Lacy's End (33 page)

He laughed, and she grabbed the dish towel from his shoulder and snapped him with it. “Ow,” he said. He ran. She ran after him, snapping him anytime she got close enough.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he called a truce. She collapsed against him, giggles spilling out. He pinned her against the wall, pressed his body against hers. She could feel the rise of his desire. When his mouth came down on hers, she welcomed it, parted her lips and let his tongue slip in. “What are the house rules about overnight female guests?”

At first he was confused. Then he caught her meaning. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I love you, Allen. I can’t think of anything holding us back.”

He didn’t want to break the spell by mentioning her husband. He worried what would happen to her if he found out. “I don’t have any protection with me. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

She hesitated for only a moment. She’d messed up on her birth-control pills during all the confusion of the past few months, so she’d just stopped taking them when she left Peter. She hadn’t expected to need them again so soon. “It’s okay. I’m a grown woman. I can deal with the consequences.”

He kissed her hard, pulled back, and whispered. “
We’ll
deal with the consequences.” And then he took her hand, and they tiptoed to his bedroom and into his bed.

Lacy listened to her mother giggling in the hallway. Then she heard muffled whispers. The stairs creaked, and she heard Allen’s door shut. She waited for a few minutes, expecting the bedroom door to open and her mother to slip in. When it didn’t happen, she sighed, smiled, and moved over to the middle of the bed.
May as well be comfortable
, she thought. She’s not going to need it tonight.

Alice listened to the sounds of the house grow quiet. Her husband snored quietly beside her. She had become accustomed to the noise after forty years of marriage. She heard Allen and his new love making out in the hallway.
Good Lord you two, you have a bedroom ten steps from you
, she thought. As if reading her mind, she heard Allen’s door open and then it was quiet. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. He was her child after all, even if he was a grown man.

She had always pretended to be more moralistic than she was, but underneath the proper façade, she was a hopeless romantic and wanted all her children to experience the kind of love she and Brett shared.

She reached over and touched her lover. She sighed. Oh, how many years it had been since they'd had the kind of passion Allen and Brenda had. There was still that spark between them, but they had settled into a different type of relationship—one built on years of passionate lovemaking, parenting, and life-long friendship. She was happy with where they were now. She hoped Brett was as well. He seemed to be.

She had met Brett at the feed store when she was sixteen. She was in town for the summer, visiting with her friend and her friend’s grandparents. With nothing better to look forward to for the summer break, she let her best friend Angie talk her into tagging along to make some money working at her grandfather’s feed store.

Brett came in to pick up an order. She could see his interest by the look in his eye. When she handed him his receipt, she wrote her name and phone number on the bottom. Being so bold had embarrassed her, but she hadn’t wanted to let him get away. He had called her that very night and asked her on a date to the movies. She accepted readily, amazed to discover they had the same taste in films. After the show had ended, they'd gone to dinner. On their next date they'd gone to the car races, then to the county fair, to San Francisco for an outdoor concert—that they both hated, and finally to the altar. Now, forty years and four children later, they were happy just to be together. They no longer made passionate love, they just made love—and that suited them both. She tried not to think about what was going on in her son’s bedroom but concentrated instead on the task that lay before her.

With the household members slumbering away in their beds—or doing whatever they were doing in their beds—Alice folded back the covers and slid out of bed. She pulled on her robe but dispensed with the slippers—she didn’t want anyone to hear them swishing—and pulled on socks instead.

She slowly opened the door. There was no fear of squeaking hinges, as she had made sure Brett oiled them yesterday, in anticipation of this evening. She had thought Pammy was her only competition, but when she discovered that Brenda was a caterer and ‘one hell of a cook,’ according to Allen, she knew she had to try extra hard.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Pammy was surpassing her in the kitchen—not that anyone would dare to admit it, though. But now there was a new threat to challenge her title, and she’d have to deal with her.

She peered through the partly open door, looking both ways. The coast was clear. She smiled and slipped into the hallway. She tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the ones she knew would creak. Sneaking into the kitchen was a breeze for Alice. She knew the lay of the land so well she could navigate it in the dark. She stepped into the walk-in pantry and shut the door behind her. Leaving the electric light off, she reached up to the top shelf and turned on the battery-operated emergency light. It gave off just enough light to allow her to see but was not visible to passersby on the other side of the door.

She took down the flour canister and picked up the salt. Opening both containers she poured half the contents of the salt into the flour canister. Not sure whether the girls’ recipes would call for baking soda or powder, she mixed them together, dividing the contents equally among the two packages.

Brenda had told her she was making Baked Alaska with chocolate sauce for the cook-off, but Pammy had refused to disclose her dish. Brenda and Pammy had perused the contents of the pantry earlier and had made a run to the store for the items specific to their recipes. Alice now took the chocolate sauce from the shelf, opened the bottle and poured crushed anise seeds into the container. She shook as hard as she could—turning the chocolate sauce into licorice sauce. She giggled, and then grimaced at the thought.

She turned off the light, checked to make sure the coast was clear again, and stole back to her bed like a thief in the night.

Settling down beside her husband, who was no longer snoring and had turned on his side, she spooned against him, savoring his warmth, and fell into a deep slumber.

***

The next day, the pounding rain trapped the entire household inside. Throughout the day, they consumed leftover turkey in various forms: turkey hash for breakfast, turkey sandwiches for lunch, turkey and dumplings for dinner. The leftover pies Alice held in ransom for the consumed turkey.

At last the time for the big bakeoff had arrived. Each cook donned her apron and began extracting the necessary supplies from the pantry.

Pammy turned and walked out of the kitchen, returning moments later with fresh unopened bags of flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. She deposited her treasures on the countertop with a flourish and dumped the contents of the open canisters into the trash. She gave her mother a triumphant nod, and said, “Just to keep it fair.”

Alice puckered her lips and narrowed her eyes at her. “Are you suggesting I’d taint the ingredients?” Alice asked with indignation.

Pammy gave her a scolding look. “As if you’ve never done such a thing, Mother.”

Brenda, looking confused, turned to Allen, who shrugged and lifted his hands as if to say—I told you so. She picked up the chocolate sauce and looked at it. “This has been opened.”

Pammy looked at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I made Ethan some chocolate milk. I didn’t think you’d mind. It seemed as though there was plenty there.”

Brenda relaxed. “No, I don’t mind.”

The men had gathered around the table, a deck of cards before them, for a game of gin rummy.

Pammy’s dish turned out to be Apple Berry Streusel, and it received a rousing applause from the men (the official tasters and judges). Alice scowled at her and placed her steaming dish of marshmallow-pecan, sweet potato soufflé down in front of them. With a triumphant humph, she scooped generous helpings for each of them and waited for their verdict. They also gave her a round of applause.

With trepidation, Brenda carried her Baked Alaska to the table and cut each of them a slice, then poured the chocolate sauce over the slice and waited nervously for their response. She was the newcomer, and their opinion mattered to her.

Allen was the first to respond. His eyes flew open wide. He gasped.

“What?” Brenda asked. “What’s wrong with it?”

Brett took his first bite and mimicked his son’s reaction.

Brenda wanted to cry.

“It’s delicious,” Allen finally said, finally finding his words.

“You like it!” Alice exclaimed.

Pammy threw her hands on her hips. “What did you do, Mother?”

Alice looked away, grimacing. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

Allen groaned, “Aw, Mother, how could you! She’s a guest in your home.”

Alice frowned. “Well! Anyway, who would have thought anise and chocolate would taste good together.”

Chase, who had gobbled his piece down, reached for the plate and cut himself another huge piece. “Brenda wins,” he declared between bites.

Allen laughed. “It looks like you have a new dessert to serve your patrons. What are you going to call it?”

Brenda crossed her arms in front of her, leaned on one hip, glared at Alice, and said, “How about Benedict Alice.”

***

By seven in the evening dinner was over, the bakeoff complete, and the kitchen restored to sparkling beauty. Lacy was feeling claustrophobic. She needed to get out and move around. She wandered onto the back porch but immediately was driven back inside by the gusting wind. As she stood in the doorway, gale-force winds whipping her hair about, she heard a loud crack. Brenda, Allen, and Brett heard it, too and came running to the door.

“What the hell was that?” Brett asked.

They were all staring at her as if she had the answer. Lacy shrugged. “I just opened the door. I was going to go outside for some fresh air.”

“What were you thinking?” Brenda scolded. “There’s a major storm going on.”

Lacy shrugged. “I just wanted fresh air.” Her shoulders dropped as she realized how foolish she sounded.

Chase came running down the stairs. He stopped in front of the group. “I can’t find my dad.”

Lacy suddenly had an uneasy feeling as she looked first at Chase and then at the barn. “The crack,” she said, “sounded like a gunshot.” She turned pale as if she might faint at any moment.

Allen moved to stand behind her, easing her against him for support. “It was just lightning,” he said. “It probably snapped a tree branch.”

Lacy turned her head toward her mother. “I’ve seen Dad.”

“What are you talking about, Lacy? You’ve seen your father where?”

“Here,” she said. “Outside at the pond the first time, and then outside the movie theater.”

“Are you sure?” Allen asked.

Lacy nodded. They all turned to look at Chase, who shrugged. “Beats me. I had all I could do to get Ethan in the car. That guy’s not as light as people think.”

“Where’d you see your dad last, Chase?” Brett asked.

“I don’t know. At dinner I think. He said he was going out to fix the hinge on the barn. He noticed it was coming loose yesterday, and he wanted to tighten it before the storm started.”

“Dinner was two hours ago. Do you think it would have taken him this long?” Brenda asked.

All three of the men shook their heads. Brett said, “I’ll get my coat and a flashlight.”

“So will I,” Allen said.

“I’m coming, too,” Lacy said.

“No, Lacy, you stay here,” Allen said.

Lacy shook her head. “I’m coming.”

Alice came running down the stairs. “Someone’s in the barn,” she said. “And the horses are running loose. They’re scared out of their wits.”

Lacy looked at her mother, feverish panic seizing her. “Do you think it’s Dad?”

Brenda pulled her daughter against her, trying to calm her shakes. “I don’t know, sweetie.”

“I’ll make her some tea,” Alice said. She rushed past them, her slippers swishing on the tile as she hurried to the kitchen.

“Take her into the den,” Allen said, as he shrugged into his coat. “Whatever you do, don’t let her outside.”

Brenda nodded. She led Lacy to the den. Lacy didn’t put up any resistance, feeling like a small child as her mother eased her down on the sofa, sat beside her, and stroked her hair.

Allen was the first to reach the barn. The door stood open. Horses crowded the corral. He stroked a tall mare as she trotted by, whinnying. “Easy, girl,” he soothed. He bent near the door, examining the latch. The lock hadn’t just been broken. Someone had jimmied it. Markings from what looked like a crowbar trailed down the usually smooth frame. He turned toward his father who, with the help of Chase, was attempting to round up the horses. “Someone’s broken the lock,” he shouted, but the wind threw his words back at him.

Chase tugged a reluctant colt away from his mother. The baby bucked and pawed the air with its hooves. Brett tapped him on the shoulder, shouted, “Bring his mama and he’ll come by himself.”

Chase squinted against the pounding rain. He nodded his head. “Oh, yeah, right.”

When the last of the horses had been rounded up, the three men pulled shut the barn door, securing it with a pitchfork. It would work as long as they were on this side of the door. They would have to repair the latch before they went back to the house. Most of the horses had found their way to their stalls, the rest they eased home, securing each of the doors. They searched each stall but found nothing out of the ordinary. The horses whinnied and pranced in their stalls. Chase didn’t like their unease. He was getting a bad feeling, some portent of tragedy on the horizon.

He rounded the corner, thinking about how he had been treating his father lately. Chase knew it was his fault his mother had died, but it had been a careless accident. He certainly didn’t deserve the treatment his father was giving him. On the other hand, he could have made more of an effort to smooth the rift, rather than adding to it. What if…no, he just would not believe his father was gone, too.

He was thinking about how he could go about opening the communication lines again, when he tripped over something and went flying, knocking his head against the side of the barn. “Damn it,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head. He looked over at the spot where he tripped. He saw something black lying there. He shined his flashlight on it, surprised to see one of his grandfather’s rifles. He picked it up, sniffed the barrel, and then his eyes flew wide. Somebody had recently fired it.