The front door opened. The only reason we knew was because the snowdrift that nestled against the house shifted a bit then slid forward. We watched as Jack’s head appeared as he climbed on top of the mountainous lump of snow that blocked his exit. He waved then helped Goldie as she scrambled up beside him. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. She didn’t try to pull away, I noted.
I smiled with relief. It was good to see them looking so... so healthy. And not just healthy, those two looked... happy? Their cheeks glowed with excitement as they cheered our arrival.
I guess Wade and I were cheering too, because I was suddenly caught in Wade’s warm embrace as he wrapped me in his arms. Our eyes locked, and my heart literally stopped as his breath mingled with mine.
For an instant, I felt all of seventeen.
Wade immediately let go, as if nothing had happened between us, and ran toward the Dippels. I soon followed, stepping into his footprints as he post-holed through waist-deep snow.
“Donna, Wade,” Goldie called to us as she and Jack slid down the drift toward us. When we met, I gave her a hug. “I am so glad to see you two,” I said as Wade and Jack shook hands and slapped each other on the back.
“You don’t know how glad we are to see you too,” Goldie responded.
I pulled back. “You and Jack ready to get out of here?”
Wade checked his watch. “It’s time, folks. We only have half an hour of daylight left. Grab only what you need, wallet and coats, gloves, hats, and lock up. You can pick up everything else, including the car, after the spring thaw.”
Jack climbed back inside the house and was soon back with the necessary items. Moments later, with Jack hanging on to Wade and Goldie clinging to me, we were off, racing against the darkness and the snowdrifts that blocked our path. We moved as fast as we dared. The last thing we needed was to get stuck on that avalanche field after dark.
Forty-five minutes later, the lights of the little town of Summit Ridge winked at us as we picked our way across the boulder field under a full moon that was just starting to rise.
When we pulled into the parking lot, I called Dad to report the good news. When I finished, I said, “Could you pass this report to both Vonnie and Clay?”
I handed Goldie my cell phone. “I imagine you have a couple of calls you’ll want to make,” I said.
She grinned. “How’d you know?” She turned her back to her husband, who was climbing off the back of Wade’s snowmobile, and crossed her arms as if trying to size him up. “How’d you know?”
23
Business as Usual
Clay was hard at work, typing out the story as he knew it so far. The Dippels had gone away for a couple of days to sort out their marital problems. They were staying at the Moore cabin, and the snowslide had been caused by the unseasonably high snowfall.
He reached for the phone book buried under a stack of old papers in the far left corner of his office desk. Flipping a few pages he found the number he was looking for, then picked up the handset of the phone and dialed out. Seconds later, Goldie Dippel answered.
“Good morning, Chris Lowe’s office,” she said.
“Mrs. Dippel, Clay Whitefield. How are you this morning?”
“Grateful to be alive,” she answered with a chuckle. “God is good.”
Clay nodded. “That’s what I keep hearing. Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you need to speak with Mr. Lowe?”
“No. Ah, actually, I wanted to talk to you if you have time. Later on.”
“Me?”
Clay smiled at her surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “I’d like to talk to you about the snowslide. About how you and the coach survived it all. About the rescue.”
“Only by the grace of God. We came awfully close to being completely snowed under. But I suppose you’ve talked to Donna,” she said.
“She’s next on my list,” Clay answered, then closed his eyes momentarily. Donna... if she only knew what I know.
“How about tomorrow afternoon after work?” she asked. “I can meet you at Higher Grounds.”
“You said the magic words,” Clay said with a laugh. “I’ll see you then.”
He called Donna next. “Got a statement for me, Deputy?” he asked her when she answered.
“Good morning to you too,” she said curtly.
“I was surprised not to see you at the café this morning.”
“I’m a bit tired,” she answered.
“So, when’s a good time to talk?” he asked, pulling his PDA toward him, poised to enter in his appointment with Goldie Dippel and Donna.
“Can a girl have a day off?” she asked.
“Yes, you may,” he said with a laugh. “I’m meeting Mrs. Dippel tomorrow afternoon. What if you both meet me at about five down at the café?”
He heard her groan, though a bit dramatically. “Fiiiiiiine.”
He chuckled again. “You okay otherwise?” He entered the date.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked.
“Just asking.” He slid the PDA across his desk.
“No, you aren’t. You’re up to something.”
Don’t ask, he thought.
“Is this about me and Wade? Because if it is, quite frankly, my friend, it really is none of your business. I’ll tell you like I told him: separate rooms.”
Clay closed his eyes and opened them quickly. “Ah, well... that’s nice to know. Wasn’t what I was getting at, but...”
He heard his computer “click,” an indication he had a new email. With his free hand he shifted the mouse and glanced over at the screen. It was from Britney. He smiled.
What timing, he thought.
Lizzie
24
Dicey Discovery
I woke up with the knowledge that my friend Goldie was alive and well, a wonderful way to start any day. She and I had spoken on the phone just after eleven the night before, she and Jack having just arrived back in Summit View.
“Other than the avalanche, how’d it go?” I asked her, turning on my side so as not to bother Samuel too terribly much.
“Not so good,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“Home. My home, not Jack’s.”
Jack’s. For many years it had been her home. I sighed. I guess deep down I’d hoped for so much more. “So no reconciliation?”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “No. We’re moving toward it, though.”
“That sounds good. It’s a start, anyway.”
She remained quiet, as though there was something pressing on her mind, something she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. “Listen, Lizzie. I really need to talk to someone, and now’s obviously not the time. I called you as soon as I got safely in the house, and now I need to shower. To wash the last couple of days off of me. Can you meet me after work tomorrow?”
I thought of the time. Goldie didn’t get off until five o’clock. By then I’d really need to be home preparing dinner for the family. But Goldie sounded as though she really needed me, so I relented. “Sure. I won’t have long, but maybe we can grab a cup of tea or some coffee over at Higher Grounds.”
We ended the phone call with a “see you then.” I replaced the phone’s handset and then rolled over onto my back.
“They didn’t get back together, did they?” Samuel asked from his side of the bed.
I patted his backside with my hand and closed my eyes. “No. They didn’t.”
Samuel let out a pent-up breath. “They’ve got a lot to get over, Liz. He’s got to stay in therapy, and she’s got to let go of the past.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have the right to; I’d never been through anything like what Goldie had been through. I patted Samuel’s backside again and said, “Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day, we’ve got to go to work, and somehow I still need to find a decent place for Mother to live before Mildred comes home from the hospital next week.”
With the snowstorm ove
r, school was now back in session, and I was glad for it. My work was becoming my refuge away from home rather than the other way around. I mentally pinched myself but hard for even having such a thought. Then I remembered the chaos in my home the day before. Tim and Michelle had managed to make it to work, but the bank had closed down and every last one of my grandchildren decided that a “snow day” meant a day at MeMa’s drinking hot cocoa and playing video games.
I hate video games. I don’t even know why my children allow their children to have them.
Samuel had spent the day in front of the television, watching shows like Judge Judy and The People’s Court. Where do they find these people? I wondered.
When I arrived at work I was pleased to find that my library assistant, Ellie Brestin, was already sitting at her desk—a smaller version of mine—sipping on a cup of hot tea. “Yours is on your desk,” she said, smiling.
I pulled my coat off and hung it on the metal coatrack in the corner of our little office. “Thank you,” I said. Ellie was always good about preparing two cups when she arrived first, and I, in turn, did the same.
“How was your day yesterday?” she asked. “Because it could not possibly have been as insane as mine. What was I thinking when I had four children, I ask you. And Holly was about as premenstrual as they come. You’ve had daughters. How long does this last?”
I turned from the coatrack. “How old is she now?”
“Twelve.”
“You’ve got a ways to go,” I said with a smile as I reached my desk and began to prepare my tea. Ellie—always thoughtful—had left a small packet of honey and a stirrer on a cocktail napkin. Having Ellie as an assistant was not half bad, in spite of the disgruntled sigh she now emitted. “My home was pretty much insane too, though there weren’t any premenstrual girls in the house.” I giggled a bit. “I have to tell you I’m happy to be back at work.”
“Well, you might not be when you hear about the meeting you’re now scheduled for this morning.”
My shoulders slumped. “What meeting?” I looked at my desk; I had so much work to do.
Ellie jerked her head toward her desktop PC and said, “Came in our email late Friday. Apparently some of the boys from one of Mr. Polsen’s eleventh-grade poli sci classes got on a porn site sometime Thursday while they were in here doing some research.” She used her index fingers to quote the word research.
I racked my brain trying to remember the class even coming into the library on Thursday. Already it seemed a lifetime ago. “And?” I asked, bringing the mug of hot tea to my lips and blowing.
Ellie’s eyes widened as she continued. “And one of the mothers overheard her son talking to some of the other guys later that night—you have no idea the filth on the Internet—and she called Mr. Tobin demanding a meeting. He set it for ten o’clock this morning.”
I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head ever so slightly. “I don’t wanna go,” I moaned. “And to think I was happy to be at work today.”
Ellie stood from her desk and headed toward the office door. “Well, you have to be there. You have no choice. I, on the other hand, must stay behind and file books on overstuffed shelves and keep watch for hormonal students.”
I peered up at her. She grinned, then added, “You know what they’re going to say, don’t you? They’re going to say that you need to be up to date on the software filters.”
I spread my hands in exasperation. “These kids today know how to break the filters, Ellie. Every time we add a new one or try out the latest, they break them in five minutes flat. Even I could break them, and I’m practically computer illiterate.”
“I know that,” she said, pointing first to herself and then pointing to me. “And you know that. Now all you have to do is see if you can get the parents to believe it.”
With a wink she stepped into the library to begin her morning work. I took a sip of my now nearly tepid tea, booted up my computer, and went in search of the email that summoned me to a meeting I would dread from now until 10:00.
It was going to be a long day.
It was five o’clock on the nose when I entered Higher Grounds. Only a few of the locals were there, sipping on hot drinks, trying to ward off the cold. Clay was in his usual spot, of course. My eyes widened with a bit of maternal delight when I saw that he wasn’t alone.
“Mrs. Prattle,” he greeted me.
I walked over to his table, ignoring the “Please Wait to Be Seated” sign in the front. “Good afternoon, Clay.”
He stood. The boy actually stood. “Would you care to join us?” he asked, sounding remarkably proper.
I looked from him to the pretty blonde I knew to be Adam Peterson’s sister. “Hello, Britney,” I said.
She smiled her million-dollar smile. “Hello, Mrs. Prattle. Michelle and Adam were over this past week. She’s teaching me to sign,” she said, then signed “Would you like a cup of coffee” to me.
“What’d you say?” Clay asked, beaming at her. Good heavens, I thought. He’s smitten.
“I said,” Britney began by signing as she spoke, “would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Oh.” Clay looked to me. “Would you, Mrs. Prattle? You can join us... or are you meeting someone?”
I looked out the window and spotted Goldie dashing across the street as fast as her feet and the snow-slick streets would allow. “I’m meeting Goldie,” I said. “But thank you.”
Clay nodded. “I’ve got an interview set up with her for tomorrow. She and the coach barely survived that avalanche, I guess you know.”
I shuddered. “I know. Prayer, Clay. Prayer saved them.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, it was good to see you again, Britney.” I placed a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “And you, Mr. Whitefield. It was very good to see you in church on Sunday.”
Clay pinked and said, “Yes, ma’am. I was somewhat roped in by Mrs. Lambert, but I have to say I enjoyed it.”
Britney touched his arm lightly. “But you’ll go again, won’t you, Clay?” she asked.
Just then the front door opened and Goldie walked in. “That’s my date,” I said, then joined Goldie at the front. Within seconds we were seated and sipping on our hot drinks.
“So, tell me everything,” I said. “And leave no detail out. No stone unturned. I want all the details, even the ones that’ll make me blush.”
Goldie cut her eyes from the left to the right, allowing them to settle halfway across the room on Clay. “I know you don’t have a lot of time, and I don’t really want to talk about the cabin experience. I want to talk to you about something else.” She bit her lip. “Is that Britney with Clay Whitefield?”
I nodded. “Apparently, they’re becoming a bit of an item.”
“As long as she keeps him from eavesdropping on our conversation, I really don’t care.”
I was taken aback. “Goldie,” I whispered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She hunched over. “It’s Charlene Hopefield.”
I furrowed my brow. “What about her?”
Goldie blinked a few times before going on. “She’s pregnant.”
“What!”
Tears were forming in Goldie’s eyes, and I reached for a napkin and handed it to her. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said to me between dabs and a blowing of her nose.
“Is it—”
“Jack’s? She says it is.”
“Oh, Goldie.”
Goldie blew her nose again, then rolled her eyes. “Lisa Leann once said she hoped Jack didn’t bring home a venereal disease. What he’s done is brought home a baby.
I pondered the idea for a minute. “Does Jack know?”
Goldie shook her head. “Not unless that woman has told him today.” Her eyes jerked over to where Clay and Britney were sitting. “I don’t know what to do,” she said quietly.
I didn’t say anything at first. I mean, what could I say? I’ve never been in Goldie’s shoes. Never once even thought about or worried about my husband
in the arms of another woman. Now, the thought and vision of Jack in the delivery room, coaching Charlene, holding his newborn, teaching him to play catch...
“You have to tell him,” I said.
“Me?” Her eyes widened, and she lowered her voice another octave. “It’s her baby. Not mine.”
“I know, but he’s your husband.”
Goldie shook her head. “She can have him for all I care.”
I leaned back in my chair. “When did you find out?”
“Charlene came over right after you left Saturday night.”
“And still you went with him to Summit Ridge.”
That’s when I’m quite certain I saw the hint of a smile slide across her lips. “Only to torture him.”
“Torture him?”
She waved the thought away. “Never mind. It’s another story.”
I leaned my forearms on the table. “I want you to answer this question. Don’t think about the answer. Just answer it... Do you love Jack?”
Goldie didn’t answer at first; she just looked at me. Looked through me, to be more precise. Then she nodded. “I do. He was so valiant while we were trapped in the cabin. Well, not at first. At first, when the lights had gone out and we didn’t know about the first slide, he was acting like a real baby. Things were not going his way, and he was... testy. I wanted to strangle him. But after the second slide... Honestly, Lizzie, if it hadn’t been for my knowing about Charlene, I would have... we could have... well, you know.”
I knew.
I looked down at my watch. It was getting late, and this was no time to end the conversation. “Goldie, listen. I have to get going. Samantha is cooking spaghetti pie for dinner, and Samuel should be getting off any minute and heading home.” I reached over and touched her arm. “I had the day from you-know-where and I really want to talk to Samuel about it before we get bombarded by the kids. Oh, and I think I may have found a place for Mother—”
“Your mother?”
“Ah. Another story, another cup of tea, another day. Okay?”
The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake Page 14