Miracle Pie (10 page)

He’d always thought it was her big heart
that had kept him from dying.

If Katie was that girl.

He sat in the chair and watched her still
profile. He didn’t know how much time passed before he slowly
stood. Slowly made his way through the kitchen to the back door. He
locked it before he headed to the car where he slowly backed
up.

His entire drive to the motel was spent in a
state of suspension. Thoughts of
was she?
and
what if she
was?
tumbled in his mind like rolled dice.

Inside the motel room, he got out his cell
phone but hesitated before calling his mother. She didn’t like to
think of
that time
, the way many war veterans didn’t like to
think of the bullets that just missed them. She’d been so afraid.
She never talked about it without saying, “It’s all behind us now,
thank God.” And always with a fearful glance over her shoulder. As
if death, a black shadowy beast, could jump up and steal him away
if she weren’t vigilant.

It wasn’t ten yet and she’d probably be
reading one of her romances, something she had in common with
Katie. The phone connected and she answered on the second ring,
sounding happy to talk to him. She talked about his stepfather and
half-sisters while he sat on the end of the bed, the mattress
giving.

“Are you back in Chicago?” she asked
finally. “Come for dinner on Sunday.”

“I’m still in Wisconsin.”

“Not for long, I hope. You’ve been helping
your friends for too many years. It’s time you got on with your
career.”

“Mom, this isn’t a friend, it’s a client.
I’m getting paid for this. It’s part of my career.”

“It’s a job. You’re building for them, not
for you. If you went to L.A. today, none of those wedding videos
would help you. Nor a cooking video. You may as well dig
ditches.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t
Mom
me. First you’re in Africa
building a hospital—for
three
years. I was scared every
night.” Her voice rose. “You came back...different. And you end up
being Cherise’s go-to guy.”

“It was a paying job.” He grimaced. His mom
had him there. Had him everywhere. Right now he didn’t regret the
hospital. Not with all the images of the happy-crying-laughing
faces on the final project. The eyes bright with hope. That was
something he was proud of. In his old age, he’d look at his copy of
the finished movie and think,
I helped do a good thing.

But along with the hopeful faces, he’d seen
hopelessness. He’d seen cruelty. He’d seen earthquakes and floods
that some of the Africans said were sent from the devil.

And most of all, he’d seen the worst that
people could do to each other.

It broke his spirit.

The nine months estimate to build the
hospital had taken three years. The healing of his spirit had taken
longer.

“I never meant to stay with Cherise so
long,” he said, answering the only part he could.

“She was so needy. Always with a hard luck
story. Don said she knew how to play you.”

Gabe frowned. He hadn’t stayed because of
Cherise’s hard luck stories. He’d stayed because he didn’t care. He
was skating by in life, and he used her as much as she used
him.

“I knew what I was doing. She knew what she
wanted.”

“Yes, she wanted
you
.” A mama lion
ferociousness sharpened her voice. She sounded ready to attack
anyone who interfered with her children. Even when the child was
thirty years old.

“Stop worrying, she’s out of the picture.
I’m coming back to Chicago soon.”

“Where will you be staying?”

“A friend’s place. Not Cherise.”

“Another woman?”

Scratching his chin, he pictured his mom on
her gold chair with her slippered feet on a hassock. Wearing pants
with elastic now that she was a little stocky. She hated it, used
to being one of the skinny girls who could eat anything and not
gain an ounce. She kept warning him he was like her and he’d gain
weight when he was her age. The one time he told her he wasn’t
worried because he wouldn’t go through menopause, she’d shot back,
“No, you’ll go through man-o-pause.”

His sisters had laughed so hard they cried.
He and Don had just looked at each other, shrugged, then chugged
their beers and turned back to watch the Cubs game.

No way was he telling her he felt more for a
woman he’d only known for two days than one he’d lived with for
eleven months. He could imagine her worry that he was making
another mistake.

If he’d learned one thing from being so near
death that he could feel its heat and smell its sulfuric breath, it
was that he didn’t want to spend his life worrying. And he sure
didn’t want to cause the people who loved him any more
distress.

“Her name is Sylvia,” he said. “She won’t
even be there. She’s in Canada, filming a movie.”

“A
real
movie?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom, a real
movie.”

“You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell by your voice.
Yes, I know your videos are real. But it doesn’t seem the
same.”

Gabe opened his mouth to lecture her on
control and copyrights and making money off the videos for your
whole life versus a filming job, but he bit the words off. That
wasn’t the reason he called.

“Listen, I need a name. Remember when I was
seven and really sick, just before I went to the hospital? While
you worked, you left me with the babysitter in the apartment
building?”

“The bottom floor apartment in the front? I
remember. Well, not her name. You know how bad I am with
names.”

“Not her. The little girl who used to sit
with me.”

There was silence on the other end. He
imagined the blank stare on her face.

“I think she lived in the next apartment
building or across the street.” He rubbed his hand across his chin
and mouth. It was all so long ago. He remembered parts of it so
clearly. Other parts...it was like he was swimming through a thick
fog. “She used to call me her angel Gabriel.”

His mom laughed. He laughed, too.
Embarrassed but smiling. “I know. Silly.”

“Not silly. Yes, I remember her. She was so
sweet. Too bad her mom was a piece of work.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was on something. Drugs or alcohol. I
heard she was with a lot of men. The poor girl wore the same
clothes all the time. The babysitter—Janell, I think, it’s all
coming back—she used to wash the girl’s hair. She told me that she
wasn’t getting paid, but she was afraid if she didn’t take care of
the girl, the mom would leave her alone in the apartment.”

“What did the mother do?”

“I don’t know. Waitress, I think. Why are
you asking?”

“You remember the girl’s name?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Mom?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I just am.” He pictured his mother
frowning, a suspicious look on her face. “Do you know what happened
to her?”

“They left. Just after you were in the
hospital that last time—” She stopped, her voice choked. “I was so
afraid that you were...just so afraid.”

“I know, Mom, I know.” Memories rushed back.
And the one memory. It was clearer than the others. While the other
kids played, the girl sat with him in the apartment. Telling him he
was the angel Gabriel, and angels never died. Angels flew around
and had fun. And sometimes they helped the tooth fairy.

When he was in the hospital he told that to
himself, over and over. And he would picture her. Small and thin.
Pale blue eyes and a sad look to her face. Even her smiles had been
sad.

If only she had tried to feed him pies, he
would be sure she was the right girl.

His mom sniffed. A sound he’d hoped never to
hear again.

“It turned out to have a good ending, so no
need to cry.” He blinked hard. “Her name. It was Katie, wasn’t
it?”

“It could’ve been. I’m not sure. I think she
and the babysitter came to the hospital to see you.”

His eyes closed, and he gripped the cell
phone tightly. He’d been so sick then, heavily medicated. He’d
forgotten so much. But his mother’s words unlocked cells in his
brain, and he could see the hospital room. See the walls, cream
paint on the top half, green on the bottom. And he could see the
girl standing by the bed, her expression serious
.

“
You’ll be out of here soon,” she
whispered. “You’re an angel and
other angels are watching
over you and you’ll be all right. Then you’re going to grow up and
marry a princess and be happy because God won’t let his angels
die.”

“Have you met her?” his mom asked, bringing
him back to the present.

“I might have.”

“In that tiny village? Miracle or Magical?
Did she say anything?”

“It’s Miracle. I’m not positive it’s
her.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“I doubt she’d remember. The girl was a year
or two younger than me. Five or six. This one lives with her dad.
Her mother isn’t in the picture.”

“If it’s the same girl, that’s a good thing.
Did she live in Chicago with her mom? That’s something she’d
remember.”

“I don’t even know how to ask her.”

“I can’t believe this. You, with more nerve
than anyone I know. You, who will dare anything. What are you
afraid of?”

“Snakes.”

“Stupid. If you want to know, ask her.”

“I will.” He changed the subject, and they
chatted about his half sisters for a few more minutes until she
yawned and said she was falling asleep.

After the call ended, he stayed on the edge
of the bed, frowning because he knew the real answer to her
question,
What are you afraid of?

If Katie was that girl...it would make a
difference. She’d kept him from dying. She’d said he was her angel.
But all those years ago, she’d been his angel. Her faith had kept
him alive. Without her, he’d be dead.

He would owe her.

He wouldn’t be able to walk away from
her.

In his heart he knew Katie wouldn’t leave
Miracle. She was happy here, making her pies. Fulfilled and
satisfied.

Not him. Filming the videos wasn’t
everything for him. It was just
one
thing. With YouTube and
cable, there were new career opportunities for filmmakers.

He could do anything.

But not if he stayed here. He’d almost died
once. And sometimes in Africa, he thought it could happen
again.

If he stayed in Miracle, it would be another
form of dying.

Chapter Fifteen

In the darkness before the sun rose and the
moon lowered, as almost everyone else in Miracle except for a few
cats and insomniacs slept, Katie baked pies, her fingers busy and
her heart singing, her stereo playing country music.

When she was done with her orders, she
realized that without paying attention, she’d made two extra pies.
Her Goodbye Pie and her Welcome Home Pie.

As she drove to the truck stop just outside
Tomahawk to drop off an order, the sky lightened and her mood
darkened.

Something good was going to happen
today.

And something very bad.

The pies were never wrong.

Chapter Sixteen

By mid-morning the air had warmed. Indian
summer. More like spring than fall. Katie made a trip to her dad’s
pumpkin patch for four sugar pumpkins. She loved this time of year,
still warm but with a freshness in the air, the leaves turning
colors, and best of all, pumpkins and apples growing in their own
garden and on their own trees.

Yet she was thinking of other places she’d
traveled to with Sam: Disney World, the Smoky Mountains, Nashville,
the Grand Canyon, San Francisco and California wine country. And,
of course, places closer to Miracle: Wisconsin Dells and the fun
she had on the water rides; Summerfest in Milwaukee, with its many
bands playing music that made her giddy; and the Mall of America in
Minnesota with all the stores. She was always glad she went but
more glad to return home.

In her kitchen, she turned her attention to
the pumpkins, pushing down the restlessness. She cut the pumpkins
in half and was scooping out seeds when through the open window she
heard the crush of stones beneath tires.

Happy was outside, and Katie rinsed her
hands and hurried out—just in case her mostly blind and deaf dog
wandered under the tires. That’s what she told herself. But her
heart accelerated, and she knew she’d been waiting for this.

The first sight that met her eyes was Happy
in the back yard. Happy’s nose lifted, smelling Katie, then her
jaws opened in the oversized smile that had earned the undersized
Beagle her name. She bounded toward Katie with the energy of a
younger dog. As if she hadn’t seen Katie in five days instead of
five minutes.

Katie’s second sight was Gabe getting out of
the car with his wavy blond hair and his eyes shining at her.
Looking at him, she felt like a flower that bloomed. Last night
she’d bloomed quite a few times.

When she woke up this morning and he was
gone, she told herself she was relieved. Her life was so good, and
a man would just mix it up. Like putting a chili pepper in one of
her pies.

Now she was thinking that a chili pepper
might be just what she needed.

“Hey.” His voice was different today. Gentle
and serious.

“Hey,” she said back, forcing herself to not
try to read anything into his voice, his eyes, his body language.
There were two pies and one man. She’d find out soon which one was
for him. She bent to pet Happy but kept her gaze on him. “Did you
just get up?”

He shook his head. “The video’s on YouTube.
Want to see it?”

A thrill shimmered through her as she
straightened. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She wanted to say
a
thousand times yes,
but it wasn’t that kind of question. That
was the kind of answer to a
Will you marry me?
question.