Miracle Pie (25 page)

“How are the babies?” Katie asked. Despite
the nurse’s lack of emotion, the feeling that something was wrong
still had a stranglehold on her heart.

Elsa and Sam shared an
oh shit
look,
and Katie’s gut twisted harder. She clenched her jaw, ready for the
worst.

When Sam turned to her, his expression was
serious. “Three babies are in incubators. They’re around three
pounds, but the doctor thinks they’ll be okay.”

“
Thinks?
” Katie didn’t like that
word. She liked
is sure
better.

“You know how doctors talk. They don’t like
to say yes or no. They aren’t God.”

“If three are in incubators,” Katie said,
turning to Elsa for answers, “and one is in the regular nursery,
why is my dad frowning?”

Elsa clasped Katie’s upper arm as if she
needed to support Katie. Which was ridiculous, as Katie was about
five inches taller than Elsa and certainly outweighed her. “I’m
sorry,” Elsa said. “A little girl didn’t make it.”

Katie rocked back on her heels, holding back
a cry. She felt a burn of sorrow for Trish, Gunner and the little
one that didn’t make it.

“At least Trish was nearly seven months
along,” Elsa continued. “That makes a difference in the babies’
development.”

“You’re sure Trish is okay?” Katie asked.
“The nurse said she couldn’t see me now.”

“She’s sleeping,” Elsa said. “She’s worn
out. Gunner went home to be with the two boys.”

“Everyone else left,” Sam said. “We knew you
were coming and waited for you.”

Katie wondered what he meant by
we
.
It almost sounds as if... She shut down these thoughts, too wiped
out emotionally to speculate. She used to dread her father hooking
up with a woman. Now she wished he would.

It was time for him to get over that long
ago lover. She trusted that he would choose someone who was...well,
good.

Like Rosa, maybe. He was a little old for
her, though he seemed younger. But right now that wasn’t Katie’s
concern. Her concern was... A wave of tiredness stopped her
thoughts and she swayed slightly. Her mind was hopping all over the
place, trying not to think of the dead baby.

Trying not to think of Gabe.

Sam put his hand on her back. “You need to
go home and sleep. Don’t worry about Trish and the babies.” He
glanced at Elsa. His mouth didn’t smile but his eyes did. “Elsa put
a glow of health and well-being around them.”

Elsa patted Katie’s back. “I give great
glow.”

Just from her touch, Katie felt a little
glow and a little comfort. Maybe one of these Sundays she would
attend a service at Elsa’s church.

“Come on, Katie, let’s go home.” Sam nodded
at Elsa. “Thanks for staying while I waited for my girl.”

Elsa smiled and nodded, but her eyes held
sorrow.

Inside Katie, something stirred, an urge
she’d thought was dead.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

Katie shook her head because nothing was
wrong. Something was right. Looking at Elsa, she felt an urge to
bake her a Sad Pie.

Her nerve ends shimmered, and she stopped
herself from leaping forward and kissing Elsa, then laughing out
loud.

Her pie magic was back.

“You sure nothing’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just tired.”

“You look beat,” Sam said. “I’ll drive you
home.”

“I can drive myself. I’d have to leave your
car here and—”

“I’ll drive you back tomorrow.” Sam’s voice
left no room for denial. “I’ve got some of Rosa’s lasagna in my
freezer. I’ll warm a plate up for you.”

“Dad, you’re the best.” She hugged him, then
let go and smiled up at him, feeling teary again. Gazing at him, a
thought came into her head:
Gabe would be a father like
that.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Except for the dazed feeling, as
if she’d walked into a thick glass door. “If I can’t see Trish, I’d
like to see the babies at least.”

Elsa led them to the nursery. Two nurses
greeted her on the way, and it was apparent she’d been there
before. Katie didn’t know how often, but she suspected Elsa would
be hard to forget.

She stopped in front of a set of clear
windows where they could see five babies in incubators. So tiny and
skinny with breathing tubes wrapped around their heads. They were
too far away to see their features clearly. Katie felt for the
babies, and she ached to pick them up. She could imagine how Trish
and Gunner must hurt.

They left a moment later, Elsa and Sam
chatting about Becky, the former minister’s wife who was pregnant.
According to Linda Wegner, Becky and the baby’s father wanted to
get married now.

Sorrow swept over Katie with all the baby
news. There would never be a baby of hers and Gabe’s. She had her
home and her pies, but she didn’t have Gabe.

Chapter Forty-eight

Gabe’s car idled on the road in front of
Katie’s cottage as he stared at the dark shape of her house. There
were no streetlights at this end of the road. There was only her
house and Sam’s, which was dark, too. There was no moon, either,
and he thought it possible she didn’t lock her back door. That he
could go to her house and walk in.

If she was sleeping, she might not even hear
him. He could take off his clothes. Lie in bed with her. Close his
eyes and know he could go to sleep breathing the same air as
her.

He could see it in his mind...

Or he could see another scenario...

Katie waking up, hearing an intruder in her
house and grabbing a baseball bat.

Or a shotgun. He didn’t know if she had one,
but this was not the best way to find out.

Even if he did it and she didn’t scream—if
she in fact slept until morning and they had breakfast
together—what would he say to her? His situation hadn’t changed. He
couldn’t do what he loved while he lived in Miracle. It was just
too...small.

He sat for a moment longer, a fifty-pound
weight in the pit of his stomach. Finally he steered the SUV in a
U-turn and headed to Tomahawk where he would find something to eat
and a room for the night.

A half hour later he sat in a Chinese
restaurant with decent food. He even drank a Tsingtao beer, which
wasn’t bad. At a motel room he set up his latest video to see what
he could edit. But it hurt to look at the small girl’s pale face
and courageous smile, knowing she was likely going to be dead
soon.

Too young. Too damn young.

When he finally went to bed alone, he
couldn’t sleep for a long time, thinking of Katie. Aching for
her.

He felt defeated. Hopeless.

There had to be something he could do. Some
way to fix this. But his mind was blank and his heart already
mourning. As if it knew there was going to be no happy ending.

Chapter Forty-nine

The next day the sun shone dimly through
thick, gray clouds, and the radio DJ predicted rain. A portent,
though Gabe believed less in portents than angels. But when he
reached Katie’s house, she either wasn’t home or wasn’t answering
the door.

He drove back to Tomahawk. He hadn’t called
last night or this morning. As if expecting her to be there for him
all the time. He could call her now but decided against it. She
would probably go to the hospital when visiting hours opened at 11
AM. He’d see her then.

He found a diner he remembered being not too
bad. As he ate his eggs and toast, something niggled in his brain.
It felt important, but the more he tried to catch it and examine
it, the more it slipped out of his reach.

The waitress refilled his coffee, and he
thanked her, not even glancing at her. Still busy trying to catch
that—

“Gabe? Mind if I sit down?”

He glanced up into the attractive face of an
older blond woman who looked vaguely familiar. “Sure, have a seat.
Glad to have company.”

Her left eyebrow rose, sending her doubts to
him. “I doubt that, but I’ll sit anyway. I didn’t realize it would
be this crowded.”

Peering behind her, he saw that the diner
was full. “Neither did I.” He wasn’t noticing a lot of things these
days. Like how unhappy Katie had been in Chicago.

“We were never introduced. I’m Elsa Hahn.”
She held out her hand.

Taking it, he felt a current of energy and
was glad when the handshake was over. “Nice to see you again,
Reverend Elsa.”

“Ah, you did remember.”

“I think someone said you’re the minister
that doesn’t believe in Jesus.”

“I do believe there was a Jesus. A nice
Jewish boy who was smart and charismatic with a wonderful heart.”
She tilted her head and studied him, her eyebrows drawn together.
“You look...sad. I sometimes connect to people. I can’t read your
mind, but I’m good at reading emotions.”

He shrugged. “Body language.”

“As good an explanation as any. In your
case, I can see that you’re carrying a lot of weight on your
shoulders.”

He shook his head. “Not really. I’m doing
something that fulfills me.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean it’s a light
load.” Her eyes looked far away for a moment, giving him a freakish
feeling that he could reach out to where she sat and touch air. “I
think what you’re doing is important. It doesn’t just fulfill you,
it fulfills many people.”

He felt stunned, his breath stuck in his
throat. Her words too much right now. He felt like bolting.

She blinked, as if she’d traveled back to
the diner from whatever dimension her mind had gone. “I scared you.
I didn’t mean to.”

“Not at all,” he said, an automatic denial,
though she scared the hell out of him. “It’s more grandiose and
bigger than I’ve been thinking, but I wouldn’t mind if you’re
right.”

“I usually am.” She smiled sadly and leaned
forward as if to share a secret. “But I can’t tell you how socially
awkward it is.”

He laughed as the waitress brought her tea.
“How’s Trish doing?” he asked. “And the babies?”

“Trish is recovering. One of the babies
didn’t make it.”

He winced, and she reached across and
squeezed his hand. “You were a big help. What you and the villagers
did was something special. And everyone who shared money or good
wishes. To have that many people help them was empowering. The work
on their new house is already started. We want to get it done
before it snows.”

He winced again, and she made a face. “It’s
that time of year, though with global warming...” She raised her
eyebrows, her expression resigned yet smiling. “I’ve been following
your videos of the children with cancer. They’re heartbreaking and
brilliant. And often inspirational. I believe anyone who watches
them will want to be a better person. I know I do.”

“I’m glad you got that. I always wanted to
tell stories that would rivet people, shock or awe them. Be so
powerful it would change lives.” He stopped and scratched his neck
behind his ear. “That kind of sounds like I want to be God.”

She reached out and touched his hand for a
second, and he breathed easier, as if her touch infused comfort
into him. “We’re all pieces of the higher power,” she said. “The
universe. God. Yahweh. Whatever you want to call it.”

“So we’re all one big Yahweh puzzle?”

Her eyes glowed with gentle humor. “That’s
humanity for you. We keep finding the pieces that fit.”

“I’m not having too much luck with that
lately. I wish your higher power would show me where some of the
pieces are hiding.”

“Or give you a kick in the ass.”

He half smiled. “If that’s what it takes.
Right now I feel like I belong to two puzzles instead of one. And
if I go with one, I’ll miss the other.”

“It will come to you. We have miracles
happen in our village.”

“Twenty-three years ago, my doctors said I
was a miracle because I was alive. I have the impression that
Yahweh isn’t going to fix me again. This time I need to fix myself,
and I don’t know how to do it.”

“There’s no middle road?”

“I thought we were talking about puzzles,
not maps.” He shook his head before she could reply. “Never mind.
Neither way works.”

“You’re sure?”

He looked her straight in the eyes and
quietly said, “My heart is bleeding.”

As he said that, something happened. It felt
as if the room shifted. He didn’t hear silverware knocking together
or glasses falling and breaking, but something made him look up at
the door opening for another diner.

At first he didn’t see anyone, just the open
door. A movement sent his gaze downward to a child entering the
diner. Nothing exceptional about that, but this child wore a cap
and was bald.

His first thought was
Not again. Not
now.

And then came the second thought. That
either through Yahweh or fate or just by dumb luck, he’d found
another piece of the puzzle.

Chapter Fifty

He was here.

Katie watched Gabe stroll into the waiting
room with Gunner, and it felt to her as if the room brightened. Her
heart knocked against her chest wall. She stood slowly while the
other twenty or so friends, neighbors and gossips remained
sitting.

“Hey, everyone,” Gunner called. “The doc’s
happy with the babies’ progress. He thinks they’ll be in the NICU
for at least a few weeks, but he says they’re fighters. Not sure
how we’ll feel about that when they’re older, all fighting for the
same toy, but now it’s a good thing.”

Everyone spoke at once, assuring Gunner that
it was a good thing. Gunner held up his hand until the voices died
down.

“Another good thing is that we’re starting
to build the new home while they’re safe in their incubators.” He
gestured to Gabe. “And here’s the guy who’s making our new home
happen.”

Another wall of voices rose. Katie thought
she was the only one not talking. She couldn’t talk, her voice
stuck in her throat as she stared at Gabe. In his charcoal
turtleneck and black jeans, Gabe looked yummier to her than any pie
she’d made. She wanted to taste him, taking little bites that
didn’t hurt up and down his body.