Pie Town

by Lynne Hinton

  “If he’s the priest, then who is she?” Alex asked.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Roger answered. “But I’m pretty sure she isn’t a nun.”

  Alex smiled. He had noticed the girl’s tight T-shirt and the short shorts too. He shrugged. “Maybe she’s just thinking about being a nun,” he responded, “and he’s helping her make up her mind.”

  “Then she’s not anything like your mother,” Roger noted.

  “Lunch is served,” Francine announced as she set the plates in front of Roger and Alex. “You want honey for your sopaipillas?” she asked the boy.

  “No, I like to dip it in the juice,” he replied.

  “That’s the best way,” the waitress said. “Roger, you want anything else?” she asked.

  Roger shook his head. “Nope, it’s all just right.”

  The two of them started eating as Francine went over to take the orders of the newly arrived couple.

  “What made you tell Bernie to ask Francine to your party?” Roger wanted to know.

  Alex shrugged his shoulders and chewed a few bites of dumplings and biscuit. “I just thought it would be nice. They seem to like each other, but neither one of them acts like they know how to talk to each other.” He turned back around to look at the patrons in the booth.

  “So, do you think she’s here to stay?” Alex asked his grandfather, referring to the young woman who had entered the diner with the priest.

  “I wouldn’t have a clue” came the response.

  “I like her,” Alex noted. “I like her looks. I like that she came in with him. I like that she picked him and us and this diner.” He took a big bite of dumplings and grinned.

  Roger smiled.

  “Let’s invite them to my party,” Alex suggested. “I think that would make it perfect.”

  And Roger nodded at his grandson with a hint of worry on his face, wondering if the boy was still anxious for his mother to come home.

  Chapter Ten

  Try not to look so nervous,” Trina said to Father George. “It makes you seem like you’ve done something wrong.” She reached over and pulled a napkin out of the holder. She spat the stick of gum she’d been chewing into the napkin and then balled it up. “And Father George, I suspect it’s been a while since you did anything wrong.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” he responded, surprised by her comment. He straightened his fork and knife on the table in front of him, placed the napkin in his lap. He tried not to glance around.

  Francine walked back over to the table and placed two drinks in front of them. “Your food will be out in just a minute,” she told them. She kept staring at Father George. Finally, she asked, “Are you the new priest over at Holy Family?”

  He cleared his throat, sat up a bit in his seat. “I am Father George Morris, and I will be taking over for Father Joseph in this part of the diocese.” He held out his hand.

  Francine shook it. “Nice to meet you, Father. No offense, but I’m Presbyterian.”

  He nodded. “None taken,” he said.

  “I’m Trina,” the young woman butted in. She held out her hand to shake Francine’s hand as well. “Nice storm,” she said, and then added, “I’m looking for a job.”

  Francine turned to her and took her hand, which was wet. “Always nice to see rain,” she noted. She wiped her hand on her apron. “Unfortunately, as far as jobs go, there’s not much here in Pie Town,” she replied. “What kind of work you looking for?” she asked.

  Trina thought about the question. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My last gig was as a dishwasher. Hey, do you need a dishwasher?” she asked, realizing that she was at a diner and could possibly find a job right there.

  “You’ll have to speak to the owners about job openings,” Francine answered.

  “Cool,” Trina said.

  “Are you planning to stay in Pie Town too?” Francine asked, understanding that the priest would now be their newest resident.

  “That’s the idea,” the young girl replied. “This seems like a nice place to settle.”

  “It seems that way,” Francine said, “but it can be a little tricky for new folks.” She eyed the girl. “You got family here?” she asked, trying not to sound too nosy.

  Trina shook her head. “Don’t know a soul here but the priest,” she replied, grinning at Father George, who immediately blushed.

  “You got a place to stay?” Francine asked.

  “Not yet,” Trina replied. “Hey, do you know a place I could crash for a while?” she asked. She was not shy about her requests.

  Francine considered the question. She picked up the balled-up napkin from the table and stuck it in her apron pocket. “Let me ask around,” she replied.

  “Cool,” Trina said again.

  “Order up” came the call from the kitchen.

  Francine turned in that direction and then back to her customers. “Looks like lunch is ready.” She walked over to the kitchen, picked up the two plates, and carried them back to the table. “Two specials,” she noted as she placed them in front of the priest and Trina. “You need anything else?” she asked.

  “I think I’m fine,” Father George responded.

  “You got chile?” Trina asked.

  “Red or green?” Francine replied.

  Trina shrugged. “Red, I guess.”

  “Coming right up,” Francine said and turned to go back to the kitchen.

  “Hey, Little Man, what’s up?” Trina spoke to Alex who had been watching the pair since they arrived.

  “You should get the green,” he answered, referring to the chile. “The red is super hot.”

  “Thanks,” she noted. “Hey, Miss,” she yelled out to Francine. “My buddy here says I should go with the green chile. Is it okay if I change my mind?” She winked over to Alex.

  Francine nodded in her direction and then spoke to Fred.

  Trina turned to her companion, who was bowed over his plate of chicken and dumplings. It was obvious that he was praying, and Trina glanced over at Alex and shrugged. Then she grinned and bowed her head as well. When the priest said, “Amen,” she snapped up her head. “Amen,” she repeated, rubbing her hands together. “Now, let’s eat!”

  By the time Francine had brought over the small bowl of green chile, the young woman had practically devoured everything on her plate. She took the chile and put it on the chicken and dumplings she had left and kept eating. Even Father George seemed surprised that his young companion appeared to be so hungry.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” he asked her.

  She swallowed the mouthful of food. “I don’t know.” She thought for a minute. “A couple of days. At least it feels like it.” She slid more food on her fork. “This is really good. Thanks for the chile tip,” she called to Alex across the diner. “Good move on my part. I can’t remember being so hungry,” she said to George, who was still just watching her eat. “I’m not usually such a big eater.”

  Alex smiled. He looked at Roger. He had overheard the conversation between Francine and the young woman. “Granddad, I know where she can stay,” he said.

  Roger studied his grandson. “What are you talking about?” he asked, not understanding. He hadn’t heard the conversation.

  “She needs a place to stay. I heard her tell Francine. So why don’t you let her move into the apartment?” Alex knew that his grandfather had a garage apartment in the back of his house. It was the place where his mother had stayed when she was pregnant and when she had just delivered Alex. Roger had spoken about it on lots of occasions. Because of his disability, Alex had never gone up to see it.

  “Alex, I don’t know. That seems kind of sudden, don’t you think?”

  Alex shrugged. “The priest must think she’s okay or he would never have let her in his car, right?” he asked. “And she needs a place.”

  Roger turned around and peered at the odd couple sitting in the booth next to the window. The priest was eating slowly, and the young woman had practically
finished. She smiled when she noticed him glancing in her direction.

  “You said that you needed somebody to stay there because the cobwebs are taking over,” Alex said, reminding his grandfather of something he had mentioned a few weeks earlier. “It would be perfect for her.”

  Roger turned back and shook his head. “It hasn’t been cleaned in years,” he responded. And as soon as Alex understood that his grandfather was considering letting this young stranger into the apartment, he wheeled himself over to the table where she was sitting.

  “I’m Alex,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  Trina smiled. “Hello, Alex,” she said, wiping her mouth and then taking his hand. “I’m Trina, and this,” she nodded over to the priest, “is Father George Morris.”

  Alex glanced at him. “Welcome to Pie Town,” he said.

  “Thank you, Alex,” the priest responded.

  “The green chile is okay?” Alex asked Trina.

  “Perfect,” she replied.

  Alex nodded. “I know where you can stay,” he said.

  Trina appeared surprised.

  “I can’t find you a job, but I know where you can stay,” he repeated.

  “Yeah?” Trina asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied. He spun his wheelchair around to Roger. “Tell her, Granddad,” he said.

  Roger cleared his throat, wiped his mouth, placed his napkin on the table, and got up from his seat. He walked over to the table and stood beside Alex. “I’m Roger Benavidez,” he introduced himself.

  Father George stuck out his hand. “Father George Morris,” he responded. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff,” he said, noticing the uniform.

  “Father George,” Roger said. He turned to Trina. “And you are?” he asked with a smile.

  “Trina,” she replied.

  “And so you have charmed my grandson from a distance,” he noted.

  Trina grinned at Alex, who blushed a bit.

  “Is it true that you have a place where I might crash?” she asked.

  Roger nodded. “I have a small apartment above the garage in the back of my house. It’s not much, but my daughter lived there a while with Alex when he was a baby. I’ll need to clean it up a bit before you move in, but yes, it’s available.”

  “Cool,” Trina responded. “But hey, I’ll do the cleaning, and then maybe you can knock off a few bucks from the rent since I don’t have much cash to start.”

  There was a pause.

  “Actually, I don’t have any cash,” Trina admitted. “I’m trying to find a job, but I really don’t have any money right now.”

  The two men seemed embarrassed for her.

  “I got some cash I can loan you,” Alex responded.

  Trina reached over and placed her hand on Alex’s arm. “I think I can swing my rent if the sheriff here will give me a couple of weeks to raise the funds. But that is a very kind offer.”

  There was another awkward pause among the four.

  “So where’s your mom now?” she asked, recalling what Alex had said about the apartment.

  Alex looked over to Roger as if he was expecting him to answer.

  “Taos,” Roger replied. “She’s living in Taos.”

  “Nice,” Trina responded. “I love Taos. You been to see her?” she asked Alex.

  He shook his head.

  “Well, maybe we can go up there and visit her sometime.” Trina smiled. “Maybe when I get a job and can buy a car, I’ll drive you up there.”

  Roger cleared his throat. The direction of the conversation seemed to trouble him.

  Appearing to notice Roger’s discomfort, Father George spoke up. “Can you tell me, Sheriff Benavidez, how far the Holy Family Church and the parish house are from here?” he asked. “If my directions are right, I shouldn’t be too far away, right?”

  Roger turned back to the priest, glad for the question. “Right. It’s not far at all, just a few miles up Highway 60 and east on Clive’s Road. Would you like me to escort you over there?” he asked. “Is Father Joseph waiting on you?”

  “I believe that he is,” Father George answered. Then he glanced over at Trina and then back to Roger. “But I think that if you can help my passenger here find suitable housing,” he nodded over to Trina, “I can locate my new residence.”

  “Father George was kind enough to give me a ride when I was hitchhiking,” Trina explained. And then she whispered to Alex, loud enough for the men to hear. “I think I must remind him of an old girlfriend. I think I make him nervous.” She winked, and Father George’s face reddened.

  “You can walk to Granddad’s from here,” Alex said, grinning. “If you want, when it stops raining, I’ll go with you.” He thought for a second about his offer. “Only I can’t go up to the apartment with you because of the stairs,” he added, looking a bit disappointed.

  Trina considered his words. “Well, I bet that if the sheriff comes along with us, we could sling you over his shoulder and get you up those stairs. Maybe instead of giving me a loan, you can help me clean.”

  Roger glanced down at his grandson. “I think we can find a way to get him up there,” he said. He picked up the check from the table. “Let me take care of your meal.”

  Father George immediately responded. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t expect any special treatment.”

  “It’s not special treatment unless you get dessert, and based upon the reviews I’ve heard, you don’t want to go there, so let’s just call it a ‘welcome to your new home’ lunch.”

  Father George nodded. “What? No pie?” he asked innocently.

  Roger turned to the kitchen and yelled out to Fred. “Father George wants to know if there’s pie.”

  Fred stood at the window. “Brownies,” he yelled back.

  “Only pie you can get is down the road in Quemado. But it’s worth the drive,” Roger explained.

  Father George appeared to make a mental note. “No pie in Pie Town,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Although that does seem a bit odd. Maybe that will change.” He smiled. “Anything else I should know about the area?”

  “We’re just small-town folks, not too fancy with our thoughts and not too progressive with our religion,” Roger answered.

  “And the best party all year happens to be this weekend,” Alex added.

  “Oh, and what kind of party is that?” the priest asked.

  “My birthday, and even though there’s no pie, I can promise you there will be cake.” Alex grinned. “And you’re invited.”

  Father George smiled. “Well, with such a lovely personal invitation like that, how could I say no?”

  “Great,” Alex responded. “It’s always a lot of fun.” He studied the priest. “Can you play softball?” he asked.

  The priest shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m not the athletic type, Alex,” he replied.

  “That’s all right. You can just watch.”

  Father George nodded.

  Roger cleared his throat. “Well, with the storm and all, I’ll drive you over to the house, Trina,” he said, “if you’re ready to go.”

  Trina took a swallow from her iced tea. She put down her glass, and suddenly something seemed to be wrong with her. She reached for her napkin and held it to her lips as if she might become sick.

  “You okay?” Alex asked.

  She nodded and placed the napkin in her lap. “Just not used to the chile, I think.” She cleared her throat. “Okay then, Father, you are now officially free of me!” She glanced over at Alex. “Well, I mean, unless I become a Catholic.” She smiled. “Now let’s go see my new digs!” And she slid out of the booth and headed to the front door. “See you at the party,” she exclaimed to the priest, even though, unlike Father George, she had yet to be formally invited. “And will you look at that? The storm has passed.”

  Alex grinned, glancing at the sky, and followed behind her.

  Part II

  Chapter Eleven

  Every day I go to him drifting in the threads of wh
ite clouds that hang above the Gallinas and the Datil Mountains. I fly high above the fields and peaks, lighting always on the familiar landmarks, the places I have walked or ridden in wagons and on horseback. I circle and spin, dipping down, dropping once again to the place where I was born and the place where I died, the place where my beloved lives.

  The boy grows so tall now. His voice has deepened. His limbs have lengthened. He is not the child I first remember. He is not the tiny baby, so frail, his spine unformed, his backbone open and vulnerable. He is not the fragile toddler or the chubby child in preschool. He is just on the cusp of change. Boy to man.

  The party is thrown in his honor. It is quite the celebration, quite a gathering of joyful souls. It is better than a holiday. They all come, bearing gifts and sweet corn and skillet bread, hot chile and stew. They sing and tell tall tales of his arrival. They laugh and dance and wrap their love around each other. They claim to come for him, but I see their hearts. They also come for themselves, to remind themselves that life defeated death, that this broken child lives beyond what was destined, and if a miracle happened to him, maybe a miracle can happen to them too.

  They are here because it brings them pleasure to see him, to be near to him. He gives them hope, shows them possibilities, how to open their hearts. And I can see, even from this far distance, that he too is happy. He laughs. He sings. He is fully in this moment, fully in his life.

  She is not there with him, and yet she is. A few worry about her absence, and yet he has found a way to transform the grief and disappointment and wrap it up into a grand welcome for a girl who doesn’t even know how to be lonesome for home. They have bonded in a few short days. She will stand with him and he with her, although it is difficult to know for how long. She is only a child herself. But she is of the same spirit as he. She is hard not to like.

  I am there, but no one sees me. He knows. I can feel his gratitude as if he thinks I have arranged this celebration, this gathering, her coming. But it is not my place to interfere in the lives of those around him. If it were, I would have gone across the Sangre de Cristos and raised a racket around his mother, making her jump from her bed of addiction and leave to go join them. I would have forced her to stay there, forced her to care, forced her to love him. But that is not my role. I am instead only a presence of comfort, the gentle voice in their minds leading one in the direction they have already chosen. I am the one dancing at birth and the one carrying the dead ones home.