Dutch couldn’t bear to see her cry. It broke his heart each and every time a tear slid down her smiling face. Spring was the worst. Tulip cried often, then, yet it seemed to make her flowers grow.
“We won’t get lost because we’re not moving,” Dutch stated firmly, willing the words to be true. “Besides they have those GPR things now. We could find our way home if we had to.”
Worse than getting lost would be getting separated from her Dutch. What would she do without him? “Hold me, Dutch.”
Those words were more painful than the crack in his butt. His Tulip needed him. Dutch longed to hold her in the safety of his arms, but of course he couldn’t. “It’s okay, Tulip. Don’t worry, the people won’t send us away. They need us.”
“You really think so?” Holding back tears, Tulip smiled brightly, as the sun broke through the clouds.
“I know so.” Dutch couldn’t imagine a Holland without a Tulip. How would he get his kiss?
~~~~~
Just like Mom to be right.
When I’d gotten home from the Shoe last night, I’d called her. Mom always has the right words. She’s a strong woman. She had to be, having raised me virtually on her own.
My parents divorced before I was even born. This is probably where my obsession with Dutch and Tulip comes from. If only my parents had married under them, I’d have married parents now. And they would love each other to distraction. Somehow as a child, I guess it was easier to blame my parental state on that than the fact my parents were ill-suited.
After the divorce, Dad, who’s an engineer, moved to Indianapolis where he had more opportunities. I saw him on a regular basis as a child. As an infant, not so much. Mom thought it would be too difficult to shuttle a baby back and forth, so I never saw Dad much until elementary school.
Dad and I have a unique relationship. If you could call it that. He’d always been there for me financially, but emotionally? I don’t think he knows what that word means. When I was in college he and I came to an understanding. The understanding being we were strangers.
When I needed parental advice, I went to Mom. When I needed financial advice I went to Dad. Little did I know that before this was over, I’d come to rely heavily on both.
“But Mom what if they get rid of Dutch and Tulip?” I was lying on my bed, bawling like a baby. Mom was probably wishing she could ship me off to Indy right now. But I could do that with mom. I was her only child. She had to listen to me cry.
“Well honey, Dutch and Tulip need serious work and Holland does need the money. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to face reality sweetie.” Mom wasn’t doing a very good job of making me feel better. Hadn’t she read the job description?
I could picture her sitting in the family room of my grandparents’ farmhouse. When they’d passed on—one from cancer, the other from heartbreak—Mom had moved in and sold me her house. Oh fine! She gave it to me if you must know!
She didn’t take much with her either. Meaning I had a house and everything in it. My bedroom suite had been my grandmother’s. It was solid oak and intricately carved. Anything Mom hadn’t wanted, she pawned off on me. This was her way of getting what she wanted in new furnishings. Her Queen Anne couch looked pretty, but wasn’t very comfortable. She was probably sitting on it now with buyer’s remorse.
“I know Mom, but Dutch and Tulip? You can’t put a price on them.” I said, grabbing another Kleenex. My pile was growing quickly, if this kept up, I’d have to resort to toilet paper.
“Actually honey you can. How much do you think it would cost to build statues like that today?” I could hear her dog yipping in the background. “It would cost millions. The town could really use the money. Besides Holland doesn’t really care about them anymore. If they did, Dutch and Tulip wouldn’t look so bad.”
Wow! Whose side was she on here?
“Are you trying to piss me off? Cause if you are, it’s working.” Probably a mistake on my part. I never talk to my Mom like that. And what did she mean about them looking bad? Dutch and Tulip look awesome.
“Atta girl! That’s exactly what you need to be. Quit your bellyaching and do something about it. The meeting is in one week. Use the time wisely.” She had that tone.
The tone I’d heard all my life. The one that said get off your lazy duff and do something. The same tone that told me to go to college, when she hadn’t. The tone that said get your Master’s before you get married and have kids.
“What are you saying Mom?” Just spell it out for me please.
She was trying to calm Penny down. Penny is a miniature pinscher, one Mom spends tons of money on. Last year she spent as much on that dog as I did on one year of college.
I hate Penny.
It has some kind of nervous condition. Stress upsets it. Really? It’s a dog. I love animals as much as the next person, but a nervous condition? What could the dog possibly have to be nervous about? Penny’s wedding wasn’t in danger.
“Sorry Lils, Penny can’t find her blanket.” Oh for crying out loud! “What I’m saying is you’re a smart girl.” Unlike Penny I thought. “You’ll figure something out. Sleep on it tonight. By morning you’ll have come up with something.” There was that tone again.
“Love you. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” She always said that. Not the love you part, that was a given in all our conversations, sometimes when I can’t remember if I said it, I’ll call her back under false pretense, just so I can tell her.
The bedbugs part was something she always says before going to sleep at night.
~~~~~
After sleeping on it and avoiding all bites from bedbugs, I knew that I would save Dutch and Tulip. Not sure how I was going to make it all happen, but I’ll figure it out. I was going to put up a fight the likes of which Holland has never seen.
Riding on a wave of righteousness, I entered the school ready to tackle my day, even though the day came too bright and too early after my late night. I cleared my head and looked forward to a fun-filled day.
The other second grade teacher and I were taking our classes to Abraham Lincoln’s boyhood home. Just 30 minutes away, Lincoln State Park is picturesque and easy on our meager budget.
Honest Abe wasn’t born in Indiana and he didn’t die here, but we’ve staked a claim to his childhood years. Illinois claims his adulthood and Kentucky his birthplace. Our states share in Lincoln’s fame, each having sites dedicated to him.
Loading 48 students and eight parent chaperones onto the bus, we headed out for an educational day. On the way, the kids had a ball just riding the bus. We could have driven around for all they cared.
I was seated next to Stacy Holzmer; her daughter was in my class. A cute little redhead. “Have a nice time last night?” Stacy asked. Her tone was critical.
Great. Not much happens in Holland that people don’t find out about. “Actually I went to the council meeting. Did you know they’re thinking of selling Dutch and Tulip?” I hoped to divert her attention.
“I was referring to your spending the evening at the Shoe. I would think a teacher has better things to do than spend her nights in a bar.” My diversion tactics obviously lacking.
“Yes I was there, but not drinking.” I couldn’t help throw that in. I wanted her to know I wasn’t a lush, not that it was any of her business what I did in my free time. “After the meeting Glen and I thought it would be best to get a feel for what people thought about the situation.” Let her think Glen and I were working together.
“And you thought a bar was the place to do this?” She just wasn’t going to let up.
“Why not? Everyone goes to the Shoe. I learned a lot. Did you know that Walter’s dad helped in the design of Dutch and Tulip? And Mary’s parents were the ones who came up the idea of marrying under them?” This diversionary tactic seemed to work.
Stacy and I were soon discussing Dutch and Tulip, trying to compile a list of all the couples we knew that had married under them. I
felt sad when we couldn’t come up with a more recent couple.
Why was that? I’d dreamt my whole life about my wedding. I’d wear a gorgeous white dress, probably strapless, and my groom, whom I always imagined was Jay, would look dashing in a black tuxedo. We’d marry with Dutch and Tulip’s blessing and live happily ever after.
~~~~~
Yesterday’s field trip had given me inspiration. Kids always go home and tell their parents about what they did at school. This would be to my advantage. Still forming my plan, I knew that I was in the perfect position to make a difference. Being subtle, yet decisive, I would weave Dutch and Tulip into my lessons from this day forward.
Today, I had a great lesson planned and was gonna kick some second grade butt. Sometimes lessons work out great, while other times I wonder why I even bother calling them in from recess.
But today was my day!
I know it’s low, but the kids are an easy group to target. Captive audience. I began by reading At the Park with Dutch and Tulip, doesn’t matter that most of the kids are familiar with the story; it’s a good jumping off point. Each student was to ask their parents their favorite kissing couple memory. Yep, my little messengers would get the word out. The town of Holland would remember how great Dutch and Tulip are.
By lunch I was stoked. Sitting down I jumped right in. “I’m going to save Dutch and Tulip.” I stated boldly.
“You go girl.” This from Kara, with her Vera Bradley lunch tote. At least she was trying.
“Count me in. My parents married under them. Whatcha got planned?” Dana always loved a project. I knew I could count on her. Although at the moment, I was distracted by her very boring lunch cooler.
“Actually…..I don’t know. What do you think?” Ever had what you thought was a good idea? Maybe a great painting, only you can’t paint. That was me. I had an idea, but no idea how to put it into place.
Kara and Dana looked at me. I’m assuming they were thinking and planning, because another word was not spoken until lunch was almost over.
“I’ve got it!” Dana said with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t wait to hear. “We’ll have a bake sale!”
~~~~~
Okay, by the end of the day, my high had crashed. I was like an addict coming down hard.
A bake sale?
After changing out of my standard work clothes, I searched the internet. I needed to get the word out, but in Holland most people wouldn’t be swayed by the World Wide Web, but I got some ideas. Maybe a petition? Flyers? Starting a blog? Whatever I choose, I’d have to play on people’s emotions.
And of course I’d continue using the children.
They would be my minions.
After a quick bite, I printed off some flyers. Kelly is sure to gripe about the waste of paper, but the environment will have to wait. I figure the flyers are a good start. They were simple. Stating the time, date and reason for the special meeting. I’d ride my bike around town posting them.
Entering the Shoe carefully, to avoid any errant darts, I tacked one up on the bulletin board. Next stop the Post Office, where I picked up Ruth’s mail, putting into my basket.
Yes. My bike has a basket.
I know I’m limited with free advertising. Maybe an ad in The Herald and The Huntingburg Press. But that would cost money. My money, but then again my future wedding is worth the cost.
Windmill Works, the convenience store, and Tulip’s Treats, the ice cream shop across the street from the park, would also get flyers. Tomorrow during lunch, I’d call the tractor dealership, doctor and dentist office and the Bank. No one would mind advertising for the sake of Dutch and Tulip.
While riding around town, I made small talk with those who were out. It was a sunny day, warm and the smell of fresh cut hay wafted in the air. I sneezed, but inhaled deeply anyway. My allergies might hate this part of the country, but I love it.
At Tulip’s Treats, I considered getting a cone, but the sight of Jay’s truck across the street at the park stopped me from indulging. I was going there anyway. I needed to speak with Dutch and Tulip. Running my ideas by them would help me focus through the haze of my sinus pain.
Jay was there, tools out, tailgate down and he looked better than any ice cream cone.
“You look like him.” I said without preamble.
Jay looked surprised. I guess he hadn’t heard me lurking behind him. “Who?”
Looking toward Dutch and back again, I answered. “Dutch. Blonde hair, blue eyes. You could be the grown up version.”
Jay didn’t look convinced. “So I look like a fat little boy, with a bad haircut? Thanks for the compliment.” He was smiling, so I knew he wasn’t serious.
“No really you do.” Again I look terrible. My hair was pulled into a ponytail and was sticking out the back of my Colts baseball cap. Wearing my oldest jeans and a t-shirt, hoodie tied around my waist, I probably looked about twelve. That should tell you something about my body.
Why did this always happen around the one guy I was interested in? Must be a fate thing. Damn fate!
“What are you doing?” I asked. The tools were a clear sign he was working on Dutch, but I’m an idiot when it comes to Jay. He was balancing a plaster thingy in his hand, the kind you see drywallers use.
“I don’t know when they’re going to do anything about Dutch. I thought it would be best to patch him up. His damage will only get worse.” He loaded up on plaster and climbed the ladder applying it to Dutch’s crack. Literally.
“That’s really nice of you. I’m glad someone else cares enough about them to do something. Anything.” Of course Jay would be interested in the couple.
Lucille Heimerschmitt, Jay’s great-grandma, had been the one who’d named Dutch and Tulip. As part of the reveal, almost 50 years ago, the town held a contest to name the couple. Competition had been fierce. Everyone had an opinion, but in the end, hers had been the winning entry.
“Yeah well I hate driving by here and seeing Dutch with a tarp on his ass. The patch job won’t last, but it’ll do for now.” He continued slathering plaster on Dutch’s backside, while I stood and watched his. He has a great backside. Jay, I mean. Not that Dutch’s isn’t cute. I could look at it all day.
Maybe he could sense me ogling him because Jay turned around and continued our conversation. Must be my lucky day. “Putting up flyers are you? Gonna save the old couple?” Jay nodded toward my basket, smiling.
Aww. He though it was cute I had a basket. What would he say if he saw my lunchbox?
“I don’t know that I have to save them, but I’ll do what I have to. You really don’t think they’ll sell them do you?” I’d been asking myself and anyone who would listen that question for days now.
Jay must have been done, because he descended the ladder and came to stand next to me. “Honestly I don’t know. Two million dollars is a lot of money.”
“Two million dollars? I didn’t realize it was that much.” Shit! Shit! And shit! How the heck was I supposed to compete with that? All the joy I’d been feeling by being close to Jay suddenly evaporated. I slumped my shoulders, scuffed my feet on the ground and generally just pouted.
Jay nudged me. Apparently he could sense my mood. “Maybe you should ask a few people to come to Tuesday’s meeting. A show of support might be a good thing.” Packing up his tools, I realized I must be depressed, because not even watching him bend over made me feel better.
I did have enough sense to watch him get in his truck though.
The blades on the windmill caught my attention then. They hadn’t moved in years. Taking in the disrepair of the windmill, its chipped paint and worn shingles, I realized Mom was right again. Had Holland stopped caring?
It would be neat to see the windmill open and moving again. There wasn’t a single place in town where people could buy souvenirs. Originally the windmill had been used for that purpose, but now it sat empty decaying just like Dutch and Tulip.
Tulip looked good for her age, but Dutch’s paint w
as worn and chipping away in several spots. His red overalls were now faded. Weeds, instead of flowers surrounded them. How had this happened? When had we stopped taking care of them? And why?
“You look like her too ya know.” Jay said.
“Sorry?” I hadn’t kept up with the conversation.
“Tulip. Especially when you had your hair in braids.” There was that devastating smile again. Dang it. How did he do that?
“So I look like a fat little girl? Plus in case you hadn’t noticed, my eyes aren’t blue.” I threw his earlier remark back at him. When I’d told him he looked like Dutch, I’d meant it as a compliment, but now when he said the same thing, I felt like he was making fun of me. He didn’t even know what color my eyes were. Men!
By the way, my eyes are green.
Chapter 5
“Am I fat?” Tulip asked.
“What? Of course not, flower. You’re perfect.” Dutch couldn’t imagine what was going through her pretty little head. Fat? Where had that come from?
“I was just thinking that maybe I’d go on a diet.” Whatever that was.
For years, Tulip had listened as women walking in the park talked about calories and losing weight and thought perhaps she should do the same.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dutch couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. His Tulip was exactly as she should be.
“And you should get a haircut.” Tulip hadn’t appreciated Jay’s remark about Dutch’s hair, but what if he was right?
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Dutch asked.
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s fine.” Tulip sighed, knowing that she’d hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry, Dutch. Forget I said anything.”
But Dutch couldn’t forget so easily. What if Tulip no longer found him attractive? He’d never get his kiss. “Do you think I’m fat?”
“No. You’re well fed. That’s all.”
“Hmmph!” A thought occurred to Dutch then. “I know what will make everything all better.”
“What?” Excited, Tulip couldn’t wait to hear what they could do to make Holland love them again.
“We could kiss! That would make everything better,” Dutch suggested, trying to stretch his neck forward. Just a little more. He stretched again, or tried rather.
A Holland Kiss Page 4
