Inescapable (9 page)

She laughed. “I'm makin' some grilled cheese sandwiches and heatin' up some chicken noodle soup that's in the refrigerator. Not much work to that. I'll be back in a flash.”

I gave up and stayed where I was. Sitting down for a while felt good. Within fifteen minutes, we were eating gooey, buttery, grilled cheese sandwiches. Cora's chicken noodle soup was the best I'd ever had. Much better than the soup from a can Charity was used to. She kept telling Cora how much she loved it. I was pleased that she enjoyed it, but I also felt a little guilty about not making more meals from scratch for my daughter. Of course, I'd been working a full-time job, studying for my degree, and taking care of Charity without the help of a husband. At the time I believed I had good reasons to cut a few corners, but in the end, the sacrifices I'd made hadn't paid off. My job was gone, and I had no way to continue my studies. It had all been for nothing.

Cora left around eight o'clock, and Charity and I went upstairs. We sat on the floor and played games for about an hour, and then I put her to bed in her new room. Her toy box was there, along with a beautiful rug and an incredible quilt that Cora had insisted we hang on the wall. A snowman stood in the middle, its stick arms held out to its sides, and a colorful scarf wrapped around its neck. Cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows on top decorated the corners. More marshmallows lined the quilt borders. A big black hat sat on the ground next to the snowman, and next to the hat was a carrot and lumps of coal. It was as if he wasn't quite finished yet. The whimsical quilt had been crafted by Hope Kauffman, and Charity fell in love with it at first sight. “Look, Mama,” she said dreamily, “it makes me want hot chocolate with marshmallows.”

I kissed her on the nose. “Me too. If you can stay awake a little bit longer, maybe I can make some.”

Her dark eyes grew wide. “Oh, Mama. That would be . . . like magic.”

I had to swallow the lump in my throat. There hadn't been very many
magical
moments in Kansas City. Bedtimes were strictly followed because I had to study every night and then get up early to take Charity to school or the baby-sitter. On weekends, I'd spent almost all my spare time in front of the computer. Having hot chocolate together after she was supposed to be in bed was certainly a break in our routine. And as I gazed at my beautiful daughter, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was long past due.

I hurried down to the kitchen and easily found all the ingredients for homemade hot chocolate. A quick search of the pantry revealed a package of marshmallows. In almost no time at all I was carrying two large cups of hot cocoa up the stairs.

Charity had left her bed and was sitting on the floor in what was now our living room watching the snow drift down outside. I stopped for a moment and stared at her with a lump in my throat. She looked so sweet and innocent waiting for me, the glow from a nearby oil lamp highlighting her features. More than anything else, I wanted to capture that moment and keep it in my heart forever.

Finally I sat down next to her, and we watched the snow together, drinking our chocolate. We didn't talk much, just enjoyed the cozy room and the feeling that, at least for a little while, we were safe and everything was right with our world.

As Charity got back into bed, she smiled at me. “This was a good day, Mama. The best day of my . . .” Those were the last words she said before she drifted off.

I sat next to her, watching her sleep for a while, grateful that Cora had brought a couple of chairs from the restaurant upstairs so we'd have something to sit on. When I left Charity's room, I pulled the other chair up next to the window where we'd just been. I gazed out on a quiet, snow-covered town, no one stirring, the snow coming down lightly now. The only illumination came from a porch light installed next to the front door of the café. It was hard for me to believe I was back in Kingdom.

As I wondered what the future had in store for us, I soaked in a feeling of peace—something I hadn't experienced in a long time. But would it stay? Could I trust it? Or would the evil I'd sensed in Kansas City find a way to follow us here?

I left my spot by the window, headed toward my bedroom, and crawled into bed. That night I dreamed I was walking down a road bordered on both sides by bright wildflowers. But I was afraid to pick them, afraid of the deep, dark, and bottomless ravine that lurked somewhere behind their beauty.

Monday morning passed quickly.
I was kept busy trying to learn Cora's way of doing things. All in all, it was easier than I'd anticipated, thanks to my training with Betty. Who knew I'd end up owing her so much? But as much as I appreciated Betty's help in my time of need, working with Cora was much more enjoyable.

Cora was like a calm tornado, cooking food, training me, and joking with her customers. Amazingly, she managed to do it without a hint of stress or strain. And although I didn't have access to all the modern conveniences available in Kansas City, the morning flowed without a hitch. Since there wasn't an electronic cash register, I figured change in my head. I actually enjoyed it more than dealing with the cash register at Betty's. Always on the fritz, it had definitely made my job harder. Checking customers out the “old-fashioned way” was refreshing.

One thing became apparent as I watched Cora run her kitchen. Even though she had a large generator, the building itself had a minimum of outlets, and they were used sparingly. Besides making coffee in old-fashioned metal coffeepots, she toasted bread on the grill instead of in a toaster. None of this appeared to cause her a second of concern.

However, this situation presented us with some interesting challenges upstairs. With our bedroom space heaters plugged in, we didn't have many outlets left for lamps. This was problematic, since we had no ceiling lights. In my bedroom, I used one of Cora's old oil lamps. I'd been brought up using them so it was no problem for me, but I forbade Charity to touch them. It was too dangerous. Fortunately we were able to plug in Charity's favorite bedside light. Another yard-sale purchase, it was adorned with pink butterflies and flowers, and my daughter loved it. Because it had three bulbs and we could select different levels of illumination, we kept one bulb on at night for her. Our living room had only one outlet for our TV and DVD player, so unless we wanted to plug it in and out all the time, we had to use the second oil lamp in that room.

Having to go downstairs to the bathroom at night was a problem too. I'd told Charity to wake me up if she needed to go, and I would light the lamp in my room and carry it with us. It was a lot of hassle, but it was obvious the situation wouldn't be resolved anytime soon.

When they set up her restaurant, even Cora's number one supporter, Avery, refused to help her with the electrical issues. Church members dared defy the elders only so much. Since no one from Kingdom would help, she hired someone from Washington to set up the generator and put in the outlets. The same electrician also helped her find good deals on used restaurant equipment. One of his customers had just gone out of business, so Cora was able to pick up a large refrigerator, freezer, grill, and dishwasher for a song. “When that nice man drove into Kingdom with my appliances, you'd have thought I invited the devil himself to town,” she'd told me. “And when I had a phone installed here and at home . . . some folks stopped speakin' to me for a while.” She'd shrugged. “Business fell off for a couple of weeks until my customers forgave me and started comin' back. A couple of the men told me they couldn't stay away 'cause their wife's cookin' wasn't anywhere near as good as mine.” She'd covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes sparkling. “Now that's the kinda stuff we have to keep between us. Okay?”

I'd promised to keep her secrets, which wasn't hard, since I didn't have anyone to tell anyway.

“Funny thing is,” Cora said after securing my vow of discretion, “now Avery has a phone himself. A lot of the farmers got 'em 'cause they need to be able to order supplies and things they can't get in Kingdom.” She'd grinned widely. “I feel kinda responsible for helpin' them by bein' the first rebel.” She'd chuckled. “You'll be surprised at all the folks champin' at the bit for electricity now. I may be the first one to sign up, but I won't be the last.”

After the lunch rush, things slowed down long enough for a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I ate in the kitchen so I could visit with Charity, who'd been having a ball watching Cora cook.

“This is a very exciting place, Mama,” she said. “I love it here, and Miss Cora is so nice to me.”

“I'm glad, honey. So you're not bored?”

She shook her head. “Oh no. Miss Cora tells me stories, and I'm drawing all kinds of pictures.” She gave me a very serious look. “I don't have time to be bored, Mama. I'm way too busy.”

I smiled at her. “I guess we're both pretty busy.”

Cora pushed open the door to the kitchen. “Avery's here with your furniture,” she said. “Will you hold the front door open for them? And flip that Open sign over, will you? Don't need no one botherin' us for a while.”

“Sure.” I told Charity to stay put so she wouldn't get in the way. Then I jammed the last bite of my turkey sandwich into my mouth and hurried out front.

There were only a couple of customers left in the dining room when I got there. I turned the sign over on the front door and held it open. The cold December air rushed in, and I wished I'd grabbed my coat. The red apron Cora had given me to wear over my clothes might keep me safe from food stains, but it didn't offer much protection from freezing temperatures.

I stuck my head around the door to see Avery Menninger pulling a mattress out of the back of his truck. Someone else was assisting him, but he was on the other side, and all I could see were pant legs.

“Open it wide, Lizzie,” Avery called out. “We got a lot of stuff to bring in.”

I found it funny that Avery didn't say hello, just got down to business, even though I hadn't seen him in five years. He'd always been a very pragmatic man, and it was evident he hadn't changed much. I nodded at him, still trying to swallow my sandwich while wishing I hadn't shoved such a big piece of food into my mouth. Trying to chew it was proving more difficult than I'd anticipated. I pulled the door back as far as I could. There were several pieces of furniture on the truck, including a beautiful green couch, a dark wood dresser, and something that looked like a headboard for a four-poster bed. I hoped he had the footboard too.

Avery came up the stairs and backed into the dining room, his hands holding tight to the bottom and side of the mattress. He looked over at me. “Be obliged if you could keep that door as wide as possible, Elizabeth Lynn.”

I smiled, unable to talk with my mouth full. At this point, I wanted nothing more than to spit out the uncomfortable piece of food. But I needed a napkin, and the closest table was still too far away for me to reach.

Avery pulled the mattress in almost all the way, but it seemed to get stuck. Whoever was on the other end was obviously having a problem. Wanting to help, I came around in front of the door, holding it open with one leg while I tried to help pull the mattress the rest of the way inside. Suddenly, something went horribly wrong. When I yanked on it, the mattress shot through the door, flipped over, knocked me down, and landed right on top of me. I took an involuntary deep breath, and the bite of turkey sandwich in my mouth lodged itself in my throat.

“Get that thing off of her,” Avery hollered.

The mattress moved, and as I lay there choking, I found myself looking up into a familiar pair of green eyes. Noah Housler stared down at me, his expression a mix of alarm and amusement.

Although I realized I might possibly be lying at death's door, ridiculously, I couldn't help but think about how great he looked.

“Are you okay, Lizzie?” he asked.

I shook my head and pointed at my throat, wondering if anyone in Kingdom had ever heard of the Heimlich maneuver. I needn't have worried, because Noah pulled me up off the floor, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and pushed hard under my rib cage. The piece of sandwich lodged in my windpipe came flying out, almost hitting Avery in the face. Grateful to be able to breathe again and self-conscious beyond description, I tried to dislodge myself from Noah's arms.

“You can let go now,” I said, my voice raspy from my near-death experience.

“If you insist,” he said in a low voice.

I would have found having Noah's arms around me rather appealing if it hadn't been for the almost-dying-and-spitting-out-my-food thing.

Cora had come running out of the kitchen when she heard the commotion and was quietly retrieving the remains of my lunch from the floor while Avery stared down at it with something akin to disgust.

I wiggled away from Noah and turned to face him.

“Thank you,” I rasped, certain my face was as red as my apron.

“You're welcome,” he said, grinning. “But if you wanted my arms around you, all you had to do is ask.”

I was so flustered I couldn't seem to form coherent words. “If I . . . ? If I . . . what?” was all I could manage to squeak out.

“Maybe we better get someone else to take care of the door,” Avery said with a frown, looking concerned.

I cleared my throat. “I-I can hold a door open, thank you. I have no idea why . . .”

“My jacket was stuck on a nail outside,” Noah interjected. “I'd set the mattress down so I could get free. That must be when you decided to grab it.”

“I guess so. I was just trying to help.”

Noah gave me a lopsided grin. “I appreciate that. But maybe next time you decide to . . . um . . . help . . . you could wait until we ask you?”

I glared at him. “I think I can handle that.”

Avery's grunt signified that he wasn't as confident about my door holding abilities as his partner, but he grabbed the mattress once again, and the two of them carried it upstairs.

It took about thirty minutes for them to get all the furniture into our apartment, and after recovering somewhat from almost terminal humiliation, I was thrilled with the results.

“You two sit down and have some pie on me,” Cora said when they'd finished.

Avery started to say no, but Cora insisted. “For crying out loud, Avery,” she declared, “you give Lizzie all this stuff, and Noah saves her life. A piece of pie isn't too much to accept, is it?”

“I'd love some pie,” Noah said before Avery could turn Cora down again.

“Then that settles it,” she said. “You two have a seat.” She pointed at me. “Why don't you help me, Lizzie? See what these two men want to drink.”

Noah and Avery sat down at a nearby table, both of them asking for coffee. As soon as I reached the kitchen, I slumped against the wall where they couldn't see me.

“That may have been the most mortifying moment of my whole life,” I said to Cora. “And believe me, I've had experience with all kinds of indignities.”

Cora laughed loudly. “And just who are you worryin' about? Me? Avery? Or could it be that you're thinkin' about Noah?”

Charity, who thankfully had no idea she'd come close to becoming an orphan, perked up immediately. “Is Prince Phillip here, Mama? Can I see him?”

I pushed away from the wall and pointed at her. “Charity Lynn Engel, you stop calling him that. And no, you can't see him. Not right now.” I softened my tone somewhat when I saw her bottom lip start to push out. “He's in a big hurry, Cherry Bear. You can see him next time, okay?”

“Okay, Mama. But I still think . . .”

She caught my warning look and went back to her drawing. Of course, the piece of chocolate cream pie Cora handed her certainly helped to distract her from her illusion about Noah. All I needed was for her to run out there and start that prince stuff again. We'd definitely have to leave town after that, no matter what fate awaited us outside the borders of Kingdom.

I ignored Cora's question and grabbed the coffeepot. She chuckled as I pushed the door open and headed back into the dining room.

“Cora will have your pie ready in a minute,” I said. “I hope you'll excuse me while I—”

“Here we go,” Cora hollered. “Pie for everyone.” She promptly slapped down four plates on the table. “Sit down, Lizzie,” she ordered. “You need somethin' to make up for the lunch you lost.”

My escape thwarted, I couldn't do anything but slump down into a chair next to Noah. To make matters worse, I heard the kitchen door swing open again. Charity came skipping out, holding on to her small plate.

“I'm comin' too, Mama,” she called out. She immediately set her sights on Noah and headed straight for the empty chair on his other side. Before I had a chance to head her off at the pass, he got up and helped her into it. The entire time she never took her eyes off of him.

“How's that?” he asked when she was settled.

“Just lovely, thank you,” she said, her eyes shiny with admiration. “You are a very nice man.”

He grinned. “Why, thank you very much. And I think you are a very nice young lady.”

Charity beamed as if she'd just been given a compliment from the real Prince Phillip. Somehow I needed to point the conversation away from anything
princely
before my daughter said something else I'd have to live down
.

“So, Avery,” I blurted out, “your daughter, Berlene. Where is she living now?”

Avery launched into a long story about Berlene marrying a man from Summerfield and moving there. It was just the kind of distraction I needed for Charity, who still hadn't taken her afternoon nap. As soon as her pie was finished, she started nodding off. Avery had just begun explaining why his new son-in-law, Herman, was a chucklehead for trying to grow soybeans instead of grain sorghum, when I was able to extricate myself by taking Charity upstairs for her nap. After I got her settled, I waited a while. By the time I ventured back downstairs, Avery and Noah were gone.

I checked the kitchen, where Cora was working on the evening's dinner specials. “You missed Noah and Avery,” she said when she saw me. “Noah left this for you.” She took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and held it out.