Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots

Home > Other > Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots > Page 24
Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots Page 24

by Peggy Dulle


  “To be attacked and not be able to protect yourself must have been very scary for her.”

  “I suppose so.”

  He turned and looked at me. “Do you know how to protect yourself?”

  “Yes, I do okay.”

  He turned back in his seat. “That’s good. Everyone needs to be able to protect herself. It’s essential.”

  “Sure.”

  “Did you hear that they finally found out who murdered Danielle?”

  It had only happened yesterday evening. How did this man know about it already? “They did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “One of the officers from Clainsworth called my brother. He’s a cop here in town.”

  “Oh.”

  “Closure is very important,” he continued. “Danielle was big on finding closure for other people and I’m glad she finally got it for herself.”

  “Me, too.”

  The old man stood up. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

  “You, too.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “Thanks.”

  The old man left and a few seconds later, Tom and Shelby came around the corner of the building. She was barking and chasing him. He was laughing and practically falling on the ground. It was time to go home.

  Tom came up and sat down next to me. “Ready?”

  “Yes. Thanks for letting me come here.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I met the strangest old man.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “He left while you were walking Shelby.”

  “Oh.”

  Tom stood up and lifted his hand. I took it and we got back into his patrol car. As he drove, I thought about Danielle and what the old man had said about her not accepting help and not knowing how to protect herself. I was glad that I had Justin and Tom to help me, and that I could protect myself if I needed to. Because like Danielle I liked finding answers and closure for people, too.

  We never stopped the entire trip, just drove through fast food restaurants and kept going. Tom seemed as eager to get home as I was.

  It took us over ten hours, but we finally pulled into Tom’s driveway. When I opened the car door, I was hit with the smell of the mountain pine trees. It was fabulous. And there wasn’t a sound, except the crickets and the wind whistling in the trees.

  That evening, Tom fixed Chicken Cordon Bleu from scratch and I made apple cobbler in apple pots for dessert. Afterwards we sat on his couch with a blanket stretched across our laps. Shelby was on one side with her head on my lap and Tom’s dog, Duke, was on the other. They had finally become friends, although it sure had taken a lot of doggy treats to get them there.

  “This is nice,” Tom said and kissed me gently on my cheek.

  “Yes,” I said and leaned my head against his shoulder.

  “It was sure nice to hear that you loved me.”

  “When?” I sat up.

  “In the mine.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I do love you.”

  “I love you too, Liza.”

  I leaned my head back on his shoulder, again, and we sat there for a long time.

  Two days later, Tom went back to work and I stayed at home. I was immediately bored and thought about the attention span of my kindergarteners. Maybe it was catchy? I refused to get back into jigsaw puzzles. How do people do this every day? On the afternoon of the third day, I flipped through some magazines and saw an article about different painting techniques. Tom’s house had recently been remodeled and it could use a little color. Every wall in the house was the same color - white. I grabbed the magazine and Tom’s keys to his SUV. I drove into town and stopped at the police station.

  Tom was in his office doing paperwork, which he insists is ninety percent of his job. He looked up when I came through the door. “Hey, Liza. What’s up?”

  I put the magazine on top of his paperwork. “What would you think if I did that to the upstairs guest bathroom?”

  He glanced back at the magazine. “I don’t know.”

  Just then one of his officers brought someone into the station. The person was screaming and yelling and pulling away from the officer. Tom stood up. “I need to help him.”

  “What about the paint?”

  “Do what ever you want, Liza.” He went over and helped his officer subdue the person.

  I went directly to the local ACE Hardware store and bought rollers, sponges, wallpaper boarders, and paint in several different shades of green. When I got back to Tom’s house, I found a tall ladder and started in on the upstairs bathroom. It was fun using the sponge to make different textures on the wall.

  I heard Tom come into the house, calling my name.

  “I’m up here,” I shouted.

  He came into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

  “Painting.”

  “Why?” He looked totally confused.

  “Don’t you remember me coming to the station and you telling me to do what ever I wanted?”

  “Vaguely.”

  I leaned against the ladder. “I’m bored and if I can’t find something to do, I’m going home.”

  “Paint whatever you want.” Tom smiled. “How about coming down and having some dinner?”

  “What are you making?”

  “Tri-tip sandwiches and French fries.”

  “Yum.”

  “What are you making for dessert?”

  “Blue berry cobbler in an apple pot.”

  “Perfect.”

  Each day Tom went to work, I painted, put up wallpaper, and decorated every wall in his house. I was careful to stay away from flowery boarders and colors that just didn’t go well with Tom’s personality. He seemed happy with what I was doing. At least he said he was.

  Two weeks later, there just wasn’t anything left for me to redecorate. That evening I fixed the only meal I can make that doesn’t come from a box — Chinese Chicken Salad and pot stickers. Actually the pot stickers were from a bag, but that’s okay.

  When Tom came in and dinner was ready, he sat down and looked at me. “Going home, Liza?”

  I leaned down and kissed him on the top of the head. “I need to get home and check on my house and my yard. My flowers are probably all dead or overgrown by now. I haven’t been home in almost a month.”

  “Not much landscaping to do here, I’m afraid.”

  “Your yard is the forest. I can’t mess with the forest.”

  Tom laughed. “I could build you a few more rooms to decorate.”

  “No. I’ll be back. Besides, I still haven’t bought a new car. A few years ago I had a student whose father owned a car dealership. He told me if I ever needed a car, I should call him. His kid was a born salesman. If he wanted a particular toy and someone else had it, he could charm the other child right out of it. He’ll definitely follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  Tom shook his head. “The apple never falls far from the tree.”

  “You got it.”

  Tom picked up his plate. “If you’re leaving in the morning, let’s eat in bed.”

  “Great idea.”

  I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night, but I was still ready to go in the morning. Tom made waffles for breakfast, my favorite. I’m sure it was an attempt to get me to stay, but it didn’t work. A few minutes later, an Enterprise Rental car was delivered for me to drive home.

  Tom walked Shelby and me to the car. I opened the back seat, put Shelby in, and hooked her up to her harness. Then I closed the door.

  Tom put his arms around my waist. “I’m going to miss you, Liza.”

  “I’ll miss you too.” I kissed him gently. “But I’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll definitely be back for the first week in August.”

  Tom smile broadened. “That would be nice, Liza.”

  “I’m looking forwa
rd to spending some time with Michael.” I smiled and lied through my teeth. Actually, I’m more than a bit apprehensive about spending some time with Tom’s seven-year-old son. Dealing with kids one hundred and eighty days a year, doesn’t leave much patients for anymore. I never thought I’d ever get involved with a divorced man with a small child. What was I thinking? Am I nuts?

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him, too.” Tom interrupted my whirling thoughts.

  “Me, either.” I nodded.

  “I’ll see if I can come down next weekend for a visit.”

  “Can’t stand to be without me?”

  “Well, I know that once school starts I won’t see you very much. I’m trying to get my fix now.”

  “You make me sound like a drug.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “You’re intoxicating, my dear.”

  I opened the door to the rental car. “I love you, Tom, and I’ll see you soon.”

  “I love you, too.” He closed the door and I left the mountains.

  Shelby hated being in the backseat of the car. She paced and whined because she was used to riding shotgun with me. I would have to make sure that she could ride in the front seat of my new car. Maybe I’d buy a truck. They’re the only vehicles I know of that let you turn off the front airbag on the passenger side.

  A couple of hours later, I pulled into my own driveway. It had been nice at Tom’s but it was really wonderful to be home. The front yard had been recently mowed. It was a good thing I had a gardener or the grass would probably be six feet high by now. He would have also mowed the backyard but didn’t take care of the shrubs and flowers. I couldn’t wait to see what they looked like.

  I opened the back door and let Shelby out of the car. Then I took my bags into the house. A few minutes later, I heard the familiar toot of Justin’s horn on his wheelchair. I went outside and set down the triangular ramp I kept there for Justin’s wheelchair.

  Justin waved and wheeled to the porch. “Hi, Teach.”

  “Hello, Justin.”

  “Please don’t tell me that the piece of junk in your driveway is your new car?”

  “No. It’s a rental.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “It looks like a rental, Teach.”

  “Well, it is.”

  Justin turned his wheelchair so I could see the sides. “Look at my new writing.”

  The words said, “Super Cyber Sidekick” on the side in red metallic paint. “It looks great. Did you bring the bill?”

  “It was kind of expensive, Teach. I told the guy I’d work it off by doing computer work for her.”

  “No, I said I’d pay it, so hand over the bill.”

  Justin dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. I opened it up. It was four hundred-dollars, a little expensive, but Justin’s help is always invaluable and well worth the money. I took out my purse, wrote the Detail Shop a check, and handed it to Justin.

  “Thanks, Teach.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Hey, I think I finally figured out why those people thanked Danielle in that paper.”

  I sat down at the table. “Why?”

  “They had a niece whose parents were killed and she came to live with them. Three months later, she ran away. They never knew where she’d gone or what happened to her.”

  “Danielle helped them find her?”

  “I think so. About a year ago there was an article in the paper about her coming home and she thanked a teacher for finding her and convincing her to come home.”

  “Did the article have Danielle’s name in it?”

  “No, just a thank you to a teacher and then the thank you from the aunt and uncle to Danielle.”

  “You’re probably right. That’s it.”

  “Tell me what happened with the drugs and the apple pots.”

  I spent the next several hours going through the entire incident, step by step. Justin loved all the details.

  “Wow, you brought down a mayor, a doctor, and a police lieutenant. That’s pretty good, Teach.”

  “The best part was finding out who killed all those people. Now their families have closure. It’s important to understand why something happened in order to move past it.”

  “I suppose.” Justin shrugged, clearly not feeling philosophical about the incident. He just liked the fact that we had outwitted all those people.

  A few minutes later, Justin was on his way and I was left to unpack and check the backyard. My flowers were dead, so I spent the rest of the afternoon pulling them and putting them into my yard waste recycling can.

  That evening I was sore, but felt exhilarated that I’d gotten so much accomplished in one afternoon. My entire backyard was manicured and clean. It was a good feeling.

  Before I went to bed, I decided to check my email. Justin had shown me how to check my school email from home. It gave me the chance to delete all the unwanted emails on a weekly basis rather than going back to school in August and deleting hundreds of them.

  I had several emails from pharmaceutical companies and banks, so I deleted them immediately. I also got an email from my friend, Julie. She was a retired teacher, sixty-three and looking for the next love of her life. She was going on a single’s trip to Europe in a few days. I told her to have a good time.

  Then I noticed I had an email I didn’t recognize. I opened it up, but it was blank. So I replied to the email and asked whom it was from, then went back to deleting emails from all the local stores. My computer beeped, telling me that I had a new email. Great, another one to delete. It was in response to the last email I’d sent, marked “Undeliverable.” The address didn’t work. How could that be? I’d used the same one from the original email. I started to delete it and then noticed the date. August 13, 2004. That was a date I knew very well. It was the date my parents were killed in a plane crash. No mystery there, no closure needed, so the date must be for something else.

  It didn’t matter to me why the date was wrong. Call it divine intervention or just a fluke. I opened the Internet and started researching. Nothing much happened on that date. There was an earthquake in Argentina, a couple of bank robberies in the Midwest, and a lot of gang activities in Los Angeles, but nothing that struck me. Nothing that I had a personal connection to. Maybe I should call Justin and have him research the date. He was so much better at searching the World Wide Web than I.

  Just then my computer beeped again. I had never shut down my email system. I clicked back to it and had a new email from the same “Undeliverable” address with the same date. I opened the email and there was an attachment. Justin was always telling me to never open attachments from people I didn’t know. But I decided to do it anyway.

  When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a picture I’d seen a hundred times. My mom and dad. It had been taken a month before their plane accident while they were on a cruise. They were both smiling and happy. I scrolled down, but I didn’t need to read the article. I had read it a thousand times before. I knew every single word by heart.

  Why had someone sent me an article about my parents? What did it mean? My parents had been killed in a plane accident – or had they?

  Epilogue

  Just in case the Apple Pots have made you hungry for a scrumptious dessert, here’s the recipe.

  Topping:

  In a bowl combine:

  1/3 cup flour

  1/4 cup brown sugar

  1/2 cup old-fashioned oats, uncooked

  With a pastry blender or two knives used scissor-fashion, cut in 6 tablespoon butter or margarine, cut into pieces, until mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

  [This can be made ahead of time, put into a Ziploc bag, and stored in the freezer. You can even double or triple the recipe and use it whenever you want to add topping to fruit before baking.]

  Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Choose whatever size baking dish you need – from individual pots to a large baking dish.

  P
eel, core, and cut apples into 1/4 inch slices. Golden Delicious apples make a sweeter dessert, whereas Granny Smith apples are tart. Toss the apples with fresh lemon juice, brown sugar, cinnamon (if desired), and flour.

  (For a 1 ½ quart baking dish use: 2 tablespoons lemon juice, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon, and 1/3 cup all-purpose flour.)

  Place apple mixture into baking dish and sprinkle on topping. Bake until apples are tender and topping has lightly browned, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool slightly on a wire rack to serve warm. Add vanilla ice cream if you want!

  ENJOY!

 

 

 


‹ Prev