Miracle Pie

by Edie Ramer

  She nodded. “He wants me, too.”

  “But he left.”

  “He’s making videos in Chicago. Interviewing kids with cancer.” She grimaced to hold back an onslaught of tears. “He’s not coming back. His dreams are big, our village is small.”

  “You can do big things in a small village.” He gestured, the ends of the rag flapping. “Look what we did this weekend. Your guy put up a few videos on YouTube already. Rachel said money is dribbling into the PayPal account she set up. Not much yet, but when all the videos are up and more people watch them and tell their friends, the money will come.”

  “He’s not my guy.”

  “You’d like him to be. You wish he was.”

  “I don’t expect every wish of mine to come true.”

  Sam frowned. “How could he not love you?”

  “I don’t know. It’s amazing how many men don’t.”

  His gesture told her what he thought of the men she’d dated before this. “They weren’t the right ones. You feel he’s the right one?” He lowered his head. He looked like an old hippie with his long white-streaked hair tied in a tail at his nape and the left knee of his jeans ripped. His lean face and body had seen some years and some tears, along with love and laughter.

  She nodded. “He’s so right for me that it scares me.”

  He gave her a long look, and she turned to gaze outside the open barn doors at the fields with the crops cut down. That’s how she felt sometimes. Like she was cut down, tamed. For her own good.

  When that feeling hit her, she usually hit the kitchen and made pies. Her way of running from life. Her way of coping.

  “This is because of your mom, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

  She whipped her gaze back to him. He scowled, looking angry and sad at the same time. And she cringed, seeing that he wasn’t done yet.

  “Because she dropped you off at the farm when you were five.”

  “Like an unwanted package,” she said with a smile and a shrug, making a joke about it.

  But he wasn’t laughing. And neither was she. She curled her hands to keep from grabbing the shovel leaning against the barn wall then hitting the wall with it.

  Where had this anger come from? Had it been there all these years?

  “She couldn’t help it, honey.”

  “The hell she couldn’t.” The anger roared up and she yelled the words at him. Flung them like they were weapons. Which was ridiculous because she didn’t yell, she didn’t fling, she didn’t grab shovels to knock holes in barn walls.

  “She was an addict.”

  “She’s recovered and remarried. I never met my half sisters. She never invited me.”

  “Sweetie, there’s a reason for that.”

  “What?”

  “She’s a selfish bitch.”

  Katie stared at him, and he looked back at her with tenderness and love and total acceptance. The opposite of her mother who sent her cards that talked about love and acceptance, but she didn’t mean any of it.

  With a hoarse cry, Katie hurled herself at Sam. He slung his arms around her and held her as tears ran down her face. Along with the sadness and the anger and the hurt, she felt gratefulness and total love.

  That’s what Sam gave her. That’s what her gram had given her. All these years she’d been telling herself and other people how lucky she was. It was a story she made up. Other people believed her, and she’d thought she believed it, too.

  Today, she finally did. She was so lucky. She was the luckiest woman in Miracle.

  She raised her head and sniffed. “You’re the best dad in the world.”

  “And you’re the best daughter.” He put his hand on the top of her head, and it felt like a benediction. “Don’t be afraid of life.”

  “The thing is, I don’t know if I am afraid.” She stepped back from him, giving her a better view of his face. “I have a great life.”

  “In Miracle,” he said.

  “It’s home.” She wiped moisture from beneath her eyes. “Not because of anything to do with my mom. It’s Happy. And it’s my cottage that makes me think about Gram. Sometimes I can feel her smiling down on me, sending me love. And it’s all my customers. It’s experiencing the four seasons, even when I complain about the heat and mosquitoes in summer and the cold and snow in winter.” She raised her arms in a large gesture. “And it’s about this big, extended family that includes all the villagers. Love them or hate them, they’re part of my life. Even Linda Wegner with her gossip. If I left, I’d miss her.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Sam said.

  She laughed and heard the throb in her throat from leftover tears. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know what I’d miss.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  A chill gust of wind blew into the barn, and she shivered. “Dad, you’re the devil.”

  “Honey, you’re not the first to say that.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Every day Katie thought about what her father said. Every day she thought of calling Gabe. Every day villagers called her or stopped her in the street with smiles on their faces, as if Santa Claus had come to town early and dropped off gifts that kept on giving. So excited that their stories were on YouTube. Wanting to know what she thought.

  She lied, telling them how great they were, that talent agents from Los Angeles would fly to Miracle to sign them up. Making them laugh giddily, as if they harbored the hope that it might really happen.

  In truth, she couldn’t look at the videos. Afraid they hearing his voice would make her ache too much. It would make her miss him. Long for him.

  Something miraculous happened when Gabe asked questions from behind the camera. He called something from people’s souls that showed up on film.

  On the second day Rosa called her, excitement in her voice, to tell her they had over $24,000 already.

  “This is the miracle that was prophesied,” Rosa said.

  “It was Gabe,” Katie said. “He’s a magic man.”

  “I remember that song, and it wasn’t money the singer was talking about. Are you in love with him?”

  From outside the back door, Happy howled, wanting to come inside. Katie crossed to it. “He’s good in bed.”

  Rosa laughed. “I would’ve guessed that. I’m glad you had it with him. Do you want more?”

  Katie opened the door and Happy trotted in. Except for the white on her face and her limping walk, no one would’ve known she wasn’t a young dog. Happy was an old dog with a young attitude.

  “To be with Gabe,” Katie said, “I’d have to move out of Miracle.”

  “You could just have an affair. You could go to Chicago for a few days. Tony’s saving for something he’s not telling me about. He could use some extra money, and he knows his way around a kitchen. He could bake and deliver your pies. Leave the recipes you don’t mind sharing.”

  It’s not my recipes that make the difference, Katie thought, it’s me.

  “Other times,” Rosa continued, “Gabe could come to Miracle and visit you.”

  “You make it sound easy. I do one thing, and he does the other. But I don’t think it would work.”

  “Love isn’t easy. It’s messy.” Rosa’s voice was flat. “I take back all my advice. I’m the last person who should try to matchmake. I saw Amber at Wegner’s this morning. She was wearing a maternity top.”

  “Bitch.”

  “She and Mike make a good pair. A bitch and a bastard. I think Tony’s going to quit. He said he can’t stand working with her still waitressing. Maybe that’s why he’s saving his money. To tide him over.”

  “He could get a job anywhere. Any restaurant owner in the county would snap him up.”

  “They would. But I don’t know if cooking is his passion.”

  “What is his passion?”

  “If he has one, he’s not telling me.” Rosa’s voice was sharp with worry.

  Katie grimaced. It seemed everyone she knew had troubles except
Happy. She’d already sniffed her dog dish just in case Katie had gone crazy and thrown in extra food while she was outside. Finding nothing there, she was lapping up her water. When that was done she would tour the floor in the cooking area to see if she missed any crumbs on her last tour.

  No wonder she lived for so long. All the important chores she needed to do every day... She had responsibilities. Who would do them if she wasn’t there?

  “But this isn’t about me,” Rosa went on. “Back to you—”

  “No.” Katie snapped her attention back from Happy. Rosa wanted to worry about Katie because it would keep her from worrying about her sons and her own life. “I’m happy.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “I have a wonderful life.”

  “Maybe you do.”

  “I do.” Katie imagined the words firm, like the bricks in Sam’s fireplace. Firm like Rosa’s will power—which was much stronger than Katie’s.

  It was hard fooling Rosa...and impossible to fool herself.

  “Why is everyone trying to change my life?”

  “Because we want to see you happy.”

  “I am.”

  “Okay. If you really mean it.”

  Katie laughed but heard the hysterical note in her voice. Her laugh stopped in a gusty inhale, and she said goodbye. She stepped out to Happy, scooped her up then headed toward the living room.

  “Come on, baby. You know I don’t need a man to be happy, don’t you? It’s not because I’m afraid. It’s because I know this will go away.” She plopped onto the sofa, Happy on her lap. “I’ll learn to be happy without him. After all, being happy is what everyone wants.”

  Happy pushed her ear against Katie’s hand, saying without words, Pet me right here.

  Obliging, Katie lowered her head and whispered into the floppy ear. “So why is it so hard to find happiness? And when we do, why is it so hard to hang onto it?”

  ***

  The need to make a Mourning Pie hit Katie as she was about to go to bed. It would mean a loss of an hour’s sleep, so she went to her bedroom, Happy bobbing along behind her. She could make the pie tomorrow morning.

  But in bed every time she closed her eyes they immediately popped open. And her mind was wide awake though this was the same time she went to bed nearly every night. And it had been a busy day, as usual.

  Finally she got out of bed and gathered the ingredients. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, milk and coconut.

  It must be something in the coconut, she thought, that made it her Mourning Pie. She didn’t know what it was, just that it worked.

  It didn’t take long to make it, but she had to stay awake while it baked. While she waited, she finally watched the videos Gabe had filmed. They were short, most under three minutes. She watched hers last and saw it had more than 20,000 views. Amazing.

  She wanted badly to call Gabe. Instead she pressed the arrow to bring the video to life. As soon as her video image started to talk, she put her hands over her mouth. This was her second video, and she still felt odd watching herself.

  When it was over, she brought her hands down. It hadn’t been too bad. She had a great feeling about the way the village had come together. It was a good thing that they had done. It had changed the village—at least for a short time. People were smiling at each other like they were in Mayberry.

  When the pie came out, it looked perfect. She set it on the counter to cool, sent silent prayers to whoever was going to get the pie, then shut down her laptop and went to bed where Happy was still snoring softly, not even aware that she’d gotten up.

  As she lay down, she wondered for one second who was going to get the bad news. Not Trish, she thought fiercely, not her best friend.

  Then she closed her eyes and that was the last thing she remembered before something woke her.

  She lay stiff for a moment. It was usually dark when she woke up, but tonight it seemed darker. And it didn’t feel right in her bedroom.

  Slowly she turned her head to look at the clock with the red LED numbers. 2:19. Definitely not her normal wake up time.

  Her heart pounded and she kept her breath shallow, the better to listen for any sounds that shouldn’t be there.

  Nothing. No footsteps, no breathing, no creaks.

  No snoring.

  Her heart breath caught and she rolled out of bed then stumbled to the light switch. No, no, no. Not Happy.

  The snoring didn’t mean anything, she told herself. Happy didn’t snore all the time, just most of the time.

  Katie blinked at the sudden light and hurried to where Happy lay on her side in the corner. She knelt and put her hand on Happy’s head. She was warm.

  A breath of relief shuddered out, then she put her head closer to Happy’s to drop a kiss on her head...and she didn’t hear any breathing.

  The oh no chorus in her head changed to Please, God, let her live as she slid her fingers under the loose folds of Happy’s neck to feel for a pulse.

  Nothing. There was no movement, no breathing, no heart beating.

  Her knees dropped onto the short-napped carpet. Bending forward, she leaned her cheek against the back of Happy’s head and sobbed.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  “You look like hell.” Sam waited in his back yard for Katie to reach him, the early morning sun showing the crags and valleys in his face. Behind him was the barn and behind that the cut fields. A ginger cat strolled out of the barn to give Katie a curious look. It turned away, not interested. After all, there were mice and squirrels to hunt this time of year. What human could compete with that?

  Smart cat, Katie thought, then shifted her gaze back to her dad. “I feel like hell. Do you want pie?”

  “You gave me two pies on Sunday.”

  “This is my coconut pie.”

  “Your Mourning Pie? Who died?”

  Tears heated her eyes, but she kept staring at him. “Happy.”

  “Oh shit. I’m sorry, honey.” He stepped forward and hugged her, holding her for a long moment. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean against him. To listen to the wind and the rustle of the leaves on the ground, an animal running through the yard. Somewhere a caw sounded. Crows. Vultures.

  She pulled away from Sam, sniffing, her eyes damp, though she’d cried too much already this morning. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “She was old. It’s amazing she lived this long.” One side of his mouth kicked up slightly. “Maybe it’s your pies. I always said that your pies are magic.”

  She smiled even as her eyes filled again. She’d only given Happy a few bites now and then, a few crumbs. Sweets weren’t good for dogs, but eating was Happy’s joy. And even with the occasional treat, she’d outlived every other dog that Katie had known.

  “Will you bury her?” she asked, her voice thick. “By the apple trees? She really liked apples.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do that first thing.”

  “And, Dad.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m going to Chicago.”

  “For how long?”

  She shrugged. She didn’t even know if Gabe wanted her there. She just knew that she wanted to be with him. There was an ache in her heart that wouldn’t heal until she saw him. Kissed him. Held him.

  She wanted Gabe to wrap his arms around her, hold her against him and whisper words of comfort in her ear. She wanted him to tell her that Happy was in heaven, waiting for her. As if he really was her angel and knew about dogs in heaven.

  “What about your pies?” her dad asked.

  “I called Tony. He’s taking over for me. Rosa has the key to my house. I’m leaving my recipes and instructions. Everything I could think of.”

  “What will his dad say?”

  “Tony doesn’t care. He quit.”

  Sam nodded approval. “I bet Rosa’s happy.”

  “I imagine she’s not too upset.”

  Sam chuckled, and she smiled weakly. “I’m leaving my van. Tony will need it for deliveries. Can I borrow your car?”
/>   He agreed, as she knew he would. She had uneven parents. One was the best in the world. The other was a stranger.

  Maybe that was life, the good and the bad. Burying her dog was very, very bad.

  “Did you call Gabe?” Sam asked.

  She shook her head. She didn’t know why the reluctance. Fear that he’d say no? Fear that she might get halfway there and not be able to drive the other half. The place she didn’t even like to think of.

  Her only good memories of Chicago were the ones of Gabe.

  “He might not even be there. And then where will you be?”

  “Chicago.”

  The furrows on his forehead deepened. “Call him.”

  She nodded and slowly walked to the house with the memories of her dead dog and her absent lover in every room.

  Instead of picking up the phone, she stared at it. Maybe he was seeing someone else already. For all she knew, he might be with several women.

  But the thought didn’t make her want to run inside her house and make a Cheating Pie.

  Then she remembered Happy’s body, wrapped in her favorite blanket like a taco on the front porch. Happy always liked the front porch, especially on sunny days like today, with the rays of light shining down on her.

  The thought of Happy and her resiliency, the way she plowed through life even in old age and never whined, the way she accepted each indignity—the arthritis, the cataracts, the loss of hearing—and kept on going, gave Katie strength. Her shoulders squared, she grabbed the phone and called Gabe. He picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Katie,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.

  Immediately her eyes filled with tears and she turned into a wuss.

  Happy was a better dog than Katie was a woman.

  “Happy died last night.”

  “Baby, I’m sorry.” His voice was clear now. She pictured him sitting up in bed, swinging his legs over the side, a frown of concern on his face. The face she wanted badly to see in person.

  She sniffed noisily. “I’m okay.”

  “You don’t have to be brave. Not with me. I have two interviews this morning, but I’ll leave right afterward. I’ll cancel my appointments for tomorrow. I’ll be at your place this afternoon.”