by Lourey, Jess
Nut Goodies have been produced in Minnesota since 1912 by Pearson’s, better known for their Salted Nut Roll. It would be generous to call the Nut Goodie a candy bar. It is more of a candy pile. Its base is a creamy maple center topped with unsalted Virginia peanuts, and the whole mass covered in milk chocolate. It’s so sweet it’ll give your future children a toothache if you eat it, but it is also heaven, particularly if consumed when frozen. Sometimes I wondered if the Nut Goodie was jealous of the Salted Nut Roll’s success, if it dreamed of finally fitting in and no longer being a Rorschach blob in a chocolate log world, if it wondered what it’d be like to play all the major vending machines. But in the end, it was the hardest-working, humblest candy I’d ever met, and I loved it for that very reason. Why not share that joy with Battle Lake?
I searched for “homemade nut goodie” recipes and received over 406,000 hits. Holy crap. I gravitated toward the ones with photos, of course, salivating as I read. In the end, I chose the simplest and most honest recipe, giving it a new name and a personal twist so I couldn’t be sued for plagiarism.
MMMM-PIES
Ingredients
Fondant:
3 cups powdered sugar
½ cup sweetened condensed milk
½ teaspoon maple extract
Topping:
1½ pounds milk chocolate broken into 1-inch squares
¾ pound Spanish peanuts (not cocktail peanuts)
Mix the fondant ingredients together until well-blended and stiff. Roll into ¾-inch balls. Place the balls 2 inches apart on a wax-paper covered cookie sheet. Flatten the balls with the palm of your hand, keeping them around 1⁄8-inch thick.
Melt the chocolate in a glass bowl in the microwave in 20-second increments, stirring between each, until the chocolate is smooth and melted. Be careful not to burn. Drop the peanuts in the melted chocolate. Stir. Pour the peanut and chocolate mixture over the fondant, allowing it to crawl lusciously just past the edges. Cool. Flip, spooning just enough of the chocolate peanut mixture onto the bottom to cover the remaining fondant. When cool, turn over and store in the freezer. Remove and ingest as needed, particularly in moments of extreme stress.
I spell-checked the recipe and emailed it to Ron, feeling good about my work. I glanced at the clock in the lower right screen of my computer, wondering if I had time to shelve books before going home to prepare for my date with Johnny.
Despite my mental and physical exhaustion, I got a warm buzzy feeling thinking about a repeat performance of our previous night together. I didn’t know if it was a result of the day I’d had, but for the first time in weeks, I was considering whether or not holding him at arm’s length was good, or even necessary. When he was around, I was happy. I desperately needed that right now.
He was honest and kind, and man, those hands of his. He’d slide them gently under the curve of my rear and pull me in for a long, deep kiss that left my knees trembling. He might be The One. Maybe it was time to let myself be vulnerable to him and to try to see in him what he saw in me.
My eyes went misty from my hot daydream, and it took me a couple seconds and a few blinks to process the time. How could it be six o’clock already? My eyes darted to the windows. It was dark outside. Johnny would be at my house in half an hour! He said he would bring the dinner and the movies, but I’d hoped to at least have the house and myself picked up before he arrived. Crap. It’d been so long since I shaved that it looked like a homeless Mediterranean had taken up residence in my underpants, and speaking of undergarments, it was laundry day tomorrow and I wasn’t exactly wearing the starting lineup. White bra with the puckered cups that was just too comfortable to throw away? Check. Dangit!
I jabbed my finger at the computer’s power button, forcing a shutdown, tugged on my coat, and hightailed it out the door, barely remembering to lock up behind me. My car had cooled down along with the night, but I didn’t have time to let her preheat. I slammed the gear stick into Reverse and tore out of my parking spot.
I hit rush-hour traffic on the way home, or at least Battle Lake’s version of it. Pickup after pickup drove painfully slowly in front of me. Even though the skating rink had been closed for the day, I imagined the Prospect House had stayed open, probably drawing even more visitors as news of the nearby tragedy spread. They were scheduled to close for the day right about now, and all the vehicles crawling in front of me suggested they were right on time.
I pounded on the steering wheel. I didn’t ask for a lot out of life, but after the last twenty-four hours I had, I was worried about my mental state if this night with Johnny crashed and burned.
My brain scrambled to make the best of my current circumstances. If I could make it home in ten minutes, and Johnny wasn’t early, that would give me exactly thirteen minutes to retrieve my machete and have a go at my legs before switching into the peach-colored, lacy push-up bra I’d bought in Alexandria last week. It made me look as though I had B cups, which was arguably a bait-and-switch if tonight went how I hoped it would, but nobody expects the real thing to drive like the display model, right?
I finally passed the clogged traffic and careened a sharp right onto the gravel. This was a shortcut in terms of miles, but since I usually drove half-speed on the back roads, it took longer. Not today. I squealed around corners, sliding across the ice and staying shy of the ditch with the help of spit and luck. As I turned into my nearly mile-long driveway, I saw I had carved two minutes off my best drive-home time. Excellent work! I might even be able to apply lip gloss and empty the bathroom garbage so as to hide that I had bodily functions.
I was even beginning to smile as I turned the final corner and pulled into the circle loop in front of Sunny’s doublewide.
That smile lasted right up until I spotted Johnny’s truck.
He was early.
Nine
Sunny’s place was beautiful—a double-wide trailer plopped near a pristine little lake nestled in the middle of a hundred acres of untouched hardwood forest. Her sweet red barn and matching sheds stood like comfortable sentries, and her cozy doublewide with its gray siding and maroon shutters faced the frozen water. Normally, living here made me feel both connected and independent, carving out my existence on some of the prettiest land in the Midwest. At the moment, however, it was the last place on earth I wanted to be. I considered turning right around and driving back into town, buying a pack of disposable razors at Larry’s, and shaving myself in their bathroom.
That still left the granny bra.
Curse words!
When I’d decided that it was time to make myself more open to Johnny, I didn’t mean open to revulsion. Of course he’d be too kind to say anything, but when he pulled off my shirt or slid his hand down my pants, it’d be written all over his face. Horror. Doubt. Curiosity as to when things had gone so undeniably wrong in his life.
I pulled alongside his 1971 Chevy truck, rebuilt from a junker to a beauty. It was solid and stable, just like Johnny. I sighed. No way could I leave him alone in my house and worrying about me as the hour grew later, even if the alternative meant exposing him to baseline me. I turned off the car, got out, and dragged my feet up the walk to my front door. Normally, I loved this short walk. Right now, it felt like the green mile.
I opened the door, in the back of my mind still hoping for some way out of this. That’s when it came to me. I could just dart into the bathroom, right? Tell Johnny that I wanted to slip into something more comfortable, and once the bedroom door was closed, I could sneak into the bathroom to shave my legs, switch out my bra, and hide the brush cleanings and Q-tips in the garbage under some clean but strategically crumpled tissues. It’d be perfect! I opened the door with a smile on my face.
I was greeted by Johnny, with an equally large smile on his.
Unfortunately—given my present circumstances—a smile was all he wore.
Ten
Johnn
y was standing in the kitchen, the living room and a center island the only thing separating us. The smile fell off my face and landed with a thud at my feet (which, by the way, would benefit from a run-over with a shaver, too). Luna hurried up to sniff my hand but I was in too much shock to pet her. Tiger Pop, my calico kitty, was draped across the back of the couch so as better to witness my humiliation, I imagine.
“Too presumptuous?” he asked, coming around the kitchen counter.
I was immensely relieved to see that he was, in fact, wearing low-slung Levis. The denim hugged his lean hips perfectly, showcasing his sculpted abdomen dusted with a light trail of hair. His chest was perfection, broad and muscled, and his rippled arms made me want to drop my own clothes. He held a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his beautiful, strong hands. And oh dear god, had he used the word presumptuous? I was used to dating men who didn’t use a hand towel let alone four-syllable words.
“You look delicious,” I said.
He kept walking toward me, his lip quirking. “What?”
Had I said that out loud? “It smells delicious! It. It smells delicious. What are you making?” I glanced at the chopped vegetables and herbs gracing my counter, a swirl of reds, greens, and oranges. It really did smell amazing. “And how long have you been here?”
He glanced at his wristwatch, and I swear my pants melted a little. Something about a naked-chested man wearing a watch drove me crazy. “About an hour. I knew you had a double-shift today, the library and then the paper. I wanted to surprise you with dinner. I picked up the kitchen and living room, too. I hope you don’t mind.”
I glanced around the plant-filled living room, searching for the camera crew. Somehow, I could get my head around having a hot, shirtless man offer me champagne and home-cooked dinner. It was the picking-up comment that made me finally realize that Johnny was a robot planted in my life six months ago to study the Dorkus Allthetimeus in her natural habitat.
“For real?”
His smile grew wider, and now he was near enough to smell. I didn’t know if he actually wore cologne or if his natural scent was clean and spicy, like fresh-ground cinnamon. He locked eyes with mine, his so blue I swear I could see fish swimming in them. His smile changed into something a little more animal, and his eyes dropped to my mouth.
My heartbeat picked up. He leaned forward and placed his mouth on mine, warm and confident. My back arched and I leaned into him, feeling the impossible heat of his hard body against mine.
He held the two champagne glasses in one hand and the unopened bottle in the other. My hands, however, were free. I unzipped my jacket and let it drop to the floor. Then, I touched his chest lightly, trailing my fingertips down, around his waist, up his strong spine, and then back down to hook into his jeans and pull his hips tight against mine. I was trying to remember why I’d ever thought it’d be a good idea to hold him at arm’s length. It felt so much better to have him close.
His kisses grew deeper, and I sent one hand to his thick hair and the other to his tight butt. He made a low sound in his throat, like a growl. I ground my hips ever so slightly, and he almost dropped the champagne glasses.
“I need my hands,” he said huskily.
I couldn’t agree more. He set the bottle and glasses on the living room table. His body was only gone from mine for a second, but the loss of heat felt like an ache. I was back in his arms in a moment. He wound one hand into my hair and the other at the base of my back and was kissing me like his life depended on it. I felt his hips swivel, followed by a gentle push as he steered us toward the bedroom, not pausing in his passion. I was completely wrapped in his strength and his scent and his heat. I would have taken him right there by the front door, but at least one of us was hanging on to their wits. Nothing like glancing up to see a cat and a dog watching like they’re taking notes to kill the moment.
He closed the bedroom door behind us. The room was dark, a pair of dirty workout shorts on the floor. I suppose I could have excused myself to quick shave my legs, but it’d be like cleaning your house when it’s on fire, and who does that?
He pulled back, and even in the moonlit room, I saw the intensity of his gaze. “I want you.”
I nodded, though it seemed like an understatement. I wanted oxygen. In that moment, I needed Johnny. We fell toward the bed in a tangle of undressing, kissing, stroking passion. He ended up on top, which was just the way I liked it.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into my ear, unlatching my bra with one deft move. Thank god. The white cloth reflecting the glow of the moon was bright enough to read by.
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, grabbing him by the ears and pulling his mouth to mine.
“We should do this more,” he said. At least that’s what I think he said. I couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to let him speak.
The taut length of his body melted into mine, his weight making me feel deliciously protected. My fingers dipped with the curve of his muscles when I ran them down his back and arms. We were both still wearing jeans, and suddenly, nothing seemed more urgent than being completely naked.
Right now.
Johnny was reading my mind because he pulled back to undo the top snap of my button-fly Levis. His eyes were the color of storm clouds in the dim room, his gaze penetrating as he ran it along the length of me, lingering on my mouth, then landing on my eyes.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The breath caught in my throat. I could feel my blood-hot pulse in every inch of my body. He leaned over to kiss my neck, undoing the second snap on my jeans.
“There’s no place I’d rather be right now,” he whispered. The kiss moved to the sweet spot under my ear, and I shivered.
The third snap came undone.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His mouth traveled to my collarbone, his tongue teasing me as it ran along the edges.
The fourth snap popped open.
His mouth moved to my breasts, warm and wet.
There was only one snap left.
A growing heat tickled the edges of my senses. I thought I was going to lose my mind if he didn’t rip off my pants and take me right now. I was about to tell him that exact thing when the phone rang in the kitchen.
“Forget it,” I said. Passion made my voice deeper than usual.
He didn’t even slow to respond, his hot mouth driving me closer to ecstasy. My chin shot up as the growing heat began to vibrate inside of me.
The phone rang again.
“The machine will get it,” I whispered, tossing my head to the side.
It rang a third time.
Johnny undid the last snap. His eyes met mine, and it was electric. He looked more animal than man, completely in control, gorgeous.
The machine clicked over.
“Mira? It’s Kennie.” Her voice trembled.
The moment hung suspended in the air like a glass globe. Her next words shattered it.
“Gary Wohnt has been shot.”
Eleven
Johnny and I were out of the house and in his truck in under five minutes. On the seventeen-mile drive to the Fergus Falls hospital, I copped to the dead body I’d skated over in the ice. I expected him to be horrified, but his predominant emotion was concern. I accepted his free hand in mine as he drove.
“Do you think the body in the ice is connected to Gary being shot?” he asked, after I assured him that I was fine, though the words felt far away when I spoke them.
“I don’t see how they could be, but I guess I don’t even know what shape we’re going to find him in.”
It was a frozen, foggy night, a sure sign that a thaw was coming our way. Johnny pushed down on the gas pedal despite the dangerous conditions, and we picked up speed. And why not? We knew where the chief of police was right now, and I had to assume all the deputies were investigating the shooting. We reac
hed the hospital in record time. Johnny parked his truck while I charged into the ER waiting room.
Kennie was perched on the edge of a plastic chair looking like she’d just lost the title of Mrs. Minnesota. Mascara ran down her chin, and a stream of snot snaked out of her nose. I speed-walked to her.
“How is he?”
Kennie gave me the first honest glance we’d ever exchanged. “You came.”
“Of course I did. As soon as you called.” Three chairs over, a man threw up into a plastic bag. Across the room, a teenage boy held a bloody towel over his hand. This was a dismal place to spend a Saturday night. “What are you doing here alone?”
Her shoulders moved the tiniest bit. “Who else would come with me?”
Her comment pushed me back, like a puff of wind. Surely Kennie had friends, didn’t she? But I couldn’t think of one. Heck, I usually went out of my way to avoid her. The thought humbled. “Where’d it happen?”
Kennie shrugged and blew her nose into a Hello Kitty handkerchief. I felt bad for it. I imagined it had signed up for glitter and lipgloss, not copious boogers. “Just north of town. It was a routine pull-over. Speeder. Gary got him on the side of the road and called in the license plate number. Ginny was working the call station. She heard the shots over the radio. When she couldn’t get Gary to respond, she sent an ambulance to his location.” She hiccupped.
“Is it bad?”
“I haven’t seen him. They won’t let me. The doctor said Gary will make it, but that’s all he could tell me because I’m not family. I’m not anyone’s family!” She blew her nose again. It came out as a sobbing honk. I reached over to the admissions desk and yanked a handful of tissues out of the communal box.
“Here.” I waited while she blew her nose some more and wiped at the smudged mascara. I grabbed another fistful of clean tissues and waited until her breathing grew regular.
