Miracle Pie (24 page)

“Only when I’m consorting with you.” He
glanced quickly at her.

She smiled and pulled her hand back from his
thigh. He immediately missed her touch.

Once they reached the walkway there was
another switch of energy. It was parklike along the walkway, yet
with a turn of their heads they could see tall buildings with long
windows situated to catch the lake view. Another turn and they
could see the sun sparkling on the water. The air smelled fresh,
and the breeze had died down, perfect weather for a walk along a
lake.

Other people thought this was a good day to
stroll along the wide walkway, too, many of them with dogs. Katie
stopped to pet every dog they saw, telling the owners about
Happy.

The city of Chicago turned into a small town
as they sympathized with her and told her their dog stories, quite
a few hugging her. Gabe left his card with a woman whose boss’ son
had cancerous tumor, and Katie told a seven-months-pregnant woman
walking a poodle about her best friend being pregnant with
quads.

After their walk he took Katie out for a
late lunch. She’d told him how much she’d enjoyed the smells in the
grocery store, so he took her to an Indian restaurant where she had
the sampler plate and threatened him with her fork prongs when he
swiped a piece of her tandoori chicken. When they were done, they
refused dessert. Gabe told the waitress they had the best pumpkin
pie in the world at home.

He turned with a smile to Katie and caught
the small frown crossing her forehead. His smile dropped. He’d be
glad when they were back at the apartment so they could eat the pie
and discover it was delicious, like all her pies.

On their drive back to the apartment, the
tension in the SUV thickened. He suggested a blues concert tonight,
and she said she’d like that in a polite tone that had him
clenching his teeth. He had to park his SUV on the next block. They
walked to the apartment, hand in hand. But he felt a disconnect
between them, a dissonance in the air.

Finally they were in the apartment, their
jackets in the closet. Then she had to brush her teeth before she
ate, saying she’d had too many spices to judge the pie. He brushed,
too, because she was probably right, but he felt the tension
building.

It seemed to take forever before they sat in
front of the damn pie. He was starting to dislike it even before
she served him a piece then dropped a large spoonful of whipped
cream on it.

He took one bite and held back a groan. It
was...good. Nothing wrong with it. But it was a less flavorful
version of her other pies. They’d tasted...luscious. Perfect.
Amazing. This pie tasted about as good as his mother’s, who never
claimed to be a pie expert and just followed the recipe on the
can.

“Delicious,” he said.

“You’re lying.”

“It is good. Maybe it’s the ingredients.
Maybe they’re old.”

“Maybe I’ve lost my magic.”

“There is no real magic. You’re just a great
pie maker. You have the touch.”

“Yes, and the touch is called magic. Some
people call it a miracle.”

“Wasn’t the miracle prophesied? But you were
baking great pies long before—” He stopped. It had taken him too
long to notice she was shaking her head, her mouth pressed in a
grim line.

“It’s Chicago.” She pushed the plate away
though she’d taken only three bites. “I think I can only do this at
home.”

“Katie...” He put his hand over hers on the
table. She looked at him, her eyes dull as if a light had gone out
of them. “That doesn’t make sense. You had a shock. You’re still
grieving over Happy. Maybe some of the grief got in it.”

“I made the apple pie after Happy passed.
That had magic.”

“It could be anything.”

She nodded, but he could see she didn’t
believe it.

“You still want to go to the blues club
tonight?”

“Sure.” She gave him a smile with no joy in
it.

At the club she appeared to enjoy herself,
even laughing and talking, but it felt as if he had a stranger by
his side. When they went to bed that night, he held her and she was
stiff in his arms.

“I’m not going to make love to you,” he
said, his voice hoarse.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Shut up. Just shut up. Something is wrong,
and I’m just going to hold you.”

She gave one sob and turned her face to him,
gripping him tightly.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know I’m trouble.
I know I’m a lot of work.”

“It just so happens that my favorite kind of
women are the ones who are a lot of work.”

She huffed out a laugh. “You’re an
idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m
your
idiot.”

“My angel idiot.” She snuggled against him
and relaxed her grip. He could tell when she fell asleep. He
wondered what the next day would bring.

Chapter Forty-five

Katie pretended to be asleep the next
morning until the door closed. Only then did she roll out of bed,
feeling creaky and old. As if without her pie magic, her body had
aged. She didn’t know if it was because of Happy, her mom or her
missing pie magic, but she felt like she’d gotten a triple
whammy.

She had Gabe, she thought, turning on water
for a shower.

But was he enough?

After her shower she headed to the kitchen.
There was a cup of coffee in the unplugged coffee maker. She warmed
it in the microwave and was sipping it when her cell phone rang.
Her father’s name was on the display, and she put it to her ear.
Sam didn’t normally call to chat. Of course, she normally lived
next door to him.

“Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?”

“Trish just went to the hospital in
Tomahawk.”

“Oh no. The babies aren’t due for seven
weeks. Trish said they might come earlier, but I was hoping they’d
have more time. At least they kept up their insurance.”

“Insurance doesn’t pay for everything. I’m
bringing a box of Kleenex. I hear hospitals charge for that. Next
they’ll charge for toilet paper. When anything happens, I’ll call
you—”

She headed for the bedroom, the phone to her
ear. “I’m coming home.”

“With Gabe?”

“He has work to do here. I don’t.”

“Baby—”

“I can’t talk about it now. I have to pack.
I’ll be there in about six hours. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

As she packed, she thought of the letter she
would write Gabe. She couldn’t call him. If she did, he might tell
her that he would come with her, and she’d have to tell him to
stay.

Because the truth was, once she got home,
she doubted if she could go away again. It was the coward’s way out
to write a letter, and she guessed that made her a coward. She
could live with that.

What she couldn’t live with was the loss of
her magic. It was like living in the world where there was no sun.
Just a dim haze.

It was either Gabe in Chicago or her pie
magic in Miracle. There were win-win situations, and this was a
lose-lose.

Perhaps she should give it more of a chance,
but right now leaving felt like the right thing to do.

I love you,
she wrote at the end of
the letter.
Chicago is a wonderful city, but Miracle is my
home.

Don’t come for me.

Love,

Katie

Twenty minutes later she managed to navigate
her way out of Chicago without getting lost once. Proof that she
was doing the right thing.

But if that were so, why did her eyes burn
with unshed tears? And why did she feel a little dead inside?

Her heart had ached coming to Chicago. It
ached even more leaving it.

Chapter Forty-six

Gabe drove through Chicago with an overdose
of sadness. Today’s shoot had been rotten lousy sad. The
six-year-old girl he’d filmed should grow up to be vibrant and
passionate like her mother and tall like her father. Should have
friends, lovers, and adventures. Maybe a husband and children.

None of that was going to happen.

On the video she said she was happy that her
story would help other children.

It hadn’t been easy smiling at her and
nodding while he wanted to yell at the sky and demand to know why
things like this were happening.

He was glad to be home. There was even a
parking spot right in front of the building. A sign that his day
was going to get better.

Once inside the apartment building, he felt
a tension. A worry he couldn’t shake off. He wanted to run up the
three flights, but the equipment hanging from his shoulders didn’t
take well to running. The elevator seemed to take longer than
usual, the slowest elevator in the world. When it reached the third
floor, he burst out, surprising another neighbor, a fiftyish woman
who squeaked. He normally would apologize, but the feeling that
something was wrong wouldn’t allow it.

He reached the apartment and, clumsy with
worry, it took him three tries to get the key in right.

“Katie!” he called, rushing inside.
“Katie!”

No one answered. No one came. He stopped in
the living room. Breathed in, and in that one inhale, he knew Katie
wasn’t there. He didn’t smell her, he didn’t feel her. The
apartment felt empty, like a body without a heartbeat.

Throwing his equipment on a chair, he called
out her name again anyway. Without waiting for a reply, he headed
to the bedroom. The door was open, the bed made. No Katie.

From there he strode to the office, passing
the bathroom with the door open. No Katie either place. Maybe she’d
gone for a walk. Maybe she was going to make another pie to see if
yesterday’s was a fluke.

Only the kitchen was left and he hurried
toward it. But something niggled in the back of his mind, and when
he entered the kitchen, he knew what it was.

There had been no suitcases in the
bedroom.

A note lay on the table, the paper lines and
torn out of the notebook on his desk.

Dread settled over him like a gray cloud. He
tottered toward the notebook, his legs and feet reluctant. He knew
even before he looked at it what it was going to say.

Goodbye. Sayonora. Nice knowing you.

It’s just not working for me. I can’t do
this.

He picked it up. Her words were phrased more
politely, including the information about her friend. But if she’d
left because of her friend, she would have come back as soon as she
was well again. Her pie magic was the real reason she wasn’t coming
back.

He’d left her for his videos. Now she was
leaving him for her pies.

Karma was kicking his ass.

I need you, Katie
, he thought
. I
need you now. And you aren’t here for me.

He crumpled the note in his fist, laid his
head on the table and remained like that for long moments.

His heart hurt. His soul was dark. A light
inside him turned off.

Finally he stood, opened the liquor cabinet,
looked at the bottles for a long time then closed it. In the note,
Katie said not to come after her, but he wasn’t letting her go.
There had to be some way they could fix this. A way they could be
together and be happy.

His steps purposeful, he headed to the
bedroom to pack. He had a six hour drive ahead of him.

Chapter Forty-seven

It was dark when Katie made it to the
hospital, and memories swirled back to her of visiting Gabe in the
first hospital she’d been to all those years ago, her little heart
pounding in her chest. Only her surety that Gabe was an angel and
would not die gave her the courage her go inside and talk to
him.

She felt the same reluctance now. What she
didn’t have was the same certainty. Instead she just had a pounding
in her gut that something was wrong. That Trish needed her.

The nurse on the maternity ward told her she
should go to the waiting room, nodding at the way she’d come as she
picked up a phone then turned partially away. Katie hurried back,
telling herself the nurse’s dismissal was a good sign. Surely the
lack of empathy meant nothing was horribly wrong.

When she entered the room, on one end she
saw a group of people she didn’t know. On the other end she spotted
Sam with Reverend Elsa, a slender blond woman in her fifties who’d
come to Miracle three years ago and founded the Church of Radiance.
A
feel good
church, Sam called it with an indulgent smile.
He had nothing against anyone feeling good and Katie suspected
neither did God.

Sam and Elsa sat on a small sofa, leaning
toward one another, as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear what
they were saying. Katie hurried toward them, and Sam glanced up and
stood.

Katie ran to him, her arms out, just the way
she’d done many times as an anxious child. He caught her now as he
did then, hugging her.

“Daddy,” she pushed away, still feeling the
comfort of his arms and solid chest, “is Trish—?”

“She’ll be okay,” he said. “The doctors did
a cesarean four hours ago. I was just about to leave. I offered
Trish and Gunner my house until they can build theirs, but Elsa
already offered.” He gave the blond woman an admiring look, and she
smiled back at him, straight into his eyes, in a way that made
Katie suspect the admiration was mutual. Sam was probably about ten
years older than Elsa, but with his long face and still firm jaw
he’d aged well.

Katie had seen a lot of women look at Sam
that way when she was growing up. If she was right about the
vibration she was picking up, she felt sorry for Elsa. Her father
was an easygoing guy, but he had strong feelings. The strongest
were for an old love who was married to another guy. Not Katie’s
mother, but someone whose name Katie never knew. Though she’d only
talked to Elsa a handful of times, Katie liked her enough to hope
she didn’t get too involved with her dad.

His heart was taken. His body...well, that
was a matter Katie preferred to ignore.