Home on Apple Blossom Road (Life in Icicle Falls) Read online

  Everyone is excited about you and Emmaline and her family coming out for Thanksgiving. And how lovely that Emmaline and Joey’s J.J. has finally found someone. I’m glad he and his intended will be joining us, too. It looks like we’ll have a house full.

  Now, let me tell you about my fifteen minutes of fame. I was proclaimed this year’s Lady of the Autumn Leaves, a title awarded to a woman who has contributed in some significant way to the community. I was honored at a luncheon with the mayor, the city council members and the members of the Chamber of Commerce, and given a framed certificate of appreciation for my years of community service. I was also given a lovely bouquet of autumn flowers. A picture of me in my dirndl will hang in City Hall, along with the portraits of the other ladies who’ve received this honor over the past six years. I’m enclosing the newspaper article so you can read all about it. The picture in the paper is of our Oktoberfest parade on Saturday and yes, that’s me on the Autumn Leaves float. Did you ever think you’d see your daughter riding on a float in a parade? And at sixty-three, no less!

  After the parade and festival, the family took me to Schwangau, our town’s most elegant restaurant, to celebrate. Such a day! I’ll spend the rest of the year attending various festivals as an ambassador for Icicle Falls and riding on our float in their parades, including Seattle’s Seafair parade, a very big one, indeed. It just goes to show, a woman is never obsolete, no matter what her age.

  We’re having another beautiful fall, as colorful as a paint box with the vine maples and larches in all their red-and-gold glory. Of course, the children can think of nothing but Halloween, and Beth is sewing elaborate costumes for them. Colin wants to be the Phantom of the Opera, Jimmy wants to be a pirate and Mia wants to be a fairy. You should see the fairy wings Bethie’s made for her. They’re simply astonishing. I’ll be sure to take pictures of them in their costumes and send them to you. In addition to sewing the costumes, Bethie is planning a Halloween party for the children and their friends with bobbing for apples and a scavenger hunt. All this on top of running her business and taking classes at the local community college! She wants to get a two-year degree so she can say she accomplished something. If you ask me, she’s already accomplished plenty. She’s now not only doing alterations, she’s making wedding gowns for some of our local brides. I’m so proud of her.

  One sad note is Anna’s health. The poor girl has been through so much—losing her parents in that terrible car accident in Mexico when Mia was barely two, then the cancer and her horrible husband abandoning her. And now the cancer is back. The prognosis for this latest recurrence isn’t good, and I think we have some dark days looming in the New Year. But we’re going to do all we can to make the holidays wonderful for both her and Mia. Having you all with us for Thanksgiving will be a huge bonus.

  Must close now. I need to get over to Mountain Memories Photography to have my Lady of the Autumn Leaves portrait taken.

  Love,

  Justine

  Chapter Five

  Mia stepped away from Colin. Thank God his phone had rung. For a moment there, her common sense had taken a vacation.

  She watched as he checked caller ID, then answered, “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Babe again?” Colin had said he wasn’t engaged, but was he close to it? And if he was, what was he doing looking at her the way he’d looked at her just now, leaning kissing close, resurrecting the tingles?

  The corners of his mouth pulled down and he turned his back. “No, we’re still working at this. It’s gonna take a while. I don’t know. I’ll call you tonight, okay? Same here.”

  Same here. What did that mean? Had babe said she loved him? If so, why hadn’t he said the words back to her? How serious was his relationship with the mysterious babe if he was too embarrassed to tell her he loved her in front of someone, especially when that someone was an ex whom he could make jealous? Not that she was jealous. And Colin’s love life was no business of hers. What they’d once had was long gone. It had been nothing more than young, stupid love.

  Except those old feelings seemed to resurface pretty easily.

  “What else does the letter say?” Colin asked, bringing their mission back into focus.

  She read, “‘Family is important. You can learn so much from those who have loved well and lived longer than you.’”

  His brows drew together. “So, where’s the clue?”

  “I think that was the clue.”

  “Well, that leaves us with Dad, Uncle Mark or Aunt Beth,” he said.

  “Probably not your dad or Uncle Mark.” Uncle Mark was a great guy, but most of his knowledge came from ESPN, which hardly qualified him as a sage. And Dylan wasn’t likely to get philosophical and dole out advice, especially to her. Besides, she doubted he was the person Grandma Justine would’ve had in mind when she talked about having loved well.

  “Yeah, you’re right. So, back to Aunt Beth.”

  “Back to Aunt Beth,” she agreed and started making her way out of the orchard. And the past.

  It was hard to do, though. So many memories haunted this place.

  Of course, there was that embarrassing one of the time Colin’s dad had caught the two of them in the middle of teen passion, her out of half her clothes, him struggling into a condom. That had been the ultimate buzzkill.

  Still, it hadn’t ended the relationship. Oh, no. Pure stupidity had done that. But while it lasted, it had been wonderful. She remembered a conversation they’d had in this very orchard, one of many on the subject of her going away to college.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” she’d said.

  He’d pulled her to him. “Then stay here and go to school. Washington State accepted you. So did the University of Washington. Don’t go away.”

  She hadn’t wanted to, but she had to go away to attend NYU business school. It was one of the oldest, most prestigious business schools in the world, and she’d been accepted there, as well. She’d worked hard to cobble together enough scholarship and loan money, and she was locked in on her target. A degree from that school would impress like no other and prove her worthy to marry into the Wright family. The only way to really get Colin’s dad to accept her was to make a success of herself, so she’d graduate cum laude and return with a four-year business degree. Then no one could accuse her of being the little hanger-on, out to use Colin.

  Yes, she’d had everything planned. Sadly, things hadn’t gone according to plan. Life had conspired against her and Colin, untying the close knot of friendship and love that had once held them so tightly together.

  Sometimes it seemed as if life was still conspiring against her. Here she was, thirty, with no husband, not even a boyfriend. No prospects anywhere. But she had her career, and she could at least hang on to that.

  Alone. Her life felt like one long string of people leaving her.

  Fast as she was walking, she couldn’t out-walk Colin, who was a foot taller. “So how come you aren’t with someone?” he asked, walking beside her.

  She wanted to retort, “So how come you are?” Mr. I’ll-Love-You-Forever, Mr. As-Soon-As-You-Graduate-We’ll-Get-Married. How differently their lives would have turned out if he’d trusted her more. If she’d refused to let him break up with her instead of getting on her high horse and riding off into the sunset with the wrong man.

  She shrugged. “What about you? How come babe doesn’t have a ring yet?”

  “The time’s not right.”

  Those didn’t sound like the words of a man who was passionately in love, and they sure didn’t sound like the old Colin.

  The two of them walked on in silence for a while, then he asked, “Do you ever miss Icicle Falls?”

  “How could you not miss Icicle Falls? Sometimes I wish I’d never left.”

  “But you did.”

  The bitterness in his voice
made her want to smack him. “You know why.”

  He waved away her reasons. “You never needed to prove yourself, not to me.”

  “I did to your dad. And to myself.”

  “Well, all you proved was that you didn’t care.”

  She’d never done any such thing! That was all on Colin. She’d loved him her whole life, and he should’ve trusted her when she went away to school. “You’re so full of it,” she said hotly. “You and that stupid temper of yours and your dumb insecurity.” What did he have to feel insecure about, anyway? Well, okay, so his mom had left when he was too little to understand what a mom was. She’d still stayed on the edges of his life. And he’d had a whole family besides. Plus, he’d had her, darn it all.

  “You gave me plenty of reason to feel insecure,” he muttered.

  “I’m not to blame for everything that hasn’t worked out in your life. If you want to see the real problem, look in the mirror.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re not to blame for anything, Ms. Perfect,” he retorted.

  “I’m not to blame for our breakup, that’s for sure.”

  “Okay, let’s drop it,” he said with a scowl. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, it was, so I don’t know why you’re holding a grudge. Because you shouldn’t.”

  They were back at the car now. He leaned on the roof and pointed a finger at her. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” Then he got in and slammed the door.

  She got in on her side and slammed her door, too. “Fine.”

  That was the end of the trip down Memory Lane. The car turned into the ice mobile, and they were both scowling when they got back to Aunt Beth’s house.

  She started to get out but he caught her arm. “I’m being an ass. I guess this whole treasure hunt has stirred up some shit. Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  His words and penitent expression cooled her anger. “Me, too,” she said. “I don’t want to fight with you.” In fact, all she wanted to do was kiss him and make up for the past eight years. There was way too much water under the bridge for that, though. In fact, there wasn’t even a bridge anymore.

  He looked out the window at the quiet street lined with maples. “I guess Dad was right.”

  About her?

  “We were too young,” Colin said, climbing out of the car.

  Yep, that bridge had washed away long ago. She got out and shut the car door as she barred the door of her heart against any sentimental thoughts. She was here to find her inheritance, that was all. And that was for the best. At least they’d cleared the air. The rest of the treasure hunt would be easier—no more awkwardness, no recriminations. No more thinking about kissing and making up.

  Beth wasn’t working on her alteration anymore. Now she was in the kitchen mixing up some lemonade. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Yes,” Colin said. “You’ve got our next clue, don’t you?”

  “Did you figure that out all by yourself, Colin Cootie?” Beth teased.

  “Of course not,” he said. “Is that lemonade up for grabs?”

  “Absolutely.” She pulled two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with ice. “I haven’t set foot in that house since the day your grandmother had her heart attack. I know I’ve got to go through her things and get the place ready to sell but...” Her sentence trailed off and she concentrated on pouring lemonade.

  Mia came to her side and put an arm around her. “I’m so sorry. Would you like me to help you?”

  Beth shook her head. “No. You’ve got your hands full with your search. This is something that’s going to take a while. It’s going to take a while for it to sink in—the fact that Mom’s really gone.” She managed a smile. “It’s hard to let go, but at least I don’t have to let go of all the happy memories. Anyway, that’s enough about me. How about you two? Did the orchard bring back happy memories?”

  “It brought back a lot,” Colin answered vaguely.

  And the memories were still coming, Mia thought, not all of them good. Sitting here at Beth’s kitchen table was like climbing into H. G. Wells’s time machine. Set the dial for 1993.

  * * *

  Mia and Colin were playing spy, one of their favorite rainy-day games. They’d slithered around the couch, dashed behind Uncle Mark’s La-Z-Boy and were now under the dining room table, where they had a clear view of the kitchen.

  All the men were still at work, and dinner was an hour away. Mama was too tired to cook—that happened a lot—and she and Mia had been invited to Aunt Beth’s house for dinner. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, cherry pie for dessert—all Mia’s favorites.

  She loved coming to Aunt Beth’s to play. Aunt Beth worked at home, sewing pretty clothes for people, but when she wasn’t doing that, she’d whip up some clay for Mia and Colin to play with or make taffy for them to pull. Most often, though, they watched afternoon cartoons on TV or played marbles. Colin always won at marbles. Spying was much more fun.

  Usually they got caught. If Uncle Mark was home and caught them, he pretended they were cockroaches and chased them around with his rolled-up newspaper, taking playful potshots at their behinds. If Aunt Beth caught them she’d cry, “Spies! We have ways of making you talk.” And then she’d chase them and tickle them. Of course, getting caught was an adventure. But successful spying was an accomplishment.

  Today nobody noticed a seven-year-old girl and an eight-year-old boy slipping out from under the dining room table to peer around the kitchen doorway.

  “I’m not going to make it to spring, Beth,” Mama said.

  Not make it to spring? What was Mama saying?

  “I don’t know if I’ll even make it to the New Year.”

  “Don’t talk about dying,” begged Aunt Beth.

  Dying? Mia suddenly felt very scared. Her only experience with death was her goldfish that suddenly stopped swimming last summer and just floated at the top of the fish bowl on its side. Mama had flushed it down the toilet.

  “I have to,” Mama said. “You’ve got to ask Dylan if he can draw up some papers to make this legal. In case Gary comes back.”

  “Gary won’t do that.” Aunt Beth shook her head. “That would be too much responsibility, and he’s already shown what he does when things get tough.”

  “Still, I don’t want him taking her away from here,” Mama said.

  Taking who?

  “We won’t let that happen,” said Grandma Justine, who was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea.

  “Not that he would, the bum,” Aunt Beth added. “Mia’s my godchild. I feel she’s as much my daughter as yours. You know I’ll watch out for her.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to have to worry.”

  Mia forgot all about being a spy and stepped into the kitchen. “Mama?”

  Grandma Justine gave a start. Aunt Beth nearly dropped the pie she was taking out of the oven.

  Mama looked scared. “Come here, baby,” she said, and held out an arm to Mia.

  Mia ran to her mother, sat on her lap and locked both arms around Mama’s neck. She knew Mama was sick. She’d already had one of her boobies cut off. But she was going to be okay. That was what she’d always said.

  “Baby, I’m not doing well.”

  “No!” She was going to be okay.

  “You know I’m sick again, baby.”

  “But you’ll get better,” Mia told her.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Mamas always got better. They had to. Their little girls needed them, especially when their daddies were gone. Mia clung tighter to her mother. “No, Mama.” Death took things away and they never came back.

  “You remember we’ve talked about heaven and what a special place it is?”

  Mia pulled away from her mother and scowled.
“I don’t want you to go to heaven.”

  “But I’m going to have to,” Mama said. “Not right now, but soon.”

  Mia pressed her face to her mother’s shoulder and hung on tight. She wasn’t going to let go. If she hung on, Mama couldn’t leave her.

  Her mother began to rock her back and forth. “It’s okay, baby girl. Because you know what? You’re very lucky. You’ll always have Aunt Beth and Grandma Justine here, to play with you and teach you how to cook and bake pies.”

  “I’ll be here, too,” Colin said. He’d followed her into the room and was standing nearby.

  “There, see? It’ll be all right,” Mama said. “You’ll always have a family.”

  Still, after her mother died in January it was as if she’d lost her footing and was falling off a mountain. The night of the funeral she dreamed she was alone in the dark on a winding road edged with brambles and barren trees with branches like giant claws. A horrible green fog swirled around her with all kinds of things floating in it. There was her dead goldfish, there went a skull, and here came a witch, cackling and ugly, reaching for her with bony fingers. She’d been sleeping in a big bed under a homemade quilt in Aunt Beth’s house, when her own screams awakened her. Finding herself in new surroundings, she’d begun to cry. Aunt Beth had rushed into the room and held her and rocked her and told her everything was going to be okay.

  But there was still the green fog.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Aunt Beth had said. “I happen to be the Queen of Dreamland, and what I say goes. Green fog, I command you to go away and stay away.”

  Amazingly, it had.

  That took care of night, but days were another story. Days were harder than nights because you couldn’t wake up from them. Sadness and loneliness lurked, looking for a chance to make her cry.

  She became shy and timid, nervous in new situations. The first day of school was no longer an adventure but something to worry about, to tie her tummy up in knots. Would her new teacher like her? Would her best friend be in her class or would she have to start over and find new friends to play with at recess? Would the kids tease her? She knew she wasn’t like the other little girls. Her mommy was in heaven and she had no idea where her daddy was. Why hadn’t he come for her when Mommy went to heaven?