A Holland Kiss

by Dawn Michelle

  Argh! She’d probably be their daughter-in-law soon.

  Curses on Britni and her misspelled name. This was my night. Well, it was really Dutch and Tulip’s, but still. Britni was raining on my parade.

  A parade? Hey! That’s exactly what we needed for next year. It would end at the park, with all the floats and the high school marching band passing under Dutch and Tulip. That would be the perfect way to celebrate their restoration. Or better yet, a couple could get married under them, jumpstarting the tradition again.

  I left the impromptu party soon after that and got to work brainstorming. My mind was suddenly overflowing with ideas and ways to make this work. Mrs. Deiser was a perfect example of how generous people could be and how Holland did have its share of wealthy families.

  Whether it’s the German upbringing or the small town values, people here don’t spend their money, at least not the older generation. Holland is home to several millionaires, but you’d never know it by the way they dress, the homes they live in or the cars they drive.

  This is likely why they’re wealthy and I’m not. It’s not my fault that I want a nice vehicle to drive. Credit cards and me had a nasty history, this also is not my fault. I couldn’t very well help the fact that there had been a mall so close to my college campus.

  Somehow I had to get people to loosen the purse strings. Hmmm? Some kind of incentive maybe? So much to think about. So much to do.

  When I went to bed that night, I could hear people still celebrating at the Shoe.

  ~~~~~

  The next day at school, everyone continued to congratulate me, offering their help and ideas. Problem was I didn’t know where to go from here. I had a check, but since I hadn’t known who to tell Mrs. Deiser to make it out to, she had left that part blank.

  That was pretty trusting on her part, but then again, she’d been my Girl Scout leader. I’d earned a badge in trust. Besides people did stuff like that. It’s not like I was gonna run off with the money.

  Principal Kyser offered the use of the gym if I needed it for any reason. He didn’t even suggest sending me home either. In fact, he was eager to discuss Dutch and Tulip. The earlier chipmunk incident seemed all but forgotten.

  After school, still nervous about the check, I called Dad. When he’d called last night for an update, our conversation had been one of winning, but now there was real work to be done.

  “What do I do now Dad?” Trustworthy as I was, I didn’t like having that much money in my hands.

  “Go to the bank and open an account. Put that check in it immediately and for God’s sake, start keeping a ledger and document everything. And I do mean everything. I know Holland is a small town, where everyone trusts everyone, but money can make even good people do bad things.” I rolled my eyes at that one. “What do you have in mind for raising the rest of the money?” Dad was all business now.

  That was the key problem, wasn’t it? Holland was forever having little fundraisers, usually within the many churches, for this or that. New carpeting for a church, a family in need, new fire department equipment, but those were always smaller amounts.

  I needed serious money. After calling the restoration company and scheduling a visit, they gave me a rough estimate. I needed $70,000. This was if I was lucky and the preservation foundation approved my application. If not, I was going to need $155,000.

  Maybe I should run off with the money. Fly to Vegas and hope to win big at the craps table. My poker face stinks, so I knew that was out.

  Kidding, I’m kidding. I would never do that.

  What kind of person do you think I am?

  Chapter 8

  “We get to stay in Holland!” Tulip was so happy she couldn’t stop smiling. The sun was shining brightly and birds were singing a happy tune.

  “That’s right, flower. I told you Holland wouldn’t get send us away.” Dutch was relieved. His Tulip had worried so much that her tears had fallen for days. “We should celebrate with a Holland Kiss.”

  “Oh yes! I’ve always wanted one of those.” People always came to the park for a kiss. Dutch and Tulip had watched as hundreds of couples had kissed under them. A Holland Kiss they’d heard it called. “But what would we kiss under?”

  Tulip remembered the first Holland kiss. It was just after they arrived in Holland. There was a big party and someone had what they called a Kissing Stand. Couples had paid to kiss under them, getting their pictures taken. But Tulip didn’t understand why kisses had to be bought with money. Wasn’t that what flowers were for?

  “I don’t know. I think we’re the biggest things in town.” Frantically, Dutch tried to recall if he’d ever heard mention of anything in Holland big enough for them to stand under. “I’ve got it! The water tower!” Although he’d never seen it with his own eyes, Dutch knew that he and Tulip’s image was painted on it.

  “Silly. Who kisses under a water tower?” That wasn’t very romantic.

  ~~~~~

  The last five weeks of school were a complete blur. So much happened in such a short amount of time, I could hardly keep up.

  The town council, Jay and I formed a committee to oversee the fundraising and plan next year’s celebration. The plan was simple. We’d reveal the newly restored Dutch and Tulip at the Fourth of July picnic. This would coincide with Holland’s 150th anniversary and Dutch and Tulip’s 50th year. The timing couldn’t have been better. I wanted to call it a birthday party, but got voted down.

  We sent letters to everyone in town and to all the businesses in Dubois County requesting donations. All five churches made donations and, as promised, Jay made an awesome windmill- shaped gauge to show our progress. It was placed next to the real windmill, which was now opened as a souvenir shop.

  Glen, Jay, Jonas, Kelly and I spent several days cleaning it up. The senior citizens group had volunteered their services and were manning it. They hawked Dutch and Tulip merchandise to anyone who stopped by.

  And people were stopping by. Both county newspapers did nice little articles about Dutch and Tulip and the radio stations had interviewed me and Jay about our fundraising efforts. All the free press was great.

  The response was overwhelming. Not only were local people stopping by, but travelers were coming off the interstate as well. I was even asked to write a weekly update for the newspaper. “Tulip Times” they called it. I wanted to write it from the perspective of Dutch and Tulip, but the committee thought that was a silly idea and I got voted down. Again.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” said Jay, who had voted in favor of my idea.

  I’m a teacher not a writer, so I didn’t feel very confident in my abilities, but it’s not like they don’t have editors for that kind of thing. I hope, anyway.

  There was a downside to all this. I was spending way too much time around Jay. Raising the money had become a team effort, which was great for Dutch, Tulip and my wedding, but my childhood crush was turning into an adult obsession.

  Jay became a real part of my everyday life, not just my imagination. I found myself laughing with him as we worked side by side. This, too, would have been great if it hadn’t been for Britni. When Jay had dropped off the windmill gauge, so Kelly could paint it, Britni had been with him. Bringing reality and destroying the perfectly good fantasies I’d created for us.

  The windmill gauge was set up in $5,000 increments and by mid-June we’d raised half the money needed. What local businesses didn’t immediately contribute, I sent another letter reminding them and letting them know which businesses had donated. In turn, they saw the error of their ways and made donations.

  The PTO gave money, but it was used for the purchase of items sold in the windmill. Postcards, coffee mugs and magnets were the only trinkets our budget could handle and sold out quickly, affording us the opportunity to broaden our horizons with reusable shopping bags. This was, of course, Kelly’s idea.

  Windmill Works donated t-shirts. These were so much better than mine had been. Dutch and Tulip were proudly displ
ayed in color. At just $14.00, everyone in town had one.

  The restoration company and preservation group made visits. Jay met with the restorers to discuss boring construction stuff, so I entertained and wowed the preservation group. But they weren’t wowed with me. When they left, I felt personally responsible not only for the damage to Dutch, but also for the years of wear and tear the couple had endured.

  “Most of this could have been prevented. If only you would have maintained them properly,” said the head of the preservation group, looking directly at me, blame in her eyes.

  Hello? I wasn’t even born when Dutch and Tulip were built. And wasn’t I doing everything I could now to right that wrong? In the end, her attitude toward me didn’t matter. The application was accepted and all seemed to be moving along.

  Dutch and Tulip even got their own Facebook page and blog. Every few days one of the committee members, usually me, would update the blog. People could also donate via the page, which was soon being added to as people shared their stories, pictures and memories.

  It was my hope that we’d exceed our goal and be able to fix up the windmill as well. It was in sore need of more than just a good cleaning. It needed a new roof, wood railing for the second story and a new door. That’s how I came up with the idea of commemorating donors.

  Bricks engraved with the donor’s name and gift level would pave a walkway to the windmill and around Dutch and Tulip. The highest level was a windmill, $5,000; a wooden shoe, $1,000; and anything below that would be a tulip. Not the real Tulip, but the flower.

  Mom and Dad both made generous donations. Mom actually did two. One in her name and the other in memory of my grandparents. Bill and Tootsie made one for each of their children and Ruth one for her late husband.

  I was waiting until closer to the deadline to make my donation. I needed to see how much money we would need, but Kelly surprised me on my birthday with one in my name. She also informed me that, at 25, I was a quarter of a century old now. That made me feel so much better about my life.

  We were hoping to do a brick for each couple who had married under Dutch and Tulip as well. Their brick would be free and include silhouettes of Dutch and Tulip along with their wedding date.

  All in all, things were going well. And with school out, I thought I’d have the summer to focus my attentions on Dutch and Tulip, but I was wrong. Since I knew I needed every penny I could get my hands on, I found myself director of Park and Recreation. My paycheck was direct deposited straight into Dutch and Tulip’s account.

  Park and Rec, as it’s known, is a summer program for the kids of Holland. From 8:00AM until 12:00PM, for three days a week, I continued to knowingly use the children of Holland. It sounds bad when said like that, but that’s what I did.

  We’d spend the summer doing the usual “keep kids out of trouble” things. Only this summer Park and Rec had a theme.

  Three guesses and the first two don’t count.

  Wow. You’re really good. That’s right. Dutch and Tulip.

  We swam, took nature walks, cleaning the park as we went, painted all the 55-gallon drums used as trash cans with Dutch and Tulip themes. The kids loved that. Several high school students were helping as part of their senior service projects. Luckily, one of them could draw, so all the kids had to do was attempt to stay in the lines. The trash cans turned out great.

  My favorite was the one of Dutch and Tulip actually kissing. I had Jay place it by the windmill.

  We did some amateur landscaping around the windmill. Gloria was kind enough to donate the plants and the usual circuit of speakers entertained and educated the kids. A magician, storyteller, a re-enactor from Lincoln Park and Santa himself stopped by.

  Kelly also gave a very informative lecture on the value of eating healthy, while at the same time giving a basic first-aid course. The kids liked the latter, the former? Well, let’s just say her snacks were not well received.

  But my favorite was when Jay came and spoke to the kids.

  I’ll state for the record right now that I do not like snakes, but Jay does. He’s Holland’s unofficial snake guy. It sounds creepy, but he’s really quite knowledgeable. The kids, even the girls, ate it up. Probably because Jay truly likes kids and it shows. He’s not fake or stiff with them.

  The fact that Jay is gorgeous helps as well. Kids really do notice that sort of thing.

  From the information I’d collected about Jay over the years, I knew he had several snakes. I remember once his mom telling mine how she’d let him put one in her terrarium, but somehow it got loose.

  Can you imagine having a chicken snake loose in your house? Me neither. I don’t know if they ever found it. For all I know, it’s still slithering around his parents’ home.

  I was surprised at the variety of snakes he showed up with. An Albino Burmese Python, chicken, garter, black snake. Okay, so I quit trying to keep up, got past my squeamishness and enjoyed watching Jay with the kids.

  He was so patient. Answering all their questions, letting them hold the smaller snakes, getting his picture taken. I was dying to get my picture taken, but thought that might seem strange. I’d frame the photo and place it next to my bed so the last image I saw at night would be of Jay’s handsome face, blue eyes and dazzling smile. This would ensure pleasant dreams every night.

  The shelter house was wide open, a slight breeze attempting to make the temperature more bearable. We’d swum earlier, so I was wearing my bathing suit under a tank top and cut off jean shorts. Hair in a ponytail, I could feel sweat running down my neck.

  Here, Lily, you hold one.” Jay was watching me, something he rarely does when talking to me.

  “That’s okay. I’ll pass.” As if I’d hold a snake.

  “No really. Show the kids how brave you are. Come on kids. Don’t you want to see Lily hold a snake? I promise it won’t bite.” Like the chipmunk, I wondered.

  After all the kids got in on the “do it, Lily, do it” act. I did it. But I swear Jay handed me an electric eel instead of a snake. Our hands brushed and I suddenly felt even hotter, if that was possible.

  Jay was wearing camo cargo shorts and a red tank top that really accentuated his muscled arms. His blonde hair was much lighter now, probably from working out in the sun most days. I hope he wears sunscreen. I noticed his ears looked a touch pink.

  “Do you name your snakes?” Asked Kelsey, a very brave seven-year old.

  “Of course. Jay smiled and winked at me. Must be related to Jonas. “The one Lily’s holding now is actually named Lily.”

  I almost dropped my namesake. “What? What kind of name is that for a snake?” I asked, revolted.

  “Mr. Schon called me from school several months ago. He’d found a snake in the bathroom and wanted me to come get it. Since you’re a teacher there, I knew it was the perfect name.” Jay continued to smile, looking quite satisfied with himself.

  Wow. I guess I really rated in Jay’s eyes. He’d named a serpent after me.

  “I suggest we rename it. What do you think kids?” For the next half hour, the naming process was taken with all seriousness. Finally the kids decided on Raider, which is the school mascot. All the kids took turns holding Raider and, before I knew it, it was noon, time to send all the kids on their merry snaking-loving way.

  Jay was packing up his slippery friends and I wondered if he had one named after Britni. “That was great. The kids really loved it.” Using antibacterial wash on my hands, can’t you get some kind of disease from snakes? Like salmonella or something?

  “No problem. I enjoy working with the kids and showing them how snakes aren’t all bad.” Jay said.

  “What are you like the Snake Whisperer of Holland? Are all these actually yours?” I was trying to imagine where he kept them. Surely not in his house. How could you sleep at night, knowing there were dozens of snakes just waiting for you to fall asleep so they could crawl in bed and kill you?

  “I guess. You wouldn’t believe the calls I get. Is this a wat
er moccasin? Is this a copperhead? People love thinking they’ve come across something deadly, but then they want me to come and get it.” Shaking his head, the smile never leaving his face. “And no, they’re not all mine. Since you called, I’ve been on the lookout. I’ll let most of them go now.”

  To snake heaven, I hope. Or would that be hell?

  “You should take my snake.” Jay’s face immediately got red as his shirt. “I mean, do you want to keep Raider? He’d make a great classroom pet.”

  Still trying to get past the mental image of Jay and a different kind of snake, I shook my head. “No thank you. Mom would end poor Raider’s life in a heartbeat. She hates snakes.” Mom’s preferred method of killing is a garden hoe.

  We talked for a few more minutes, mostly about Dutch and Tulip until Katy Perry’s Firework started playing from his cell phone. “Well I gottta go, that’s Britni calling. We’re having lunch.” He looked uncomfortable telling me this or maybe he was embarrassed by the ringtone, but I don’t know why. I like Katy Perry.

  “See you at the next meeting,” he said, and with that he was gone. Taking my snake fantasies with him.

  Ack! I wanted to be sick. Britni gets a special ringtone and I get a snake named after me.

  Chapter 9

  “Why does it have to be so loud?” Tulip loved the pretty sparkles in the night sky, but the sound hurt her ears.

  Dutch, however, loved the explosions. “They have to do that, flower. Or else you wouldn’t get your pretties.” This was Dutch’s favorite day of the year. Not only were there fireworks, but it was the day he’d met his love. From the moment Dutch had laid eyes on Tulip, he’d known she was the one.

  “Do you know what today is?”

  “Of course I do, silly. It’s our anniversary.” Forty-nine years and still in love, Tulip looked at Dutch and smiled. She had quite the adoring husband.

  “That’s right. I got you something.” What Dutch really wanted to give Tulip was her bouquet, but he hadn’t figured that one out yet.

  “A present! For me?” Tulip loved gifts, or thought she did. “What is it?”

  “A kiss,” Dutch said, smiling brightly.