A Holland Kiss

by Dawn Michelle

  Like the water tower, some of the world’s largest things serve dual purposes. The Longaberger Basket company’s home office, for instance. Newark, Ohio’s seven-story office building is modeled after a basket.

  As another perfect example of 20th-century Americana, our world’s largest was a successful attempt to draw tourists. But that was then, and a lot has changed. People don’t visit Dutch and Tulip anymore. It’s not like people plan vacations around them. If we’re lucky, we get a handful of visitors a year.

  Assessing Dutch’s damage now, I could see that Jay and Jonas were right. The crack wasn’t visible since it was covered, but it looked like it went straight down the middle of Dutch’s ass.

  Wonderful. I can already hear the jokes.

  Putting my hands on his large clogs, I looked up at Dutch’s face. He was so handsome and his lips were all puckered up, ready for that long-awaited kiss. Tears burned my eyes as I thought of all the times I’d come here as a child.

  “Poor Dutch.” I know it’s stupid, but I always talk to Dutch and Tulip. Always. They’re magical and really good listeners. “Don’t you worry, old boy. We’ll get you all fixed up. In the meantime, you have Tulip looking out for you.” I actually felt better just saying the words aloud.

  We’d gotten lucky last night, the only casualty being Dutch’s ass, but overall it was going to be fine. We’d fix Dutch – and maybe give Tulip a makeover as well. This could be just the kick in the butt we needed.

  I would not be adding this to my con list.

  Chapter 3

  “It’s Lily! I knew she’d come to check on us.” Tulip knew all the people of Holland. It was her job, after all, and Lily was one of her favorites. “You do remember her, don’t you, Dutch?”

  If he could have, Dutch would have rolled his big blue eyes at her question. “Of course, I remember her. You worried yourself sick over that little girl for days – and that was 16 years ago.”

  “Well, that awful boy gave her a black eye. It was scandalous!” Tulip had watched in horror as Jay Heimerschmitt hit a baseball, perfectly innocent, mind you, since the kids were playing baseball. Until the ball connected with seven-year-old Lily’s eye.

  “It was an accident, dear. I hardly think Jay meant to hurt her.” Since Dutch was facing Tulip, he hadn’t seen the crime committed, but in Tulip’s eyes it had been dreadfully awful. “He did say he was sorry and walked her home.”

  “Oh I know, but still…. Besides, I think she had a crush on him,” Tulip said knowingly. She may not have liked the boy, but he did resemble her Dutch. And who could resist a good- looking catch like that?

  “Well if that’s true, then I’m sure she didn’t mind one bit.”

  Tulip doubted that. Lily had cried terribly. The next day, while Lily was walking with her mother, Tulip had seen the little girl’s black eye and had wanted to throw something at the young man responsible.

  “I bet he kissed her and made it all better. We could do the same.” That would make his butt feel better.

  Dutch tried again to lean in closer to Tulip, but the inches separating their mouths refused to be spanned. But he wouldn’t give up on his dream.

  One day he was going to kiss his girl.

  ~~~~~

  I’d done my usual school work over break – lesson planning, grading, etc. I’d even gone into school once, spending the day redecorating my classroom for spring. Dutch and Tulip graced one bulletin board and a countdown until school was out was on the other.

  One day, Kelly and I went shopping. Kelly had been dying to check out the new organic grocery store in Evansville. Since she’s so picky about free range this and organic that, going out to eat with Kelly is difficult, so we’d eaten a lunch, she’d packed, while sitting in her car, while I stared longingly at the mall knowing the food court was just steps away.

  She’s constantly on me about my eating habits, although I don’t know why. I eat healthy, but to Kelly that’s just not good enough. My fruits and vegetables aren’t organic, so I may as well not even bother. She refuses most lotions, sunscreens and makeup for the same reason. Says the chemicals used in them leach into our blood stream, likely the blame for the rise in all types of cancers.

  And recycling. Kelly reuses or recycles everything. Except plastic, but only because she doesn’t buy anything that would come in such damnable packaging. I admire Kelly and her fight to save the environment, but sometimes I’m lazy and throw my cardboard toilet paper roll away instead of recycling it. I always check my trash before Kelly comes over, in case she decides to spot check it.

  Now it was the dreaded first day back after Spring Break. The best of times, the worst of times. The best because school is almost out for the summer; the worst for the same reason.

  The kids are a mess. Their sleep habits are out of whack and, since the weather’s getting nice, all they want is to play outside. Truly, it’s a nightmare. I propose we skip it and let school out a week early. But this year I was actually glad for the break. It gave us time to clean up from the storm. By now, the town looked pretty much back to normal, albeit with a few less trees and me with a brand new roof.

  I dressed in my standard school attire – khakis I’d found on the clearance rack at The Loft and a polo shirt. No, we don’t have uniforms, but working with little kids, one doesn’t want to get too fancy. I spend half my days cleaning up messes or sitting on the floor, so I have every kind of khaki known to man, Gap being my preferred brand. Although I love JCrew, I don’t prefer their prices.

  After fixing my hair, I was ready to go. My hair, long and naturally wavy, doesn’t require any effort on my part. It’s my only real asset. At 5’4”, I’m just the average girl next door.

  By the way, the average height for a man is 5’10”. Just another reason Jay is out of my league. He exceeds our national standards.

  The morning went as expected. My students were full of piss and vinegar. All they wanted to do was talk about what they did over break or their experiences during the storm. I didn’t have the energy to keep them on track.

  We’d never even made it to the track.

  Knowing some of the kids had been frightened by the storm, I figured it was good therapy to talk about it. All part and parcel of what is known as being a teacher. Sometimes I’m a child psychologist as well. Like Superman, I have more than one identity. Nurse, disciplinarian, friend, therapist, all roles I play in the course of one school day.

  Each student wrote a paragraph, a term most second graders haven’t grasped yet, and drew a picture. I put them, even the less-than-stellar ones, on the Dutch and Tulip board. Taking inspiration from the kissing couple, many students drew them. Some were actually quite good – really capturing the essence of our town’s mascots.

  Austin made a point of drawing Dutch with a huge crack down his ass; the entire class thought that was a hoot.

  I, however, hated it.

  Poor Dutch. I’d gone to the park several times over break and volunteered with the cleanup. Every time I looked at Dutch and his butt, I wanted to cry. And Tulip. She must be so worried about her Dutch love.

  When the bell rang for lunch, I grabbed my Hello Kitty lunch box. Yeah, I carry a Hello Kitty lunch box. See, that’s the great thing about being an elementary teacher. I can get away with that and no one can say a word. I bet you wish you had a cute lunch box, but you probably have a very respectable, adult-looking one to carry your lunch in.

  Let me let you in on a little secret: bologna and cheese taste better when carried in a Hello Kitty lunch box. Last year, I chose the Disney Princesses to carry my lunch. It had been a tough choice to make. SpongeBob almost won out.

  In the lounge, other teachers were already seated and complaining about what all teachers complain about. Students. Don’t get me wrong, we love our job or we wouldn’t do it. But like I said, this time of year is tough all around.

  Dana and Kara, the two kindergarten teachers, were discussing the storm when I sat down. Opening my lunch, I qui
ckly joined the conversation.

  Later, I was sorry I had. My day went on a downward spiral after that.

  “No, I’m serious. I heard the council is thinking about selling them. Insurance is expensive and, honestly, they don’t look so good anymore. Plus Dutch is now damaged.” Dana’s neighbor is on the council. She always knew what was going on.

  Nearly choking on my CheezIt, I swallowed and tried to absorb what I’d just heard. “What? Surely they wouldn’t get rid of them.” Right?

  Dana and Kara just looked at me and shrugged. We were friends, so they knew of my plans to marry under Dutch and Tulip.

  “What else did you hear?” I needed to know more. My heart was racing and I had to take a deep breath before continuing. “The council can’t just take them away.”

  Kara, who lives in nearby Huntingburg, didn’t seem concerned. “Well, they do look kind of ratty. If they can’t afford to fix them, what do you expect them to do?”

  I’ll tell you what I expect! I expect someone to find a way to make things right, that’s what I expect. But I answered, “I don’t know, but they can’t just take them away without some kind of vote. Right?” Like I knew the first thing about politics.

  “If you’re really interested, you should go to the meeting tomorrow night,” Dana said.

  The first Tuesday of each month, the town council meets. Not sure what they do exactly, Holland only has 636 residents, but I knew I’d be at that meeting.

  ~~~~~

  The rest of the day seemed to drag on, and by Tuesday evening I was a mess. Get rid of Dutch and Tulip? Was that even possible? They were landmarks. Famous. Holland wouldn’t be Holland without Dutch and Tulip. My nerves were on edge and everyone around me shared in my frustration, but only because they had to deal with my mood. The meeting couldn’t arrive soon enough for me.

  I live exactly two blocks from what I guess you’d call the Town Hall. The sign above the door proclaimed it as such, but it’s really just an old garage that had been fixed up and houses the town’s snow removal equipment.

  I knew I’d be welcome at the meeting. It’s not like we’re overly formal here or anything. As a teacher and lifelong resident of Holland, they wouldn’t mind me sitting in. The council consists of five members, six if you count Faye’s husband Walt; I guess we get two for the price of one. The meetings, I’d learned from Dana, usually start at 6:30, that is, if all the crops are in or it isn’t deer season. During those times, the council dwindles to three members.

  I arrived at 6:15, just to be safe. All the members were present, except for Gloria Lardner, who owns Tulip’s Flower Haus. I made my greetings, told them why I was there and was invited to take a seat around the table. Like a kid sneaking a place at the adult table on Thanksgiving, I felt nine years old.

  Gloria’s absence wasn’t a pressing concern, because after Rev. Koeln’s opening prayer, they started the meeting without her. Like I said, informal. For the next half hour, I sat uncomfortably on a metal folding chair, half listening as they discussed this and that. A road that needed repaving, an ordinance on dogs running loose in town. That kind of thing.

  Finally, Gloria entered with a flourish and cookies. Gloria makes the best sugar cookies, so we spent the next few minutes oohing, aahing and eating.

  “Lily! Nice to see you. How’s your mom?” Gloria and Mom quilt together.

  “Great. She’s got a new quilt ready to put in the frame.” They’re always trying to get me to join them, but I just can’t do it. It’s boring, even with my iPod. Just because I can sew doesn’t mean I want to spend hours with a needle and thread making hundreds of tiny stitches. And let me tell you, my Mom counts each one.

  When I was little, I wanted to take piano lessons, but we didn’t have a piano. What we did have, however, was a sewing machine. Instead, I took sewing lessons. I know. Believe me, I was less than thrilled at the time, but when I made Mom an apron with a towel sewn into the side, the look on her face was priceless.

  Now I’m glad I can sew. I don’t do it very often, only if I need new curtains or a Halloween costume. And of course, when Mom guilts me into sewing together a quilt.

  After Gloria settled into her own metal chair, we finally got down to why I was there.

  Glen Moller, town council president, began by giving an overview of what damage the town was responsible for. “Then there’s the matter of Dutch and Tulip,” he said with distaste. “In the past, we’ve discussed the idea of selling the statues. Now with the damage, I think the time is right.”

  The bastard! He’d already made up his mind.

  Clearing my throat, all eyes focused on me. “You mean you’ve actually talked about getting rid of Dutch and Tulip before?” Shouldn’t people know this? Shouldn’t I know this?

  “Yes, Lily.” As if I were a child. “Insurance is expensive and tourists don’t come to see them like they did at one time. It’s not fiscally responsible to maintain them any longer.” Looking directly at me, Glen continued, “We’ve been approached by a company form the Netherlands. They want to purchase the statues.”

  Screw that! That company can just build their own kissing couple. They should have thought about that before. They really are Dutch, after all. “You can’t just get rid of them!” I was getting upset now. The tears that always show up when I’m mad were threatening to overflow, but I had to remain calm if I wanted to be taken seriously. “The people of Holland should know about this. Let them decide.”

  Tiny Brockmeyer, who isn’t tiny or fat, said, “We’d have to vote on it, but I think Lily is right. The town needs to know about this.”

  “I second that motion.” Yeah, so I wasn’t on the council, but it sounded good, until Glen looked at me like I was a talking pig. I shut up then.

  “I second the motion.” Thank you, Faye Hahxley! I knew Faye’s parents had been married under Dutch and Tulip; maybe she felt some special bond with them. “Let’s ask around town. See what people have to say and talk about it at the next meeting.”

  Her suggestion sounded great to me, but we couldn’t wait another month. “We have to do something in the meantime or Dutch’s damage could get worse.” See. I sound very professional. Maybe I’ll run for town council.

  Glen glared at me. I knew he was wishing I’d keep my mouth shut. In my mind, I stuck my tongue out at him. Not very mature, but I felt better.

  “Fine. We’ll have a special meeting in one week.”

  Faye, bless her heart, patted my hand. “It would be a shame to lose Dutch and Tulip.” That’s all she said.

  “I think I’ll head over to the Shoe for a drink.” With that statement, the meeting was over and Glen was gone.

  I knew better, though. He was going to railroad Dutch and Tulip to anyone who would listen. I had no choice but to go as well. Probably not my best decision since it was a school night and people always know what’s happening in town. Parents don’t like the idea of their children’s teachers sitting in a bar on any night, but especially not a school night.

  Directly across the street from town hall is the American Legion or, as it’s better known, The Wooden Shoe. The Shoe is in the basement of the Legion. With its wood-paneled walls and horseshoe-shaped bar, it smells like chicken grease and cigarette smoke. One-half is used for family dining, where most of the town can be found on Friday and Saturday nights. Kids playing pool or feeding the jukebox quarters. The dart board is hung dangerously by the side door, so anyone entering has to be careful of someone’s poor aim.

  Food is served on mismatched dishes, some are antiques that I’d love to get my hands one, and they serve the best custard pie. The upstairs sits empty unless the Kiwanis are meeting or someone rents it out for a private party.

  I was good and didn’t drink anything but iced tea. Honestly, I rarely drink and after Ruth and I had imbibed – I like that word; it sounds so much better than “I got tanked.” I knew my body couldn’t handle it again so soon.

  Glen did exactly as I thought he would. He s
pouted off about how old Dutch and Tulip were and how Holland could use the money for improvements. He made crude jokes about the crack in Dutch’s ass, which garnered him a round of laughter and several hearty slaps on the back.

  A good old boy through and through, that’s Glen. Everyone likes him. I did. Until tonight, anyway. He’s civic-minded, goes to church regularly and helps his neighbors. What’s not to like? He’s a plant manager at one of the furniture factories in Huntingburg. He makes good money and provides well for his family.

  Yada. Yada. Yada! Whatever! A good old boy wouldn’t want to get rid of Dutch and Tulip.

  I can’t understand why he’s so against them. Everyone loves Dutch and Tulip.

  Glen has a way with people, though. His easy-going nature wins people over, especially when they’d had a drink or two. By the end of the night, I was truly worried about the future of the wedding I’d been planning since I was nine, when I’d first read At the Park with Dutch and Tulip.

  At the Park is a children’s book written by a town resident, just after the kissing couple arrived and it was printed, not really published, right here in Holland. It’s the tale of a group of children who play at the park, where Dutch and Tulip secretly come to life and have adventures with them. I love the story and its ’50s-era illustrations. Everyone in town has a copy.

  I have four.

  From that moment forward, I knew I’d marry under Dutch and Tulip someday. The only thing missing now is my groom.

  Chapter 4

  “Aren’t we in Holland? I don’t understand what they mean.” Tulip was bewildered. More than one Holland? How was that possible? “We can’t go to Holland if we’re already here. Can we?”

  “I believe there must be other Hollands.” Dutch, too, was confused, but was trying hard to hide it from Tulip. He needed to be strong for her sake.

  “But I don’t want to go to any other Holland. This is our home.” They’d lived here their whole lives. They’d married here. Why did they have to leave?

  “It’ll be fine, flower. We’re not going anywhere.” Dutch hoped.

  “Oh Dutch! What if we get lost?” Tulip was close to tears, thunder rumbling in the sky.