Pasta Mortem Page 2

  He looked at his watch. “I’d better get home to Jane and Eliot in time to read him a bedtime story.”

  Gillian got up. “Wait, James, I have a fruit salad for Jane for you to take home.” She opened the stainless steel refrigerator, took out a brown paper bag, and handed it to him.

  “Thanks, Gillian,” he said and gave her a hug.

  Lindy helped Gillian clear the table. Everyone else shrugged into warm coats, hats, scarves, and gloves to brace themselves against the freezing temperatures, then chuckled as they tried to wrap each other in hugs before leaving for the night.

  Outside, the bitter winter air stung James’s face. He looked up at the clear night sky and wondered if they’d finally get that big snowstorm the meteorologist kept promising. He waved to Lucy as she got into her Jeep, then climbed into his old Bronco and turned the key.

  Nothing happened. The motor was dead.

  Chapter Two

  “No, no, no, not again!” James yelled and pounded the steering wheel. “I need to get home!” James saw the red taillights of Lucy’s Jeep disappearing down the street. Not that she’d be able to help. It wasn’t like the car’s battery needed a jump. This was the third time the old Bronco had given up the ghost in the new year. The first time, for seventy-five dollars, he’d had the vehicle towed to a shop in Harrisonburg. Five hundred dollars later, the Bronco had a new fuel pump and a promise that the problem had been fixed.

  Two weeks later, the car shuddered to a stop on Interstate 64 outside Richmond, where James had attended a regional library conference. He’d made a call to one of his Richmond colleagues, who recommended a shop in town. One hundred dollars for a tow plus four hundred dollars for an ignition module later, James was once again on his way with assurances that the Bronco was fixed.

  Now he sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel wondering what to do. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gillian and Bennett come outside. They didn’t have coats on and hurried to the truck door. James rolled down the window.

  “What’s wrong, James? Are you all right?” Gillian asked, shivering.

  “The Bronco won’t start.”

  “My man, how long are you gonna hold on to that dinosaur?” Bennett asked.

  “As long as I can. Who can afford a new car nowadays? I better call a tow truck.”

  “Wait,” Gillian said. “A young man named Ace started coming into my shop for dog food with his dog, Bacon, last summer. Bacon’s the sweetest bloodhound mix, but I saw right away the poor thing had two ticks behind his ear that he kept scratching. I got rid of those with baking soda and some apple cider vinegar. Anyway—”

  “Are you going to get to the point, woman? I’m freezing my butt off out here,” Bennett complained.

  “Go on back inside, Bennett, I’ll be right there,” Gillian said, her breath visible in the night air. “James, Ace is what you call a mobile mechanic. You could call him and he’d come over and get your truck started. I have his number in the house. Come inside where it’s warm.”

  James didn’t take long to think it over. A mechanic who would come to him would be faster and maybe cheaper than towing the truck to the mechanic in Harrisonburg. “Okay, thanks.”

  Gillian turned and hurried back to the house.

  James leaned his head on the steering wheel and said, “Listen, Bronco, I don’t have the money to keep getting you fixed. What am I supposed to do? I’ve got a pregnant wife and a son waiting for me.”

  Feeling like ten kinds of a fool for talking to the truck, James rewrapped his scarf around his neck. When he reached to take the key out of the ignition and join Gillian and Bennett, he turned it one more time on impulse.

  To his astonishment, the Bronco started right up. “Good truck!” he cried. “I’ll get you some premium gas as a treat tomorrow!”

  Without turning the engine off, he got out and went to Gillian’s door. She said, “Maybe the truck was cold, James.”

  James didn’t meet her eye. Instead he looked at the polished front door fitted with leaded glass panes. “I hope so. I doubt my own judgment sometimes, Gillian, especially when it comes to an important financial matter like replacing the truck.”

  Gillian put her finger on James’s chin and turned his face toward her. “You stop that right now, James. It’s never easy making big decisions in life. Choices when large amounts of money are involved can be tricky. Give yourself credit for not rushing into anything. You know, you’re not the same man as when I first met you, when all of us formed the supper club.”

  “Why do you say that? It’s not like I’ve slimmed down and have rock-hard abs.”

  “It has nothing to do with the way you look. The changes are on the inside. Don’t you know how much more confident you are? When we formed the club, you’d lost Jane, you’d lost your mother, and you’d given up your teaching job at William and Mary to come back to Quincy’s Gap and care for your father. You were insecure and miserable. Now, you’re sure of who you are and, unless I’m mistaken, you’re happy about the most important things in life: love, family, friends, work.”

  James thought for a moment, then said, “If that’s true, it’s because of the love and support from my friends and Jane and Eliot.”

  Gillian nodded. “We all flourish when surrounded by love. Keep an open mind about your truck. Here’s Ace’s number in case you ever need it.”

  James accepted the slip of paper and tucked it into his wallet. “Thanks, Gillian.” He gave her a long hug. “Tell Bennett I said good night.”

  He jogged back to the truck, which had him safely back at his little yellow two-story house on Hickory Hill Lane in less than ten minutes. “Jane!” he hollered up the stairs. “I’m home. I’ll be up in a minute!”

  “Okay,” she called.

  Snickers the schnauzer danced around him.

  “You want to go outside, don’t you? Come on, I’ll let you out back where it’s fenced.”

  James didn’t have to wait long. The freezing cold had the dog scampering inside the house in minutes and curling up in his warm dog bed.

  Miss Pickles, the tortoiseshell cat, turned her pink nose in his direction, waited for an ear scratch, then, once satisfied, went right back to her nap.

  James hung up his coat in the hall closet, retrieved a fork from the kitchen, and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. His beautiful wife, Jane, lay propped up in bed, her walnut-brown wavy hair a dark contrast to the pale blue pillowcase. She had a warm, colorful wedding ring quilt pulled up over her belly. She’d been reading the latest Lee Child novel, but James noted with a pang of guilt that she had her cell phone at her side.

  “James!” Jane cried. “I was beginning to worry about you. I thought of phoning but didn’t want to disturb you if you were having a good time.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. We talked about a new diet and time got away from me. You should have called. Or I should have called you.” James hastened to her side, a lump forming in his throat. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that they had found one another again. Gillian was right. When Jane had left him, James had been so hurt, so lost, but the pain had vanished when she’d come back into his life with their little boy. Even though they’d both had other relationships, James had never stopped loving Jane, or she him. Now they’d remarried and were expecting a daughter. He leaned over and kissed his beautiful wife on the lips, then sat on the bed next to her. He couldn’t resist placing his hand gently on her belly. He hoped to feel his daughter move, something that never failed to fill him with awe, but she was asleep. “How are you feeling?”

  Jane rolled her eyes, then smiled at her husband. “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to hear those words every day. Our little girl hasn’t given me any trouble at all, unless you count kicking me the whole time I tried to nap this afternoon. She seems to delight in waiting until I’m trying to sleep before performing somersaults. What’s that you have?”

  “Gillian made fruit salad and sent me home with some for you. Do you feel like eat
ing?”

  “Mmm, hand it over, mister. Sounds delicious.”

  James took out the yellow vintage Tupperware bowl, removed the lid, and handed it to Jane along with the fork. He reached back into the brown paper bag and found a napkin. Trust Gillian to think of everything. “Is Eliot asleep already?”

  Jane swallowed a bite of banana and nodded. “It’s almost nine on a school night. I had to make him go to bed at eight thirty. He wanted to show you the magic reading wand he made in class, but I told him it could wait until tomorrow.”

  James felt his heart plummet. He had gone to Gillian’s straight from work, so he hadn’t seen his son since that morning when he’d taken him to the bus. The bus stopped right on the corner outside their house, but Jane and James had decided that, at least for the first year, one of them would stay with Eliot until the bus came and meet him when the bus brought him home. Jane had met Eliot at the bus when he finished school for the day.

  “A magic reading wand. I want to see that,” James said. “Maybe I could look in on him. I won’t wake him.”

  “Be sure you don’t. Let him show you the wand tomorrow morning. Otherwise, he’ll get excited and won’t go back to sleep for hours. First, tell me about the new diet.”

  “Gillian came up with the Mediterranean diet.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be very healthy.”

  “No desserts.”

  Jane chuckled. “James Henry, you have the biggest sweet tooth in all of Quincy’s Gap. I’ll bet there aren’t any cheese puffs on the diet either.”

  James paused in the act of unbuttoning his shirt. “How did you know I’d fallen off the cheese puff wagon?”

  “Wives know everything,” Jane said, mischief in her brown eyes. “Okay, maybe the other night when you were massaging my swollen ankles, I might have noticed that your right index finger looked orange.”

  James groaned.

  “I’ll be happy to go on the diet with you.”

  “You don’t have to go on any diet. You’re still planning on nursing, aren’t you?” James asked, concerned that she’d changed her mind. “I don’t want you depriving yourself.”

  “As I recall, the Mediterranean diet is full of tempting food choices. And of course I’m going to breastfeed our baby girl. But that doesn’t give me an excuse to stuff myself with junk food.” Jane squinted and pretended to think hard. “Well, maybe sometimes.”

  James laughed. “Sure I can’t get you some pickles and ice cream?”

  “Ugh!” Jane grimaced. “Neither sounds appealing.”

  “I thought most women craved pickles and ice cream when they were pregnant.”

  “I’m in the minority, then,” Jane said and wrinkled her nose. “Anything else happen tonight?”

  James pulled out a pair of warm flannel pajamas from the triple dresser. He really didn’t want to tell Jane about the Bronco not starting. They’d already had one “discussion” about replacing the truck. James didn’t want to upset his wife.

  “The Bronco, James?” Jane asked.

  James’s eyes rounded. “How did you know?”

  “I told you. Wives know everything. Now, what happened?”

  “Gillian called to make sure I got home okay, didn’t she?” James guessed.

  Jane nodded and forked a slice of orange into her mouth.

  James adopted a light tone. “The truck didn’t want to start, but I talked it into behaving. Brought me home fine.”

  Jane rested the bowl of fruit on her rounded stomach. “James, it’s time for a new vehicle. I know you said we can’t afford it, and I agree that we shouldn’t take money out of savings. But I’ll continue my distance teaching at JMU after our daughter is born, and that brings in a small income. We’ll have a tight budget, but we’ll be able to handle a car payment on a used truck if we’re careful.”

  “Jane, let’s not talk about this now,” he said, pulling on his pajama bottoms. “You know I don’t want you to have to teach after the baby is born unless you want to.”

  “Which I do. I love teaching. With distance learning, all I need is my laptop to post lectures and grades. You want to wait for the Bronco to break down again?”

  “Pop always says that buying a used car is buying someone else’s problems.”

  “That’s often true. We can reduce the risk if we have any potential new vehicle checked by a mechanic first.”

  “Please, Jane. Let’s not have an argument about this now,” he pleaded, buttoning the top of his pajamas. “I’ll take the Bronco back to the mechanic in Harrisonburg tomorrow and tell him what happened. He’ll check the truck over.”

  Jane put the empty Tupperware bowl on the nightstand and picked up her book. “All right, but promise me that you’ll tell me what he says.”

  “I promise.” James stepped over to the bed, leaned down, and kissed Jane on the forehead. “I love you. I’ll go look in on Eliot, then make sure everything’s locked up and come to bed.”

  James crept silently into Eliot’s room. In the dim light of Eliot’s Curious George nightlight and the luminous planets and stars on the cobalt blue ceiling, James could make out the top of his son’s head. The rest of him was buried under thick blue covers. James listened to the sound of his son’s soft breathing and smiled. Who knew that the sound of a little boy sleeping could delight his ears more than even the most beautiful music?

  James picked The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe off the floor and placed it on Eliot’s bedside table without a sound. He and Jane had been taking turns reading the second book in the Chronicles of Narnia series to Eliot. Although the stories were supposed be for ages eight and up, five-year-old Eliot had comprehended and loved The Magician’s Nephew and begged for more. James and Jane had bought a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and were already halfway through reading it to Eliot. As he looked at his boy, James wished again that he’d been home to read to Eliot. Easing the door three-quarters of the way closed, James whispered, “I love you, son.”

  When he’d finished checking the locks and turning out lights, he returned to the bedroom. One look told him that his wife had drifted off to sleep. James switched off the lamp and slipped into bed, careful not to wake her.

  Snuggled under the covers, James said a silent prayer of thanks for his family and friends and asked to be blessed with a healthy baby.

  • • •

  The next morning, James surprised the two best library assistants in the world, the Fitzgerald twins, by letting the guys into the library, turning up the heat, and then taking off for Harrisonburg immediately, leaving them in charge. Once there, he drank burnt coffee and resisted the siren call of the vending machine for two hours in the shop’s waiting room, hoping for a positive verdict on the Bronco from the mechanic.

  The man finally came into the waiting room, where James had been checking the Star for a feature story on Quincy’s Gap with his photo. Gray-haired and short, the mechanic wore stained coveralls and wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “Mr. Henry, I can’t find anything wrong with your truck. No codes coming up on the computer.”

  James perked up. “That’s good news.”

  “Maybe. Sometimes on these older models, the computer doesn’t throw a code. An engine cutting off or refusing to start can be hard to diagnose. She’s got almost a hundred and eighty thousand miles on her. Might be good for another twenty thousand.”

  “Two years,” James estimated.

  “Like I said, might be. You bring her back if she acts up again.”

  James called Jane right away and told her the mechanic said nothing was wrong with the truck. Although she’d said okay, James could tell she wasn’t convinced.

  As he drove back to Quincy’s Gap, James smiled as he remembered Eliot’s excitement that morning when he showed him the magic reading wand.

  “Look, Daddy!” Eliot had exclaimed, waving the wand in front of his face. “I can use it two ways. As a bookmark like this”—Eliot grabbed a Dr. Seuss book a
nd demonstrated—“or as a pointer while I read, like this. Here, you can hold it.” The child held out the wand as if bestowing James with the crown jewels.

  While Eliot pulled on his navy blue sweater, James accepted the wand. Made of a Popsicle stick with a cut-out glittery foam star at the end, the wand had been painted blue. “This is neat, son. Did you glue these hearts and circles on here?”

  “Those are moons, Daddy, like the ones I have on my ceiling,” Eliot corrected.

  “Right. I see that now.” When James had bought the house, the previous occupants had glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling of what became Eliot’s room. James loved to cuddle in bed with his son while the two looked up at the moon, stars, and planets above and discussed Eliot’s day.

  Eliot talked nonstop about his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Spalding, who was pretty and lots of fun, while James made him pancakes and finally got him out the door and on the bus. James had stood and waved at his son until the yellow bus was out of sight.

  Now he parked the Bronco in front of the Shenandoah County Library. A quick glance at his watch confirmed what his stomach told him. It was almost time for lunch. Luckily, he’d had the foresight to stop at the grocery store before he left Harrisonburg and pick up a Greek-style salad with chicken. James made it past the snack machine that contained mini packages of cheese puffs without making a purchase and walked into his beloved library.

  “Hey, Professor,” Scott Fitzgerald called out. The twins often referred to James as “Professor” since, before he returned to Quincy’s Gap, James had been a professor of English Literature at William & Mary College in Williamsburg.

  James smiled and waved a greeting. He divested himself of scarf, parka, and gloves, put his salad in the break room fridge, then joined the Fitzgerald twins. They stood with Fern Dickenson at the checkout counter cutting red hearts out of construction paper.

  “You sure were in a hurry this morning,” Francis said, a question in his voice.

  Identical twins, the Fitzgeralds were twenty-seven-year-old, long-limbed, brainy bibliophiles who wore tortoiseshell glasses. Each had a bottomless pit for a stomach. They were the best assistants in the world, in James’s opinion, and he didn’t know how he’d run the library without them. Over the years, they’d become his friends as well as his employees. Heck, James considered them family. Last year, the Fitzgerald twins had won a contest for creating a new video game and, with part of their winnings, had bought cruise tickets to Bermuda for James and Jane as a wedding present.