Running Into A Brick Wall

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  He also took another brownie. Then he wrapped his big arm around her small shoulders and led her away.

  I stood staring after them. Then made myself eat a brownie so I wouldn’t look so focused on the two of them getting further away.

  Dear God. I put my head down and pinched the bridge of my nose. I need to think. I needed to breathe. I needed wine in large quantities. But more than anything, right now I needed Brick. The seriousness of what was happening was sinking in now. This was real . . . this was about a little girl’s life. This was about a mother’s life . . . Brick’s mother’s life. And her father’s. And this was also about Brick’s life. I was holding their happiness, their future, in my hand. It was suddenly too much responsibility; too much to be in charge of. I became aware of a voice slightly above and behind me. I was startled from the suddenness of it. It was Jim, the vendor next to me.

  “You’re going to have to bake a few more batches tonight. At the rate you’re selling those books, you’re going to be out of them tomorrow. How many did you say you brought?”

  “A hundred.”

  “You’re definitely going to run out.”

  I looked up at him, I couldn’t generate a smile, even though I thought that would be the mostly likely expression someone would have after hearing what he’d just said. But it just wouldn’t come. “Maybe. But that’s a good thing, right?”

  “Sure. You sell out then you can close down and head on out or just enjoy the rally as a spectator. It’s a good problem to have. Can you get more?”

  I thought about that. Yes, yes I could. I could certainly get more. I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Might be worth it to try.”

  “We’ll see how tomorrow goes, I can always go into town and have more printed if there’s a Kinko’s around.”

  “Might be one in Bend.”

  Bend was a neighboring city, south of Redmond; it was a bit more cosmopolitan and had lots of boutiques and charming little restaurants. It was possible they had a printer that could handle a short run print job. But that really wasn’t where my mind was. My mind was on that little girl, walking with the man she thought of as her dad, with a gift in her hand for the woman she thought of as her mom—I knew differently.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  At four o’clock things wound down as people wanted to get ready for the cocktail hour before dinnertime. It was still the evening before the official start of The Rally, but things were happening. People were making plans to hook up and there was much revelry. I was glad to gather up my things and shuffle home. I was in some kind of funk, I thought it might be from the adrenaline ebbing and flowing like waves crashing on the shore.

  A brisk shower at the bathhouse invigorated me and I walked back with a determined bounce to my step. I tried to call Brick, but it went right to voicemail. He must still be traveling, I thought. Then I called Gloria, and her phone, while it rang and rang, no one answered. On the ninth ring the machine finally answered with a curt, “Leave a message.”

  I left one equally as curt. “Found her. She’s here. Excited and scared. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  I put on some capris and a soft summer sweater to match, slid my feet into thong-type sandals and made my way to the building designated as the dining hall for tonight. I was in my own little world thinking about logistics and what I could do next when up ahead I made out a man and a girl walking two huge dogs, golden retrievers if I wasn’t mistaken. I squinted and stared harder. It was Robert Brynes and Annie. They had both changed their clothes, she was now in shorts with a ruffled top, he was in black jeans with a Hawaiian shirt. At first, I was going to pretend I hadn’t seen them, detour through someone’s lot and join the road on the other side, but a sudden boldness drew me up. I waved as they drew nearer and when they were only a few feet away, I played on every dog lover’s sense of pride, and knelt and cooed over the dogs. Big tongues lapped at my hands and tried for my face while huge plumed tails whipped against my thighs nearly knocking me off my feet.

  Annie came and bent beside me. “They like you, you must taste like brownies.”

  “I hope not. I took a nice long shower as I was sure I was gaining a pound with each whiff.”

  “Not hardly,” Robert Brynes said with a chuckle, and just the fact that he had noticed me in that way sent a chill through my spine. I hoped and prayed that he had found nothing more than a daughter to replace the one he’d lost in Annie. I forced myself to look up and smile. “I have some dog treats I made from recipes in the book, would you mind if I gave them some?”

  He smiled down at me and said, “I’m sure David and Goliath would love to have them.”

  I stood up and made to leave, “My RV’s right there,” I said pointing. “The Dolphin, I’ll be right back.

  He said, “Annie’ll go with you, I’ll finish walking them as we have to get back to help with dinner.”

  “Great.” And it really was. I’d have Annie to myself for a few minutes. But as soon as Annie and I started walking back to the RV, I panicked. If I showed my hand, she could do any matter of things, including tipping her parents off. What if she was so totally assimilated that she was only loyal to them now. I knew all about the Stockholm Syndrome and the emotional attachments that led to. The Brynes were her parents now, had been for four years—just about all of her recallable life. I couldn’t force her to betray that trust as long as they were anywhere around. I opted for safe. Questions anyone would ask in a similar situation.

  “So, you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. I had a brother once, but he died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” But a door had been opened and as if a cool draft had wafted over me, I had a suspicion hit me in the face.

  “What was his name?”

  “Brick, but I called him Baboo.”

  I feigned tripping though nothing was in my way, just to cover up my gasp and the reaction my hands had at her mentioning Brick’s name. I was clutching my chest as if trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest.’

  “You okay?” she asked, very concerned and leaning into me.

  I recovered enough to mumble something about these stupid sandals and how I needed to lift my feet instead of drag them.

  “Yeah, my mom tells me that all the time.”

  It was a good time to stay with that train of thought. If I asked any more questions about Brick, like how he had died, I knew I would lose my composure and make her suspicious of me.

  “Yeah, my mom told me that, too. But as you can see, it never sunk in.” We were at my RV now, so I took my key from my pocket and unlocked the door. “You want to come in for a minute?”

  She took a quick look up the street and saw her dad with the dogs in the field. He was in turn watching her. “No, I’d better not. Dad’s waiting.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” I ran inside and found the treats I had made a few weeks ago for some other camper’s dogs, mostly to shut them up whenever I walked by and they were out. I’d saved some in Ziploc baggies and took two baggies out of the cabinet so each dog could have its own bag. Making friends with these dogs seemed a smart thing to do at this point.

  Not wanting to keep Annie waiting, and in turn annoying her dad, I rushed out the door and gave her the bags. Taking the initiative and saying goodbye first seemed prudent. I didn’t want to appear clingy, curious, or anxious to keep her near, yet I really didn’t want to let her go. There was just so much to lose by calling attention to myself and making them wonder about me.

  But Annie just seemed genuinely happy to get the treats for her dogs and unfailingly polite when I said I had to be going, that I was meeting someone at the dining hall, which was so not true.

  We waved good-bye and I even turned and waved good-bye to Robert before going back to lock the door again before heading back out.

  The dining hall was packed and it was a boisterous crowd that was clamoring for free drinks and food. It was fun to watch so
many happy people. Most had had a good day “in the stalls” as they called it, and were looking forward to the official opening of The Rally tomorrow. Tomorrow night Bobby Vinton would be wowing the crowd with his legendary songs, Roses are Red, Mr. Lonely, and Blue Velvet among others. And two nights later Peter Noone, better known as Herman of Herman’s Hermits, would be reminding them all of the British Invasion that fairly consumed the entertainment world during the 60s and 70s.

  I found that you couldn’t stand in line for anything and not find a friend and as soon as they learned that I was the “Brownie Lady,” I was practically given a throne. Most of the vendors were of the opinion that I would sell out by tomorrow, asking many questions about the process of coming up with the book so presumably they could try their hand at it too. Some asked why I hadn’t had more faith and brought five hundred books to the rally. By the end of the evening I was giddy from the free-flowing wine and a little drunk on the overwhelming camaraderie.

  I fended off a few chummy fellas who were solo on this trip and managed to side step one rather amorous Lothario who at eighty thought he was God’s gift. He must have told me ten times about his secret stash of Viagra, in hopes I’d take him up on allowing him to show me how well it worked. As I was leaving so was Randy. I saw Charlotte in her wheelchair ahead of him and the boys surrounding her to clear the way so I thought it was safe to sidle up and whisper. “Found her.”

  He stilled momentarily and then turned to see who it was who was whispering so close to his ear. As soon as he saw me his eyes lit and he smiled. I watched as the message registered. His eyes widened and he blinked his eyes in shock. “Really? You did?”

  Just then I saw Charlotte turn and look back at us. I pushed against his shoulder, gave him a scathing look and pointed at my toe. His baffled look was almost comical until he heard me say sotto voce, “Charlotte’s looking back. Pretend you stepped on my foot.”

  Instantly his hands went up in a defensive gesture and he began to apologize profusely. “I’ll call you later if I can,” he mumbled and hurried to catch up with his family.

  Charlotte was still looking back so I limped for a few feet before hobbling over to a seat. When they were out of sight I got up and made my way to the door. My 80-year old gentleman, who was no gentleman at all, was waiting for me.

  “Kin I walk ya home, Sweetie? Girl on her own shouldn’t oughta be on her own afta dark.”

  Reading his name off his name tag, I said, “Pardon my bluntness, Mr. Gene Weinger, but I think this ‘girl’ on her own after dark is far safer with hoodlums and thieves, so I think I’ll be making the trek back to my RV on my own, but thank you for the offer.”

  He pouted and looked genuinely surprised that I had refused his offer, and mumbling something about me not knowin’ what I was missin’, he sauntered off to find a willing participant for his new lease on life. I wondered idly if he’d discovered this miracle drug before or after his wife had died. If it was before, I had no doubt it had hastened her path to the grave.

  “Happy Hunting,” I called back half-heartedly over my shoulder. I took my time walking back to the RV hoping to see where the Brynes lived, regretting I hadn’t found a way to follow them home earlier.

  When I got home, there was a tiny note tucked into the doorframe. Hand painted, the cover of the tiny card had a picture of David and Goliath tugging on a baggie filled with treats. It was adorable and very well done. I opened the card to read,

  Thank you for the lovely treats,

  I assure you they didn’t last long.

  I’ve already written down the ingredients from the book

  so I can make more.

  Your lovely cookbook is wrapped as a gift for Momma now.

  Thank you ever so much,

  Annie

  I smiled and touched the card to my chest. What a sweet kid. I went inside to find my phone to see if Brick had called. He hadn’t. I tried his number again, and again it went right to voicemail. I forgot when he said he’d be back in North Dakota. He must still be enroute I thought as I dressed for bed. I wondered if I should leave a message or try to track down his boss, Joe Rydell. I brushed my teeth and washed my face then took my book to bed to read. I doubt I finished the first paragraph before I dropped it to the floor and slid down with the pillow still propped at my back. It had been a long day and I was bushed. Surely I would get in touch with Brick tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty

  My first thought upon waking, was damn, I forgot to set the alarm, the second was that I was supposed to be set up and ready in fifteen minutes. Shit.

  I ran around getting things together: me, the food samples, my bank bag, some fruit, bottled water and an energy bar for lunch, and then I dashed over to the craft and vendor building. I’d taken a scant few minutes to wash my face, brush my teeth, gargle, secure my hair in a ponytail, swipe some blusher over my cheeks and smear some lip gloss on. Coffee and a breakfast biscuit from one of the food vendors would have to do this morning as I’d missed the wonderful breakfast buffet everyone had been raving about last night.

  I quickly set up my area and then practically knelt at Jim and Peggy’s feet when they brought me some coffee and a Danish. I’d been afraid I’d eat my pineapple angel food cake samples for breakfast. It would have taken a dozen one-inch squares to satisfy like this cinnamon apple confection. Peg said she brought it from the dining hall but was too full to eat it. I doubly missed having woken too late to make breakfast. This was scrumptious. I had to put it aside for my first customer who bought three of the cookbooks for gifts.

  After that, I don’t remember much of anything except taking praise for my samples, signing cookbooks, and smiling as people handed over wads of cash. The remaining books disappeared in less than three hours. I hadn’t even had the foresight to save one for my sister before I realized I had sold the last one. I looked over at Peggy and Jim and smiled with chagrin, “What now?” I asked. They were between customers and came over to smile down at me.

  “I guess you’d better go get some more. You got a winner there!”

  I stood, gathered my tote bag and the sign. “Okay, I’d better see about doing that. Thanks for all your help.” As an afterthought I pulled a marker from my bag, wrote SOLD OUT! GOING FOR MORE! on the sign and left it in the center of the table on top of the colorful tablecloth I’d made with pictures of snack foods all over it. Gripping the bag that held the bank bag and the book I thought I might have time to read between customers, I waved to the vendors around me as I “walked off the job.”

  I knew I wasn’t going to order any more books. But I couldn’t take down the table with my display and just leave, or they’d know it too. For now, it served for all to know that I’d sold out and that I was off getting more books to sell. Most would think that a good idea with The Rally just beginning. What I was going to do was find out where the heck Brick was. I hadn’t made my ten o’clock call to my sister, so with any luck she’d managed to track him down by now.

  Arriving back at my RV and dumping my stuff on the sofa, I reached for the phone and saw I’d missed two calls. Both were from Gloria. I tried to reach both her and Brick but couldn’t get either. Practically screaming my rage and frustration, I paced, hoping to hear back from them within the next few minutes.

  After an hour I couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. I knew I had to continue the charade just so I could keep an eye on Jillie. It would not do for her to disappear again. Brick would kill me. I grabbed the Rally schedule and read all the events going on today. There were several seminars I would have liked to go to, but as agitated as I was I knew I couldn’t sit for any length of time even though some of them sound really good. Honey Let’s Clean the RV— Have RV . . . Will Travel . . . Where to?— The Pros and Cons of RV Extended Warranties— RV Solarshades: Be Quick, Be Cool, Be Private—Water Pressure in the RV—Water Filtration, Purification & Conditioning— Controlling Odors in Holding Tanks & Water Heaters—RV Lubrication . . . Whoa! RV Lubrication . . . I rem
embered seeing the sign on the display at Robert Byrne’s stall. I remembered it listed the dates and times of his seminar. At three o’clock he’d be teaching. So who would be minding the booth with his partner, it was far too busy a booth to manage with only one person.

  I decided to take a walk over and find out, maybe it was Jillie. I grabbed a PB & J sandwich, and a Pepsi, a rarity for me, but every once in a while I just felt like a soda. I also had to have a little bag of Frito’s to go with it. I was in a rare mood; it seemed I needed sugar, carbs, and caffeine. I was pumped. Primed for action. I’d already had lunch earlier but for some reason I was starved. It was like I was preparing for a fast, storing up calories for energy.

  I ate while I forced myself to stroll instead of eating the ground up with long strides. I had to appear normal, relaxed, agenda-less. I approached the “lubrication” booth from the side and saw that a woman was manning it. I’d seen her working alongside Robert on that first day when they were getting set up, she’d been in the back writing on boxes. I thought she might be his wife, but I wasn’t sure. She spotted me, smiled hugely and waved me over. I swallowed, smiled back and made my way over to her. Whoever she was, she obviously knew who I was.

  “I had a lovely present waiting for me this morning, your beautiful cookbook and homemade brownies Annie made for me! She can’t wait for me to go to the store so I can get what she needs for David & Goliath’s treats. That was so sweet of you!” She had a pleasant Irish brogue, one that was born to the tongue and not easily discarded.

  “Oh you’re welcome. And Happy Birthday.”

  “Not much of one today, I’m afraid. Robert’s doin’ the seminars and Annie’s gone to the Youth Group to watch the teens dance and have some pizza. I’m havin’ to cover for him instead of being with her and her friends. Oh well, a fine birthday for me it will be if I get home and get a chance for a cuppa tea with no one about. Annie though, she might not last to have a bite of my cake tonight, got a bee sting ya know.”