Miracle Pie (8 page)

Not that fakery ever happened in his
bed.

“Thinking of something funny?” Sam set his
pie plate on the table then took a chair. “Want to share that
thought?”

“I’m not thinking of anything,” Gabe
said.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “I know what
you’re thinking when you say you aren’t thinking.”

Gabe’s face warmed, and he knew his cheeks
were turning red. The curse of being a blond. Lucky for him, women
liked his blush and his wavy hair. Unlucky for him that their
fathers never appreciated him as much. Sometimes the mothers didn’t
either. Other times they appreciated it a little too well.

“You should know my daughter tells me
everything,” Sam said.

“Dad! You liar.”

Sam’s shoulders heaved but he gazed at Katie
with a straight face. “You mean you lie to me?”

“I mean I’m twenty-eight years old and some
things are none of your business.” She pointed her index finger at
him. “Just like some of the things that go on in your house are
none of my business.”

His right eyebrow lifted. “You wound me,
baby girl. It’s a good thing you’re a great baker.” He dug his fork
into his piece of pie. “Just like I taught you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a
bullshitter.” She turned to Gabe. “Would you like another
piece?”

He sat straighter, his mind spinning,
working again. “Yes,” he said. The pie really didn’t have any sex
magic in it. That kind of thinking was crazy. Besides, it was
always good to mirror what the person in power did. Katie seemed to
be independent, though she lived in a cottage on her father’s farm,
but even with whipped cream coating his upper lip, Sam Guthrie gave
off an air of being a man born with a natural power. One so sure
and true he didn’t have to do anything to impress people.

“So you’re a farmer,” Gabe said as Katie
slid a piece of pie onto a plate. “Do you have cows or
chickens?”

He looked at Katie and saw her wince.

“We had chickens,” Sam said, “but they were
killed.”

Katie shuddered. “A coyote, we think. Or a
fox. My father just raises crops now.”

“What kind of crops?” Gabe asked.

A look passed between father and daughter,
the kind of look that meant secrets. Gabe wondered—

“Corn, wheat, that kind of stuff,” Katie
said as she put the plate with the piece of pie in front of
him.

He picked up his fork. Later he could
wonder. Right now was all about the pie.

Chapter Eleven

Gabe left, and Katie felt glad and sad at
the same time. If Sam weren’t here, she’d run into the living room
and watch him drive away, like a lovesick teenager.

“So that’s the guy,” Sam said.

“The director, yes.” She put the remaining
pie in the fridge.

“There’s something going on between the two
of you.”

“He wants to put the video he took of me on
YouTube.” She turned to him, the door slowly swinging shut. “He
thinks people will like it, and it might even help Rosa sell her
show.”

Sam leaned back in his chair. “You’re
dressed?”

“Dad! I even have an apron on.”

“You say anything embarrassing?”

She shook her head, though she found the
whole process embarrassing. She was used to the attention being on
her pies, not on her.

“Then do it.”

“I told him already if it’s okay with Rosa,
it’s okay with me.”

“That’s not the only thing going on with
you.”

“I’m twenty-eight.” She gave him a warning
look and wished she’d learned how to copy Rosa’s stare. If Rosa
could patent and sell it, she’d be an instant millionaire.
“Anything going on is my business.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re
still my baby girl.”

She laughed, a fullness in her throat
because she was lucky to be so loved and to love back. It had been
a long time ago, but she remembered the feeling of not being loved.
She remembered days and nights of bleakness and emptiness. She
remembered enough that now she treasured her father and her
friends.

Happy shuffled, waking up again in her
corner. Making the slow, laborious process of pushing her body up
until she stood on her short, arthritic legs.

The fullness in Katie’s throat grew. She
bent, scooped up Happy and carried her outside. Happy had just been
out a short time ago, but this last year she’d been having
accidents and it was better not to take chances.

She set down the Beagle so she could do what
she had to do, knowing Happy wouldn’t stay out long. When Happy was
a young dog, she was a runner. Chasing rabbits, squirrels, birds
and, on a few unfortunate occasions, skunks. Often staying away for
a couple of hours until Katie had to search for her, her pocket
full of treats to lure Happy home.

She used to get so angry at Happy.

Now she wished those days were back.

Leaving Happy outside to stare around and
try to see through her cataract-covered eyes, Katie returned to the
kitchen and hefted a big sigh.

“Something’s wrong,” Sam said, his eyes
hard. “You sure it’s not Gabe?”

“Forget him. Nothing’s going on there.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged. “A
kiss, that’s all. Just a kiss.”

She grabbed the plates and the forks to put
them in the dishwasher.

When she turned around, Sam still watched
her with his eyes half lidded, as if he had all day and wasn’t
leaving until he found out what was bothering her. When she was
young, she thought her father saw all and knew all. There was
comfort in it. Not so much when she was a teen. And now...

Something broke in her. A ball of fear that
had been growing and growing and growing...

She shuffled to the table, feeling like
Happy. As if she were full of aches. But her body was okay. It was
just her heart that hurt.

“I haven’t heard from Trish for over two
weeks. Her phone isn’t working.” Katie pictured Trish and her
husband Gunner. Trish, short, thin and emotional; Gunner, tall,
gaunt and cerebral. Yet he loved to hunt, and he loved Trish and
his boys. A contradiction like most people. The more Katie knew
people, the more contrary they were.

“What about Gunner?” Sam asked. “Did you
call him?”

“This morning I finally called the
Sacramento Times
and asked for Gunner. They said he hasn’t
worked there for more than four months. The paper’s online now and
they laid a lot of people off.” She heard the confusion and hurt in
her raised voice. “Four months and Trish never told me.”

“She’s like you that way, honey. She’s
proud. And Gunner...” Sam shook his head. “If pride were the Trump
Tower, he’d be living in the penthouse.”

Katie sank into a chair. Planting her elbows
on the table, she dropped her forehead into her palms, her fingers
splayed through her hair. When Gunner got his job in Sacramento, he
hadn’t hidden his glee. He’d called Miracle a place where people
stagnated. As if his journalism degree made him better than his
friends.

“Did you call their parents?”

“I called Trish’s mom last week.” She made a
face. Trish’s mom made rocks look talkative. “She didn’t know
anything. I don’t think Trish talks to her or her brothers
often.”

Sam nodded, his mouth tight. Trish’s mom
babied her sons and tolerated her daughter. Not having a mother who
treasured them had bonded Trish and Katie. Trish hadn’t come home
to visit her overly strict mother since her dad died three years
ago.

“What about Gunner’s parents? They’re
somewhere in Florida now, right?”

She nodded. “They’re taking care of Gunner’s
grandparents. I called his mom. She said he and Trish and the
family are doing well. She didn’t mention his job, so I’m guessing
she doesn’t know about it.”

“He’s an idiot. Did you tell her?”

“I didn’t want to worry her. I think she’s
having a hard time taking care of her parents.” She scrunched her
forehead. “I don’t know what to do about Trish. Should I call the
Sacramento police?”

Sam stood in one fast swoop. “I know a guy
in Sacramento. Was in ’Nam with him. I still got a Christmas card
last December, so he’s probably alive yet. I’ll give him a call and
see what he can do.”

Happy howled outside, her
Let me in!
call. Katie went on her tiptoes and hugged her father. “Thank you,”
she whispered. “You’re the best.”

On his way out, he let Happy in. She limped
to her food bowl. It was empty, but she still sniffed for food and
licked the empty bowl. Katie looked at the clock and served Happy
her last cup of dog food for the day.

As Katie moved around, the tightness still
coiled in her stomach. The feeling that something awful was about
to happen, something that no pie on earth could fix, was wrong was
too strong to go away.

The phone rang and she whipped it to her
ear. But Rose was on the line, not Trish. Gabe had already called
Rose about the video, and she told Katie it was all right with her.
He was putting something together for Rose and her to sign.

She didn’t talk long, and Katie could tell
by the too happy note in her voice that everything wasn’t happy at
all.

It felt to Katie as if no one she knew was
happy. Even Happy wasn’t happy anymore. Well, unless she was eating
or sleeping or being petted.

Katie sighed. There was only one thing she
could do to shake this mood. She headed to the cupboards and
started grabbing the ingredients for her Everything Will Be All
Right Pie.

When the pie was done, she would bring three
pieces to Rosa—for her and her two sons because Katie knew they
must be feeling confused and angry.

But the first piece Katie would eat. She
needed to do something to ease the snake-twisting-in-her-gut sense
that nothing would be all right again.

Chapter Twelve

This wasn’t the first time Gabe knew what a
heavy heart meant, but as usual he ignored it. The full moon shone
down on him, lighting flat stones that led to Katie’s back door. He
left his car in the driveway, glad she and her father had separate
driveways. After their meeting this afternoon, Gabe wanted to avoid
any awkwardness.

He rang the doorbell. Here he was again, he
thought. Like a dog that remembered where he’d found a bone once
and kept coming back in hope of finding another one.

She opened the door and stared at him, a
probing look.

“Friend,” he said.

“Friend of what?”

He laughed softly, lightness creeping back
into his mood. “Friend and not foe.”

She didn’t laugh. Instead she scratched the
side of her forehead, as if considering whether to welcome him in.
Finally she stepped back, a wordless invitation as she still
watched him, her expression unreadable, the air between them
thickening. Humming. Crackling with heat.

“So,” she said. They stood in the kitchen,
so close he could see the dark blue rim of her irises. “You didn’t
call. Were you afraid I’d tell you not to come?”

“I just felt I should come here.”

Her head tilted. “Sometimes I feel that I
should do things. But if I wait, the feeling passes.”

“Think of all the opportunities you
missed.”

“Think of all the trouble.” The look she
gave him was cool. “I thought of having a fling with you.”

He laughed with surprise and delight. Warmth
pooled inside him despite her cool look. “Did that feeling
pass?”

“I’m not sure. Would you care for a
drink?”

“What do you have?” He was in, and she
hadn’t answered him, but he wasn’t going to push it. He could wait
for the right moment before going after what he really wanted.

“Wine. Or rum. I use it in several pies.
Apple raisin, pumpkin, pecan, walnut.”

He agreed to the rum. She gestured him into
her living room while she prepared the drinks. The light was on,
and as soon as he walked in, he heard the soft snores of her Beagle
curled next to a navy recliner with the footrest up. An open book
lay on the table next to it. Beside that was an e-reader. Leaning
over the recliner, he checked out the book, a man and woman on the
cover clutching each other, the man shirtless.

He raised his eyebrows. Interesting choice
of reading material.

Hearing her crossing the kitchen floor
toward the living room, he headed to the small, three-cushion sofa
that sat in front of the drapery-covered window. The best position
to watch her enter the room, and the sofa had plenty of room for
her to sit next to him. Room enough to lie on it, though not full
out. For that, they’d have to go to the bedroom. Or the floor. Or
the kitchen table.

Thinking about all the choices, he grew
semi-hard. He needed to turn his mind to other thoughts, but they
all seemed to end up in the same hot and sweaty place.

She wore a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt and
gray sweatpants, the color combination not the best choice, but the
way she threw mismatched clothes together made him smile inside.
Cherise would’ve hated that look, been horrified by it. But to Gabe
it looked comfortable and cute, the way her snoring old dog was
comfortable and cute. And it brought up an urge to touch her, hold
her, kiss her. Really good urges that he knew were really bad ones.
She wasn’t the kiss and leave kind of girl. It was probably a good
thing he’d be the one leaving soon. If he stuck around, he might do
something really stupid.

“I talked to Rosa.” He took the drink from
her outstretched hand. “She said to put this one up and see how it
goes before filming any more. I doubt one short video will do it.
I’d rather film more. You really don’t need her permission.”

“Maybe not, but I want it. Rosa isn’t
normally cautious.” Katie sat on the other end of the sofa, holding
her own rum and cola drink. “Everything in her life is changing,
and it makes her nervous. She’s used to a rhythm in her days, and
that rhythm is broken.”