A Match Made in Dry Creek (10 page)

“We'll want to give kids a chance to ask questions,” Aaron said as he stopped writing. “That's part of what makes something like this an educational event.”

“I don't know about fielding questions,” Curt said as he scowled at the sign. “Would you look at the rust on that thing? It's definitely a hazard so close to the road. People shouldn't be around the thing without a tetanus shot.”

The stop sign tilted a little to the left and would have fallen down years ago except for the pile of small stones that surrounded it. Someone had pulled the weeds away from the stones so the sign stood out on the shoulder of the road. There was a wide space behind the sign.

“Maybe you could tell the kids about the map,” Ben
suggested as he looked around the area. “About how you almost went the wrong way just because you were looking for a wedding dress.”

“You almost went the wrong way?” Aaron said gleefully as he jotted down a note. “That's great. What a metaphor. Yes, we'll definitely have to talk about going the wrong way.”

“I don't think the kids today will relate,” Doris June said as she moved a little closer to Aaron so he could hear her. “I mean, when they see us, they'll just see their parents and—”

“But that's why it's great,” Aaron said. “It will be intergenerational. The school boards love buzz words like that. Helping families relate. It's great.”

Doris June hoped Aaron could see that the families standing around the stop sign didn't look like they wanted to relate, at least not in front of dozens of teenagers they didn't know.

“I never knew that someone tried to put a hole in the sign,” Doris June said as she looked at the sign more carefully. Two dents had been smashed in the
o
of the “Stop.” “Who would do that—mess up our sign?”

“Me,” Curt said, and cleared his throat. “I did that. It was wrong, of course. But I took a rock to it before I left for the army.”

“This is great,” Aaron said as he made some more notes. “Anger management.”

“I wouldn't recommend kids do something like that,
of course,” Curt said with a note of alarm. “It's defacing public property.”

There was a moment's silence while Aaron made more notes.

“I hope no one asks questions about those dents,” Curt muttered.

“Maybe I could make the kids some cookies,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “Kids never ask as many questions when they have something to eat. I learned that in Sunday school.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Curt said. “I could make them some pancakes.”

“You think it'll last until breakfast?” Ben asked in awe. “Wouldn't that be something? We'd be making history. The concert at the fair in Great Falls doesn't even last until breakfast.”

“No, your concert won't last past midnight,” Curt said. “Remember, it will be supervised.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ben said, but he didn't seem too disappointed. “We probably don't have enough songs ready anyway to play all night. We're going to have to repeat as it is.” Ben looked around. “I don't suppose anyone else here would want to sing a number. Maybe a favorite song or something?”

“My favorite song is ‘Amazing Grace,'” Curt said. “But I don't sing.”

Doris June wondered if she should ask Curt to drive her into Miles City so she could buy more sugar and
flour. She'd just remembered why one set of those initials carved on the stop post looked familiar. It said “D.J.H. + C.N.” She'd left it as a message for Curt on her first visit home. He was in the army by then, but she knew he'd be back to visit his family. She'd thought he'd go look at the sign like she had. He must not have and she certainly didn't want him, or anyone else, to start looking now. If cookies were what it would take to discourage the kids from studying the old stop sign, then cookies they would have in an abundance.

For the first time since she'd been home, Doris June wondered if her mother could possibly still be upset that she didn't have any grandchildren. Sometimes children could ask too many questions. The only good thing about all of this was that Curt didn't look any happier at the prospect of talking about their encounter with the old stop sign than she was.

D
oris June drove her mother out to the farmhouse just before dark so they could be sure the plastic covered all the pansies that were still in the ground. Doris June brought a huge basket of pansies back with them. If they were going to have to worry about what to say to teenagers at that concert and figure out how to get the flower baskets ready for Mother's Day at the same time, they deserved to have a nice centerpiece for their table.

After Doris June set the pansy basket on the table, she went into the kitchen to put some water on for tea.

“Are you going to do what Aaron wants and dress up in the clothes you wore that night?” Mrs. Hargrove asked as she sat at the table in the dining room. “I think there are a few of your old clothes in the attic, although I cut some of them up for rags over the years. I guess maybe I shouldn't have.”

“I don't think I would still fit in those clothes anyway,” Doris June said as she brought two cups back and set them on the table. “I used to wear a size eight. Now I'm a twelve.”

“I bet your old sweaters would still fit though. You used to wear them so baggy. I don't know why you wore them that way.”

“That was the style, Mother.” Doris June went back to the kitchen.

“The kids might like to see what you wore back then, though,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “You know, for the sake of history.”

“It hasn't been that long,” Doris June protested as she brought the teapot into the dining room and carefully set it on a trivet on the table. “It's not like we lived in the pioneer days.”

“Kids always think anyone who's an adult lived with the dinosaurs, especially when it comes to fashion. They have no concept of how fast time goes by. To them, it's all history.”

“You know, I do have the old bag I made out of quilt blocks—the one I used as a suitcase when we were going to Vegas. I saw it on a shelf in my closet here.” Doris June stopped to think a minute before she poured two cups of herbal tea and slid one cup toward her mother. “I wonder if I could interest the girls in the pattern for making the bag. That might take up some of the time we're supposed to talk. Besides, it would be
educational. Who knows what they're learning in Home Economics these days.”

Mrs. Hargrove cleared her throat. “I don't think they still have a Home Economics class in the high school. They're more into computers now.”

“Well, all the more reason for someone to tell them a little bit about how to sew up something for themselves.” Doris June sat down at the table. “They probably don't even know how to make a pattern for a bag like mine. How will they know these things if no one tells them anything?”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded as she picked up her teacup. “That's why I always feel education is so important.”

Doris June and her mother drank their tea together peacefully. The more they talked about the concert on Saturday night and the pansy presentation on Sunday morning, the more they both felt that it would all work out just fine. Mrs. Hargrove remarked that God often worked in things like this that got changed around at the last minute. Besides, they both decided, there were still two days to get everything ready and the kids were going to do most of the work for the concert.

When Mrs. Hargrove woke up the next morning, she felt better than she had for months. Now that she'd been able to voice some of her feelings about what had happened when Doris June and Curt had tried to elope, she was starting to feel better.

It was true that confession did a world of good for a person, she thought to herself as she swung her legs out
of bed, even though really it wasn't as if there was anything for her to confess. Her actions had been right there in the open for anyone to see. It wasn't so much that she had made a mistake as it was that there was no perfect way to resolve the situation.

Love was a funny thing, Mrs. Hargrove thought to herself as she stood up and reached for her robe. Love sometimes grew and sometimes it died. Sometimes, it even came back to life after everyone thought it was long dead.

Mrs. Hargrove hummed to herself as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. Yes, indeed, love sometimes did come back to life. She wondered when her daughter and Curt were going to realize that fact.

Mrs. Hargrove looked out the bathroom window as she washed her face. The sun was just beginning to rise and it promised to be a clear day. It would be a good day for getting the pansies ready for their baskets. Charley had already said he and Curt would be over at the Hargrove farm today if the weather was good. That meant she should be there with Doris June, too.

Mrs. Hargrove thought it would be easy enough to get her daughter out to the old farm place so they could work with the pansies. However, her daughter had another mission in mind.

“We need to make arrangements for the cookies first,” Doris June said as she stood at the foot of the stairs in her jeans and an old sweatshirt with a grease stain on
its sleeve. “It'll be too late when we get home from all that digging and tomorrow will be a whirlwind.”

“Well, there's always time to bake cookies,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she opened the closet at the bottom of the stairs and started pushing things aside. Finally, she found what she was looking for. “Don't you think this sweater would be better than that? You've got a stain all over your sleeve.”

Doris June frowned at the rose-colored sweater her mother held up. “Isn't that the sweater you wear to church sometimes?”

“Yes, but it would look nice on you,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she held it out to her daughter. “Pink's such a pretty color on you. I realized it the other night when you had that dress on.”

“That dress was a disaster,” Doris June said as she pushed the sleeves up on the old sweatshirt. “There, the stain isn't so bad anymore. Besides, I'm just going to get dirty anyway if we're digging in the pansies.”

“It doesn't hurt for a woman to look her best even when she's working in the dirt,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she kept holding out the sweater.

“Oh, I see,” Doris June finally said after a second. “You're worried about me making some kind of an impression on Curt, but you don't need to be.”

“I don't?” Mrs. Hargrove's eyes brightened.

“Of course not,” Doris June said. “We're working together on this, but that's all. We're doing a few things
to benefit Dry Creek, but that's the end of the story. Curt is just doing his civic duty.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “I thought he looked like he might want to—you know—get back together again.”

Doris June shook her head. “Now, why would you think that? See, that's why we shouldn't do all this talking at the concert. People around here leap to funny conclusions. They see something and they think it means something more than it does.”

“Yes, but sometimes—”

“No, Mother.” Doris June shook her head again. “I'm not going to get myself all worked up over something that isn't going to happen. Curt and I used to have a future. That future's long gone, though. It doesn't matter if the kids are putting on some nostalgic concert about love. All Curt and I have to look forward to is getting the pansies dug up.”

Mrs. Hargrove didn't say anything more to her daughter as she hung the sweater back up in the closet, but she figured her daughter and Curt had more of a future than that. The fact was, the two of them probably had a longer future than that with the state guy, Aaron. The concert Friday night was going to be the beginning of something and not the end. Mrs. Hargrove knew teenagers well enough to know they'd see to that. Doris June and Curt would be tied to each other because of the stop sign whether they wanted to be or not.

Doris June left the house while her mother made some phone calls to see if she could line up a substitute teacher for her Sunday school class just in case the pansy baskets required her full attention in the hour before church.

Doris June always liked to walk around Dry Creek in the morning while people were getting up for the day, so she was glad to have some time to do so. The early morning air was cool and there was enough dew on the ground to make everything a little slippery. There was a morning haze that hid the top of the Big Sheep Mountains in the north. Most of the houses had lights on in their kitchens.

Everything was still quiet, though. Doris June missed quiet like this when she went for a walk in Anchorage. Not that Anchorage in the winter wasn't quiet; it's just that the days were too cold to walk for long at that time of year and she didn't enjoy the darkness of the winter months so she was seldom out in it.

All of the lights were on in the café, so Doris June decided to go inside and have a cup of coffee. She opened the door and saw that the tables were all pushed to the side. The chairs were sitting on top of the tables like they'd been put up so someone could mop the linoleum floor.

“Linda?” Doris June called out softly, wondering if Linda had forgotten to change the sign on the door. It said Open, but there were no other customers inside and it looked to Doris June that the café must still be closed.

“Oh, hi,” Linda said as she stepped out from the back kitchen.

Linda had her white chef's apron on over her jeans and there were red tomato spots on it. Her hair seemed to be falling out of some kind of a band at the back of her head and there was a streak of flour on her left cheek.

“I can come back later,” Doris June said. “I thought you were open, but I don't really need anything.”

“No, come on in,” Linda said as she pulled one of the chairs. “I've been wanting to ask your advice anyway.”

“Really?” Doris June said as she walked over to the table where Linda was sitting and pulled a chair down for herself.

Linda nodded. “It's about all this fuss over the spaghetti special Aaron wants me to put on the menu.”

“Oh, yeah,” Doris June said. “That was one of his better ideas, I thought. I remember people used to love your spaghetti sauce. Aaron suggested it because of the Jazz tie-in, but I think people would love to see it on the menu again anyway.”

“I can't remember the sauce,” Linda said in defeat. “I've been in the back since I opened and I've been trying to put together the sauce and it doesn't work. The last batch I made tasted like ketchup. Burnt ketchup.”

“Well, I remember you used to make that sauce all the time.”

Linda nodded and looked at Doris June. “I think I
have a mental block. I haven't made it since Duane left, you know?”

“Oh.”

“I was hoping you could help me. On account of you got over Curt and never seemed to forget anything important like this.”

Linda looked as if she was ready to cry so Doris June patted her pockets to see if she had a tissue. It seemed she was no better at carrying tissues around in her jeans pockets than she had been when she was wearing a suit. She pulled a napkin out of a dispenser on a nearby table though and gave it to Linda.

“Don't worry. I'm sure you haven't really forgotten the recipe,” Doris June said. “It's just the stress of this concert and starting to think about Duane again. The recipe will come back to you.”

Linda dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “I'm a chef. How can I forget my grandmother's special recipe?”

Doris June patted the young woman's shoulder. “Maybe you wrote it down somewhere.”

Linda shook her head. “I didn't
need
to write it down. I knew it like I knew my own name.”

“Well, then, it'll come back to you. Maybe we should just look at your spices and think about how much of each you used.” Doris June thought it would be good for Linda to get up and move around. Exercise was always good when one was discouraged.

“How did you ever do it?” Linda looked at Doris
June. “When Curt got married to that other woman, you just seemed to take it all in stride. I know I'd cry for a week if I heard Duane got married, even though I haven't seen him for a good two years.”

“I'm sure you'd cope fine if the day came,” Doris June said.

“Yeah, I know, God is supposed to see me through the hard times,” Linda said as she folded the napkin and put it in her pocket. “I just hope I do as good as you did when my day comes. I really admire you for that.”

Doris June closed her eyes for a second and then opened them up. “Don't admire me. I was so mad I stopped going to church when Curt got married.”

“No,” Linda said. “I saw you in church back then.”

“Oh, I went to church in Dry Creek,” Doris June agreed. “I wasn't about to deal with my mother on that one. But I didn't go up in Anchorage. It took me a long time to accept that God hadn't brought me and Curt back together.”

“I didn't know,” Linda said softly as she put her hand on Doris June's arm.

“I still don't understand it,” Doris June said. “So don't admire me.”

Linda smiled. “I admire you even more for being honest with me about it. If I ever do get word that Duane has gotten married, I'm going to call you up and have a good cry with you on the phone.”

“You do that.”

The two of them sat there for a while.

“Garlic,” Linda finally said as she got up. “I'll need to get some fresh garlic. I remember I need to sauté that with some onion. That's the first step. I'll need to go into Miles City for supplies this afternoon if I'm going to make the sauce the right way.”

Doris June reached into her pocket and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. “If you're going to Miles City, could you get some cookies for the concert on Saturday? My mom thinks we need to bake the cookies, but I don't think we'll have time to do that and get the pansy baskets ready for Mother's Day.”

“Nobody bakes cookies anymore, especially not for a crowd like that,” Linda said as she took the two bills. “What kind do you want?”