Miracle Pie (13 page)

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked.

“Nothing.” Trish handed Katie a mug. They
both stood by the fake wood counter. “I’m six and a half months
pregnant.”

“How many?”

“You can tell?”

“It was either that or you ate a baby
whale.” Katie forced herself to keep her eyes on Trish’s face
instead of her belly.

Trish’s mouth turned down. “Quads.”

“Four.” Katie put her mug on the counter to
keep from dropping it. Holy coconut pie! Katie couldn’t imagine
having six dogs in her house much less six kids.

“And we didn’t use any drugs,” Trish
said.

Katie stepped back. “I never thought you
did.”

Trish rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe
how many times people asked me that in California. I used to think
I should wear a big sign when I went to the market, like on organic
chicken packages, saying it was all natural, no additives, no
fillers. Free range.” She smiled crookedly. “It wasn’t even
supposed to happen. We were using birth control.”

“Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Good thing you’ve got my back, because my
stomach’s already covered.” She patted the top of her belly. “I
feel like I’m carrying a Boy Scout Troop.”

They both laughed, but it sounded hollow.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Katie asked.

“I felt so...” Trish frowned and shook her
head. With dark circles under her eyes, she looked haunted. “Things
weren’t going well. Gunner was laid off. He tried to find a job,
but there weren’t any. His work insurance ran out. We
had
to
pay it ourselves—so much can go wrong with quads. But our money was
running out.” Her lips curved down. “So was our pride. We packed up
and drove back to Miracle.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Katie felt her own mouth and
eyes sag into a sad face. That wouldn’t help Trish’s morale, and
she grabbed the box she’d set on the counter when she entered the
kitchen. “For you.”

Trish smiled crookedly again. “Let me guess.
Animal, vegetable, mineral or pie?”

“Mineral.”

“Liar.” Trish was opening the box already,
bending over to see the flaps better, her fingers busy. “I’m
probably not supposed to eat this, but I will anyway. What do you
call the pie?”

“A Welcome Home Pie. It might be a little
frozen still. I took it out of the freezer this morning.”

Trish stopped pulling the pie out of the box
and stared at her. “When did you make it?”

“Two weeks and two days ago.”

“That’s when we decided to come home. You’re
spooky.”

“Am I? Then maybe you want to give me back
my spooky pie.”

“No way, José.” Trish turned back to the box
and drew the pie out. It was a two crust, and she turned to Katie
with her eyebrows up. “What is it?”

“Pumpkin apple pie.” Katie made a face.
“That’s why I didn’t think it was for you. I know your favorite is
French silk.”

“My favorite used to be French silk. It
changed. Now it’s apples and pumpkins. You know what you are? A pie
psychic?”

“I guess that’s better than being a pie
whisperer.”

“I think you’re that, too.”

“This pie psychic says that before you serve
it, you should probably put it in the oven for about ten minutes on
300 degrees.”

“Or I could put it in the microwave for one
minute.”

Running footsteps came from the living room,
and at the same time a car door slammed outside.

“What do you got, Mom?” The two boys both
resembled their sturdy, brown-haired dad. The six-year-old was only
a couple inches taller than his brother, but the four-year-old
still had the toddler freshness on his face.

“Nothing.” Trish turned to stand in front of
the pie.

The boys separated, like water in a river
splitting to go around a large boulder. “Pie!” they shouted at the
same time.

From deeper in the house, a door slammed and
Trish winced. Then the back door opened and Gunner walked in, took
one look at Katie and grinned.

“Hey, girl,” he said. “You look the same. I
think you have flour on your top.”

“Welcome home,” Katie said. “And thank you
for pointing out my poor grooming.”

“Dad! We’ve got pie,” the oldest boy said.
“I don’t know what kind it is.”

“Doesn’t matter. If Katie made it, it’s
delicious.” Gunner raised his brows. “You got a man yet?”

“After knowing you? Who could compete?”

Trish laughed and the boys giggled. Gunner
stilled, looking at them. His face...it seemed to Katie that it
filled with hurt and love and sorrow and more love. He put his hand
on Trish’s belly.

“C’mon, boys.” He gestured to them, and the
boys stopped reaching for the pie and stepped in front of Trish.
They placed their smaller hands on Trish’s belly, one on each side
of their dad’s. Staring from him to their mother.

“We’re going to make it,” he said.

“We’re going to make it,” the boys said
loudly, the youngest shouting.

Trish spread her hands over theirs,
connecting all four of them. “We’re going to make it,” she
whispered. “All eight of us.”

Tears warmed Katie’s eyes, and her throat
ached. She felt like an intruder. She took a step back, and Trish
smiled at her, lifting her hand. “Let’s have pie,” she said.

They insisted Katie have pie, too. There
were only four chairs, and she and Gunner fought over who would
stand. Gunner won, and when Trish cut the pie the boys stared at
the pieces, as if they hadn’t had a treat in a while.

It occurred to Katie that maybe they hadn’t.
Not if things were so bad. The stupid ache returned to her throat,
and she sat. Even if she could talk without sobbing, she couldn’t
think of anything to say that would make things better.

“I got a job,” Gunner said.

“Good.” Trish’s mother appeared in the
entryway from the formal living room without any warning, and Katie
jerked back, having forgotten that freaky trick of Mrs. Brauer’s.
“That means you’ll be able to leave soon.”

The boys stared at their grandmother, their
faces showing their shock and fear.

Trish set her fork down, her face paling two
shades.

Gunner’s face turned red.

Katie stood, a pulse in her neck throbbing.
“They can leave right now,” she said, hearing the winter coldness
in her voice, a reflection of the iciness in her heart. She glanced
around the table at her friend and her family, their faces shocked,
and her heart warmed with love for them. “You’re coming to my
place.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Heidi had to comb her hair before allowing
herself to be filmed. She came back with her lips a bronze color,
complaining that she didn’t have any other makeup on, and at least
he should’ve warned her.

Don called her a diva. She punched his arm,
and he decided he needed to comb his hair. She called after him,
“Who’s the diva now?”

Gabe double-checked to make sure the
lighting was flattering. If it wasn’t, his mom would complain for
the next forty years.

Finally they sat on the turquoise couch. He
played the off-screen moderator again, repeating, “What do you
think love is?”

Heidi looked at Don. “I’ll answer first.” He
nodded, and she turned to Gabe, leaning forward slightly to look
straight at the camera, though it wasn’t necessary. “Love is
action.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means being there for the other person.”
Her gaze flickered to him. “It means sitting at the bedside of your
dying child and praying and loving. And when you’re there for
him...” Tears gathered in her eyes and she pressed her lips
together. After a second, she inhaled and continued, “When that
happens, all the other little things that used to bother you so
much...none of it matters. Only this boy matters.” She pointed at
him, and the tear swelled over her lower eyelid and slid downward.
“And when a miracle happens, when he gets better...” She stopped to
swallow, then gave him a trembling, watery smile.

“Do you want to break?” Gabe asked.

She shook her head and looked at the camera
again. In a whisper, she said, “That’s everything.”

Don leaned sideways, out of camera range,
but Gabe didn’t follow him. He kept the focus on Heidi as she
smiled at him with her glistening eyes and her trembling mouth.

Then Don was back, handing Heidi a handful
of tissues. While she patted her cheeks and blew her nose, Gabe
shifted the camera focus to him.

“What’s love to you, Don?”

“That’s easy. Love is your mom and your
sisters and you. You all mean everything to me.” His voice lowered.
“I’m one of the lucky ones that enjoy what I do for a living. But
that’s not my happiness or my life. They are.” He paused, frown
lines creasing his forehead. As if he made up his mind, he craned
his head toward the camera. “I never told you this, but I come from
a family that was very strict. They rarely hugged. My mom was
depressed and on medication. My dad was in sales, traveling most of
the time. When he was home, he would spend most of the time with
his buddies.”

Heidi rubbed his shoulder. “You’re a great
dad and husband.”

“I didn’t want to be like him.” He spoke to
Heidi now. “I didn’t want to be like either of them.”

“You’re nothing like them.
Nothing
.”

They clasped each other and held on tight,
as if they were holding onto life itself, their eyes closed
tight.

Gabe waited a few seconds, then turned off
the camera and set down the boom. Only then did he sit back in his
chair, stunned. And something more. Uplifted.

This is it
.
This is what I need to
do.

Show the heart of people. The best of
them...and sometimes the worst of them.

He didn’t know what or how...

But where... His heart thumped. He knew the
place, though dammit, it was a place he’d sworn to never return. A
place where emotions were raw and tears sometimes flowed like
blood.

Chapter Twenty-two

Tears stuck in her throat, Katie trudged
home down the country road. It was sunny out, warm for late
September—the weather changing wildly every few days—but in her
heart it was dark and cold.

This wasn’t supposed to happen in
Miracle.

She didn’t cry. Tears didn’t come easily to
her. She suspected she’d held back tears too much when she was
young because she didn’t know what her mother would do. And then
she was in this new place where people loved her. Afraid to cry
here. They might think she didn’t appreciate them, and maybe they
would get mad at her.

When she realized it wasn’t going to happen,
that they loved her even when she made noise or dropped something
by mistake, and when her dad and grandmother didn’t expect her to
stay in a corner and not make too much noise and not bother them,
then she had no need to cry.

That was a long time ago. Of course sad
things had happened since then. Her grandmother’s death. Katie had
cried then. She missed her. And just this last year, a lot of sad
things had happened. Not just to her, but to everyone.

Or was it always happening, and she was
finally at the age to notice?

She was kicking a small rock in the road
when a bark brought her head up and she spied a tall man in black
jeans and a navy T-shirt striding her way. An unleashed English
Setter raced toward her. Katie’s spirits, as low as the cut corn on
the side of the road, lifted as she held her arms out to the Setter
with its mouth open in a big smile.

“Tuck.” She crouched down.

Forty-five pounds of dog raced into her.
Laughing, she fell back onto her butt, hugging the dog’s neck. Tuck
licked her chin as she grinned up at her father who gazed down at
them indulgently.

She kissed Tuck’s nose, then scrambled to
her feet. As she brushed dirt off her backside, her
lightheartedness melted away. Her dad was holding a square pan. He
wore sunglasses, and the sides of his face creased in a smile.

“I guess you saw Trish and Gunner already,”
he said.

“Dad, it was awful.” A big ball of hurt in
her throat made it hard to talk, and she swallowed. “Trish is going
to have quadruplets, Gunner lost his job, and now Mrs. Brauer says
they can’t stay at her place anymore. I offered my house, but Trish
said no. They’re going to see if there’s someplace they can
rent.”

“You only have two bedrooms,” Sam said.

“I could sleep at your place.”

“You could. But with quads, they’ll need
more rooms soon.”

“I know.” She frowned, thinking what Trish
said about quads coming early and all the problems she might have.
“They kept their insurance. I think it costs a lot.”

“At least Gunner has a job now.”

“You heard?” She rolled her eyes, not at him
but at herself. Of course he heard. This was Miracle, the place
where gossip made an Indy 500 race look slow. “Never mind. I doubt
Earl will pay for their insurance. It’s going to be a while before
they can afford a home.” She shook her head. “What’s wrong with
Mrs. Brauer? I know it’s a full house, but why doesn’t she have
Trish’s brothers go somewhere else until Trish and Gunner find a
home?”

“She probably has her reasons. Tim takes
care of the farm.”

“Ben doesn’t. And he must make decent money
as a paramedic.”

“It will work out.” Sam gestured with the
square pan, and Katie squinted at it.

“That’s your brownies, isn’t it? You’re not
bringing that over to Mrs. Brauer’s.”

“I am.”

Putting both hands on her hips, she narrowed
her eyes. “It’s got weed in it, doesn’t it?” The fact that her dad
grew weed for his recreation and a bit extra for anyone who needed
medicinal help was probably the best kept secret in Miracle. “Mrs.
Brauer is going to have a fit.”

“No, she won’t.” He lifted his sunglasses,
and his eyes didn’t have their usual smile. “Honey, it’s for her.
She asked me to bring it.”