A Wedding in Apple Grove (9 page)

“Where were you headed?”

She sighed. It's not like he didn't know about her visits and would think she was crazy. Everyone in town knew she talked to her mom. “Just heading back home from the cemetery.”

“The car could have been coming from Miss Trudi's place.”

“That's what's got me worried. I tried to call, but she didn't answer, and you know how upset she'd be if I showed up on her doorstep, checking up on her.”

The sheriff agreed and asked, “Can you remember anything about the car? Could you see inside of it?”

She wished she could. “It was dark, and I wasn't paying that much attention until the car had already passed me.”

“No problem,” he reassured her. “You head on home and I'll drive on over and check things out. Miss Trudi has a soft spot for me.”

Relief swept through her, leaving a feeling of well-being, knowing he would handle things. He always would. “Thanks, Mitch.”

“Drive safe, you hear?”

She laughed. “I will.”

Lighter of heart, Meg headed home to the house she would be moving out of. In just a few short days, she'd be renting an apartment. What a concept! A place of her own.

With the worry of Miss Trudi in the sheriff's capable hands, she drove the rest of the way home, formulating a plan for packing and how she was going to arrange her new space.

Meg wandered through the house in the dark, saying good-bye to her childhood memories. With a hand skimming the wall to guide her, she made her way down the back staircase from the second floor to the kitchen. It was really dark at the bottom, but she'd snuck up and down this staircase so many times as a kid, she'd have known the way blindfolded.

The staircase opened up into the back of the kitchen near the pantry, where her dad used to stash his supply of potato chips and Funny Bones. Meg had a weakness for potato chips but had a bad habit of forgetting to close the bag tight, so her dad always knew when she'd been snacking on them; they weren't as crisp the next day. But it was the chocolate-covered, peanut butter cream-filled snack cakes that got her into the most trouble. Just like the chips, she couldn't eat just one and they had been her mom's favorite too. Lord help the Mulcahy sisters if their mother found out they'd been in her chocolate stash—they'd be scrubbing toilets for a week!

Reaching above her head, she pulled the chain and the pantry was illuminated by the soft incandescent glow of the bare lightbulb hanging overhead. “Damn it, Grace, where did you hide them this time?”

Craning her neck to see, she caught a glimpse of the box of chocolaty goodness on the top shelf. Her sisters didn't hide them on the top shelf to be cruel; it was just to keep Meg from eating the whole box, which she had done on more than one occasion. Knowing the shelves wouldn't hold her weight now as they had as a child, she turned around and got a kitchen chair and carried it into the pantry to stand on.

Coveted box in hand, she sat down on the chair, opened the cellophane package, and gobbled the first cake in three bites. Once she'd satisfied the chocolate monster living inside of her, she put the box back on the shelf and the chair where it belonged. But she wasn't ready to go back upstairs, so she nuked a mug of milk and carried it and the other cake out to the porch.

The autumn air was brisk, carrying a chill that would be gone come midmorning, but for now, she folded her legs beneath her and settled down to enjoy her late-night snack. As if on cue, the owl called to her from behind the barn. She smiled, remembering the nights she'd sat on her mother's lap waiting for the owl to talk to them.

“Probably not the same owl,” she mumbled before sipping her warm milk.

“Great horned owls have been known to live for more than twenty-eight years, Meggie.”

She bobbled her mug and splashed warm milk on her thigh. “Gee thanks, Pop.” She got up to wring the milk out of her pant leg. “You could have let me know you were there.”

“And spoil your fun, thinking no one would know you'd found the stash of Funny Bones and eaten half of them?”

“Hey,” she said. “I only took one package.”

“This time.” Her father grinned and she couldn't keep from smiling back. “So have you sorted it all out in your head?”

She knew he wanted to ask how the talk had gone with her mother, but it was a subject they both avoided. He'd made his peace when her mother had died, but Meg still needed that earthly connection in the form of visits to the cemetery.

“I think so. I was just enjoying one last midnight walk through the house and out here on the porch.”

“Just because you are moving out doesn't mean that you can't spend the night once in a while.”

A lump the size of a grapefruit constricted her throat while tears filled her eyes. But Meg wouldn't cry. She'd already put this off for too long; any longer and she was afraid that she'd never leave. “Thanks, It means a lot that you understand and aren't trying to make me doubt my decision.”

“I've been expecting it to happen someday, so I'm more or less prepared. It'll be hard, but anything worthwhile is never easy. Spread your wings, Meg, but know you can always come back to roost if you need to.”

“They don't make them like you anymore, Pop.”

“You know they broke the mold after me.”

They sat side by side for a while listening to the owl calling and another answering. “He'll have found his mate by the sounds of it.”

She nodded. “I wonder if they mate for life like some birds.”

“You can check out our field guide tomorrow; you'll want to hit the sack soon, or else you won't be able to stay awake long enough to get through the long list of service calls Grace lined up for you.”

Meg sighed and got to her feet. “Sounds like a plan. I'll see you in the morning, Pop.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He ruffled her hair and said good night. Walking away, she wondered if he would miss having someone to sit with in the middle of the night, when their worries were many and the need to talk about them overrode the need for sleep.

She would make sure to ask her sisters to keep an ear out for their father and to take turns sitting up with him. The last thing she wanted to do was send him back into the downward spiral he'd descended into when their mother died.

With that new plan forming in her tired brain, Meg rinsed out her milky sweatpants and hung them over the shower rod to dry. Exhausted beyond belief, she slid between the sheets and was asleep before she could say her prayers.

***

“Do you need help moving into your new apartment?”

Meg paused and looked over her shoulder at her friend Melanie. “Are you offering your back or Jim's?”

Melanie laughed and handed two cookies to Timmy and two to Tommy. “One for each hand, you rascals.”

They laughed and said something Meg didn't even try to decipher. “They've grown so fast.”

“Babies do,” her friend answered. “But to answer your question, I was offering to help with whatever you need. If it's a strong back, Jim's is definitely stronger. But if it's a little organization and unpacking, them I'm your woman.”

Touched, Meg nodded and continued to screw the hinge into the door frame. “I just might take you up on your offer. This should hold for at least one more season.”

“Good, because we just don't have the extra funds to replace that storm door; it has to last.”

Meg tested the hinge and said, “This will hold, even though that last storm took a chunk of wood with it when it ripped the door off the hinges. I added a little extra wood glue to the block of wood and a few extra screws. It will definitely hold.”

“Can you stay for a cup of coffee?”

Meg looked at the kitchen clock and shook her head. “Grace has me on a really tight schedule today, but I'll take a rain check.”

Stowing her toolbox in the pickup, she marveled at the speed with which good and bad news travels. This was her third stop today and so far everyone knew that she'd shaken hands with Mrs. Graves and rented the apartment on top of her three-car garage. Good thing she'd been saving her pennies since she'd started working; she had a nice cushion that would take care of the utilities and a few odds and ends that she would need starting out in her life as a single woman supporting herself.

Just saying it was exciting. She could watch whatever she wanted on TV, once she could afford to buy one, and she could eat meals standing up over the sink without her dad telling her to sit down or she'd ruin her digestion. But the biggest change that she'd be making was that she would have to answer to no one but herself if the dishes weren't done or the bed not made.

The enormity of the change hit her between the eyes and she had to pull over so she could catch her breath. “I'll be on my own—all alone—just me.” She tilted her head back and let it all out. “Woohoo!”

“From now on, it'll be all about me—just me.” Her hands were shaking when she gripped the steering wheel to slip back onto the road. Who knew that it would be so liberating to move out? She sure as heck hadn't.

“OK, next stop on my list is… crap. Where'd I leave my list of appointments?” Damn, she'd have to call Grace.

She hit the number three on speed dial and Grace answered on the first ring. “Hey, Gracie, I lost my list. Where am I supposed to be after the Culpeppers'?”

Grace sighed. “Again? That's three times in the last two weeks, Meg.”

“Oh, you know I don't do it on purpose. I'm just better with fixing things than I am scheduling things. You're the whiz at that, Gracie.”

As expected, her sister laughed. “When you're right, you're right. Your next stop is the Hawkins's, to change out the frozen lock mechanism on their back door, then Doyle's to see if you can trace out a faulty wire in their kitchen that keeps tripping their circuit breakers and cutting their power.”

“OK, but isn't there one more stop after Doyle's?”

“Yes,” Grace said slowly. “Mrs. Winter—”

“Hot damn and hallelujah!” Meg crowed. “I'm getting a cherry pie and I don't have to share it.”

“Yes,” Grace said. “You do. Payment is payment, whether it be a dozen eggs, one cherry pie, cash, check, or credit card. Besides, you know how mad Pop got the last time you brought home half a pie.”

Meg sighed theatrically. “And here I thought I could just bring the pie back to my apartment and no one would be the wiser.”

Grace chuckled. “Except for the little fact that I schedule the repair visits and know that you would be due to receive said pie.”

“I guess I can't pull the wool over your eyes anymore.”

Grace snickered. “You haven't been able to in years. Just be sure to bring the whole pie home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Meg said. “I'll bring home the whole damn pie.”

“And no swearing on the job, Sis.”

“I'm not on the job yet, Grace. I'll be there in a few. Talk to you later.” She disconnected and wondered if there was a way to finagle a piece of pie from Mrs. Winter in addition to the pie she'd give Meg as payment for whatever job she needed Meg to do. Of all the residents in Apple Grove, she always loved chatting with Mrs. Winter while she worked.

The widow was pushing seventy—not quite as old as Miss Trudi and definitely not as spry as the owner of their local garden center. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Amelia had broken her leg in three places a few years back. She never really did bounce back from that.

She made short work of the next two jobs on her list, grateful that today's job list was all in town. Not that she minded driving to one of the farms on the outskirts of Apple Grove; she enjoyed the chance to drive on Route 70. She always put the pedal to the metal and cleared out the carbs; she couldn't do that inside the town limits. It wasn't safe.

Pulling up in front of the Winters' two-story farmhouse, she took the time to admire the way the leaves were changing color. Tall maples with golden leaves stood beside oaks turning a rich reddish-brown, and the Virginia Creeper hanging on to the oak tree by the barn added just the right touch in all its crimson glory.

The planters on either side of the front steps were colorful no matter what season. Right now, her friend had a mix of bold chrysanthemums: rust, orange, yellow, and gold. It wouldn't be long before they too would die off and the planters would be empty until spring.

Meg noticed that some of the white paint had started to check, cracking and lifting, on the left side of the screen door. Once that happened, there wasn't much else to do but scrape it off, check for water damage, prime, and paint.

“She should start using her front door more.” She shook her head, knowing that the widow wouldn't. Mrs. Winter insisted that the front door was for company, and since most of her visitors were friends and friends were an extension of family, well then, they'd use the back door like her family.

Meg turned around and, before walking down the steps, paused, and noticed the dried honeysuckle vine clinging to the lattice at one end of the porch. Meg wished it was spring; she loved when the pretty little yellow blossoms were in bloom—it not only shaded that end of the porch, but it's light, sweet scent filled the air around Mrs. Winter's home. “Maybe someday, I'll have my own house with honeysuckle vines, sweet peas, and morning glories growing all over the front and back porches.”

She shook her head at the fanciful thought. “I guess it'll have to wait until I can see if I can pay the rent for Mrs. Graves's apartment first.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she tucked those thoughts away for another day when she had time to dally. Walking around the back, she wondered how Jimmy could leave Apple Grove behind. He hadn't been able to wait to blow the dust of their little town off his shoes. Funny, but his need to leave town because he didn't love it as much as she did hurt more than his need to leave to play football.