Miracle Pie (20 page)

She nodded. Her emotions were numb now, and
she liked it that way.

“I have to work when I get home,” he
added.

“Of course you do.” She smiled as if it
didn’t bother her.

“It’s important.” He lowered his gaze.
“Important to me.”

“Of course.”

He made a sound of frustration. “Not because
it’s a job. It
means
something.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to
me.”

“I want to. I’m filming interviews with
children who have cancer. The format’s similar to the one I did
with you. To what I did yesterday. I spoke to the hospital
administrator before I heard from Rosa. It’s the same hospital I
was in as a kid. A PR assistant just called to give me the
go-ahead. She’ll help me facilitate the interviews, but I have to
find the children myself and get permission from the parents.”

He watched her intently, his gaze dark and
serious. A turnaround from the cool, laughing guy she’d met, just a
few weeks ago when the leaves on the trees were the brightest he’d
seen.

Now the leaves were rotting on the
ground.

“This feels like a second chance for me,” he
said.

“Second chance for what?”

“To do something that matters.”

She raised her eyebrows. Sending a silent
question.

“I was a fool when I went to Africa.” He
raked his fingers through his hair, his eyebrows down, his forehead
furrowed. “I expected everyone to be happy to help out. Instead
everyone had their own agenda. Even Mother Nature. By the time it
was over, I just wanted to get home and not do anything for anyone.
I was wiped out, emotionally numb. Ever since then, I’ve skated
through life. Lived it without passion. Do you know what that’s
like?” He grimaced. “Of course you don’t. You have your pies.”

“I know my pies aren’t as important as your
videos, but—”

His shaking head stopped her. “I’m not
mocking you. When I first met you, I envied you. Now I’ve found
something that fulfills me. Something that clicks here.” He thumped
his fist over his heart. “Only I’m getting double clicks, because
you click in my heart, too.”

“Is that what we were doing?” Her heart was
crying. “Clicking?”

He gave her a smile filled with sadness.
“For years I’ve been avoiding anyone who made me feel deeply. And
then I met you.”

“Of all the pie joints,” she said, “in all
the villages in all the world, he walks into mine.”

He laughed abruptly, but there was no
laughter in his eyes.

There was no laughter in her heart,
either.

“It’s all right.” She raised her hands to
the sides of his face. Staring into his eyes, she memorized the
color, the way they looked at her as if she were precious. “I’m
okay. I’m not going to fall apart. You have to do this, and I
understand.”

“I should have told you last night.”

“Stop.” She let go of him and stepped back.
“Just shut up. I’m glad we had last night, and if you’re sorry
about it, then I will get pissed.”

“If you knew how much I wanted to stay...”
He frowned. “I just can’t do what I want here.”

“I get it. This is a small village and you
want to do big things.” She held herself tightly. If she didn’t,
she’d start trembling. It was hard to keep looking at him, knowing
he was going to leave. She just wanted him to go. If he stayed much
longer, she’d do something stupid—like cry in front of him.

He looked away from her. “You were making a
special pie? What kind?”

“The kind I normally bring to people in
mourning or depressed.”

“Someone you know is in mourning?”

Her shoulders tensed and she shrugged. “I
had an urge to make it.”

“What’s your name for this pie? Mourning
Pie?”

She shook her head. “Sad Pie.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She
looked back and wished he’d leave. He had to go on with his life.
Fine. It was just one night. She’d get over it. She had an angel
fixation, but he was no angel. As far as she knew, angels didn’t do
what they’d done last night in her bedroom.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I was thinking that for an angel, you make
love pretty damn well.”

He laughed, his head back. She wanted to
laugh with him, but couldn’t. Afraid it would turn into tears when
there was no reason to cry.

“You should go,” she said. “Finish this job
and leave.”

Still he remained standing in front of her.
Frowning now and looking down, his eyes blank, not seeing her, just
seeing something in his mind that he didn’t like much.

Then he blinked and the blankness in his
eyes was gone. This time when he looked at her, she could tell he
saw her.

“I can’t stay,” he said slowly, “but you
could come to Chicago.”

Chapter Thirty-five

She looked shocked, as if he’d suggested she
take a pastry knife and stab herself in her heart. “I have
customers. People count on me.”

“Sure, I understand.” He always understood.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be different. “I’d
better go.”

Her forehead crinkled, but she nodded. He
took one glance around at this place that had become so familiar to
him. She called him her angel, but she’d been the angel for him.
She’d been his inspiration for the video. Her reminders of his
leukemia had been the impetus that sent him to the hospital where
he had the idea for the videos with cancer kids. Something that
mattered.

“I understand you came back because of the
videos for Trish and Gunner,” she said, “but there’s not likely to
be another video. I guess this is goodbye.”

He looked at her, and a big sadness crashed
down on him. Sunlight shone brightly in her kitchen but inside him
was darkness.

“I didn’t come because of the job. It was an
excuse. I came because of you.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t call.”

“You didn’t call me, either. I should’ve
stayed in Chicago, lining up kids to interview. Helping your
friends is a good cause, but it’s not my cause. I could’ve given
you the names of other filmmakers who would’ve done as good of a
job as I did.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re the best.”

The darkness thinned, letting light in. “I
won’t kiss you. If I do...”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were shadowed, her lips
curved down.

Nodding, he turned to leave. He had two
voices in his head. One told him to leave and do the work he loved.
Another told him to stay with the woman he might love.

Both voices were loud. Both voices were
adamant.

He started for the door.

Behind him, she said, “I’ll call you.”

He froze then looked over his shoulder at
her. “If you call, it’s going to make it harder to get on with my
life.”

She shrugged. “Who said it was supposed to
be easy?”

He walked out, forcing his feet to move,
though they felt as if they weighed a ton. As if his shoes had
turned into cement.

And his chest felt funny. Different from
when he’d walked inside yesterday, so hopeful and so horny.

When he turned his SUV onto the road leading
toward Mo’s, he realized what the problem was. He was driving away
without a piece of his heart. He’d left that behind him.

Chapter Thirty-six

At 5:43 PM Happy stood in the kitchen, her
jaws raised, her ears flapping back, and howled.

Katie dropped the handful of silverware she
had just taken out of the dishwasher. They clattered on the floor.
She didn’t look down. Instead she stared at her dog who howled
again, the sound mournful.

Gabe. He must have left the village. Somehow
Happy knew.

A shiver went through her and she felt sick.
The phone rang and she stepped over the silverware to it. Feeling
like a zombie, she looked at the name on the display. Linda Wegner.
Of course. Linda wanted to be the first to tell her Gabe had left.
She wanted to be the first to hear Katie’s reaction.

Katie wanted to tell her that her old Beagle
already told her, but then Linda would call everyone in the village
and tell them that she always knew Katie was crazy, but now she had
proof.

Linda Wegner was the paparazzi of
Miracle.

Katie let it ring and went outside. It was
getting dark already, but there was a light on in the barn Sam
mostly used for his farm equipment.

When she entered, her shoes scuffing on the
ground, he was leaning over his tractor. He straightened. “Hey,
sweetheart.”

Tears threatened but she smiled instead.
“Hey, Dad. Guess what I almost baked?”

“Knowing you, it could be anything and it
would be delicious.”

“My Sad Pie.”

His eyebrows whipped up. “Sad? Anyone
dying?”

Just my heart, she thought. “Gabe’s gone.
Back to Chicago.”

“I see.” He grabbed a rag to wipe oil from
his hands. “I saw his car by your place this morning. You want
him?”

She nodded. “He wants me, too.”

“But he left.”

“He’s making videos in Chicago. Interviewing
kids with cancer.” She grimaced to hold back an onslaught of tears.
“He’s not coming back. His dreams are big, our village is
small.”

“You can do big things in a small village.”
He gestured, the ends of the rag flapping. “Look what we did this
weekend. Your guy put up a few videos on YouTube already. Rachel
said money is dribbling into the PayPal account she set up. Not
much yet, but when all the videos are up and more people watch them
and tell their friends, the money will come.”

“He’s not my guy.”

“You’d like him to be. You wish he was.”

“I don’t expect every wish of mine to come
true.”

Sam frowned. “How could he not love
you?”

“I don’t know. It’s amazing how many men
don’t.”

His gesture told her what he thought of the
men she’d dated before this. “They weren’t the right ones. You feel
he’s the right one?” He lowered his head. He looked like an old
hippie with his long white-streaked hair tied in a tail at his nape
and the left knee of his jeans ripped. His lean face and body had
seen some years and some tears, along with love and laughter.

She nodded. “He’s so right for me that it
scares me.”

He gave her a long look, and she turned to
gaze outside the open barn doors at the fields with the crops cut
down. That’s how she felt sometimes. Like she was cut down, tamed.
For her own good.

When that feeling hit her, she usually hit
the kitchen and made pies. Her way of running from life. Her way of
coping.

“This is because of your mom, isn’t it?” Sam
asked.

She whipped her gaze back to him. He
scowled, looking angry and sad at the same time. And she cringed,
seeing that he wasn’t done yet.

“Because she dropped you off at the farm
when you were five.”

“Like an unwanted package,” she said with a
smile and a shrug, making a joke about it.

But he wasn’t laughing. And neither was she.
She curled her hands to keep from grabbing the shovel leaning
against the barn wall then hitting the wall with it.

Where had this anger come from? Had it been
there all these years?

“She couldn’t help it, honey.”

“The hell she couldn’t.” The anger roared up
and she yelled the words at him. Flung them like they were weapons.
Which was ridiculous because she didn’t yell, she didn’t fling, she
didn’t grab shovels to knock holes in barn walls.

“She was an addict.”

“She’s recovered and remarried. I never met
my half sisters. She never invited me.”

“Sweetie, there’s a reason for that.”

“What?”

“She’s a selfish bitch.”

Katie stared at him, and he looked back at
her with tenderness and love and total acceptance. The opposite of
her mother who sent her cards that talked about love and
acceptance, but she didn’t mean any of it.

With a hoarse cry, Katie hurled herself at
Sam. He slung his arms around her and held her as tears ran down
her face. Along with the sadness and the anger and the hurt, she
felt gratefulness and total love.

That’s what Sam gave her. That’s what her
gram had given her. All these years she’d been telling herself and
other people how lucky she was. It was a story she made up. Other
people believed her, and she’d thought she believed it, too.

Today, she finally did. She was so lucky.
She was the luckiest woman in Miracle.

She raised her head and sniffed. “You’re the
best dad in the world.”

“And you’re the best daughter.” He put his
hand on the top of her head, and it felt like a benediction. “Don’t
be afraid of life.”

“The thing is, I don’t know if I am afraid.”
She stepped back from him, giving her a better view of his face. “I
have a great life.”

“In Miracle,” he said.

“It’s home.” She wiped moisture from beneath
her eyes. “Not because of anything to do with my mom. It’s Happy.
And it’s my cottage that makes me think about Gram. Sometimes I can
feel her smiling down on me, sending me love. And it’s all my
customers. It’s experiencing the four seasons, even when I complain
about the heat and mosquitoes in summer and the cold and snow in
winter.” She raised her arms in a large gesture. “And it’s about
this big, extended family that includes all the villagers. Love
them or hate them, they’re part of my life. Even Linda Wegner with
her gossip. If I left, I’d miss her.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sam said.

She laughed and heard the throb in her
throat from leftover tears. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know
what I’d miss.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

A chill gust of wind blew into the barn, and
she shivered. “Dad, you’re the devil.”

“Honey, you’re not the first to say
that.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Every day Katie thought about what her
father said. Every day she thought of calling Gabe. Every day
villagers called her or stopped her in the street with smiles on
their faces, as if Santa Claus had come to town early and dropped
off gifts that kept on giving. So excited that their stories were
on YouTube. Wanting to know what she thought.