frozen fruit)
½-¾ cups sugar (I used half a cup but you might want to make your filling sweeter)
Ingredients for batter:
1¼ cup flour
¾ cup sugar
1¼ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
¼ cup butter
½ cup milk
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
Directions:
Combine strawberries and rhubarb in a large pot with sugar and cornstarch and cook over low heat until the mixture thickens, then pour into a lightly greased 9-inch pie pan. Mix your batter ingredients and then spoon over the fruit. Bake at 350°F for 25 minutes or until the cake part is done. Serve warm with whipped cream.
Okay, that’s all for now. My garden is calling me!
Jen was up to her elbows in dirt, sweating under a late-afternoon sun, when Garrett stopped by to collect the June rent. She’d seen him around town a few times, always from a distance, usually with the cop. Don’t waste any more energy on that man, she’d lectured herself. But just like when she was in college, she hadn’t paid much attention to the lecture.
She’d been singing her rendition of the latest Adele song at the top of her lungs and hadn’t heard him come around the corner. His casual hello just about gave her a heart attack.
And she was in no shape to get taken to the hospital. Here she was, looking about as sexy as a burlap sack. Her baggy T-shirt and shorts didn’t exactly show off the merchandise. Her hair was dirty (she’d planned on washing it later) and she was sweaty. Lovely. Oh, well. She was done with Garrett Armstrong.
“Is it the first already?” she greeted him. Where had the time gone?
Silly question. She’d gobbled it up being busy working, volunteering, hanging out with the girls, gardening, dancing at the Red Barn (trying to find a man who turned up her thermostat the way Garrett did, which was beginning to seem impossible).
“How’s the garden?”
“Come see for yourself,” she said as she stood up. Her lettuce was starting to curl into balls, and next to it, the spinach was also in the middle of a growth spurt. So were the carrots and beets.
He nodded. “I’m impressed.”
She bent to pluck out a shotweed she’d missed. “I think I might have a green thumb.” She turned to smile at him. He wasn’t looking at her thumb, though.
Realizing he’d been caught, he quickly yanked his gaze from her behind. But it was too late. He knew that she knew he’d been looking.
“Would you like some iced tea?”
He shook himself, like a man coming out of a dream. “Uh, no. No, thanks. I...have to be somewhere.”
It took all her willpower not to frown. He might have been with Tilda the cop, but he wasn’t really with her. If he was, she wouldn’t feel this electricity between them.
“Well, then, I’ll just write a check. Come on in,” she said. She pulled up some lettuce and went into the house with Garrett behind her. Was he looking at her butt again?
She wrote his check and gave it to him, along with the lettuce. “A little something extra.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
Now they were standing there, him saying nothing, just looking at her, and her looking right back. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some iced tea?”
“No. I’d better get going.”
“Big date?”
“Something like that.”
She was tired of beating around the bush. “So, you and the lady cop, are you...friends?”
“We’re more than friends,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Tilda’s a good egg. And she’s...stable.”
“Stable,” Jen repeated. This was all he could come up with for someone he was seeing? “Well, that sounds romantic.”
He frowned. “I don’t want to be romantic, Jen. I’ve been there, done that. It didn’t work out. I’ve got a son. He needs stability. Hell, I need stability. I’m not interested in being with a...” He aborted the sentence but it was too late.
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
“A flake?”
He let out his breath in a frustrated hiss. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“You were looking for a nicer way to put it?”
“Jen, you’re a really nice woman,” he began.
“But a flake,” she finished for him. “Well, you can think what you want, but I’m not. Not in the things that count, like kindness and loyalty. And that’s more than I can say for...some men.” She thought of Serge, giving up on them so quickly, and the tears slipped from her eyes and onto her cheeks. She turned her back, ashamed to let Garrett see them.
She suddenly felt his hands on her arms. “Jen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s just that, well, you’ve never really gotten to know me, and yet you’ve already made up your mind about me.” She turned back, scowling at him. “But guess what? I’ve made up my mind about you, too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my weeds,” she said, and hurried down the hallway to the back door.
“Jen,” he called after her, but she kept going.
“Write your address down on that pad of paper,” she said over her shoulder. “From now on I’ll mail you my rent check. And don’t worry, I’ll pay on time. Because I’m not a flake!”
She slammed the back door. There, that would show him. She was never going to worry again about finding a man who measured up to Garrett Armstrong. Anyone was better than him!
* * *
Garrett scrawled his address on her stupid pad of paper. Damn it all, how had a pleasant conversation, a check and some lettuce deteriorated into this? Oh, yeah, the flake thing. He hadn’t said she was flake. She’d jumped to conclusions.
But she was a flake. Not the selfish, mean-spirited kind his ex was but a flake nonetheless. So it was just as well that this had all come to a head, just as well she’d told him off. Now she’d stop sending out those signals women sent when they wanted a man. Now he could really concentrate on his relationship with Tilda. Now thoughts of Jen Heath would stop sneaking into his mind at the most inopportune times, like when he was kissing Tilda.
Yes, this was all for the best.
The pencil snapped and he threw it on the counter and stormed out of the cottage. When her lease was up, she was gone. He’d boot her out and sell the place. He was through with being a landlord.
Too bad she wasn’t gone from his dreams. That night she found him. He was in her vegetable garden, pulling carrots, and she sneaked up on him. She was wearing those same ratty clothes she’d had on when he was at her place earlier, and she looked every bit as sexy to him in his dream as she had in real life.
She picked a tomato off one of her tomato plants and rubbed it in his face, saying, “Get out of my garden.”
“I’ll come into your garden any time I want,” he retorted. Then he grabbed her and kissed her.
Suddenly Tilda was there in her cop uniform. She had a garden hose and she turned it on them full force. “I’m not wasting any more time on you.”
Next Ashley arrived, wearing a bikini and an evil smile and carrying a shovel. With a cackle she lifted it up and swung at him.
“No!” He woke up, breathing hard. He ran a hand through his hair, then he fell back on his pillow and waited for his heart to slow down. A man’s life shouldn’t be this complicated.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There’s nothing quite as satisfying as getting back to nature.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
The last week in June found Toni and her family winding up the narrow mountain road to what would be their home for
the next two weeks.
“When are we gonna get there?” Jordan whined from the backseat. “I’m gonna puke.”
They’d been doing a lot of twisting and turning on this narrow, potholed road, and Toni felt a little queasy herself. “Do we need to stop the car?” she asked.
“No,” Jordan replied grumpily.
“We’ve got a quarter mile left to go,” Wayne said.
Toni passed back her water bottle. “Here, sweetie, have a sip of this. We’re almost there.”
“This is stupid,” Jordan muttered.
And she didn’t change her opinion once they saw the cabin. It was a small log affair snugged in among fir trees and huckleberry bushes with a front porch and two wooden rockers, which Toni thought were quaint.
The inside smelled musty and Jordan wrinkled her nose. “This is gross.”
“It’ll smell okay once it’s aired out,” Toni assured her, and hoped she knew what she was talking about. The living area wasn’t large and the Early American–style furniture had seen better days. But the braided rugs on the floor and the red checked curtains at the windows gave the room a homey touch. The woodstove would take the chill off in the mornings. In fact, they’d have to start a fire to take the chill off now and it was early afternoon.
Jeffrey had run down the hall and ducked into one of the bedrooms. His voice echoed out to them. “Cool. Bunk beds! I get the top one.”
Jordan turned to look accusingly at her mother. “I have to share a bedroom?”
“It’s only for two weeks,” Toni said.
“I don’t want to sleep in the same room as Jeffrey. He farts.”
“That’s what windows are for,” Wayne said as he lugged a suitcase toward the other bedroom.
“Or you can sleep out here on the couch,” Toni suggested.
Jordan eyed the couch and made a face. “Eeew.”
“Well, then, go check out your bunk.”
Her daughter picked up her backpack and trudged down the hall, looking as if she’d just been sent to a jail cell. A year earlier she’d have seen this as a great adventure, Toni thought sadly. It was a good thing she hadn’t committed them to staying any longer than the two weeks.
She took the bag with the extra towels and bedding and went to investigate her bedroom. Oh.
Wayne was standing at the foot of the bed, frowning. “I see a backache in the making.”
She took in the sagging mattress. “It looked better in the picture online.”
“There’s a surprise.”
“Oh, not you, too,” she said. She felt ready to cry.
He hugged her. “I said I’d be a good sport and do this and I will. It’s no California king, but we can manage.”
Sleeping on a crummy bed was probably above and beyond the call of being a good sport. “I’m sorry about the bed.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him just as their son bounded into the room.
“Hey, Mom, can I go find the creek?”
“As soon as the car’s unloaded,” Toni said.
Jeffrey was off in a flash.
“Well, at least someone’s happy to be here,” she said.
“Hey, I’m happy,” Wayne told her.
But he wasn’t happy about being cut off from the world. The kids had come in from exploring the woods and she was about to start dinner when he said, “I think I’ll run into town and see if I can get reception for my phone.”
“I want to go,” Jordan piped up.
“Can we go to that pizza place?” asked Jeffrey.
Had no one noticed the presence of chicken on the counter and the pan on the stove? “Hey, guys, we’re here to get away from it all, remember?” Toni tried to keep her voice light and her smile in place. “Anyway, I’m making dinner. We’re having old-fashioned fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken. All right!” whooped Jeffrey.
“We haven’t had that since last Fourth of July,” Wayne said. He rubbed his hands together. “Bring it on.”
“Are we ever going to town?” Jordan demanded.
“Of course we are,” Toni assured her. “We’ll go down to see your aunt Jen and hit the swimming pool. But tonight, let’s enjoy our new digs.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes and slumped back against the couch cushions to play a game on her phone. That was all she could do since she had no reception up here. Oh, too bad.
Jeffrey went to the bookcase, which was stocked with some ratty paperbacks and a bunch of games. “Hey, this looks cool.” He handed one of the boxes to his father.
“Battleship. I haven’t played that since I was a kid,” Wayne said.
“They had this when you were a kid, Dad?” Jeffrey sounded amazed.
“Yeah, back in the Stone Age. Come on, I’ll show you how to play it.”
Toni smiled as she assembled her ingredients. Maybe this would work out, after all.
Later that night, after dinner, they played a board game called Settlers of Catan and her daughter got so involved in the game she forgot that she was miserable. She was even laughing. This was the Jordan they all knew and loved. Welcome back, Toni thought.
“Longest road. I just won!” Jordan finally exclaimed.
“Okay, who wants hot chocolate and s’mores?” Toni asked.
“Me!” cried Jeffrey.
“Go out to the fire pit and help your father build a fire, and Jordan and I will get the makings.”
For the next half hour they sat around the fire pit, drinking hot chocolate and waiting for the fire to die down so they could roast their marshmallows. While they waited, Wayne dredged up every scary story he could remember, including the woman with the golden arm. Both kids shivered in delight as their father loomed over them, chanting, “Who’s got my golden arm?” And when he grabbed Jordan and moaned, “You do!” she let out a screech loud enough to frighten away the wildlife for miles around, making Jeffrey double over with laughter.
Once the marshmallows had been roasted and the s’mores eaten, the kids were getting quiet and Jeffrey was yawning. At last they were both drooping and Toni said, “Okay, guys, time to get ready for bed.”
Neither one protested. After an afternoon of running around in the woods, they were so tired, even a sugar buzz couldn’t revive them. They trudged off to brush teeth and change, and Toni took the leftover food inside, while Wayne dealt with putting out the fire.
Jeffrey was already asleep when Toni and Wayne went into the room to kiss the kids good-night and Jordan was halfway there.
“They’ll sleep like logs,” he said as they tiptoed back down the hall.
“I will, too,” Toni said. “All this fresh air makes me sleepy.”
“You that tired?” Wayne asked as she flopped on the couch and picked up her novel.
She looked up to see a familiar glint in his eye, one she hadn’t seen in a while. She put down her book. “Maybe not.”
Now he was on the couch next to her.
“So you finally have time for me?” she couldn’t help teasing.
“Nothing else to do up here.”
“Oh, ha-ha.”
“Reminds me of our honeymoon,” he said, drawing her against him.
“Except we were in a luxury condo in Hawaii.”
“This isn’t so bad.”
She studied his face. “Really?”
“Really. It also reminds me of being at camp when I was a kid. Except we didn’t get to have sex.”
“I bet you fantasized about one of the counselors, though.”
“You bet I did. Mitzi Ballantine. Come here, Mitzi,” he joked, and bent his head to kiss her.
She pulled away. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, camper?”
<
br /> “Way past. Better tuck me in,” he said, and this time she let him kiss her. And do other things...
Oh, yes, it had been a great idea to come up here.
And it still seemed like a great idea for the next couple of days. One morning they took fly-fishing lessons. Everyone had a fun...until Jordan lost her balance and fell in the icy water, and that was the end of that. Later that day, Jeffrey managed to make contact with stinging nettles and came running into the cabin howling.
“We’re having fun now,” Wayne teased that evening when they’d finally sent two grumpy kids to bed.
“Tomorrow they’ll have forgotten all about this,” Toni predicted.
Sure enough, the following morning, after a breakfast of eggs and blueberry pancakes, the kids were ready for fresh adventure. For Jordan that meant going into town and hanging out at the pool. And, of course, texting her friends.
“We’ll get around to that,” Toni promised, “but today I thought you might like to go look for the lost bride.”
Jordan was intrigued. “Who’s that?”
“A real live ghost,” Toni said. She took out the brochure she’d picked up at the Icicle Falls tourist center on her last visit to Jen. “Her name was Rebecca, and way back, more than a hundred and fifty years ago, she came to Icicle Falls as a mail-order bride.”
“A what?” Jordan asked.
“In the pioneer days, there were women who promised to come west and marry men they’d never met.”
“Eeew,” Jordan said in disgust.
“For some women it was an opportunity. Maybe she hadn’t met the right man back home, or no one had asked her to marry him.”
“Because she was ugly,” Jordan surmised.
“Not this woman. She was beautiful, and Joshua Cane, the man she married, had a brother named Gideon, who fell in love with her. The two brothers fought over her.”
“Did they kill each other?” Jeffrey asked eagerly.
“Not exactly,” Toni said, and began reading from the brochure. “Legend has it that one day Rebecca and Gideon both disappeared. Some people thought they ran away. Others thought her husband killed them.”
The Cottage on Juniper Ridge Page 26