’s white wooden roller coaster. And she could pick out John’s terror-stricken face as he rode the first big drop down.

  She looked up at him, questioningly.

  He said, “You suggested a bargain.”

  “You’re too late.” She laughed. “I already called my father. I even went for a malt with him and I’m seeing him tomorrow, too.”

  “Are you kidding?” He pulled the picture back. “You mean I rode that beast for nothing?”

  “Not for nothing.” She hugged him again. “I admire you greatly.”

  “Then it was worth it.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out her ring. “You left something of yours at my place, and I need to return it.” He took her hand and slipped the ring back on her finger.

  “It was fate, after all,” whispered her mother.

  John grinned and looked into Lori’s eyes. “It sure was. It took some darts, a fire, and some wild zucchinis to bring us together.”

  Lori looked at the others. “Scram.”

  “First show us your ring.” Marti picked up her friend’s hand. “It’s beautiful. Look how big it is.”

  Her mother said, “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Now will you please leave us alone?” begged Lori. “Please?”

  Laughing, the three of them disappeared into the living room.

  With a sigh, Lori slipped into John’s embrace again. “I just have one question.”

  “Anything.”

  “It may seem kind of silly, but can we honeymoon in Yellow-stone? I’ve never been.”

  He laughed in surprise. “Only if we can go to Hawaii after-ward.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  “No,” he said with a tender smile. “I’ve got a date with eternity.”

  THE GARDEN GURU

  Dear Dr. Dobson: Is there such a thing as a happy ending? I know you are a gardening expert, not a life coach, but I have always loved to garden and I don’t know who else to turn to. Since my husband died last spring, I haven’t been able to get myself back on my feet and into the garden. Can you help me? (Victoria)

  Dear Victoria: Oh, yes, indeed, there is such a thing as a happy ending, even for such a sad story as yours. I, myself, am proof of that. After several years of waiting, I have married my sweetheart, Miss Agatha McCrea. I’ve finally found my true love; you’ve lost yours—yet these are but two sides of the same love story. Please don’t give up hope, dear lady. Start small, with one plant. Soon you’ll realize that life is still all around you. Watching the new spring growth of plants will remind you of the oft-quoted circle of life, and you will begin to find your new place in that circle. I beg of you, go back out into the garden today. And be sure to visit my wife’s new Web site; she counsels people on how to enhance their lives with simple changes. She has certainly enhanced mine. Good luck, dear lady. Write again . . .

  Epilogue

  Lori raised a tissue to wipe her tears. They were definitely tears of happiness.

  John sat next to her and looked down at the bundle in Lori’s arms. He’d be blessing their newly adopted baby girl in just minutes and he seemed a little nervous.

  She lea
ned into him. “Has it really only been two years since we met? It seems like a lifetime ago.”

  He whispered back, “What if I mess up?”

  “You won’t. You’ve done it before for other people.”

  “I know, but not for my own daughter.”

  “Just don’t you dare call her Zucchini.” He’d teased that he was going to often enough.

  That made him smile. “But I am. It’s zucchini that brought her mother and father together.”

  “Your mother said I was to smack you upside the head if you did.”

  He pulled her close and put out his finger for the baby to grab. She had blonde hair, like Lori’s, but with the faintest hint of red in the sun, like John’s. Almost as if God had known what He was doing.

  Secure in his arms, seeing him adoring their new little daughter, Lori was happy.

  She looked down the row. Between her family and John’s, they filled three complete rows in their Brigham City ward. She and John sat on the end of the second row, so John could get in and out easily.

  In front of her sat her mother and Greg. Next to Greg sat their father, along with Fiona, and Lori’s three younger sisters. She knew the difference between them now, even over the phone. She’d even been to their home several times with John.

  John’s family filled out the second row: Wild Bill and Irene, Clint and Julie, Kirk and Opal, Roy and Becky, and their many children.

  On the row behind them sat Quinn and Tricia with their kids, as well as some of the other firefighters from John’s stationhouse.

  Serena was there with the salsa guy she’d met in El Parral Mexican Restaurant. Roberto had proposed last week; Serena had accepted.

  Charles and Agatha sat in the row across from them. They had just celebrated their first anniversary. Charles had indeed kept his side of the bargain. Next to Agatha sat her Spade and Hope buddies: Victoria, Lisa Anne, and Norma. Victoria was still dealing with her grief—but she was also smiling again.

  Lori had finished her screenplay and it was currently being produced for the Sundance Film Festival. Her new cookbook, appropriately titled How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini, was selling briskly. And she had several ideas sketched out for more stories and plays.

  Though her writing success was wonderful, it could never, ever, compare to the joy she felt sitting among family and friends, to being loved by John Wayne Walker, and to being the mother of a beautiful baby girl.

  The bishop stood and announced it was time for the blessing.

  John handed her a folded scrap of paper. “Don’t open this until you hear me say her name.”

  “It’d better not be Zucchini,” warned Lori again.

  John smiled as he gently picked up their beautiful child and carried her to the front of the chapel. They were joined by his father and brothers, her father and brother, Quinn, a couple of firefighters, Charles, and Roberto.

  They closed together in a circle of priesthood, which Lori found as comforting as her circle of family and friends. She was so glad she’d found her way back to the safety and joy of Christ and His Gospel.

  John’s voice spoke the blessing and Lori listened for the name. After Isabella, what would he say?

  “And the name by which she shall be known . . . is Isabella Z Walker.”

  Lori opened the paper he’d given her and peeked at it.

  He’d written, It’s spelled Zee.

  Lori smiled. He’d come as close to zucchini as he dared. Well, she supposed she could live with Zee.

  Isabella Zee Walker.

  After the blessing, John carried Bella back down the aisle, his face radiating joy and love. As he slipped in beside her and gently placed Bella in her arms, Lori rejoiced.

  “Is her name all right?” he whispered.

  “It’s perfect. It really did start with some wild zucchinis, didn’t it?”

  He smiled and leaned close to whisper, “And a whole lot of sparks.”

  ~

  Charles Dobson’s Secret-but-Not-Well-Hidden Zucchini Chicken Curry Recipe

  12 cups water

  1 teaspoon salt

  2 to 3 pounds chicken breasts

  2 celery stalks, sliced

  1 medium onion, diced

  2 medium Gala apples (or any tart apple), peeled and diced

  2 medium zucchini, peeled and diced

  1 tablespoon curry powder (add more only after tasting)

  4 tablespoons butter, divided

  1⁄3 cup raisins (may be golden or regular)

  11⁄2 cups chicken broth (or 1 bouillon cube plus 11⁄2 cups water)

  1⁄2 cup Barq’s or A&W root beer or caffeine-free Coca-Cola

  (no diet soda)

  3 tablespoons flour

  1 cup evaporated milk, undiluted (or coconut milk)

  1 teaspoon salt

  1⁄8 teaspoon white pepper or regular black pepper

  Rice, cooked

  Condiments: Spicy Mango Fruit Chutney, raisins, grated

  coconut, lime wedges

  In a large pot, add water and salt and bring to a boil. Add chicken and sliced celery. (If chicken is frozen, boil for 20 minutes before adding celery.) Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until the chicken is tender, about 20 minutes. Cut up the cooked chicken and set aside. Reserve 11⁄2 cups of the chicken broth; set aside.

  In a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter; sauté diced onions for

  2 to 3 minutes. Move to a separate bowl. Dice apples and zucchini and add to onions. Add curry powder. In the skillet, melt the remaining 3 tablespoons butter and add the apples/zucchini/onion mixture. Saute for 5 minutes, stirring often.

  In a bowl, combine the raisins, reserved chicken broth, and soda of your choice. Add to the skillet and cook for 2 minutes.

  Mix the flour into the evaporated milk, whisking to remove any lumps. Add the salt and pepper. When smooth, add to the skillet and stir. Cook over low heat until mixture is creamy and thick. Season to taste. Add the cooked chicken and celery.

  Serve over rice with any of the condiments desired.

  Serves 4 to 6.

  ~

  Spicy Mango Fruit Chutney

  1 mango

  1 plum

  1 Gala apple

  1 nectarine

  1 peach

  1 teaspoon olive oil

  1⁄2 jalapeño pepper, seeded and minced

  1 clove garlic, minced

  1⁄8 teaspoon ginger (ground or crystallized)

  1⁄2 teaspoon salt

  1⁄4 teaspoon white pepper or regular black pepper

  1⁄2 teaspoon cider vinegar

  Peel all fruit and cut into medium-sized chunks. Mix together in a bowl and set aside. In a medium saucepan, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Sauté jalapeño pepper, garlic, and ginger for 2 minutes. Add the fruit to the pan, reduce heat to low, and simmer until the fruit starts to break down, about 15 to 30 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Remove chutney from heat. Stir in the vinegar. Serve with Zucchini Chicken Curry.

  Makes about 11⁄2 cups.

  Author’s Note

  Although Brigham City is a real town, and a charming one, with tree-lined streets and old-time buildings, I have made a few changes to fit the needs of my story: I hired full-time firefighters and added a daily newspaper (though the Box Elder News Journal is a good one already). There is a real Spade and Hope Garden Club, but all of my club members are fictional. Peach City Ice Cream does have a large sundae, which is deliciously not fictional.

  I hope you enjoyed spending time in my version of Brigham City as much as I enjoyed my visits in the actual town.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe thanks to the ladies who helped me plot this book: Diane Chase Stoddard (a captivating auth
or of medieval time-travel romances) and Kristin Holt (a fabulous writer and life-change coach). Thanks to the talented people who read my manuscript and helped me make it better in so many ways: Diane Stoddard (a fabulous friend who has helped me stay motivated through all the tough times), Bruce Simpson (a talented fantasy author), and my awesome sister-in-law Marie Barnhurst (who read the entire book and spotted flaws that others had missed).

  A special thanks to Kathleen Wright, my incredibly generous author-friend, for sharing her Bear Lake cabin for the week during which I had my “Bear Lake epiphany” and finished this book and who, along with her husband, Fred, gave me and my husband a fabulous celebration dinner when this book sold.

  I am very thankful for the help, information, and personalized tour that Deputy Chief Tom Coleman of the Provo Fire Department provided me and for the firefighters of Station Four for letting me ask questions, take pictures, and even climb aboard their engine. It was great to ride along and watch you in action. (And I liked your jokes.)

  I’m grateful to Jana Erickson, to my editor, Lisa Mangum, and to the entire Deseret Book team who offered their insights and excellent advice (and who liked my books!). Heather G. Ward designed a great cover for me. I look forward to working with all of you on many future projects.

  And thanks to my cousin-by-marriage, Jennifer Benson, for taking time to meet me in the Brigham City area, answer questions while we ate a great Maddox lunch, and accompany me on a tour of the area.

  I’m thankful to Phyllis Nielsen of the Spade and Hope Garden Club for answering my questions and saying it was okay for me to use the name of their club in my book. And to Kevin Packer, a real estate agent who sends out one awesome welcome packet.

  This book wouldn’t be complete without Charles Dobson’s Zucchini Chicken Curry recipe and I want to thank those friends who shared their recipes until I finally came up with a mixture of this and that and found what Charles had been hiding.

  I really must thank Chevrolet, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, for designing the uniquely indecisive ’65 El Camino so Lori could be so pleasantly mortified while driving around town.

  Thanks to those in my family who are especially good about saying exactly the right thing to brighten my day. And, last and always first, my heartfelt thanks to my husband Mark, who has brought immeasurable joy into my life.