Miracle Pie

by Edie Ramer

  The ache he felt now was multiplied too many times to count.

  Katie turned around with a smile that didn’t match the dullness in her eyes, holding the pie box to him. “Here.”

  “I shouldn’t take it.”

  “I made it for you.”

  “Not the whole pie.”

  One side of her smile curved down, and she shrugged. “It happens often. I wake up and know what pie to make.”

  “That’s right. The pie talks to you.” He smiled as if making a joke out of it. “The apple-peach pie just appeared and said, ‘Make me.’”

  Her smile dropped altogether, and she looked at him out of somber eyes. “I don’t usually call it an apple-peach pie.”

  He held in his breath. Waiting for her to continue. As if what she said next would tell him everything. The wisdom of the world in the form of a pie.

  “I call it my Goodbye Pie.” She shoved it at him. “Whenever I make it, someone leaves.”

  He took the pie box from her. “I’m coming back. This is just temporary.”

  “Don’t. Just...don’t. You should go now.” Her lips twisted and her eyes...though they were dry now, her eyes wept with sadness.

  He stood there. Robbed of voice. Robbed of action. The man who always thought of the right thing to do and say stared at her as if she’d smacked him in the face with the pie instead of putting it in his hands.

  “Now.” She pitched her voice low and hard and made it an order. “Now.”

  His footsteps heavy, he headed toward the door, robot-like. When he reached the back hall, he paused. “If Rosa decides the videos are a good idea, you’ll still do them?”

  “This is too complicated. I can’t deal with it.” Her voice distant, she averted her eyes and turned her back to him.

  Feeling as if she’d slugged him in the heart, he took two more steps and opened the back door.

  He’d just found the woman of his dreams, and she was all wrong for him.

  And he for her.

  There was only one thing to do. He stepped outside, on autopilot, not feeling hurt, his emotions numb except for the throb in his chest as if a hammer struck his heart with every beat.

  The storm door banged behind him, and he headed toward his car. It was over. Life would go on. Time would pass. He would find someone else. She would find someone else. And this ache in his chest would go away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I hate men.” Rosa glared around her. In Mo’s Place on a Friday night there were as many women and children as men, but a few men jerked back and blinked wildly under her glare, as if a laser beam had stung their foreheads.

  Katie imagined that it would make Gabe laugh. Then, as she’d done at least a hundred times since he’d left two weeks ago, she told herself not to think of him.

  “The hating men thing must be tough on you with three sons,” she said.

  “I don’t think of my boys as men. They’ll always be my babies.”

  Since two of Rosa’s babies were in their twenties—and the oldest had asked Katie out just a few months ago—she gazed down at the deep-fried perch on her plate. Not her favorite but it was the best pick from the Friday Night fish fry menu. Mo never tried to pass off his food as anything more than bar dining. He’d bought the Amber Waves of Grain bar a couple months ago, changed the name, expanded the menu, added a karaoke stage, and was slowly turning it into a community gathering spot instead of a place where mostly men drank beer, played darts, talked loudly, and according to Linda Wegner, did other disgusting things.

  “So, have you heard from Gabe?” Rosa wrinkled her nose at the fish and picked up a sweet potato French fry. Mo’s was known for their sweet potato French fries and the sweet potato pies. The fries were by Mo, the pies by Katie.

  Katie swallowed a bite of perch before answering. Her throat was tight and she had to take two gulps of water to make it go down. “No.”

  “I thought you two had something going on.”

  “He’s a city boy. I’m a country girl.”

  “I think that was a song,” Rosa said.

  Katie shrugged. “Life in songs usually ends better than in real life.”

  “In real life,” Rosa said, “husbands cheat with a woman half your age and are too stupid to use birth control.”

  “In real life,” Katie said, “a man can make love with you one night then leave you the next day.”

  Rosa’s gaze flicked up to Katie. “Is that what happened with you and Gabe?”

  “Of course not.” This time Katie picked up her wine and took a sip. When she finished, Rosa was giving her The Stare. When Rosa gave The Stare, she reminded Katie of Mother Nature. Lying to Mother Nature was not a good thing.

  Katie sighed and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Rosa narrowed her eyes. “Men.” The word was thick with dislike. “They’re pigs.”

  “I don’t hate Gabe.” Katie took another sip of wine. She missed Gabe, but it wasn’t the first time. A long time ago—or so it seemed—she had missed the boy Gabe. For years, she wondered what happened to him.

  She had missed him more than she missed her mother.

  “You’re too nice,” Rosa said.

  “I knew him before.”

  Rosa stared at her, frozen in place with a fry halfway to her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t find out until the morning he left. It was in Chicago where I lived with my mother before she dropped me off at Sam’s and said, ‘Guess what? Here’s your daughter.’”

  “Did she really?” Rosa’s eyes were big. “I heard that story, but I thought it was exaggerated.”

  “It’s kind of blurry. That’s about all I remember.” But it wasn’t. She remembered Sam crouching so his long face was level with hers, telling her she looked just like pictures of his mom when she was Katie’s age, and he was happy to get to know her. Then her grandmother was there, crying over her, hugging her and saying how beautiful she was.

  Sometime during all the hugging and crying, Katie’s mom had left. Driving away from Katie as fast as she could. With Katie turning to run after her. Screaming, “Mommy! Mommy!”

  “Anyway,” Katie continued, “when we were in Chicago, one of our neighbors ran a mini daycare in her apartment.”

  “I’m sure that was illegal.”

  “And I’m sure it was cheaper than a licensed daycare. I don’t remember the woman in charge, I just remember Gabe. He had leukemia and was pretty sick.”

  Rosa made a soft noise of sympathy, her features softening.

  Katie nodded. “I know. So when I think of Gabe, I’m just glad he’s alive.”

  “You’re a better woman than I am,” Rosa said. “I’d still want him to walk along the city street, not notice one of the sewer covers was missing and fall into it.”

  Laughter bubbled up in Katie, but it quickly turned into a smile that she didn’t feel. “I try to avoid anger.” Besides, she didn’t have room for anger. Or regrets or sadness. Though like dustballs, the unwanted emotions gathered in the corners of her mind when she wasn’t looking.

  Rosa shrugged and gave her good luck with that grimace. “How’s the video doing?”

  “It has over nine hundred views.” Katie laughed, pushing away the remnants of sadness. “I know it’s mostly people from Miracle and some from my Tomahawk customers, but I feel good.”

  “You’ll get more.” Rosa reached over and touched the back of Katie’s hand on the table. A motherly touch, her face beaming with pride, as if Katie were her daughter.

  Katie blinked then beamed back. “It doesn’t matter. At this rate it will be a loooong time before anyone wants to do advertising on my video.”

  “That’s because it’s just one,” Rosa said. “You need more. Gabe needs to come back and film you. I don’t mind if you do the short videos.”

  Sadness stirred inside Katie again. “It’s better that I don’t make anything with him.”

  “Men.” Rosa scowled. “If only they’d think wit
h their minds instead of their lower parts, the world would be in a better place.”

  Katie’s laughter was hollow, and she pushed her dish away. She didn’t even want any of her sweet potato pie. She wanted something light. Something happy. With strawberries or even key lime. Both cheery, light pies. Pies that said Life is good.

  “What about the pilot? Any bites?” Katie nodded at Mo who stopped at the next table to chat with the Miller sisters. Mo was in his upper thirties, Katie guessed. She wasn’t sure where he came from or why he was there. Linda Wegner was telling people he was hiding out from the Mafia, something Katie suspected she made up because of his New Jersey accent. No one with any sense believed her.

  Rosa shook her head and made a face. “I’ll have to get a job, but there’s nothing for me here. I’ll have to go to Oshkosh or Tomahawk, and I hate driving in snow.”

  “Cook at my place. You can do what I do. Make your cannelloni and your other dishes. Deliver them to restaurants.”

  “It works for pies,” Rosa said. “Not food. I can’t see—”

  “Work for me.” Mo leaned over their table, his expression intense. “My business is growing. And with you here...” He swept out his arms, missing Katie’s head by an inch. “The sky’s the limit.”

  “Compete with Fabrini’s?” Rosa shook her head again though less firmly this time. “I don’t know—”

  “Not Fabrini’s.” Mo gestured again, as if throwing her comment away. “I’m not aiming for the fine dining crowd. I want the working crowd.” He cocked his head. “I’ve been to Italy.”

  Rosa raised her eyebrows. “Me, too.” Her accent, usually not noticeable, thickened.

  “You know the little cafes, where you can just have pasta and sauce and a meatball?” He steepled his surprisingly small hands under his chin and closed his eyes in the silent, appreciative prayer that Katie often felt about her pies. Then his lids opened and he leaned down again, his mouth inches from Rosa’s. As if he were her lover.

  Around them, the sound level dropped. Katie could feel about thirty pairs of eyes on their table.

  “That’s what you and I can do. Delicious and fast.”

  “And cheap,” Rosa said.

  Grinning, he nodded, smile lines on his sallow face making multiple parentheses. “And cheap.”

  “I still want to be a chef on a TV show.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll come by tomorrow and talk about money and hours.”

  “You got it, babe.” He slapped his hand on her shoulders, stood, grinned as if he’d won the lottery, then swaggered to the bar.

  The noise level rose as if everyone in the bar area talked at once.

  “Wegner’s is going to be busy tomorrow,” Katie said. “Are you really doing this? You have other options.”

  Rosa laughed low in her throat. “You know why I have to do this?”

  Katie shook her head, though she guessed.

  “Mike is going to hate it.”

  “Ahh.” But Katie didn’t think that was the only reason. She’d seen the way Rosa and Mo looked at each other. As if they wanted to throw spaghetti sauce on each other’s bodies then lick off every inch.

  “You like him, don’t you?” Katie asked.

  “Mo?” Rosa shrugged, and her smile was like a shrug, too. “I’m not sleeping with my boss again. That’s how I married Mike. I’m older now, and wiser.”

  “I don’t think Mo is like Mike.”

  Rosa put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Maybe not,” she said, her voice pitched low, her expression serious, “but when you work for someone else, they always think they’re the boss. Especially if they have Italian blood in them.”

  Katie’s cell phone trilled, and she dug her phone out of her purse. The phone number on the display was local, but no name showed up. She put it to her ear and clicked on Talk, expecting a pie order.

  “Hi, Katie, guess what?”

  Katie sat up straight. “Trish! What happened to you? I’ve been so worried.”

  “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m home.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thirty was too old to be a disappointment to your parents, Gabe thought as he led his mom and stepfather into the apartment where he was staying until he found his own place. Don took in the pink, purple and turquoise colors and he looked as if he wanted to be somewhere else.

  Gabe’s mother, Heidi, furrowed her forehead. “What are you doing now?”

  The question hung in the air so heavy that Gabe thought he might glance up and see a giant question mark hanging from the high ceiling. “Getting you coffee.”

  He had to turn his back on her. What she wanted him to be was something he wasn’t ready for. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  When Gabe returned to his parents with their coffees, he wanted to tell Heidi he was sorry he disappointed her, but he held back the words. She would deny it even as she looked at him with her forehead puckered with worry. He’d seen that look too often.

  “I’m freelancing,” he said. A euphemism for doing wedding gigs. Not for Cherise—that hadn’t ended well and he wasn’t going back to her. He’d also filmed videos for two budding comics. The comics weren’t very good yet, but they wanted it and were working at their craft. When they got better and had a following, there was a chance they’d want him to film them again.

  Right now he felt rudderless, spending his days talking to friends, getting ideas. When he’d first seen Katie and Rosa’s pictures three weeks ago, he’d felt the fire in his belly. But now...the fire had damped down with every mile that he’d driven away from Miracle.

  As if his miracle was back in the village he’d sped away from.

  “Anything you can show us?” Don asked.

  “The cooking video,” Heidi said. “I want to see it.”

  “Rosa’s shopping the cooking show around, but I did a three-minute video with the younger one.” Gabe headed for his laptop on the tiny dining table near the kitchen end in the open concept living area. “I’ll bring it over to you.”

  “We’ll watch it at the table,” Heidi said, and Gabe heard the sofa creak as they got to their feet. “It will be better to see it there.”

  “Isn’t that what the Big Bad Wolf said to Little Red?” Don asked.

  “Don! Will you stop?”

  By the time they reached Gabe, the video was up. He didn’t look behind him, too busy staring at the small image of Katie’s face and feeling as if a hand reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart.

  Then his parents were leaning to peer at the screen as he took a deep breath and told himself whatever he was feeling, he’d get over it.

  “You sit,” he got up and stood behind them. “I’ve seen it before.”

  It must’ve been the mother thing, because Heidi shot him a something’s wrong look. But Don sat and so did she, more slowly. Gabe leaned between them to click on the video. As he straightened, the video started with Katie’s nervous smile and scared eyes that hurt Gabe to look at. “I’m Katie Guthrie,” she said, “and I make pies.”

  Then his voice, the unseen interviewer, advised her to pretend she was talking to her lovers, and she responded by saying she didn’t tell her lovers how to make a pie, she baked the pies for them.

  His parents chuckled and he had to look at them, away from the screen because he didn’t want to show his emotions in front of his mom. That’s when he saw they were bending forward, grinning, listening to Katie talk, fully involved.

  The video only lasted two minutes and forty-two seconds, but Gabe counted the laughter: ten times for his mom and twelve for his easygoing stepdad. Not loud, belly-grabbing laughs, but chuckles. And when they weren’t chuckling, smiles stretched across their faces.

  After it ended and the credits rolled across the scene, he was sorry. He wanted these few moments to stretch longer.

  “Oh, look! There’s your name!” His mom pointed, sitting back. She glanced over her shoulder at hi
m. “I enjoyed that. You should do more of it.”

  “I’m waiting for the right project.”

  “You’ve got the right project.” Don jabbed a finger at the screen. “It’s got almost three thousand views. A lot more than Ash and Ally’s videos. That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “It hasn’t gotten viral yet, but the views are growing.” Pride rose in him, a bitter-sweet feeling. He wondered if Katie looked at it every day. Wondered if she cared about the views.

  “Why not do more videos with her?” Frustration edged Don’s voice.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” Heidi looked at Gabe with pity in her eyes. “The girl from the babysitter’s. The one who came to the hospital.”

  Gabe shrugged. “It’s her.”

  Heidi stood, and Don got up, frowning as if he were trying to understand what they were talking about.

  “Is that why you’ve changed?” Heidi asked. “Is that why you’re different?”

  “Yeah, I noticed, too.” Don shook his head. “You were always so calm and confident. Now you’re...I don’t know.” He peered at Heidi. “You’re better at this stuff. What’s he like now?”

  “In love,” she said, and her face softened. “He’s in love with the girl.”

  The words were like blows, and Gabe turned his head away, then turned back. Some things he couldn’t run away from. “It’ll go away.”

  “She doesn’t love you?” Indignation sparked in Heidi’s voice.

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to know. “We want different things out of life. We’d be miserable together.”

  Don clapped his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “You’re right. You’ll get over this. It just takes time.”

  Heidi put her hand on his other shoulder, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “You’ll get it together. I know you will. You’ve gotten over worse, haven’t you?”

  “And you’ll soon find what you want to do,” Don said.

  His mom frowned. “You know what’s so interesting about the girl?”