If Bread Could Rise to the Occasion

by Paige Shelton

  I looked away from Elian. I was okay with him suffering a little longer. Besides, I thought we had more important matters to attend to. “We’re going to have to take him down,” I said to Jerome as I nodded at Howard.

  “He has a gun. I don’t know if it’s . . . real . . . if it can harm you and Miz. I can take care of him now that you’re here, but I don’t want you or Miz in the way of a bullet. I don’t think I could handle . . .”

  “On three, we’ll knock him over together,” I said ignoring Jerome’s concern. “One . . .”

  But before I could reach “two” something snapped and exploded in the jutted wing. I felt heat and the aftershock of a blast. It seemed we, ghosts and people, were all sent different directions.

  I heard Elian scream and Howard curse, but I couldn’t quite place where everyone was. It was getting hotter and smokier and more difficult to see and breathe.

  “Jerome, get her out of here,” I yelled again. “Gent, Homer, Ellen, and Jennie, we know where you’re buried. We’ll make sure everyone knows. While I’m here close to you, you can fight. You can fight the man who killed you, and you can’t die again.”

  I’d hoped for a scuffle and it sounded like one ensued, though it made it more difficult to find where everyone was.

  “Jerome!” I yelled as I found my footing and stood.

  He appeared in front of me but not in the ghostly appear-disappear way, but as someone emerging from smoke. He held Gram in his arms. I reached to hold on to one of those arms and we tried to find a way out of the fire. I hoped Gram was still alive, but I also knew that if the smoke was real, she was inhaling toxins that could kill her just as easily as a bullet or burning flames could have. We needed to hurry.

  We moved carefully but purposefully. After a couple wrong turns that took us to the ovens and then another wall, we found the door. I’d never been so relieved to see a door, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to open it. I reached for the handle and turned. And it opened—not quite to the world of my time, but that dark murkiness that I was no longer afraid of, and relieved to see.

  “Betts!”

  I turned to see that Elian was in the building. He was still against a wall and under a modern broken-out window, and he was only about ten feet away; an impossible trip for an injured man but an easy one for me.

  “Take her. I’ll get him and be right behind you,” I said.

  “No! I’ll get him. You take Miz.”

  “You won’t be able to get him without me close by. You need to get Gram out of here. Go.”

  “Isabelle,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine. Go!”

  “Wait!”

  “What?” Now wasn’t the time to wait for anything.

  “Isabelle,” he said more quietly. The world was burning around us, but I suddenly needed to know what he was going to say.

  “What?” I said again.

  “I feel. I feel . . . and I feel for you. I’ll be leaving again as soon as you are safe, but I’ll be back. I don’t know how often or when—not enough for you to wait for me. Live your life, Isabelle. Live happily. Love that fella.”

  “Jerome.”

  And then somehow, as he was holding Gram and the flames from the fire that I wasn’t sure was real approached us, he leaned forward and kissed me. For the second time in one night, I was kissed, and kissed good.

  When he pulled back, he smiled. “There, that was more appropriate than the last one.”

  I smiled, too. “I’m going to stand here for five seconds while you get her to the ground. We’ll talk again. Someday. Go.”

  And, once again, Jerome Cowbender was gone from my life only seconds after making my toes curl.

  “Betts!” Elian yelled.

  For a brief instant, I thought about leaving him there, but I knew I’d never be able to do that.

  I glanced back into the building, into the gloom, the murky, sort of fiery darkness. I couldn’t see much of anything. If there was a threat, I thought I still had a few minutes.

  I hugged the wall and made my way to Elian. When I was close to him, as close as a couple steps, the world changed again, and he and I were not only in the present time, we were about to become engulfed in flames, real ones this time. I now had no doubt that what we were experiencing was one hundred percent real, and deadly.

  Here and now, the fire was hot and painfully smoky. I put one arm up to shield the heat as I grabbed for Elian with the other arm.

  “Come on!” I said.

  But whatever his injuries were, they were debilitating. He could barely stand. I had to lift him and he wasn’t light. As I held him under his arms, I turned to go back the way I’d come, but that path was gone, now fully engulfed in real flames.

  I was about to burn up in a fire with a killer, and I wasn’t happy at all about it, but I didn’t see any other way out.

  “We’re going to die!” Elian exclaimed.

  It would have been nice to have my guardian ghost appear and save us, but it wasn’t happening.

  “Here, Betts, I’m right here,” a voice said from the window.

  Evan had made his way through the opening and was reaching for me. I couldn’t find my voice, could barely find my breath, as I handed him Elian. But he continued to reach for me instead. In only a few seconds, he had me out the window in the arms of Cliff, who’d been behind him and maneuvered me down a ladder. Evan, with Elian, followed closely behind.

  *

  Other than those who’d originally died all those years ago, none of us perished in the fire; the fire that was real or the fire from the past. Yeah, weird and freaky.

  The building was gone though, burned to ashes. It wouldn’t need to be demolished, after all; just swept up and thrown away. Neither Gram nor I knew what would happen to Gent and his family now. Time would hopefully tell.

  Evan and Cliff told me that they knew exactly under which window to place the ladder to find me because some guy in a cowboy getup directed them. They wondered who he was and how they could thank him.

  I was hoping to thank him someday, too.

  Chapter 25

  “So, Cliff and Evan teamed up and acted like they believed my story about finding records about the Cylas family, but then subsequently losing them. They’re so eager to find the truth that they ignored all the holes in my tale. They are taking care of the graves, and they vow to track down where Howard Knapp went after he left Broken Rope,” Jake said.

  “Good work,” I said.

  “I couldn’t believe how the building went up in flames only seconds after you disappeared into it. It was good you told me to call them. I’m really grateful you and Miz got out.”

  Jake had asked for this meeting. It was Sunday, two days after the fires. We were in his archive room, and he’d once again supplied the smoothies.

  “Me, too.” I smiled.

  “Betts, you really . . . well, you solved some mysteries.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”

  “Miz bounced right back, didn’t she?”

  “Yep, she’s strong and no worse for the wear.”

  “Mario was found, and he’s all right?”

  “Yep. They found him on his way back to San Francisco. He’s in trouble, but I don’t know how much. He forged his acceptance letter—did I tell you how he did that?”

  “No.”

  “His father had been accepted to the school three years ago. Mr. Gepetti planned on attending but changed his mind at the last minute. If we’d had the real name, we might have found him in our archived files.”

  “Brilliant, but why did Mario III come here?”

  “Oh. He suspected that Elian was his father’s killer all along. He knew Elian was from the Sanchez Sourdough family and has been trailing him, trying to find a way to prove he was a killer. When he heard that Elian got accepted to the school, he found his father’s old letter. Elian told the police that he only coincidentally had the death camus with him, but I wonder. He’d killed o
nce before and seemed to have gotten away with it. Maybe he was looking for another challenge, as awful as that sounds. Needless to say, Elian was pretty bothered to see Mario here, but he kept quiet about him not really being named Freddie for fear of his own crimes being found out, and at first he didn’t think Mario knew who he was. Elian has been keeping busy away from his home in Wyoming. He never changed his name, but tried to be a little crafty, saying he was from Boston. Shoot, he even made up a wonderfully romantic and adventurous sourdough starter story. Seems Gram and I should have been more suspicious of his application and references than of Mario’s.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “No. His family has a big bakery business up in Wyoming. They were pretty successful in the western United States, but last year they lost a big chunk of their bread business to the Gepetti’s. It was rough, apparently.”

  “So sad,” Jake said.

  I continued, “Elian crashed the wedding reception, just for something to do, and Mario followed him inside. Mario and Elian had some sort of conflict or confrontation and Elian punched him. Oh—Elian had followed us that first night you and I were at the bakery and Mario followed him. I have no idea if Elian saw what you and I were up to. Apparently he became a little mesmerized by the whole story behind the bakery and the demise of the Puff Pockets. When he thought someone might be onto him, he texted Gram to come out to the building. He was going to . . . well, I think he was going to kill her, too—another loose end. Gram never even saw the text. She was there to talk to Gent, but Howard Knapp didn’t want Gram alive, either.”

  “Oh my, I’m glad that building’s gone. Bad juju,” Jake said.

  “Me, too. Anyway, Mario was going to try to find evidence or force Elian to confess, and then—he admitted this—he was going to kill Elian. That was his plan.”

  “Yikes. So, is Mario in trouble for wanting to kill Elian?”

  “Probably some. Plotting to kill’s not good, but he didn’t, in fact, kill anyone, which would have been worse, of course. Cliff will let us in on any new scoop. Or, our resident reporter Brenda will. I saw her briefly yesterday and she was taking more notes.”

  “She, Shelby, and Jules all off the hook?”

  “Yep. The greenery in Jules’s bag was oregano. She wanted to use it this year. I don’t know if Jim truly suspected Shelby of any wrongdoing, but she’s clear, too.”

  “Good.” Jake took a sip of his smoothie as he peered at me over its top. After he swallowed, he said, “And, how are you and Cliff?”

  “Great,” I said.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, Jake, I’m sure. I have a little bit of a Jerome hangover, but I’ll get through it.”

  Jake sighed. “I was afraid of that. Now . . . well, I don’t know if I should . . .”

  “Jake, what?”

  He sighed again. “I hope I don’t regret this.” He scooted off the stool and went to his computer. “You know that camera of mine?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, it turns out that it works just fine, especially when I use a fully charged battery.”

  “How’s that?” I moved behind him and looked at the monitor.

  “When the fire started, I got scared, but there was nothing I could do. When Cliff and Evan and everyone else told me to get out of the way, I don’t know, I just started recording everything. And, I caught this.”

  He clicked the mouse, which started a video.

  In the center of the shot was the boarded-up door to the bakery building. Suddenly, it changed, as if it opened, but it really hadn’t. It just became different; a space framed by red-hot flames.

  And there we were. Jerome, looking real, holding Gram and looking at me. We talked and then, of course, we kissed. The kiss looked even better than it had felt, like something from a movie. I was surprised Jake hadn’t added a soundtrack.

  “He’s a handsome guy, Betts. I get why you’re attracted to him, but . . .”

  I couldn’t speak so I just blinked.

  “But,” he continued, “that’s more than just a simple attraction. I’m sorry I’ve teased you about him. I think I get it now.”

  I found my voice. “He’s gone, Jake. And, I’m crazy about Cliff. There’s no question there, I promise.”

  “I know. And Cliff is here, right across the street actually. He’ll never see this, by the way, but I made you your own copy.” He handed me a thumb drive. “Look, Betts, I’m here if you need to talk, always. You know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded and my phone buzzed.

  I cleared my throat. “Hi, Gram,” I said as I answered.

  “Betts Winston, I need you at the school.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, we just need to rethink this whole year again. I think we need to ditch bread for the time being and move on to something so fun it’ll distract everyone from all the bad stuff. Probably desserts, but I could use your input. You busy?”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I hung up the call.

  “Miz?” Jake said.

  “Yep, work is calling.”

  “Take the smoothie, too.”

  I smiled and put the thumb drive in my pocket before I reached for the smoothie.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said.

  “You will. And, unlike poor me, you’ll probably see more ghosts, too.”

  I laughed.

  “Love you, Betts Winston,” Jake said.

  “You, too, Jake Swanson.”

  I drove the Nova toward Gram and the cooking school. It would be wonderful to get back on track, back to a regular school year pace. Bread, desserts, it didn’t matter to me. No matter what she wanted to teach, I’d be there, right beside her, and doing my best to keep up.

  Epilogue

  Fall transitioned easily into winter and the fourteen remaining cooking school students flourished. Particularly Brenda. In fact, she and I became good friends.

  *

  The memorial service took place on a cold but sunny day in January. The Cylas family was buried in our cemetery. Gent, Ellen, and Jennie were moved from the woods and Homer was moved from Mr. Knapp’s plot. We—all the students, Cliff, Jim, Jake, Gram, and I—gathered around the new graves to celebrate their lives, and the memories that we would all now carry with us forever. Gent surprised Gram and me by showing up, too. He stood in between us, and as Jake spoke to the group perfect words about his family, Gent told us that he, his father, his mother, and his sister had, indeed, been able to fight back during the fire. And, they’d fought hard. He couldn’t give us details, but he smiled happily as he told us that his family was finally able to move on. He thanked us, told Gram how much he’d always cherish their friendship, and disappeared. Probably for the last time, but we couldn’t be sure.

  “Did you see?” I whispered to Gram. “He had shoes on.”

  Her eyes were filled with tears but she nodded and said, “I did, my dear, I did.”

  *

  Later that day we received word that Mary Silk had passed away that morning. She’d been so certain that her time to leave this earth was near, and somehow we thought she’d probably picked just the right day.

  Recipes

  GRAM’S INSTANT MIRACLE ROLLS

  Gram calls these her instant rolls because the dough can be stored covered in the refrigerator for several days and used as needed. It seems she always has some of the dough in her fridge. You just never know when you’ll need some homemade rolls.

  3 1/4 ounce packages dry yeast 1/2 cup warm water 5 cups unsifted, self-rising flour 1/4 cup sugar 1 teaspoon baking soda

  1 cup vegetable shortening 2 cups lukewarm buttermilk Dissolve the yeast in warm water and set aside. In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, and baking soda. Cut in the shortening. Add the buttermilk and yeast, mixing well. Cover the dough and chill for two hours. Place the dough on a floured cloth, roll out, and cut with a biscuit cutter. Set aside until the dough reaches room temperature. Bake in a preheated 325°F oven
for 10–15 minutes. If desired, brush with melted butter before baking.

  Yield: 36 rolls.

  GRANNY SEBASTIAN’S

  BREAD PUDDING

  Simply, seriously yummy.

  2 cups whole milk

  1/4 cup butter 2⁄3 cup brown sugar (light or dark, you choose) 3 eggs

  2 teaspoons cinnamon

  1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  3 cups bread, torn into small pieces (a harder bread works best—French, sourdough, even Brioche if you have that around; I use about 20 percent crust and about 80 percent bread innards, and tearing is important—do not cut into pieces.) 1⁄8 to 1/4 (your taste preference) cup miniature semi-sweet chocolate chips (optional) 1/2 pint unwhipped whipping cream (this might be the most important ingredient of the recipe, according to Granny Sebastian) In a medium saucepan over medium heat, heat the milk for 5–8 minutes, until a film forms over top. Combine the butter and milk, stirring until the butter is melted (5–7 minutes).

  In a separate bowl, combine the sugar, eggs, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer at medium speed for 1 minute. Slowly add the milk mixture, stirring with a spoon.

  Place bread in lightly greased 1 1/2 quart casserole, sprinkle with chocolate chips if desired, and pour batter over bread.

  Bake at 350°F for 45–50 minutes. Serve warm, either on top of a couple tablespoons of the whipping cream or with the whipping cream poured over the top of the pudding.

  Yield: 9 small servings or 6 bigger servings.

  BETTS’S BEST BANANA BREAD

  Betts has been making this for years. Even Gram admits it’s the best banana bread she’s ever tasted.

  1 cup sugar

  1⁄3 cup margarine or butter, softened 2 eggs

  1 1/2 cups mashed ripe bananas (3–4 medium—Betts uses really ripe bananas) 1⁄3 cup water 1 2⁄3 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking soda