Miracle Pie (2 page)

Katie glanced around at the shining
industrial kitchen that her dad had built after her grandmother had
gone on to the much bigger cottage in the sky.

“I know I’m being selfish—” Rosa’s voice
cracked and her shoulders slumped. She sighed. “Never mind. I’ll
find another way. It’s wrong to try to bully you into it.”

She started to turn away, and Katie felt
ashamed for making such a drama. Sure, she baked pies for friends,
but that was as easy for her as breathing. If she couldn’t handle a
little discomfort to help Rosa out of a dark spot in her life, that
meant she wasn’t much of as friend.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But if I really hate it
or I’m awful, I won’t do any more.”

Rosa swung back, a smile lighting up her
face as if she’d just won a Powerball lottery. “Wonderful! And
you’ll be stupendous.”

“Don’t get too excited.” Katie frowned. “I
don’t have your charisma. You’re perfect for a show like that. You
have magic inside you.”

“You have magic in your pies.”

“The viewers won’t be eating my pies.
They’ll be watching me make them.”

“Don’t devalue yourself.” Rosa stood with
her spine straight, like a soldier ready for battle. “We are women,
and we are fabulous. Men should be lucky they have us.”

“If you say so. Will you have my pie
now?”

“It will be my pleasure.” Rosa swung her
hands out. “Your pies are ambrosia. Food of the Gods.”

Rosa went on to say she was calling the
producer-director, a nephew of someone she knew. Nodding, Katie
took the pie out of the fridge. In its glass pie plate, she saw the
layers of chocolate and cream topping. Just looking at it, without
even taking a bite, she felt a transfusion of energy. As if it was
sending out waves of love and vitality.

Katie hoped they were heading straight to
Rosa who was at the table already, the cell phone to her ear as she
talked, her voice low and intense. At the counter, Katie cut the
pie while Rosa perched on a chair, still talking, her face
animated, her brown eyes glowing. Katie brought the pie and forks
to the table.

“Just one pilot,” Rosa was saying. “If it
works out, when I sell it I’ll see if you can film them. Once you
get here, we can talk some more.”

There was silence for a moment, then Rosa
gave him her address and hung up. “He’ll be here in two days.”

Katie sat across from Katie, not saying
anything. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this.

Rosa picked up the fork, the expression on
her face different now. Ravenous. As if she’d been starved for
days. For years. As if the pie symbolized all the good that she’d
missed.

She chewed the first bite with her lids down
and a look of bliss on her face. When she swallowed, she opened her
eyes. “That was like biting into a tiny piece of heaven.”

Katie’s body hummed with quiet contentment,
and she took another bite of her pie.

“You know what this pie tells me?” Rose
shook her fork at her plate.

“That a good pie is worth more than a bad
husband?”

Rosa laughed. “It’s probably true, but it
tells me that life is still filled with delicious possibilities,
and I can do anything I set my mind on doing.”

Katie used the side of her fork to cut off
another piece. “My pies are very smart.”

“But that’s not all it tells me.”

Katie raised her eyebrows. “And my pies are
talkative.”

“It’s the truth.” Rosa raised her fork with
a bite of pie into the air, as if in a salute. “It’s telling me
that both our lives are going to change for the better.” Only then
did Rosa take a second bite, her gaze still on Katie.

Katie shivered with a chill she felt in her
gut. Changes were like chain reactions. Once they started, anything
could happen. Including blowing up in their faces.

Chapter Three

Shoving his Chicago Bears sweatshirt in the
suitcase as fast as he could, Gabe thought in song titles:
Breaking Up is Hard to Do
even when it was never
True
Love
but
Just One of Those Things
.

Too bad
One of Those Things
wanted to
kick him in a vulnerable spot right now.

“You. Can’t. Fucking. Do. This.” Cherise
stood over him in the condo they shared that had almost a Lake
Michigan view. A tiny blue slice out the front window that gave
Cherise bragging rights.

He continued to pack though the air
shuddered with her vibrations of anger. With her shiny black hair
coiled tightly in a bun and her even tighter body, she made Gabe
think of a stripper about to shake her hair loose then tear off her
pencil skirt and matching top as she strutted across a stage.

Only that hadn’t happened in the three years
he’d known her and the eleven months he’d lived with her.

If it had, she might not be so easy to
leave. He was after all, a man, and was shallow that way.

Then he thought of the picture of the two
women his uncle sent him. The older one with the body that Gabe’s
uncle called “va-va-voom” was fully dressed but his uncle was right
about her curves. And her face had a strong bone structure that
would appeal to women as well as men. The younger one, with
startled eyes, parted lips, and brown hair pulled up in a ponytail,
made him think of a mermaid stranded on dry land.

His uncle always had great taste.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Cherise
asked, her tone edged with anger.

Focus. He needed to focus. He glanced over
his shoulder. “I’m just going to talk to them.”

“To two women.” She spat out the three words
like they were a bad wine.

He straightened and turned around. “This is
nothing to do with them. I’d already given you notice.”

“You were still going to do jobs for
me.”

“Once in a while.” Until he found his
missing mojo. His magic. His passion for life. Lost for four years
now. Too long to be floundering around according to his
understanding mom, stepdad and father. Too long for him, too.

“You’re making good money with me,” she
said. “My work is steady, which is more than most filmmakers can
say. What are you looking for that I don’t have?”

“My place in the sun.” He kept his tone
light when all he wanted to do was leave. “My niche in life.”

Cherise rolled her eyes at the ten-foot
ceiling. “
Niche?
Antique stores have niches. Little old
ladies have niches. You need a plan or you’ll never get
anywhere.”

“These last couple years I’ve been helping
you with your dream. You always knew that when I found my dream,
I’d—”

“I have a
plan
, not a dream.” She
crossed her arms, the air around her glacial with icy spikes of
anger. “Dreams are for dreamers. Plans are for doers.”

He ached for her for being so wrong and so
cold. For not believing in dreams.

And he ached for himself, for staying with
her while he waited for a dream that never showed up.

Until now. Not a full-fledged dream, but a
glimmer. Bright and shiny, calling his name.

“Maybe you’re right.” He turned back to his
packing. “But I’m still leaving.”

“I have a wedding in two days, and you won’t
be back in time to film it.”

“I recommended two good videographers. We’ve
used them both before and they’ve done good work.”

“But they’re not
you
. You have a way
of calming people down. Making them do what you want, even if it’s
not what they want.”

“Now you’re trying to make me do what I
don’t want to do.” He glanced up and met her glittering gaze.
“Making my own films was always my goal.”

Her mouth pursed and her forehead tightened.
“You and about fifty thousand other wannabe filmmakers.”

“True, but I’m ready to give it a go now.
You knew from the first time you booked me to film a wedding that I
had other plans.”

“That was three years ago. Since then,
you’ve become more than an employee. You’re only leaving now
because of the photo your uncle emailed you. Because of
those
women.
” Her eyes glittered brighter and harder.

He turned away. He couldn’t tell her he had
no choice. Not since his uncle, who delivered fish to restaurants
in the middle of Wisconsin, had sent the pictures of the two women
to his cell phone. The moment Gabe looked at them he’d felt a
stomach punch and something else...something indescribable. Like
when he was seven and dying and a small girl told him angels were
going to save him. That he was going to live.

And he did live. Twenty-three years later he
was healthy enough for Cherise to consider him as the future father
of her children.

She made an angry sound, and he blanked out
the images of the girl and the women. Facing Cherise, he saw her as
if she was a character in a story he was going to film and this was
a scene. Saw the worry and the need to control and the way she took
life so seriously.

When life wasn’t serious. Life
was...wonderful. The first wonder of the world. Living and
breathing and walking around on two feet. You just had to open your
eyes to it.

Cherise’s eyes were wide open, but she
didn’t see the same things he did. She saw life as a To Do List. He
saw life as a To Be Journey.

These last few years he’d forgotten that and
he was just starting to remember.

He took her hands in his. Hers were cool and
limp.

“My uncle says this woman has
it
.”

“
It
.” She spat out the word. “What is
it
?”

“Magic.
It
is magic.”

She jerked her hands from his. “Your uncle
is a horndog, and I don’t believe in magic.”

“What if I told you magic happened to me?
Would you believe then?”

“I would believe you were mentally
disturbed.”

For a long moment he studied her. She glared
back. Defiant. Angry.

A vast sadness was a heavy weight in his
chest. Not for him or for her. For
them
. Except there really
was no
them
, and there had never been a
them
.

He turned back to the pile of clothes on his
bed. He wasn’t good at packing—he saved his meticulousness for his
work—so he shoved his jeans in the suitcase. He’d already put a few
bags of his stuff in his SUV along with his video equipment where
most of his money had gone.

“You’re taking all your clothes with
you?”

“I have a feeling this will work. You know
my feelings are usually right.”

“With all the talk about feelings, you sound
feminine.”

“If you’re insinuating I might be gay, you
should know better.” He shifted to look into her eyes. “If I were
even bi, I’d tell you. When have you known me to lie?”

Frustration tightened her face. “Maybe I
just didn’t catch you. You could be a con-man.”

“The only money I’ve taken from you is
payment for my videographer services.” He even paid for his share
of the costs since she’d invited him to move in after the fire at
his southside apartment. It was never meant to be permanent. At the
time, he’d been glad to have a place to stay.

Now he was glad to leave, though he knew it
was her anger talking right now. It wasn’t that she loved him. It
was just that he was useful, his appearance and manners were
acceptable. Best of all, he was low maintenance.

And stubborn. But everyone had a fault, and
she was willing to overlook it if only he’d be wise enough to
change his mind.

Instead, he packed faster. Five minutes
later he stood at the door to the hall with his suitcases.

“If you waltz out of my life,” Cherise said,
her tone sharp enough to slice through the air, “don’t think I’m
letting you waltz back in so easily.”

“If that’s what you want...” He arched his
eyebrows.

“I mean it.” She flattened her lips into a
thin line, her arms pressed against her ribs. No give in her.

The sadness zoomed back to Gabe. This was
the woman he’d made love with, slept with, ate with, worked with.
He hated to end it this way.

But a feeling about this job was building
inside him. An excitement that reminded him of their first vacation
together in Puerto Rico when he stood on the edge of a cliff and
Cherise pleaded with him not to jump.

He hadn’t listened to her then either. The
jump had been glorious. He’d felt as if he could fly. It wasn’t
magic, but close.

Their following two vacations had been to
Vegas and Palm Springs to visit Cherise’s family. No leaps from
cliffs for him anymore. No flying through the air.

No magic.

“We had some good times,” he said. But not
great. No fierceness. No magic. Just two bodies in proximity using
each other.

Her face pulled inward, her nostrils
pinched. “You’re good in bed, but I want more than that. I want a
partner.”

Without hesitation, he took his keys out of
his pocket and worked one off the ring. Her breaths quickened.
Small puffs like an angry cartoon character. Her face twisted in a
classic expression of shock.

She hadn’t believed he would do it. After
three years, she didn’t really know him. Didn’t know he believed in
magic. If he told her, she’d think he was mentally disturbed. But
he had to believe in it. After all, magic had happened to him
once.

He picked up two suitcases and walked away,
hoping that, like lightning, magic would strike twice in the same
place.

Chapter Four

An angel stood in Katie’s kitchen next to
Rosa. Not the little girl and boy angels on greeting cards. A man.
Not much older than her and not much taller, with golden hair, eyes
like a summer sky and upturned full lips. Gabriel Robbins even had
an angel’s name.

Her skin warmed. She couldn’t say anything.
Not even a greeting. Her voice stuck in her chest, lodged there
with her fallen brain cells.

Laughter sparked in his eyes as he said it
was nice to meet her. Nothing unusual but his voice wrapped around
her like silken strands.