< Back Almond Tea Bread (w/ poppy seed) Prep Time: 15 minutes Cook Time: one hour Serves: 2 loafs Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 2 1/4 cup sugar 3 eggs 1 1/8 cup oil 3 cups flour 1 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 baking powder 1 1/2 cup milk 2 Tablespoons canned poppy seed 1 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring Glaze: 3/4 cup sugar 1/4 cup orange juice 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring Preparation Grease and flour 2 large loaf pans. Cream together first three ingredients. Add 1 1/2 cup milk alternating with flour mixture to the creamed mixture. Add 2 Tablespoons canned poppy seed, 1 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring. Beat 2 minutes. Divide between the two pans. Bake at 350 for 1 hour. In a small saucepan combine the glaze ingredients. Boil for 1 minute. Glaze bread with this mixture while still warm. We usually start cooking the sauce when the bread comes out of the oven then after the minute of boiling we pour it over the bread. You can get canned poppy seeds in the pie filling section. It will change the flavor and dynamics of the bread. Previous Next

Dorothy or Dart is an amazing singer with perfect pitch who grows up in an amusement park.  Dart's life take so many different directions it's is hard for her family to keep up. Each possibility leads her to new heights but she can't always see what is in front of her face. Dart is lucky to have people who can help guide her to open her heart. Written by Kimberly Caristi Dorothy or Dart is an amazing singer with perfect pitch who grows up in an amusement park. Dart's life take so many different directions it's is hard for her family to keep up. Each possibility leads her to new heights but she can't always see what is in front of her face. Dart is lucky to have people who can help guide her to open her heart. Italy The flight to Milan was not as bad as expected. I thought I would be crying the whole way or whining that I didn’t want to be going to Italy. Jane was good at keeping me distracted and made sure I did everything I was supposed to do to ensure a good flight. I had only flown a few times and wasn’t a fan. Getting through the airport was a team effort, I read the Italian then Jane directed us. Renting a car in a foreign country was easier than I expected. Jane was elected to do all the driving by default. Being an inexperience driver had its advantages. The scenery kept changing and I took picture after picture through the bug splattered windshield. Seeing the difference in homes, manufacturing complexes and even the trees changed. We saw some of the most beautiful cars I have ever seen. I wanted to know why we didn’t rent one of them. Jane laughed at me saying if we could afford to rent them would we be able to pay for the tickets for speeding we would get? I was happy just taking a picture of them. The excitement built as we traveled further south. When the Adriatic came into view it was hard not to tell Jane to pull off the road so I could take a picture. Jane offered several times to pull off so I could take a nice picture. I declined the offer though secretly I wished she would stop every ten minutes. The colors of the sea against the sky made it challenging to see where the water ended and the sky began with all the different colors of blue melding together. The view was intoxicating. We decided that tomorrow we were definitely going to get our feet wet in the sea. We talked nonstop for the five and half hours of driving. We stopped once at an Autogrill for lunch and some coffee. The variety of items we could buy made it hard to say no to anything. The look we got from the cashier was very telling. We should have stopped when our arms were full. We kept dropping off items at the checkout stand and telling the clerk that we were not ready yet. We bought so much I didn’t know when we would eat or drink it all. Both of us were excited when we started climbing up the large hill where Macerata sat. That was our destination. Neither of us had ever been to Italy. What made it more intriguing was that we were staying in a medieval walled city. It was a little more exciting than I thought it would be. You could see the well-crafted walls and the city that had sprawled out from them. We were zig zagging our way up the hill and when my ears popped, I decided to tell my parents that I was living on a mountain. I could see real mountains that were alluring, large and looming in the distance. We decided that we would have to drive up those mountains another day. I started thinking that everything we said we would leave for another day was piling up. So many walled cities, castles, churches, we even saw we could easily go to another country on the way to Macerata. Now we added mountains. How were we going to get all these places visited before we leave in two weeks? Macerata day one I couldn’t keep my mouth closed anymore. “Okay, we have driven around the outside of the walls three times. This is the only entrance that we have seen someone go into the town. I say take it.” I had sat quietly as Jane drove up the little mountain to the beautiful town of Macerata and while she traversed the town. The walls that surround the historic center of town were stunning and it looked like it was new construction though it was built in the fifteenth and sixteenth century. Jane was great at research and told me so many things that I didn’t absorb. My excuse was, well, because I didn’t want to. My mind was elsewhere and I knew she was trying to distract me. The tidbit of information that stuck was about the walls. It was impressive that the town’s people kept maintaining the walls and finally settled on a permanent location for an opera house. “Let me go around one more time. This angle and the hill make me a little nervous. Even the hills where you are from don’t have turns like this.” “You fly fighter planes and this makes you nervous?” She was right about where I was from though a little farther south, the mountains did get a little higher. There they had a few of these kinds of hairpin turns. “I don’t see you driving.” I instantly backed off. She was getting testy. “Sorry. Maybe we can find someone willing to drive us into the town.” I really didn’t think it would be a big deal driving in a foreign country. I was so wrong when it came to hill towns. I felt a little relieved that we weren’t driving in the United Kingdom where they drive on the other side of the road. I was glad I had the excuse that I don’t drive a manual. “No, I am going to figure this out.” Jane was leaning forward with her facial features all pinched. Jane was gorgeous though at that moment I thought I might be the prettier one. Again, we came to one of three openings, Jane turned and drove up the hill without stalling. I clapped, “Yea! You did it.” “Now I have to find the apartment. The GPS seems happier that we took that turn.” I was a little tired of the woman saying, recalculating. Jane was not pleased with me when I said wee as we went down the hill, she back slapped my arm. Dean and I didn’t grow up shoving, back slapping or fighting. We never felt the need to do that. I have learned that was not normal brother sister behavior. Dean is my best friend. I texted him almost daily and we talked if we had more than a one- or two-line text. Jane, Adam, Pete and Bruce fought, wrestled and teased each other. That said they were all the best of friends and very protective of each other. I saw a faint number, “Oh, I think that was it. Can you back up?” The numbers were sparse on this road and that didn’t help matters when you were trying to find a place. “NO!” We definitely needed some wine when we parked this car. “There is a car behind us. I will just turn around.” It was my turn to yell, “Where?” “I am sure there will be a place.” I felt like the walls were closing in on us. Both of us were leaning into the middle of the car thinking that would help like when you go around sharp corners. Jane stopped the car, “Pull in the side mirrors.” Man can she bark orders. There was a reason why she was a Major in the Army. Well, there was no place for Jane to turn around and we were pushed out of the walls. Another turn around the outside of the walls. “Oh, I missed this road.” Jane back smacked me again. “Hey, I did. There is space here to drive. I am glad you are driving because otherwise we would have been playing bumper cars with the walls if I drove.” Well, that got a chuckle out of Jane. The second time she drove up the hill like a champ. I reached out both of my hands and gripped her arms. I laid my head on her shoulder. “Dart, get off, I need to shift.” “But you are my hero.” “Stop it. I don’t know why Adam.” She stopped abruptly. She promised me she would not bring up Adam until we were drinking a glass of wine in our apartment. We were really fools thinking I and probably Jane hadn’t been thinking of anything else but him since we got on the plane to come to Italy. “Sorry.” Well at least she said it nicely. “That’s okay. Oh, look, that must be the landlady. She opened the garage for you. Can you pull the car in?” Jane gave me a dirty look, “Please.” “Sorry.” “Stop saying sorry so much.” I looked at her. What is wrong with saying sorry? I was sorry. It must be a military thing. “Okay.” I couldn’t believe that we were staying inside the walls of the town. More importantly, I couldn’t believe the ease that Jane drove through those narrow streets. She looked calm until I said something. She easily maneuvered the car into the garage of the apartment. She took a deep breath and said, “I can’t believe I just did that.” She turned to me, “Did you see how narrow those streets were? The angle of which I had to turn to get into the garage? This car is staying here for a few days until I recover from the drive.” Again, I thought about her being in the military. You always put on a brave face and act like your job was easy. Our landlady was standing outside of the garage as we got out. She started rattling off information about the apartment and the garage. I tried to answer her when she was asking questions. I wasn’t sure she even heard me. I was glad I could understand most of her dialect. Then I translated to Jane “Yes, we were in the right place though parking will be an extra cost. If we want to park in the city garage it would cost a little less.” Jane’s quick response was, “I will pay the extra!” Our apartment was on the top floor, which was the third floor or what the Italians call the second floor. It was small, but I thought it was perfect for two. In some respects, it was bigger than our place in New York. It had two bedrooms which surprised us both. We had already said that we would share a bed while Jane was here. I couldn’t believe Adam had rented this place for a month. I walked around touching everything as the landlady told us about the air-conditioner, washer, internet and cable. The maid will come in once a week to do the laundry, floors and dust. Wow, I couldn’t believe we have a maid. I probably could clean the whole place in no time. Jane reminded me that Adam didn’t want me to have to work so that was why the extra attention. After Jane and I unpacked, we met in the kitchen to go through the welcome basket the landlady left for us. We had a local bottle of wine, some pasta and a jar of sauce, biscotti and crackers and a box of chocolates from a local candy store. There were a couple liters of water and a wedge of cheese in the little refrigerator. We had coffee, tea and local honey in the cabinet next to the stove. I was happy we had an espresso machine that we could make a cappuccino if we wanted. The kitchen was well stocked with everything we needed to cook and more. I didn’t know what a couple of gadgets were, of course, Jane knew what each item's purpose was. She would be considered a gourmet cook compared to me. I cooked very simple, though Jane could take the simplest of ingredients and make them taste like a seasoned chef spent all day on the dish. When she would visit, Adam and I would stock the house with all kinds of stuff and she would go nuts planning meals out of everything we purchased. We loved her visits. I was pretty good at picking out the wine for the meal she had planned but that was because I had a very good wine shop around the corner with a guy who knew what he was selling and what wine pairs well with the food his clients were having. I was planning on doing the same here. I knew there had to be someone here to help us with local wines. Our living room had a couch that was okay. A little too firm for my taste. I wanted a couch that I could sink into and relax. The one chair was a little better than okay though still not soft enough for me. We had a tv that probably wouldn’t be turned on and a dining table with six chairs. I thought the two of us would fit just fine in the kitchen with the table for two. The bedrooms were sufficient for our needs. We each had a full bed, a cabinet for clothes and a night stand. We each had a bathroom that was small but mine had a washer in it so instead of a bathtub shower combo I just had a shower. I did have a little balcony off of my room. It was big enough to have a chair and that was it. The bigger balcony off of the living room was enough for a little table and two chairs. I was pretty sure that we would be sitting out there all the time when we were here. The view from the large balcony was of the mountains while my bedroom view, I could see the Adriatic Sea between a couple other buildings. Jane said we were about seventeen miles from the sea. I have no idea how to convert kilometers so I trusted her figures. We had a couple of weeks before Jane had to report to her base so we were going to make the best of the time we had together. We decided that most of the time we would talk about Adam and our lives growing up while Jane was still in Macerata. We needed to heal together. I thought I needed to learn as much as I could about Adam. I had no idea if it was healthy or not. I just needed to know more. I craved more. I thought if I knew everything about Adam I wouldn’t hurt so much. That might have been a silly thing but that was what I thought. So far, I knew we had such different experiences growing up. They moved often and I never left my small community. I had friends from when I was little and she didn’t remember having a good friend ever. Her brother, Adam, was her best friend growing up. They just had this tremendous bond like my brother Dean and me. Their family could not have been closer. That was one of the things that Adam and I had in common…a close-knit family. “First things first. I need to stretch my legs.” Jane said as she locked arms with me and we headed out the door. “Let’s start by walking through town to see what is what.” The narrow roads, more like paths, that people shared with the cars took some time getting used to. The first time a car drove by I threw myself up against the wall. Jane laughed so hard she was crying. I thought she was going to pee in her pants. She imitated me by jumping and pressing herself against the wall of a garage several times until I started laughing too. Seriously, some of the cars drove so fast it scared me. Jane kept reminding me that they are only going about twenty miles an hour, but still. I thought when people were walking on the road, cars should drive at a snail’s pace. Once I almost started to cry then Jane realized that some of my shakiness came from the memory of how Adam... She came over and put her arm around me. “Dart, just because Adam was killed by a car doesn’t make all drivers crazy. These people have been driving through these streets for many years and they have great spatial reasoning. The only way they will hit you is if you jump in front of them. We have to pay attention but not freak out every time a car passes us.” She looked me in the eyes, “Okay?” “Okay” I said, shakier than I wanted. I didn’t want to be scared, nevertheless when I heard a car coming it reminded me of Adam and how he died. I got better at not reacting to cars passing me the farther we walked. Jane would say, car coming, and step to the side. Once we got to the big piazza, I was calmer. I didn't care, I still needed a drink even if it was only lunch time. Jane suggested that we have a sit-down lunch at the outdoor café and people watch. When I gave her a look she added, “and have a glass of wine.” Lunch was wonderful and the waitress practiced her English on us and I practiced my Italian. She knew I wasn’t from Le Marche and wanted to know what city I was from. She guessed I had to be from Tuscany. She was impressed with my language skills. I was honored. Jane was annoyed. She wished she could speak Italian. She had only understood a couple of words the waitress and I spoke. I would have to remember to translate the conversations better from here on out. Claudia, our waitress, pointed the way to a little grocery store where we could find the supplies we needed plus a few more treats. She also had given us directions to the local cheese shop, telling us this was the only place to buy cheese unless we found a local farmer to buy it from directly. The cheese shop would have some local sausages and salami that we should try. Claudia especially wanted us to try the Ciauscolo, it was a Macerata special salume that was spreadable like pate. It sounded interesting so I put it in my phone so I could remember the name. More maze-like roads to walk on our way to the grocery store. We saw a sign in a passageway directing us to the grocery store. Once our eyes got adjusted to the darkness, we saw another sign that directed us down the stairs to the grocery store. We were surprised when we walked down the stairs to the store, there we could see the street that we had driven on a couple of hours before. It was like a two-story house built on the side of a hill. We walked in the top floor and out the bottom level. It was fun at the grocery store looking at all the things we could buy. Jane said she would cook as we walked around the store. I could tell she was excited and obviously remembered the last time I cooked for her when I burnt the whole meal. In recent years we took her out to dinner more often. She loved to be out with us and have someone recognize me or Adam. She loved the celebrity part of our careers. I really loved performing but was always surprised that someone wanted my autograph. I was flattered that someone recognized me and wanted my picture taken with them. I was not happy when a fan would catch me with no makeup on and wasn’t dressed the best. I learned quickly when I was becoming a celebrity that I had to go out with a base of makeup on and clean clothes. No more wearing stained clothes to go to the grocery store or running into the drug store. Dinner was simple and delicious. Jane made a marinara and pasta with baked chicken. She taught me a new way of cutting a chicken and cooking it. I didn’t think I would forget her cutting off the head and the feet. I probably would forget the word spatchcock. It was cool how she cut it and put another cast iron skillet over it to flatten it. It made it cook faster, she said. She put me in charge of making a salad of lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, olives. I made a light vinaigrette dressing. This dressing has been handed down in my dad’s family for ages. It was Jane’s favorite and I was sure it would be handed down in her family from now on. For dessert we picked up a crostata filled with an apricot filling. It’s like a flat pie filled with jam. What’s not to like? We drank the local wine which I loved. I would have to look to see if we can find a Verdicchio wine from Matelica when I get home. I have had it from Jesi but it was a whole different level of white wine that I would like to explore. Jane looked around the kitchen and seemed satisfied that everything was cleaned and put back in its right place. “Okay dinner is over, let's finish the wine on our balcony. We can watch the sunset over the mountains.” “Good idea, Jane. We make a good team. Adam and I took turns making dinner and doing dishes. I like how we did it together. You are so fast and efficient I wanted to work just as fast. I couldn’t let you beat me by putting everything away while I did the few dishes.” “Ha, that was how our dad taught us. He would stand there and watch us do the dishes while someone was putting the food away and cleaning the counters and table. He would say “Pete is winning, Bruce is catching up.” It was a play by play of us cleaning up the kitchen. It was one of my early memories of him trying to get us to move fast at picking up toys to climbing walls at the gym.” “My first memory was just flashes of me under tables in a dark room. I remember looking at my bare feet and wiggling my toes. When I got older, I asked my mom, “Do you remember any reason why and what I was doing? My dad overheard and busted out laughing, he said ‘you my dear were an escape artist in your earlier life.’” Jane laughed at that. I ignored her and continued. I wanted and needed to tell her my memory because she hadn’t heard how I got my name. “My mom interrupted his laughter and gave more of an explanation, she said, yes, because your dad and I were on stage and your babysitters were all the people behind the scenes. We had taken off your shoes because we never thought about how loud they would sound while we were singing or dancing…she said it was their bad. My mom was upset that they hadn’t thought about the hard soles before buying my shoes. When they heard my shoes making such a clatter backstage, it would distract them because they knew someone was chasing me.” “My dad intervened; little did they think that taking off my new shoes would make it harder for people to keep track of me. I was so little and quick that I would dart off faster than they could say do-re-me. My dad sang it as if he were about to start a song. He will never stop singing until he dies, he says. That was when I got my nickname Dart.” Jane made a snorting sound and about choked on her wine. “You know that really fits you. I remember walking with you in New York and asking you where the fire was. You had no idea what I was talking about. I never met anyone who could walk so fast and change direction in a flash.” I sat there sipping my wine thinking of the day when they told me that story. Every time since when they would tell other people or more likely my dad would tell my story, I always knew what was coming next. I would never know if it was because he was proud of me or if it amused him. He said, “You would dart all over the grounds. We would hear stories of you showing up at a demonstration and you would dart in and around people to get the best view. Mind you no one ever minded a sweet little girl with curly black hair and sparkly blue eyes maneuvering around them to get a better look. It was the person who was in charge of watching you that people would get annoyed at.” He would always shake his finger at me when he told me this story. “Finally, the demonstrator and the babysitter would give signals that they had eyes on you.” When he told that story when I was young, he would tap me on the nose. As I got older, he would reframe because he knew I thought I was too old for that kind of attention. One of the stage hands wanted to name me Eel because I was as slippery as an eel. I was so glad that nickname didn’t stick. I realized I hadn’t finished my story, “Other people had other nicknames for me but I kind have gotten so used to Dart I don’t mind it. It’s better than my real name…Dorothy.” “You are a star. You can change it.” “I am not a star.” “I beg to differ. I have been with you when people come up and ask for your autograph. In my book that is a star.” “I am just an actress. I think a star is reserved for the movies.” We sat and drank our wine. Finally, I said, “My mom named me after Dorothy of the “Wizard of Oz.” The first time she saw the movie she knew that was what she wanted to do.” “Find the Wizard?” I gave her a dirty look even though she couldn’t see me. The sun rays behind the mountains had gone away. “I am not answering that question. When my mom made it to New York she thought it was her lucky movie that got her there. She vowed if she ever had a little girl, she was going to name her Dorothy.” “How did Dean get his name?” “My dad’s favorite singer, Dean Martin.” “Your parents are old.” “Hey, not that old, it's just that my grandpa Moretti was a huge fan and they listened to Dean Martin all the time. That was when my dad started his singing career trying to imitate Dean Martin. You should hear my dad’s impression of him. He is dead on. Do you guys have stories on how you got your names?” “Not as good as yours. I am named after my mom’s best friend. Pete is named after our grandfather. Bruce and Adam don’t have stories that my parents talk about. I think they were named after some characters in a book. My mom is always reading. I know your family has so many stories but we don’t. More likely we don’t have a storyteller like your dad. When one of us tells a story of what happened when we were kids we get into a big argument. No one remembers them the same way. Every family should have a storyteller so we can remember the truth of what happened.” “Oh, my dad can get carried away telling what happened so don’t take what my dad says as the truth until my mom agrees. Anyway, I don’t know about your family not having a storyteller, Adam told me stories about the musicals that he choreographed in your living room.” “Oh, those were fun nights. You know, even my dad, who is this big military man who knew the ins and outs of a Bradley, loved musicals. That was the only night we ate dinner in front of the tv. We would watch a musical and afterwards Adam would perform part of it. Sometimes the rest of us kids would do it with him. I guess he was our storyteller.” She paused for a moment, “Do you think drinking soda through red licorice is as good as you remember it?” I could tell Jane had gone mournful thinking that Adam was their family’s storyteller and he was gone. I was feeling emotionally strong enough to try to help her feel better. The only thing I thought about was her last statement. “Yick, I never tried it. Soda is not good for singers. Besides, I never got used to the bubbles. I do remember someone giving a bloody nose to a fourth grader.” “Hey, nobody makes fun of my brother and gets away with it. My dad made sure that we were all combat ready at an early age. We might fight with each other but we were to protect our siblings. When you move as much as we did you learn very fast who your friends are…they are your siblings. I was a girl in a house filled with boys and I never got to use the girl excuse.” “What are you talking about, girl excuse?” “You don’t know what it means? It’s, ‘I can’t do that because I am a girl.’” She said it in a very flamboyant voice. “I changed tires, mowed lawns and anything that a boy scout could do, I could do. We moved to a place that didn’t have girl scouts and my dad went to the boy scout meeting with all of us. They happened to be in a gym. My dad had me climb the rope, do pushups and pull ups then dared them to do the same. They accepted me into the group though I quit when I got my period. That was my mom’s rule. She knew that I could handle myself around a bunch of boys though when you have your period you get emotional and she knew I wouldn’t want to cry in front of anyone.” Jane leaned back in her chair. “I had great parents.” “I did too.” George and Brenda Moretti’s Story I went to bed thinking about my parents’ stories. My father was the best story teller I knew and growing up where I did, we had a lot of storytellers. He always had Dean and me mesmerized when he told our family stories. He would tell us it was hard for him to pick his favorite story to tell. He rather we pick our favorite story. The truth be told we knew his favorite one to tell was their story, my mom and dad’s story. He always got this look in his eyes like he was seeing it for the first time. The time he first saw my mom he knew he was going to marry her. When he told us their story, he would call out to my mom, “when did you know you loved me, Brenda?” She always replied, “the second after you did, George.” We didn’t seem to be the normal family, my parents had Dean and me late in their lives. Having parents that were in their forties made for Dean and me to have to say over and over, no, they are not my grandparents. When I went to kindergarten my mom was almost forty-seven and my dad was fifty-one. I didn’t know I had older parents. They were more active than most parents. They were still singing and dancing in shows at the park every day. They played games on the floor with Dean and me while not complaining about any aches or pains. I didn’t care about their ages because we were all so happy. I knew my parents' love story backwards and forwards from all the times we asked my father to tell us their story. My mom grew up in a small town in Kansas. She couldn’t wait until she could get out of her dinky town as she called it. My dad would make a face when he talked about the town she grew up in. She had started college hoping that would get her on her way out of town. One day she went to a musical that was traveling through the university system. She went backstage after it was over and asked how she could get a part in the show. The director laughed at her. My mother was not happy with the guy and told the director she could sing better than anyone in the show. The director stepped back and folded his arms and said alright, prove it. My dad always told this part with so much pride. He said my mother looked around and straightened her blazer then started to belt out this song that was so exquisite everyone stopped what they were doing and came to watch her. When my mother was finished, she turned around and started to walk off. The director said hey, aren’t you curious about what I think? My mother said no, I know I sang it perfectly and continued to walk. The director started after her, trying to get her to stop. He yelled after her I will hire you. My mother said I am not interested in working for you because you laughed at me. Dad would again puff out his chest at that point. He would say the director sent me after her to try to get her to come back and the rest was history. My dad has so much charm my mom said he could wrap anyone around his little finger. They eventually got jobs in New York City off Broadway. It took them a little longer to get there and longer to get bit parts in shows on Broadway. That was when my mom felt her dreams of being the next Judy Garland might come true. Her mother always thought that was her destiny. Grandma Berg always had my mom in dance and singing classes since she was very little. Grandma knew that her little girl had lots of talent when she would play her records. My mom could sing along and sound just as good as the record. Grandma Berg wished her little girl would not get stuck in a small town like she did. My mom invariably laughed at that part; she would say look at where we ended up. After they had been in New York for a while and the parts that mom and dad were getting weren’t the headliners they were just the second lead a couple of times. My mom was getting frustrated to the point of wanting something different. One day mom told dad that they should look for a place where they could still sing and start having a family. Dad said they were moving to Branson, Missouri faster than she could blink. For a while, he wanted a family and had been looking for a place for them to live where they could make a living and have a family. My dad’s favorite line was “the rest is history.” My father loved telling our stories. He would ask us if we were tired of hearing them but to Dean and me, they never got old. My father was such a great storyteller he could have made a living at it if he weren’t such a wonderful singer. I knew I was biased but he always had people asking him to tell a story when we had parties at the park. Sometimes if my father got carried away and was telling more lives than truths my mother would interrupt him and tell him “Hey, Pinocchio you are stretching the truth a little too much there aren’t you.” My dad would cough and he would adjust the story or say my mother didn’t know what she was talking about. Whoever was listening would just laugh at the two of them. They say you marry your father and I kind of did. My father's story was that he grew up everywhere. He was a military brat just like Adam. His father had a successful career in the Army too. I never met my grandpa and grandma Moretti; they died soon after I was born. Dad was one of three sons and he was the baby. He said he was an accident because his brothers were all so much older than him. Uncle Douglas married Aunt Martha and they have four daughters. Dad said the girls were payback because Uncle Douglas always wished that Uncle Theodore and dad were girls so he wouldn’t have to share his bedroom with them. They all live in Washington D.C.. Uncle Douglas took after my grandpa Moretti. He graduated from West Point and has a long career in the military. Uncle Theodore married Aunt Kay and they have one child Teddy. We saw them once when they traveled across the country to move from New York to L.A.. Teddy was adopted and was the biggest brat as far as I remember. He was a few years older than Dean and it seemed to us that he loved to torment us. Uncle Theodore and Aunt Kay seemed so much older than mom and dad but I think it was because they were tired of having to deal with Teddy. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on not having my aunts and uncles around because I had so many people who cared about me in the park. I was watched and cared for by so many of them that it felt like I lived in a place that was a commune of my extended family. We lived more in the park than at our own home. Our home was very small but my parents made it feel like we had the best home. We had one room for our living room and kitchen. The kitchen was set up in one corner and in the other corner was a table we used for everything from eating our meals, to doing homework, writing music, or cutting out patterns of our costumes. Our small living room housed the sewing machine, a ratty couch, two overstuffed arm chairs that had seen better days. Where most people had a television set, we had a piano. On the walls were a couple guitars and a banjo. In its case was my mother’s violin which rested on the piano. If someone played the piano it was gingerly placed on the table along with the bow case. My dad played them all except my mother’s violin. Oh, he could play it but my mom wouldn’t let him. She didn’t know that when she wasn’t around Dean and I would beg him to play one of our favorite songs. He played it with so much vim and vigor it even made Dean dance with me. Dean didn’t sing though he was a pretty good dancer. He was pretty good on his feet. My mom played the violin while she sang for her talent in a beauty contest that grandma entered her in. She would sing the most bewitching ballads and when she played, you felt like you were floating along in a lazy river. My mom could play the piano and a little guitar. Dad taught Dean and me to play the guitar and my mom taught us to play the piano. Dean could pick at the banjo but my dad made it come alive when he played it. Later I picked up the violin though I played it more like my mom than my dad. My dad built a partition in Dean’s and my room so we had our own space. My parents had given us the larger of the two bedrooms. I got the closet side and Dean’s clothes were in a dresser except for a couple of dress shirts. We were happy that we had one bathroom indoors. If anyone were desperate, they could use the outhouse in the back corner of the yard. I was not a fan of spiders or taking a chance on seeing a snake along the way out there. If I had to go to the bathroom when someone was using the inside toilet, I would just do a dance outside the door until they came out. The property was thick with trees of all varieties. I loved looking out at the trees as they blossomed in the spring. The redbuds bloomed first, which I really thought should have been called purple buds because the flowers were purple. Soon after the dogwood trees bloomed, they would fill the house with their beautiful scent. I loved honeysuckle and thought the dogwood kind of smelled like them. When the lilacs were in bloom, every day my mom would bring a new bouquet into the house. Macerata Day two: It was wonderful waking up in a bright airy room. The sheets on the bed were nice and it was hard to pull myself out of bed. I could smell coffee so I knew Jane was up. Jane said a little chipper, “Good morning sleepy head.” I looked at the clock, “It’s nine o’clock.” I said with disgust. She was acting like I slept the day away. “When did you get up?” “I was up at seven. I have already taken my shower. Wrote to my parents a letter telling them how our trip went and what we have seen so far. Go get ready so we can go for another walk.” “I need coffee and something to eat first.” As I poured a cup of coffee I eyed the crostata and decided I would have a slice of it with my coffee. I saw the look she gave me. “Tell me a story of you and Adam.” I saw it on her face that she wasn’t ready to talk about Adam. “Come on, something that made you laugh. I need a good laugh.” I made a pouty face. “I know that pouty face. Adam couldn’t resist that face. I, on the other hand, can.” Jane sighed. “Okay, you are not getting your way. I just know you need coffee before you do anything. I know you are stubborn enough that you aren’t going anywhere until you have it.” She stood there for a minute then sat down with me. “Have you heard about the time that Adam wanted to go skating?” I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. “No.” “Once Adam wanted to go ice skating when we lived in Minnesota. Both of my parents said they didn’t have time to take us to the skating rink. They thought maybe we could go next week. Well, Adam didn’t like ‘the maybe’ so he decided to flood our backyard to make our own skating rink.” I chuckled at that. If he got it in his head, he was bound and determined to get what he wanted. “That sounds about right.” “Yeah, I know. Well, while my parents were gone, he hooked up the hose to the kitchen faucet and ran it out the door to the backyard and let the hose run for a couple of hours. Bruce and Pete said they were not taking responsibility for this and went to the park to go sledding there.” “Knowing Bruce and Pete, they didn’t want to stop him because they wanted it but didn’t want to get in trouble.” I gave her a slice of the crostata. Seeing her take it made me smile bigger. She said that she was going to watch what she ate. I was corrupting her. “You are so right. Anyway, we had had snow that had been trampled down in the backyard so in those areas the water stayed on top. Adam worked the broom over the other areas. If he stopped, the broom would freeze to the ground. It was so cold. Adam wondered if he stood still would his boots freeze to the ground. If you are wondering, they did. It was so cold it didn’t take long. He couldn’t get them loose. He pulled his feet out of the boots and tried to pull them up.” “Oh, no.” “Well, his socks got stuck.” That made me giggle. “The water was still pouring out around him, mind you. Thank goodness that he had on thick socks with such exaggeration and silliness he was able to pull his feet out of the socks. I was laughing so hard I almost peed in my pants. I made him come in because I was afraid he would get frostbite. I had him wrap his feet in blankets until they felt warm.” “What about the hose?” She tapped her nose then pointed to me. “We had forgotten about the water running until we went to get lunch. Adam had to go out and chip out the hose and boots. His socks were too hard and he thought they looked cool under the ice. We had a pretty good ice-skating rink with socks in the middle of it for almost a month. Adam had to work off the hose that he ruined and some of the water bill. My parents were mad for a day then they had fun skating with their boots on. The next year my parents made a way better one. Of course, the following year we moved to Texas so no ice-skating rink there.” “You do have cool parents. Okay you did your job. I laughed a little. I knew Adam was strong willed. I guess he was always that way.” “It was obvious that he wanted you from day one and he worked his magic on you in a very short time.” I got up to give Jane a hug. I needed to hear things like that. I felt it but it was nice to hear it from someone else. I wiped away a tear. “Okay, I am off to take a shower. I am not going to wear any makeup and I am just pulling back my hair into a ponytail. I doubt if there are any paparazzi around here.” “I don’t know what you worry about, you look just as beautiful with or without makeup…and I hate you for it.” She shoved me in the shoulder. I ignored her comment. She was just as good looking as Adam. You could tell everyone took after Mr. Bailey. I could never call him Arthur or dad. It felt too weird to me. I did my best to not call him anything while Adam and I were married. They only came once to see one of our plays and it was the last one. I think it was our best play. Great, now I was crying. It was hard for me to think of what could have been. It makes me so sad. I tried to give myself a pep talk. ‘You are only thirty-two. You still look pretty good when you aren’t crying. Look at this lovely last gift your husband gave you. Walk with your head held high and enjoy it.’ I pulled the massive amount of hair back into a ponytail. My hair was starting to dry around the edges framing my face with wisps of fine curls. “You really don’t look that bad.” I really had to work on my verbiage. I needed to be more positive. It was hard to keep focused on what we were doing because everything was catching our eyes. I really wanted to get a drawing pad and draw this stunning city. We were so distracted walking that Jane literally ran into a man as he was coming out of a store. He was a handsome man dressed immaculately and Jane was speechless. He was flirting with her and she was acting shy for once. At first, I did the talking but when he realized that she didn’t speak Italian he switched to English. He gave her his card and asked her to call him. He would like to show us a little bit of his community. Jane took the card and thanked Gianluca. Gianluca turned his attention to me, “Please make sure she calls me,” then he winked at Jane. After Gianluca left Jane just shook her head, “Boy, is he pushy and a big flirt.” “I thought he was nice.” “Here, you call him then.” Jane handed me Gianluca’s business card. “You have to be nuts if you think I will call him.” I looked at the nicely designed card. I handed her the card back. “This is kismet.” “What?” “Look at what he does for a living.” I watched her face change as she read the card. “This doesn’t mean anything.” “Oh, I think it does. Jane, you have to call him to see who is right.” “Just because he is a pilot and teaches flying you think it’s meant to be?” “You’d better believe it.” Jane pocketed the card and we continued on. It took almost the whole day before she brought up Gianluca again. We bantered back and forth until she finally called him. We will meet him in the upper piazza at noon tomorrow. For dinner we had picked up a few salami, sausages, cheeses, a loaf of bread and another bottle of wine. With the fruit and vegetables that we had we made another delicious dinner. I loved eating that way because I knew there would be leftovers. Sitting out on the balcony, Jane asked when I knew I was going to be a singer. The First memories that stay with you, they become your story. My earliest memory that was more than just a snippet of time was when I was three, almost four years old. My parents were on stage and my guard lost track of me and I came out dancing a silly ballet dance that would make my family laugh. I got to the upstage left and stopped, then I curtsied in front of the audience, they started clapping. My parents were dumbfounded and stood there for a minute and my mom started coming after me and my dad stopped her. “Let her take her bow.” Then I started to sing the song that my parents were to start singing after they were done with their banter, they did half way through their set. My parents were shocked that I knew the song. Again, my mom started for me and again my dad stopped her and took the mic over for me. My dad bent down on one knee to hold the mic for me to sing into. I did a bunch of their gestures and when there was a pause in the singing the piano player, who was the music director, started playing softly while I did a not-so-great soft step that my parents did. I got a standing ovation. That memory stands out as my favorite memory of all time. I ate it up as they say. I curtsied so much that I started to get dizzy. My parents pretended it was part of the act and sang the last part with me on my dad’s hip singing along. The guard, as I named him, who was supposed to be babysitting me while my parents worked, stepped onto stage when the song ended and took me from my dad. I gave my guard a kiss in front of everyone hoping that he wouldn’t be too mad at me for running off and getting on stage. The audience made the awe sound which I thought helped my guard not scold me. The rest of the show he had me sit on his lap and wouldn’t let me down. Before my parents were finished with their set, I had all the performers coming up to tell me I did a fantastic job. When their act was finished, my parents ran off stage, my father swept me up into his arms. He was so proud of me. My mother on the other hand started to lecture me one why I was to stay with my babysitter. I think in my head there were so many things to explore I really didn’t think I was running away. I just wanted to see what was next. Going on stage was planned. I had been practicing my parents’ routine in my head all summer long. I knew that song but nobody had time for me to hear me sing. I thought I would make them all have time if I went on stage during a performance. It worked and everyone heard me. The music director came up behind them cutting off my mother who was still chastising me for running away again. Since the show was over the music director brought me over to the piano. “Sweet Dart, can you make this sound?” As he hit a key. I stepped up to the piano and hit the key he had, “There.” I backed up very proud of myself. My dad said he knew what the director was trying to do. “Dorothy,” I knew he was serious when he used my name and not my cool nickname. At least, I thought it was cool when I was young now, I just thought it was a part of who I was. Dean hated his name because some people thought he was named after sour cream. My dad said my mom should have named me after Judy Garland because I had such a magnificent voice just like her. “You know how daddy warms up his throat by singing la, la la? Do you think you can do it with me? We are going to sound like the piano, okay?” “Okay, but then can I play the piano?” Daddy looked at the director and he shook his head yes. “You have a deal though you have to sing with me as long as I say, first.” He stuck out his hand and I knew we had a deal. I sang along with my dad. I had no idea what I was doing at the time but everyone was standing around us as we sang la, la, la then we progressed to do-re-me. We ended with the song that I sang on stage. I remember all that happened that day though the faces I saw were the faces that I brought up in my memory when I was nervous about something or wondered if I could do it. It was like I was their child learning to walk for the first time or say my first word. When I finished everyone cheered and clapped. I did too, though I had no idea why they were clapping. My dad picked me up and tossed me in the air then set me back down, “My darling Dart you are more like your mother every day.” He reached down to tousle my hair. I smiled because I loved my mommy more than anything. “You not only have her gorgeous black curly hair and smile; you have inherited her perfect pitch.” He surmised that I had no idea what perfect pitch meant. “You sing as beautifully as mommy,” tapping my nose. “I sing as good as mommy?” I cocked my head, “Does that mean I can sing in the show?” Everyone laughed at this conniving little three-year-old. I was sure they thought if I were in the show, they wouldn’t have to keep an eye on me. They had been holding their breath until the director answered yes, and everyone exhaled with relief. Stan, the music director, was extremely tall and I used to call him my gentle giant. He wore black pants, a blue pinstripe shirt with black garters on his upper arms, a blue vest, a black string tie and to top off his costume, a black bowler hat. That day he knelt down trying to get to my height though he was more my mommy’s height. He tapped me on the nose, “Would you like to sing that song with your mommy and daddy?” I ran and hugged him around his upper thighs. He picked me up and I kissed him on the cheek. “Please,” again, I cocked my head, “Do I get to wear pretty dresses like mommy?” My mom stopped the laughter, “Okay little one, that is enough asking for things. I think you should take your curtain call and come take a nap.” I guessed she forgot about the deal with the piano. I knew my mom made the rules so I knew it was naptime. I was too old for a nap but every time I would lay down for a little bit, I fell asleep. If I was up, I was up and very active. If I lay down for a few minutes I would fall asleep. It didn’t have to be quiet. I could sleep through anything. That habit would prove to be useful the rest of my life. I loved singing with my parents. I got to wear the prettiest dresses with lots of ruffles and lace. I wasn’t a fan of the stuff under the dress that made my waist and legs itch. The ruffles were stiff and made my skirt stick almost straight out. When the weather was cooler, I wore tights and didn’t mind the itchy stuff underneath. I only got to sing once a week at first then gradually I got to sing more. They didn’t want to ruin my voice so I never sang anything that would strain it. Stan made sure I didn’t do anything that was too high. If I was goofing off during practice and hit a C5, he yelled at me. I wasn’t a fan of yelling. My parents never yelled at me…ever Macerata Day Three Gianluca took us to an adorable mom and pop restaurant. The husband was a character who put on a show for Jane and me. He asked us “Why are two beautiful women being entertained by the likes of this scoundrel.” He put his hands on Gianluca’s shoulders and shook them. Gianluca just smiled a bashful smile. You could see that he had been teased by the proprietor before. It took maybe an hour for me to realize I was a witness to the beginning of a love story. It was obvious that Gianluca was smitten when Jane ran into him. It took about a half hour at lunch for Jane to fall for Gianluca. I was a third wheel but the proprietor kept me company while they totally fell deeply in love. As it turned out, the restaurant owner was Gianluca’s grandparents. The meal was utterly delectable as was the wine. Nonno (he insisted that we call him the Italian word for grandpa) started teaching me all about the food from the area and the wine. During lunch when Gianluca found out that Jane was a pilot, he knew what we were doing next. He wanted to fly us all around the Marche with Jane as his co-pilot. After we had seen the charming countryside from the air, I begged that they let me go back to our apartment to rest. I said I was still jet lagged. After talking to Nonno about Gianluca I felt comfortable letting the two of them have time alone. These two were almost a better fit than Adam and me. It was hard to think about how perfect Adam and I were together. I could count on one hand the fights we had over the years and they weren’t big fights, usually misunderstandings. We helped each other be better at our craft and supported each other in our endeavors. After they dropped me off at the apartment, I waited a couple minutes inside the door. Just enough time for them to get out of sight so I could go for a walk. I knew if I climbed the stairs to our apartment that I would climb into bed and sleep. I needed to get on Macerata time so I was determined to stay up. I didn’t want to miss a second of this glorious city. I decided to walk back to the gate near the grocery store because I saw some statues down that street that I wanted to investigate. I could see five figures with columns in the background and I knew they had to be important. They were outside the walls about a couple city blocks away from the gate. I knew I wouldn’t get lost so I thought they were a safe place to explore by myself. The streets were crowded. I felt like everyone was out for a walk. I noticed an elderly couple ahead about twenty feet away being greeted by everyone like they were the most important couple. My guess was they had a new grandchild because he kept taking out his wallet to show people then they would rush off. They were on a mission to get somewhere but friends kept stopping them. I was almost caught up to them when I saw him drop his wallet. I was about to pick up the wallet when a very sleazy person started to pick it up. I had seen his type in New York and I was pretty sure that he was going to pocket the wallet. I stepped on the wallet to prevent him from getting it. We had a little argument on who was going to finally pick it up. When I threatened to call for the police, he ran like a jack rabbit into the crowd. I picked up the wallet and looked for the couple. Where had they gone? It was like they disappeared. Finally, I saw them emerge from underground across the busy street. I tried yelling for them but with all the traffic they couldn’t hear me. Damn the traffic, I wasn’t going to get across the street without being hit. I went back inside the gate of the city and asked how I could get to the other street underground. Finally, someone took pity on me and pointed out the route. I ran down the stairs and there were tunnels going everywhere. I guessed correctly. I only knew it was correct when I came up the stairs. Why were all these people out walking? Seriously, it was crazy. Everyone was window shopping and it was hard to get around them. My nickname was being validated for sure this afternoon. I was darting in and out of the crowds. I wasn’t seeing the couple though I knew they went this direction. I was checking out all the places that were open to see if they stepped into one of the stores or the enticing church on the street. It was difficult not to step in and take it all in. I was going to have to bring Jane back down here to see this colorful church. Right now, I was on a mission to return this wallet. When I got to a cross street, I thought I saw the couple going up the next street. I was having a hard time crossing that street too and looked for another underground sidewalk. Found it. I was getting tired of chasing this couple and was about to give up. I was thrilled to see them walking up the street heading for a church. I was praying that was their destination. Yes, they were walking into the church. I was thrilled I was going to be able to give back the man’s wallet. I never opened it to see if there was an address and name in it. I just thought he would want it back as soon as possible. I walked into the dark dank church. I witnessed the man’s realization that he lost his wallet. He was holding court with a group of people and I saw him reaching for his wallet then searching his other pockets. I quickly walked up to him and handed him his wallet. I was totally out of breath and first talked to them in English then realized that I needed to switch to Italian. He wanted to repay me with some of the money in his wallet. Of course, I declined. Everyone invited me to watch their rehearsal that they would be performing in a few weeks. It was not something I would have sought out but I was warm from the chase and it was a long time since I listened to a choir. I sat in the back while the group went up to the front of the church. I definitely didn’t want to be a distraction. In walked a man with a little girl from behind the altar. He said something to the little girl and pointed to the pews. Off she bounced down the aisle about five rows ahead of me. She started to go into the pew when she noticed me. I was staring at this cute little girl with a huge head of curly hair like my own. I knew I startled her because I didn’t avert my eyes. Then all of a sudden, she smiled and gave me a little wave and climbed into the pew. My attention was pulled away from the darling girl for a little bit when the choir started to warm up. I guess the little girl’s dad was the director. He had them do warm ups like I did in choir eighteen years ago. Was it eighteen years!? Time really does fly as my dad would say. The first song the choir sang was pretty good. It wasn’t too difficult though I don’t think the director was getting everything out of them as he could. The second song was a little rough. I wasn’t sure if I would sit through the whole choir practice because it might be torture by the end of rehearsal. The third song they didn’t make it through the whole song and the director was stopping them. I slipped out of the pew and thought I would tell the little girl to give the couple a message from me. I slipped into the pew behind her and I saw that she was drawing. I couldn’t help it, I made a couple of suggestions and soon realized that she wasn’t as little as I thought. She might be ten or eleven, the way she spoked made her seem older than she looked. Well, my attention was on her drawings. She was good, very good for her age. We started chatting and I moved up with her. We were in our own little world just having a wonderful conversation about drawing then life. Finally, I had to ask. “How old are you?” “Nine.” The way I said wow made her excited. “You are an American?” “Yes.” Then the questions came flying out, one after the other. Did I know this famous person or that famous person? Much to her dismay, I didn’t know anyone she wanted me to know. She didn’t know any famous people I knew. This was frustrating for me because she desperately wanted me to know someone who she thought was famous. I got off the subject of famous people and back to art. I showed her how to do a caricature of her father. I had exaggerated him with the baton in front of a suggestion of a choir. She laughed and wanted me to do one of her. I looked at her and drew one that I thought she would appreciate. In the drawing I had her sketching the five statues at the end of the road. She loved the expression on her face and the five guys even though I didn’t have the figures down right. The couple were standing at the end of the pew when I looked up. I hadn’t even noticed that the singing had stopped. Eduardo and Rosaria had come to take Francesca to the bar while her dad worked on a couple things. Francesca begged me to come with them. I was wondering why you would take a child to a bar when Eduardo insisted since I didn’t take any money from them that I at least had to let them buy me a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. I was pleasantly surprised that bars are not like bars in America. There were all kinds of pastries, ice cream, snacky items as well as a full bar and someone whose job it was to make coffee. It was a cute little bar and everyone but me was a regular. Everyone was called by name by the proprietor except me. He called me beautiful. My little group decided that they liked that idea and that was what they decided to call me, Bella instead of Dart. I didn’t think they were fans of my nickname. I was a little embarrassed though pleased that it was easier for them to pronounce. My name got caught in their throat one could say. I thought I would have one drink and leave. I loved speaking Italian to Italians. Only a couple times did I have to ask what a certain word was. Rosaria said, “You have to forgive Eduardo, not only is he an old man but he uses old words.” She saw that she had upset him and reached across the table to grab his hand. “I am older than you, my dear, by three days.” He smiled at her. “Now, please stop slipping into dialect. You are making it difficult for Bella to follow your conversation.” Rosaria patted his hand and brought her hand back to our side of the table. Eduardo cleared his throat and waved his hand a little. I didn’t have a chance to turn around to see who was coming because Francesca flew out of her chair, almost knocking it to the ground. She ran past me yelling for her papa while I got up to help Eduardo with the chair that he was awkwardly holding onto. I turned around to face papa. Papa was nice looking but older than I thought he looked from a distance. His Italian good looks had some wrinkles around the eyes and mouth which was stammering. “Are you?” was said over and over finally he got out “Are you Dorothy Bailey?” Everyone was surprised that papa knew my name though no one more than me. I was in a small town in the middle of nowhere and this man knew who I was. “How do you know me?” “It is you!” He reached out and shook my hand and shook it rather hard. He had a strong grip for a tall thin man. Under his baggy blazer must be some muscles. He pulled my arm up and almost twirled me around. “Everyone, attention, everyone this is the famous woman I was telling you about. The one who sang like an angel sent from heaven.” The whole bar started to clap. I had to say I didn’t get embarrassed easily though I knew I was probably red as a tomato. Now it seemed everyone was wanting to shake my hand. I was dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to say or do but shake hands telling everyone that it was my pleasure to meet them. I had so many questions being thrown at me I was at a loss for words. Finally, Rosaria interrupted, “Listen everyone let the poor girl breathe. She will answer all our questions in due time for now let us have a drink with Romeo.” I looked at her with such gratitude then I realized what she said. Romeo? Like Romeo where art thou? Papa’s name couldn’t be Romeo. Yes, the director’s name was indeed Romeo. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to say Romeo without laughing. I thought that it was a cruel thing to do that to a child, name them after someone like that. I had seen where people named their son Jesus. Isn’t that a hard name to live up to? Romeo and Casanova would be almost as difficult. Romeo was good looking enough but the way he looked at me with that smile made him more attractive. I’d better pay attention to what he was saying because he was so animated. “I had to go back to the play the next night because you were so good. The play was so good. Good doesn’t describe your performance. You were magnificent.” I had to stop him from going on and on. “Did you go see any other shows while you were in New York?” “The group of friends I was with weren’t really into musicals and wanted to go to clubs. I talked one of them into going to your show the first night and I went by myself the next night.” “Oh, I am sorry. There are so many plays on any given night. You should have picked another play.” I saw him disagreeing. I just had to change the subject. “Did you like New York?” “It was too loud for my taste. I have a group of friends I travel with every year and we usually go to a place where we can go hiking. One of our friends moved to New York for work so we went to see him.” I could tell by how he responded he wasn’t a fan. Maybe that was why he loved my play. I took a deep breath. It was our play. Adam’s name was under my name on the marquee. Moments like those are the times I want to crawl into my bed and forget about life for a while. Rosaria touched my arm, “Are you alright dear? Do you need to go outside to get some fresh air?” “I am fine. It must be jetlag catching up on me at the moment.” Well, that got the conversation going in the direction of why I was here and how long I was staying. We had been talking about them, not me. I was the one leading the conversation. When Romeo appeared, he directed the conversation. Seeing my play must have been a big deal for him as he told the bar all about me and the play for months after seeing it. Everyone wanted to see more of me. I didn’t know if I could handle all the attention. I thought I was going on a real vacation where I would be unknown. I didn’t think that would be the case anymore. Francesca came over to me and tried out her English. “Please, please Bella help me in my English. I want to speak English like you speak Italian. Plus, you help me with my art?” She batted those big eyes at me with those long thick eyelashes. How could I resist? “Okay, if it is okay with your papa.” We directed our attention to Romeo who was smiling this flawless smile. There was no doubt in my mind that Francesca was his daughter though her edges were softened while his face seemed chiseled by Michelangelo. Cheek bones that any woman would love to have. A square jaw, had perfectly shaped lips set above with two dimples on each side that appeared when he smiled. Any artist would love to sketch him. I knew I would. The realization that I was looking at him too much and Romeo might have a Juliet I added. “And your mamma too.” The smile disappeared on both of their faces and Francesca's head dropped. Romeo placed his arm around her and pulled her to him. “Francesca’s mom died a couple of years ago.” I started to apologize but I was cut off by Francesca, “It’s okay mamma is my guardian angel now.” She was smiling then her expression changed to a thoughtful one. “I like that she is not hurting anymore.” Everyone agreed at the table. Romeo sat back with an expression on his face that said I have an idea. “Would you be interested in helping me with the choir? I know I don’t have any right to ask you to help me. I have no money to pay you. I just thought you would be able to help them reach their potential. He put his rough hand on mine and I looked at it. Conducting a choir was not his full-time job. Romeo worked with his hands. Everyone was looking at me with such eagerness, how could I say no? “I have to check with my sister-in-law. If the rehearsals don’t conflict with our time together then I would be happy to help.” We exchanged phone numbers and I was off to see if Jane and Gianluca were anywhere to be found. No such luck. I hoped Jane was having a good time. I picked up a piadina at a hole-in-the-wall shop around the corner. The flat bread was delicious and the sparse amount of meat was perfect. In New York if you got a sandwich that was filled with as little meat as that one the customer would be yelling that he got ripped off. I thought it was just the right amount and most of all it was scrumptious. I drank quite a bit of the bottled water to help with the jetlag. I didn’t think I wanted to start drinking wine by myself though the wine I have had here, it will be hard to resist. I just got my nightshirt on when Jane came floating in. She didn’t even notice me when I came into the room. “Oh, hi.” She was blushing. How cute! Jane was usually in control of her emotions. It was nice to see she was human. “Sorry I didn’t call to let you know I would be late.” “No worries. I know when two people are falling in love they lose themselves and forget about time.” “We aren’t falling in love.” She was indignant. “Is that why you can’t stop smiling from ear to ear. If Adam were here, he would be teasing you relentlessly. You didn’t even notice I was sitting with you at lunch. At one-point Nonno took me into the kitchen to show me around and introduce me to Nonna. Did you know she was the chef? When I finally came back you two didn’t even know I was gone.” I saw her blushing again. “Nonno said right in front of you two that it was nice to watch love happening and neither of you heard him or acknowledged him.” “Well, maybe I was listening to what Gianluca was saying. Have you ever thought of that?” “Sweet Jane, why are you fighting this? It is so obvious.” Jane looked down, “Because I am afraid of admitting it because…because.” I walked over to Jane and hugged her. “Jane, go ahead and allow what you are feeling to rise to the surface. I am a pretty good judge of romance and most men. I talked to Nonna and Nonno, both of them told me that Gianluca was a very good man who had put his career ahead of love until now. Both of them saw a difference in him when he talked to you. I know I have only known him for a few hours but sweetheart he is head over heels infatuated with you. It was like watching a replay of my life and how fast I fell in love with your brother.” I took both of Jane’s hands in mine. “Love at first sight is a thing…enjoy it.” I talked her into going on the balcony to talk for a little bit about her day but I really wanted to get down to why she won’t let herself fall in love. Finally, Jane opened up to me explaining why she was reluctant. She had had a serious boyfriend…more like a fiancée. They had talked about getting married when Jane finished her schooling. They had a date picked out and the place. He just hadn’t given her a ring. One day out of the blue he said that he wouldn’t be following her to her next post. He didn’t think he could move every few years. He wanted her to quit. Jane was taken aback. She got all hotheaded talking about it. I was hoping no one could hear her. “Can you believe that he wanted me to quit? I would have to pay back all the money that the Army had invested in me the past four years of college.” She took a breath. “Come on, that was how many years ago and you are still this upset talking about it. Maybe that is what you have to work on. Trusting that not everyone you love will leave you. Maybe losing Adam brought this all back.” I could see that Jane had turned her head to look in my direction and I could hear her exhale deeply. “I am sorry. I overstepped. I have been given a lot of advice over these last few months. Maybe I like analyzing you instead of figuring out what I am supposed to do for the rest of my life.” I was glad I suggested bringing out some wine, maybe it would calm her down. Taking a sip of that crisp and refreshing pecorino wine let us both relax a little. “Okay, you might have something there. My mom said the same thing when I visited her. She was wondering if that is why I haven’t dated. I told her that I had my career that I was working on. She asked me if I didn’t want a family.” It was my turn to sigh heavily. Jane grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. I am a terrible person.” She shook my hand until I looked at her. “That’s okay.” “No, it’s not. I know that is something you wanted with Adam. Dart, maybe love is not in the cards for me. Who wants to follow me around the world?” It was my turn to shake her hand until she turned back to me. “You my dearest Jane are a striking woman who has a lot of love to give. Any man would be lucky to have you and he would be nuts if he didn’t follow you.” I meant it. Jane was a catch…attractive, smart and a great cook. Who wouldn’t find her interesting? She could fly anything to boot…very cool. “I think Gianluca could be the man. “Do you think he would follow me?” “Jane, don't worry about that now. Just enjoy the time you have together and stop worrying about what is next for you two.” “Enough about me, what did you do after we dropped you filled her in on my afternoon and then we went to bed. I heard her texting for a little while until I fell into a deep sleep.

< Back Lemon Artichoke Risotto Prep Time: 40 minutes Cook Time: about 30 minutes Serves: 6 Level: easy About the Recipe Lemon Artichoke risotto goes well with seafood. Pictured here is grilled Tuna steaks but grill shrimp is delicious too. It is easy to make it just takes a bit of time and stirring to make it wonderful. Ingredients 8 cups canned low-salt chicken or veggie stock olive oil about 3 to 4 tablespoons 2 cups finely chopped onions, finely chopped 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 1/2 cups Arborio rice 2/3 cup dry white wine one lemon, zested and juiced one can artichokes, quartered then third 2/3 cup grated Romano Salt and freshly ground black pepper, optional Preparation In a heavy large saucepan add olive oil over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until tender, about 8 minutes. (In the picture I didn’t have shallots which is my preferred onion in making risotto.) Stir in the rice and let it toast for a few minutes. Push the rice out the edge making a two-inch hole add the garlic, sauté for a minute. Add the wine; cook until the liquid is absorbed, stirring continuously, about 2 minutes. Add a couple of ladles of hot stock; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often, about 3 minutes. Continue to cook until the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy, adding more stock by the ladle full and stirring often, about 28 minutes (the rice will absorb 6 to 8 cups of stock plus you don’t want to overcook the rice. You want it al’ dente but not chalky.) Mix in the Romano cheese, artichoke, lemon zest and juice. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Previous Next

A shy 15-year-old girl finds an unwanted visitor in her tree house.  The stranger opens her eyes to see that she is lucky to have her family. Written by Kimberly Caristi A shy 15-year-old girl finds an unwanted visitor in her tree house. Something in Ned makes Sam want to protect him. The two bond over the love of art and poetry. My Summer Adventure is a coming-of-age story about love, loyalty, and the courage to protect those who matter most. Dear Mrs. Ida: I hope you and Mr. D are doing well. First, you might notice that my penmanship has gotten bad, though I can explain it. Second, I know it has been a long time since I wrote to you, I can explain that too. Lastly, it has been a very unusual summer, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I set my pen down and I started to think where to begin to tell Mrs. Ida what happened to me. In the past couple of months many bad and good things have transpired. Thinking back I realized that there have been so many good and terrible things that have happened to my family in the last couple of years. Starting with the last of my family moved to the country two years ago. My mother gave my dad an ultimatum: either he had to sell the farm or the house in St. Louis. Mom was tired of being a weekend widow. Dad and I went to the farm every weekend. We left Friday night after dinner and came home just before Sunday dinner. My mom underestimated my dad’s interest in moving away from St. Louis. She knew he worked downtown and would not retire for at least fifteen years. Mom was shocked and upset the next day when a for-sale sign went up in our front yard. My parents had a huge fight that night. My bedroom was next to theirs and the screaming, shouting and door slamming was a little more than any thirteen-year-old’s mind could swallow. My dad left without saying a word to me. I was his right hand. I went wherever he went. I knew this move was going to put a strain on our family dynamics. I felt like our family was always changing. I had one brother; he was the oldest. Two sisters followed him, then me then came the cherished baby sister. From start to finish there were sixteen years that separated us. My parents both worked at jobs they loved but us kids kept popping up as accidents. When my mom went back to work full-time my brother oversaw my care. My baby sister was under the care of my oldest sister. The number two sister loved dressing my baby sister up as a doll and saw me as more of a nuisance. My brother taught me how to wrestle and get dirty. The two older sisters did not like to get messy or anything that had to do with dirt, so they made sure the baby sister was a little prissy as far as I was concerned. I was not sure if I was a handful but when my brother left for Vietnam my charge became my dad when he wasn’t working. Though I do remember going to my dad’s work when school was out. Not every day, I would guess it was when the complaints of my oldest sister about me got too much for my parents. My dad could have used another son so that was what he turned me into. I went to work on the farm every weekend. In the summer, when we were baling hay, I was right there with the other boys doing my part. First, I pulled the bales on the flatbed truck to someone big enough to stack them in a crisscross pattern so they would stay on the truck as it moved. When it was time to put them in the hayloft I pushed them in the loft to someone who would stack them there. When I wasn’t needed to push, I had to follow along behind the people throwing the bales up on the truck trying to stay out of the way. I liked this time because I could look for arrowheads. I knew it was a lucky day when I found one. When the truck was full, I had to run up to the barn through the lower pasture and follow the cow path through the woods to the barn. Once my dad gave me a look when I wasn’t there waiting when the truck came down the road. It only took that one time and after that I made sure I was there. I never wanted to disappoint my dad. As I got older, I was the one carrying the bales of hay to be stacked then I started to throw the bales up to be stacked. I did not let any boy my age beat me at anything. Of course, my dad would have me make sandwiches for the workers because you know I was a girl. I was only a girl when he needed me to be one. I was as dirty and stinky as any boy. I helped everywhere on the farm from watching for birthing calves, with castrating, feeding the animals in the morning and night, mucking the stalls, moving the cows to the different pastures, walking the fence line checking to make sure they were intact, catching fish, cleaning and cooking them for dinner. In my mind, I did it all. From five until I was ten years old, in the summertime, we stayed in the treehouse my dad and brother built. It was cool because it had hot and cold running water, a hot plate, an under the counter refrigerator, a full bed, a camping cot, table with four chairs, tv and stereo. I was the only person I knew who had electricity in their own treehouse. This sizable treehouse was built into two trees. Ben and Dad poured a concrete floor underneath the treehouse essentially giving us a porch. On the west side of the porch, they had to build a foot-and-a-half wall and on the east side there was a two-and-a-half-foot drop. This was necessary because of how steep the hill was where the trees were living. The gravel driveway was alongside the drop edge of the porch. Dad made a concrete sidewalk around one of the trees then across the front of the treehouse. The stairs that lead up to the treehouse were set in concrete. This way you didn’t have to walk in dirt to go from the porch to the stairs. This created a flat area for walking and sitting. I was surprised that my mom hadn’t made him pour a sidewalk out to the outhouse. My dad had put an open-air shower underneath the treehouse, too. The treehouse was located just inside our property about thirty feet from the edge of a cliff. At the base of the cliff was a creek with a road that ran alongside it. The creek was our water source until my dad dug a well. In the early years, the three youngest girls would go out to the farm with my mom and dad each weekend. Once or twice, we would stay a whole week. The sleeping arrangement was an orchestrated event. We all stood outside the outhouse waiting for our turn to go and my dad was the last one. He had to walk back without a flashlight. We would finish brushing our teeth by the time he got back to the treehouse. My dad would climb into bed first. My mom would get my little sister tucked in her sleeping bag at the foot of my parent’s bed, then she would climb into bed with my dad. Laurie would be reading on her cot waiting for me to turn off the light. I would stand at the corner of my parents’ bed waiting until everyone was situated. It was my job to pull the string hanging from the fluorescent light in the middle of the ceiling. All I had to do was take one step and I would be on my sleeping bag. I was sandwiched between my older sister on the cot and my parents’ bed. My mom was thrilled when my dad put in the shower because she couldn’t stand another weekend with a bunch of stinky people. My sisters and I would stay upstairs while my dad showered, and he would stay upstairs when we showered. If us girls were taking a shower and a car came along, we would yell ‘hit the deck.’ I had scraped a knee or two during that exercise and sometimes my toes. The truth was it would have been exceedingly difficult for anyone in a car to see us up on the hill. We could only see about five feet of road from where we stood under the shower. We were girls who desperately didn't want to be spotted showering outdoors. When the weather was perfect, we would sit downstairs as we called it. My dad hung a porch swing and made a table out of a third tree using it as the table pedestal and cut off part of a spool used for cables for the top. To cover the holes my mom made a tablecloth out of army green vinyl. My dad was an electrical contractor, though in his spare time he made us all kinds of trash as my mom called it. Mom wasn’t happy with dad when he said he was going to get a warehouse in St. Louis. Not one to use in St. Louis but to be transported to the farm. The warehouse was in his way for an intersection he was putting in for the city. Dad said he was going to take it out to the farm and build a barn out of it. He would make part of it into living quarters for us. I overheard my mom telling our neighbor that he was nuts. Dad painstakingly took apart the warehouse labeling everything and took it out to our farm and rebuilt it. My mom was impressed…sort of. She complained that half of the warehouse was a barn, and he took the other half and divided it. A fourth of the space was a living room, kitchen area, one bedroom and a bathroom. The other fourth he made into a garage that he used as his workshop. When it was completed, my dad was excited to take us all out to the farm to see it. Well, they had to drag Laurie out there because she had a boyfriend. Truthfully, that really didn’t have any influence, she never wanted to go to the farm. We brought two vehicles because dad and I were spending the week. My mom and my sisters were going back on Sunday. My dad and I were the first to cross the dam to see that big gray monster standing there against the green of the trees that was its backdrop. You could see the reflection of the building in the lake. It was a pretty picture. My dad was happy about my reaction. I was there when they poured the concrete for the garage and the apartment. The last thing I saw was the frame put up. I guess I should have looked out the back window when we left so I would realize how big the barn really was. I was excited about everything until bedtime came. My youngest sister and I were still sleeping on the floor, and my older sister got the couch. Even at eleven I thought why didn’t he make two bedrooms, and he would still have space for a workshop. When dad decided to move to the farm it was just going to be my little sister and me living there. The number three child, Laurie, was going to college and when she came “home” she lived with my oldest sister Sara in St. Louis. I was the only one excited about moving to the farm besides my dad. I loved it there and I was the happiest when out on the farm. I explored all eighty acres and more. I found so many cool places off our property as well. Since I was excited about the move my dad had me pick which house to build. He had brought home a half dozen plans and had me pick which one I liked best. I picked the red and black brick ranch with a black and white trim. When you would drive up our driveway you would see a porch that was the length of the house with two sets of French doors one for the family room and one for the dining room. A large kitchen window was between the two doors. The large garage was on the left. It reminded me of a Spanish home. It ended up being the one my dad liked best. He told me that great minds think alike. My dad was the best dad at making you feel special. When time was getting close to moving, I asked my dad where my little sister Missy and I were going to stay while he built our house. I was hoping he didn’t intend for us to sleep on the floor until we moved into the big house. He said he had already figured that out, he was going to build a little room off the living quarters (a.k.a. in the garage) for us. He was putting in a skylight so we would have a small amount of light come in from the garage light. He promised it would be for three or four months at most. We would be sleeping on a pullout couch. We had a little bookshelf, a console television and a piano. Missy and I had started to play the piano a couple of years before we moved. She was exceptionally good, but I would never tell her that. I was an okay player. When the bed was open you couldn’t walk around the room. Missy slept next to the door because my mom still tucked her in. When I went to bed, I carefully stepped over the corner between the tv and the bed. The TV, bed, closet, and piano formed a three-foot square area. That was where we dressed and where I climbed up the bed to get in it. I hated it when I would get under the covers, look up at the skylight, and see that I forgot to turn off the garage light. I would have to reverse my actions to turn it off. I became rather cat-like, as I got quite good at seeing in the dark when I refused to turn on the garage light and not have the closet light on. Our closet was the length of the room. The sizes of our clothes were so different I thought they looked silly next to each other. Missy insisted that half the closet was hers, so we put tape down the back of the closet wall. She shoved my clothes off her side, and I kicked her toys back over onto her side. Our stay in that little room didn’t turn out like dad planned. Dad fell off the new house roof one evening when he was working late trying to finish the shingling before the rain hit. I was never so scared in my life. Mom drove dad the hour and a half to the hospital and he didn’t come home for a month. We knew our lives wouldn’t be the same. After getting out of the hospital my dad couldn’t go back to work for another four months and when he did my mom would sit looking down the driveway until he got home. This made me more nervous because I could tell she was nervous. It was never a good feeling when you didn’t feel secure. I became more glued to my dad than ever and never left him alone. I took on more jobs around the farm so he wouldn’t have to do them. That year of recovery for my dad changed all of our lives. The four of us were living in a ridiculously small place and we did everything together. We started doing fun stuff together. We went out to eat more, went to festivals around the area, played cards and games together. We never made time for these simple things before. We became a tv family, the kind you see on tv. It was wonderful. My dad and I finished building the house with some help from a hired hand. I learned how to put up drywall and mud it then sand it smooth. I helped run electrical lines and connect pipes though my dad always did the final tightening. I helped my dad look for rocks along the roads to make a retaining wall next to the house. It was rigorous work, but it was fun looking for the right size of rock and placing them in the correct spot. It was like a puzzle putting up that wall. Of course, I planted the garden under the watchful eye of my dad and mom. It surprised me that my little sister and I didn’t fight as much. We were both changed by what we referred to as the event until we moved into the big house. Living in the new house was great but we started doing our own thing again. My mom went back to work nights as a nurse in a small community hospital in Washington, about thirty miles away, and my dad was still driving to St. Louis during the week. When I got home from school, I had farm chores to do plus my homework. My freshman year in high school I took an art class. I had always drawn but taking a class really awoke my talent. It didn’t hurt having a fantastic teacher. My parents agreed that I could use the treehouse as my own art studio, but I had to get the farm chores done first. I was in heaven having my own place. My sister was back to being a pest. If I was in the big house, she would always be bugging me. She thought it was funny to put her hand in front of my face and say, “I am not touching you.” If I pushed her away, she would call mommy and said I hit her. Thank goodness that my parents told her that she could not go into the treehouse. I had to stop daydreaming about what Mrs. Ida already knew, and I got down to business writing my letter. I was a very good procrastinator, though I really had a lot of things I had to figure out how to tell her. My brother, his wife and their two little boys finally moved home. I had to tell my two cute little nephews that the treehouse was mine and they were not supposed to go in it. Of course, the little boogers wouldn’t stop trying to come in… all the time. My mom said they would get tired of it soon enough. I hoped she was right. Ben is working for my dad now. He oversees maintenance of the vehicles. That was what he did in the Navy. They are living in the barn until Ben saves enough money for a down payment on a house. I don’t think they know where they want to live. If Ben stays around here it is a long commute to St. Louis and if he lives in St. Louis, it will take a while to save for a house there. It is cool to have my brother back home. I just wish the boys were better behaved. Benny is now seven and Toby is five and a half. He reminds everyone about the half. I paused, how was I supposed to write the next part? It was so hard to try to put all of this into words to really show her what transpired. “Think Sam, think.” I knew it was hard, but I had to try. I knew this summer was going to be great. The house was complete, after I did my chores, I was free to draw or paint. When Missy and I got off the bus we began our summer break by racing up the hill to the big house. I just had to go check on the calves born these last two months and feed the chickens and pigs. Then I was off to draw. The treehouse didn’t have great lighting, being that it was in the trees, but it was my own place. I didn’t have to make dinner tonight because my mom was making burgers. My mom let us pick out the beginning and the end of the year dinners, it was Missy's turn to pick. I didn’t know why my mom even asked her what she wanted because it was always the same hamburgers and French fries. I flew through my chores and ran the mile to my place. How many fifteen-year-olds have their own place? My dad had made real stairs to the treehouse when my mom said she wouldn’t climb the ladder. This made it easy for me to run up the stairs. My dad had put a nail in the tree to hang the key on, so we didn’t have to remember the key every time. He hid it behind the tree next to the door at the top of the stairs so no one could see it. Having the key so high from the ground made it impossible to see. The tree was so large that my arm could barely reach around it. If someone was watching me get the key, you would have thought I was hugging the tree. That day changed my life as I knew it, forever. I will never forget to lock it again. I tried to open the door. I was shocked that it was locked. I didn’t remember locking it. I probably did it because I saw the boys trying to spy on me. I reached around the tree and found the key. I was thrilled I had put the key where it was supposed to be…not always the case. I unlocked the door and put the key back. I stepped into the room and before I could shut the door someone put his hand over my mouth and grabbed my left arm and pulled it up behind me. I tried to scream and pulled away from him. The harder I fought to get away the higher up he would push up my arm and it hurt. I stopped struggling. I smelled his dirty sweaty hand over my mouth. This wasn’t good. I could tell he was bigger than me, another negative. He told me he would let go of me if I wouldn’t scream. I had so many thoughts going through my head and the first one that stood out was I was a dead person. “You promise you won’t scream?” He didn’t have the sound of an older man, so I didn’t think he was a hunter who found my treehouse. He sounded like a young guy. I shook my head yes and he shoved me into the cot that was still in the place. The bed had been moved to the barn. I was lucky enough to catch myself from falling face first into the cot. I turned around and sat down, dumbfounded as to what had just happened. The fear in me rose when I saw the guy. There stood a severely beaten teenager with blood all over his ripped clothes. One of his eyes was so swollen I couldn’t imagine that he could even see out of it. His appearance scared me more than him putting his hand over my mouth. All I could think of to say was, “Who are you?” My voice sounded foreign to me; it was so low. “It doesn’t matter. Who are you?” I saw the irritability in his mannerisms as he paced back and forth. He was doing everything he could not to look at me. “This is my place, so you have to answer first.” I didn’t know where the nerve to say this came from but maybe it was years of dealing with my little sister. “I am Ned.” He said reluctantly. I couldn’t believe he told me his name. “Ned what are you doing here?” Where was this coming from? I didn’t question people, especially strangers who kept me from leaving. “I’m running away from home. My dad and I had a big fight. I found this place to hide.” He stared at the floor like it had the answers he was looking for. The statement relaxed both of us to some extent. He looked at me for the first time. He seemed relieved when he saw my fear go out of my eyes. I had never been hit, but I was scared of my mom. She was a yeller and that unnerved me. Her words could hurt more than any fist, I thought. I decided I should keep him talking. This was something I had seen on TV. “What is your name?” He asked me more like we were meeting for the first time in school than what was really happening to me: someone was holding me hostage. “Sam. I think I should go.” I looked at the door. “No, I don’t think you are going anywhere until we have a talk.” That statement scared me again. When I looked back at him, he looked more frightened than I was. “What do you want to talk about?” My voice sounded so shaky. “Are you going to tell people that I am here?” He sounded so intimidating but there was a little nervousness around the edges of the question. “Should I?” What a stupid thing to say! I should have said no. I thought, Sam, you have an attitude problem. “I was hoping you would say no.” He said with a little bit of anger, but I could tell some disappointment in it, too. “I don’t understand why you are hiding.” “I came home from school yesterday and found my dad beating my mother to a pulp. I was tired of my dad using my mom and me as punching bags.” He said it as if he were letting air out of a balloon rather quickly. He went from standing up rather straight to his shoulders slumping. He paused then I saw the anger come back. He continued, “I just went crazy punching him. We fought forever until I hit my dad so hard, he fell and hit his head on the hearth. There was so much blood.” He just looked at the floor like he could see it all over again. I felt bad for him, but I was a little scared that he could hit someone so hard they fell. “Did you call the police or someone?” “No, my mom and I had called the police before, but they said it was a family matter. I did call the neighbor and asked them to check on my mom. Then I packed a couple of things and ran. I came upon your barn, but I saw two little boys playing there. I followed the line of woods around the first dam when I saw this treehouse. This is cool.” He looked around the room. “Thanks.” was all I could think of to say. I would have liked to tell him all the things that used to be in the room because I thought it was cool, too. I just didn’t think it was the time or place to get all chatty. “Are these your drawings?” I hung them all around the place. If I liked them, I tacked them on the wall and the ceiling. If I was still working on them, I stacked them on the table. I had some hanging from clothes lines with clothespins. I knew they ruined the corners but I hung them so I could look at them longer and maybe get inspired. I might work on them again. Besides, I had run out of spaces on the walls. “Yes,” still trying to think of what I should say to this guy. “You are a very good drawer.” He was looking at them very closely now. “Thanks. Can I draw you?” He turned and looked at me like I was crazy. I was not the crazy one. I might not have gotten away but I would have a picture of what he looked like. It wasn’t until later that I thought if he hurt me, he could have just taken the drawing with him. “You want to draw me? Why?” Now he seemed a little shy. I knew shy. I never talked unless someone asked me something. Of course, I fought with my sister but at school I rarely talked. When I moved here there were a couple of girls that decided that we were friends. They started to talk to me one day and haven’t stopped. I was glad they liked me enough to approach me. I wished I had the nerve to step out of my comfort zone and talk to people. It was nice to have friends. “Well, you are in my studio. I am tired of drawing nature,” which was a lie, I would never be tired of drawing any kind of nature. I had numerous pencil and charcoal drawings all over the treehouse. “I guess you can.” He pulled a chair in front of the door. I walked around the table and took the seat opposite him. I was glad my parents left the table and chairs in here, so I had a place to work. I decided I would do a pencil drawing. I picked up my large pad and turned to a clean sheet. “What do you want me to do?” he said with so much apprehension in his voice that I felt more confident that he wasn’t going to hurt me. “You can just sit comfortably, and I will do the work,” I smiled for the first time since I walked into the place. Now I was in charge. I was in my element. I had done a few portraits in school and got all “A’s” so I knew I could do a respectable job, but I had never drawn someone with so many bruises. This would be a challenge. After I drew his silhouette. I was seeing him more clearly. It was possible that he was a cute guy underneath all the bruises. I could see he had muscles so he could have really hurt me. I bet I was the strongest girl in my school. I have muscles. Last summer I was throwing 65-pound bales of hay four bales high. I kept up with the boys. There are four families that live out in this area, and we help each other to bale hay. It was a hard and sweaty job that required more than three people to work. My poor dad only had me, but the other men have a couple of sons each. The sons were around my age and one in particular was so cute. I have had a crush on him since I was a little girl. All the guys treated me like I was one of the boys. The problem was I was not a boy. I had breasts, but if they noticed they didn’t say a word. I was pushed around like they did each other. Oh, how I wished Richard would notice that I was a girl. He interrupted my thoughts, “Do you go to Union?” “Yes, where do you go?” “Sullivan. What year are you?” “I just finished my sophomore year. I will graduate in ’79. You?” “Junior. Are you going to be an artist?” “I don’t know if I am good enough.” He moved in big gestures with his arms opened up big and wide. I saw pain in his eyes, but his voice was excited. “Oh my God, you are an amazing artist. It is unreal that you don’t think you are good enough.” “Thanks, but are you an art critic? Please hold still though you can talk.” “No but anyone with eyes could tell that you are good.” “Are you going to go to college?” I saw the sadness take over in his good eye. “I doubt it. No money.” I felt sorry for Ned. “Would you like to go to college?” Maybe if I kept talking about everyday stuff, he wouldn’t hurt me and even let me go. “Yes.” Sadness was overtaking him. He just looked down at the floor. He was still searching for something, but I was not sure what it was this time. “What would you study?” I asked. “English.” I crinkled my nose at that. I hated English. I was not particularly good with words but given a pencil I could draw you a whole story without one word. You would understand what it meant by just looking at it. It might not mean exactly what I was intending it to be, nevertheless if that was what you were taking away with it then it was your story. Ned asked, “You don’t like English?” “I know I don’t like diagraming a sentence,” I said flippantly. Ned went on like he didn’t hear me. “What I really want to do is write poetry.” “That is worse than diagraming a sentence,” I shook my head in disgust. “It is just like your pictures here.” I must have given him a look of not understanding because he continued answering the question in my head. “Take that drawing you made of the grass next to the pond. Were you trying to convey the pond or the grass? Were you really conveying what is underneath the water? I see little ripples in the water. Did a frog just jump in or did a fish poke his head out? The flat area that is next to the tuft of grass. Was there an animal lying there minutes ago? Was there someone sitting there? Is someone hiding in the tuft of grass?” I heard the excitement in his voice. He would be a good poet. “Okay, I get your drift. So, you like poetry. You write about one thing, and someone might think it’s about another thing and you are okay with that? “Yes, I made you think. I love that.” His one eye had some hope and excitement in it. Maybe I should ask him about the fight now that he didn’t look upset. I decided I needed to finish my drawing before I got to that question. “Can you make a living writing poetry? My parents keep telling me that I have to think of something else besides going to college for art. They say you can’t make money drawing for a living.” I hated that statement because it made me feel my art wasn’t good enough. I thought I was rather good, of course I couldn’t say that aloud. “Your parents are crazy. You are really good.” “Thanks again.” I couldn’t look at him when he said that. I concentrated on his clothes. They were farm clothes. My mom made the rule that we had four sets of clothes: church, school, play, and work. Some overlapped: if I wanted to wear church clothes to school it better be an important occasion. Sometimes I could wear play clothes to take care of the animals, but I better not get them dirty. Work clothes were for getting dirty and only work clothes. My mom was a fanatic about dirt or any kind of mess. She left me notes on my desk saying my desk drawers were not neat enough. Sometimes she pinned a note on my clothes that said my closet wasn't neat enough. This could mean my shoes were scattered and should be in a straight line or my clothes were not neatly hung. I knew I was going to hear about it at dinner. Every day I had to make my bed with hospital corners. My dad inspected our rooms before he left for work. If our beds didn’t look right my dad would check to see if a quarter would bounce on them. My sister, at age nine, was a perfectionist, especially at making her bed. She rarely had to remake her bed. Unlike me, I had to remake my bed, at least once a week. No matter when I got up in the morning, I was always late and, in a rush, to make my bed before the inspection. I thought my dad took pity on me on more than one occasion. We both hoped my mom wouldn’t notice when she got home from work, or all my sheets would be off my bed when I came home from school. It was not like I did it on purpose, my mind was always on something less important as she would say. The stranger pulled me out of my thoughts. “Do you come down here every day?” “Since school is out, I have plans to come down here after my chores during the week. On weekends, my dad and I work all day doing things around the farm.” “You do chores? Like what?” “You are wrong if you think because I am a girl I don’t work around here!” I took offense when guys didn’t think I could do what they did. “Feed the animals, mend fences, this summer we will be finishing the dam on the second lake. My job is to pull all the sticks and rocks out of the dirt and mud that my dad piles on the road with the Caterpillar.” I was pissed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. I just never, uh, never...” He was so cute trying to think of something to say. “Girls can do anything that boys can do.” This was always my smart reply. You could tell he was trying to think of something that only boys could do. It showed on his face when he thought of something. He should really have kept his mouth closed. No, instead he blurted it out, “Girls can’t pee standing up.” “Well, yes, they can but it’s not a pretty sight.” I smiled at him. He chuckled, realizing he was out of trouble, though the laughter caused him pain as he grabbed his side. To take the attention off him he said, “You have a pretty smile.” I could feel the heat rising in my face. I look down and pretend that I was really getting a detail done on the drawing. The comment made me frustrated with my crooked smile. I had been told that more than once, plus I had tried to do a self-portrait, and I saw these things. My older sisters had braces, and my baby sister would, too. Her teeth were awful. I didn’t need braces. I thought I was lucky, but I would rather have a smile that didn’t go higher on one side. Looking down at the drawing I was doing a rather decent job on his bruises. I thought the cut on his lip and eyebrow needed some stitches. He was going to have some scars. I felt so sorry for him as I worked on my drawing. Drawing lets me really look at people. When you take a picture, you make sure you are in focus but when you draw you look at every wrinkle, blemish, hair and fleck of color in the eyes. He had steel blue eyes with white flecks. Even though he had long dirty blonde curly hair his eyelashes and eyebrows were brown. I bet his hair was like my sisters’ during the summer; when they are outside and in the pool their hair turns almost a whitish blonde, and their hair was as straight as could be. Unlike anyone in my family my hair turned red in the summer, but during the winter it was auburn. Because of that, my sisters have said I was adopted but my dad told me I had the same hair color as his dad. I just saw my grandfather’s hair as wisps gray hair on the sides of his head. I had a long way to go before I looked bald; my hair was so thick you could hardly see my scalp. Sometimes I didn’t think I belonged to my family. I lost track of time which got me in trouble with my mom all the time. I really had forgotten Ned had trapped me in the treehouse. I was concentrating on the drawing. He was no longer a guy but an object. I had his broad shoulders set back with his head tilted to the side with his good eye looking down. I looked at my watch and I saw it was almost five. My mom would be wondering where I was. “I am finished except for the background. I really have to leave, or my mom will send my sister down here to get me. Do you want to see it?” I slipped my sister and mom in the middle. I thought if I acted normal, he would let me go. I turned the drawing around for him to see. Instantly he reached up to his swollen eye. “Is that what I look like?” “Well, I hope it looks like you. Does your eye hurt?” “I hurt all over.” He pulled up the side of his shirt and showed me his ribs and I couldn’t help it, I reacted. Grimacing, I said, “Wow, that must really hurt. How did that happen?” Looking away from me, he replied, “My dad hit me with a chair when I went to check on my mom. I thought when I pulled him off of her that he would just go away. No, he just started hitting me. I fought back. My mom always stepped in when he started hitting me, but she wasn’t moving. When I left, I saw that she was breathing, that is why I called my neighbor.” I saw a tear rolling down his face. He got up and walked across the room. He bent over, putting one arm over the window and was looking out. The sides of the walls came up to my eyes as did the top of the window frames. My dad had built shutters on hinges so you can hook them up to the ceiling. When the bed was in here, we had to move it to open or shut the shutters on that side. The bottom of the windows started at my knees. I watched him as he looked out at the creek. I turned to look at the door then I heard him make a noise. I turned back to look at him and he was holding his side. That was when I saw him as the wounded bird, he was instead of the guy who scared me. I got up and walked over to him. “Are you ok?” “It hurts to breathe. If I hold my arm like this it helps,” he held his arm to his side. “I bet you have a broken rib or ribs after looking at your side.” “What are you a nurse?” “No, a couple of years ago, my dad broke seven ribs and fractured eleven. I remember he had a difficult time breathing for a long time, a month or two. I watched my mom bandage his sides. His wounds had cuts too.” I shook my head to get those thoughts out of my head. “You must keep taking deep breaths, so you don’t get pneumonia. I can get you some aspirin if you want. You know, for the pain.” “You are going to help me? Why?” He was searching my face to see if I was telling him the truth. “Well, yes, because you need help.” I looked down at him holding his side. I continued, fast, trying to get all my thoughts out. “Everyone knows that the treehouse is off limits but that doesn’t keep them from trying to see what I am doing in here. My nephews have come in here before without me being here. My dad and brother get home around 6:30 so be careful walking around outside then.” Moving my attention from Ned’s one wrist to the other I noticed he didn’t have a watch. “Here, take my watch so you know what time it is. That would drive me crazy not knowing the time.” He took the watch, and I could tell he was wondering about me. “What?” “I can’t believe you are wanting to help me. Especially after I told you what I did.” I couldn’t lie, it hurt me to look him in the face. I tried to look at his one good eye and fixate on it. “Well, I can see you are seriously hurt, and I believe you that you didn’t, you know, want to hurt your dad, you know, on purpose.” “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” “Does that mean you are going to stay?” He nodded. “Okay, I will try to get away tonight and bring you some food and stuff to clean your cuts. My mom leaves around 9:30 and my dad goes to bed soon after. When my sister goes to bed I will come back. Make sure all the shutters are closed before you turn on the lights.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Just a little over an hour ago I thought he was going to kill me, now I was helping him. “Is there anything else I can get you?” “I forgot my toothbrush.” “Okay, I know I can get you one and toothpaste. Do you have any other clothes?” “I didn’t think about clothes either.” “What did you bring?” I looked at his knapsack. “I brought my book on poetry my mom gave me, my bible, tape recorder and some of my cassette tapes.” I must have had a look of disapproval on my face. “Hey, look, I wasn’t sure if I just killed my dad and if my mom was going to live.” “So, you thought, I better get my tapes of Captain and Tennille, Elton John and Glen Campbell and run.” “Glen Campbell?” He said it like it was a dirty word. “My dad likes him so don’t say a word against him,” I said with a smile. I started to laugh when he put his hands in the air and stepped back. “I really wasn’t thinking.” “Duh! I know you won’t fit into any of my clothes. I might be able to get you a T-shirt of my dad’s for you, but I will have to figure out how. I have to go or like I said, my mom will send my sister for me.” “Thanks Sam. I really appreciate this.” “Get some rest and don’t forget to breathe deep.” He frowned. “Well, every once in a while, take a deep breath.” I walked out the door and down the stairs. I heard him lock the door behind me. I walked up the hill through the wooded area to the road that led to the barn where my brother, his wife and his two little boys lived. I saw the boys playing in the yard. I was glad they were not spying on me today. I looked up the hill to our house and I saw my little sister coming out the French doors. She yelled something but I couldn't hear her. I hate that because I didn’t know if I was in trouble, or she was trying to get me in trouble. I started running up the hill. The front yard was not landscaped yet, which made running difficult. When I reached the porch, I had to hoist myself up. Suzy, our dog came running off the step from the house to lick my face before I could get out of her reach. After I stood up, I reached to scratch her behind the ears, her favorite spot. I said, “Sorry girl, next time I will take you with me. I know you missed me today. Were you sleeping with mom again?” Suzy was my mom’s dog. We found Suzy hurt, dirty and as cute as could be. The veterinarian thought she was a purebred pointer, though she was only good at pointing out grasshoppers and butterflies. Suzy attached herself to my mom and was her protector, though she did like to roam with me on the farm when my mom shooed her out of the house. I heard from the door, “Mom isn’t happy with you.” “What’s new?” I walked past her into the house. “Mom, sorry I lost track of time. What do you want me to do?” My mom looked at me, “Where is your watch? If you don’t wear your watch, how are you going to know what time it is to come home?” I looked at my wrist, “I forgot it. I will try to remember to watch the time.” “Samantha, how many times have I heard that?” That question always made me wonder if I was supposed to answer it or not. Sometimes I did and the response could go either way. Sometimes she laughed and sometimes she started screaming at me. She didn’t use my full name, just my first, so I thought I wasn't in huge trouble. Did I feel lucky today? Well, I just got out of a terrible situation, so I was going to go for it. “Well, I am almost sixteen and I have been able to tell time for eight years now. There are 365 days in the year.” My mom was putting her hands on her hips. This wasn’t telling. I continued, “So eight times 365 days is,” I tried to think fast, “2920 but that doesn’t count leap year.” “Okay wise guy, get in the kitchen and wash the lettuce and clean the carrots.” Good, she wasn’t in a bad mood. I got to work but my mind was distracted by what I saw out the window. I could barely make out the bottom of the treehouse through all the trees. I needed to take Suzy with me when I went back so she could become friends with Ned. That way she wouldn’t bark or growl when she was outside. I was so anxious the whole evening. My anxiety levels were through the roof. I was very fidgety in my chair. I could tell I was driving my mom nuts. Finally, she said, “Samantha Jane, what is the matter with you? You can’t sit still. Either find a place to sit and stay seated or go to your room.” “Sorry, I keep thinking about what I am going to start working on tomorrow.” Adding, “After I finish my chores, of course.” I got up and went to my room. I was thrilled I didn’t have to sit and watch something I wasn’t paying attention to anyway. I had cleaned up the dinner dishes, so I knew what we had left over. I wondered how much food I could get out of the house without anyone noticing it was missing. My mom was incredibly good at knowing what food was always in the house. These thoughts made my anxiety rise. My mom came into my room just before she left for work to tell me everything I was supposed to do before I could go down to the treehouse. She reminded me that I was not spending all my free time in the treehouse. I told her I planned on drawing all around the farm. That seemed to make her feel better. When I saw her driving past my window, I went out to the living room to see if my dad and sister had gone to bed. Dad was getting his things ready for the morning. He usually made his lunch and put it in the refrigerator. “Sam, I need you to walk the fence line across the road tomorrow. I want to move the cows over to that field after we bale hay next week. I don’t want you to ride Jan while doing it because you will have to keep getting off of her. I do want you to brush her and take her for a ride. If you want another horse, you are going to have to take care and ride the one you have.” “Dad, you can’t gallop with Jan. When I ride with the guys I look like a prissy, foxtrotting along while they are running their horses,” making a motion of bouncing up and down. This made my dad smile. He had gotten Jan in trade when he did some work for a guy. I thought the guy got the better deal. He probably wanted to get rid of Jan. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jan and just riding her through the woods was fine but if I was in an open field I would love to run with a horse. The guys that I ride with tease me all the time when we run. I never win a race. “Never mind the guys. You still must take care of her and ride her.” “Okay. Anything else.” “Yes, you need to clean out the pool and scrub the sides. It is getting warm, and it is time to open up the pool. Tomorrow night I will put in the pump to get all the water out. I don’t want any leaves in there. They will clog up the pump.” He paused for a second then added, “Do you understand?” “Yes, I understand.” I would never roll my eyes at my dad, but I really wanted to. I have had several lectures about that every year when it was time to get the pool ready for the season. They bought the pool for me before we moved out here. I had been on a swim team since I was five. I had won many awards and ribbons. This was the only thing I missed about moving here. I loved to swim. Our pool was an above ground pool though my dad made a deep end on one side. The leaves would collect in the deep end. I liked how there was a ledge that you could walk all around the outside of the deep end. He had dug out a spot on the hill near the warehouse so you could walk right into the pool on one side. It was the biggest above ground pool they could find. It was my job to keep it clean and test the water to keep the water sparkling clear. I did an excellent job because who wanted to swim in an over chlorinated pool or for that matter an under chlorinated pool? I checked the pH levels daily. I vacuumed it every few days and backwashed it because I would get in trouble if it ever looked dirty. I looked forward to teaching my nephews how to swim. I had taught little kids how to swim since I was eleven. Dad continued, “I don’t care when you do this, but it must be completed this week. I want all the old hay to be cleared out of the loft and stacked along the back of the barn. Sweep the loft and put all the loose hay in the feeders. You can also see if Nancy needs help with the weeding in the garden.” “Then am I free to do anything I want?” “I don’t know what your mom has planned for you; did you check her list?” “Did she leave one? She came into my room before she left and told me the stuff I needed to do tomorrow.” I hated it when she left a list because that meant I didn’t have any free time. Sometimes she left me a list because she didn’t think I was paying attention when she gave me my orders. I was hoping that was the case tonight. My dad walked over to the counter and pulled off a sheet of paper. “Here you go. It doesn’t look like much.” I took the list with no enthusiasm. Good it was a reminder; I had to dust and vacuum the floors and the furniture. So, either I got up when my dad left to get it done before she got home at 8:00 tomorrow morning or I had to do it after she slept. She might sleep six hours on a good day. I was not sure if it was good for us or her. Sometimes I wish she would sleep longer so she might not be as crabby, and we would have a longer time not worrying about what else she wanted us to do. Missy didn’t have to do as much work as I did at her age. I thought she was a spoiled brat. I was thankful that I had the treehouse as my studio so I could get away from the brat. Now I had two very nosey little nephews plus a sister who made it their mission in life to drive me crazy. Once I taught the boys how to swim it would be better because then they would be able to play in the pool together and maybe leave me alone. When my dad went to his room Missy had to go to bed. I had the rest of the house to myself so I started dusting so I could get that out of my way. I checked to see if my dad had any T-shirts that needed ironing in the laundry room. Yes, my mom ironed my dad’s T-shirts. She ironed everything. I swore when I got older I would not iron. I couldn’t tell you how many times I had to re-iron a shirt or pants because my mom said they weren’t good enough. Sometimes I had to really search to see where I messed up, she was that meticulous. I looked in the fridge to see what I could take that wouldn’t be missed. I might be able to take a leftover hamburger because I was the one to put them away. My mom might not know how many burgers were leftover though she knew how many buns were in the bag. Besides, I have been known to eat one for breakfast. I could take a few slices of bread. I usually don’t eat one of them in the morning for breakfast. I was glad I still had some of the items in the treehouse that we used when we stayed there in the summer before my dad built the warehouse. Sometimes some of my dad’s friends from St. Louis used it when it was hunting season. I got out baggies: one for ketchup, one for mustard and one for pickles. I couldn’t imagine eating a hamburger without all three of these condiments. I took out some cheese slices. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as well. I grabbed a couple of apples. My mom had some cookies in the freezer that she kept for when we had company. She knew that everyone took a couple occasionally. My older sister, Laurie, got us started doing that. My dad would even get into them occasionally. This was one of the times that none of us were scared about taking something without asking. I swear my mom did it, too, when we weren’t home. I didn’t find any T-shirts, but I took a washcloth and a towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, and a bar of soap. There wasn’t any shampoo that I could find. Ned would have to use the bar of soap on his hair. I got bandages, peroxide, and some aspirins. There were so many cans of Vess soda my mom couldn’t know how many there were. I grabbed a black cherry, orange, and cola. I got a Ziploc bag of ice. I put all this in a grocery bag and took Suzy with me. I wanted Suzy to become friends with Ned so she wouldn’t bark at him. I heard my dad snoring, so I knew he was asleep. I could see that Missy’s light was off. This meant that she wasn’t reading before she went to sleep. I stood outside Missy’s door, and I didn’t hear her. It was safe to head down to the treehouse with my flashlight. I could see the steps of the treehouse when I crossed the road. The window in the door was frosted glass and light was spilling out of the window onto the steps. I would have to tape black paper over the door’s window. Plus, I saw he must have the shutter opened on the far side of the treehouse. You really couldn’t tell it from the road unless you were looking in that direction. I would have to tell him no lights if he wanted the shutters open. Suzy started to growl as we started up the stairs. I told her, “Shush girl, it’s okay.” The lights went off instantly. I didn’t want to yell. I didn’t know why; no one would have heard if I did. I just said, “Ned, it’s me Sam.” No answer. I started up the stairs. When I got to the top, I didn’t reach for the key, instead I knocked on the door. I knocked five times in the rhythm that all kids knew, and he responded with two knocks. He opened the door. Suzy was right behind me, and she started to bark. I yelled at her to stop. “Suzy, stop. It’s okay, he is a friend of mine.” We both were startled with my yell. I thought he was a little startled that I said he was a friend. “You should back up so I can come in and she will follow.” When we were all in and the door was closed, I flipped the switch for the light over the sink. Suzy had cornered Ned and was growling at him. “Suzy stop.” I walked over and stood beside him. “Ned, kneel if you can. Now, make a fist with your hand, palm down, and gently move it out so she can sniff it.” I reached out and petted Suzy. “See Suzy, he is a friend.” “I don’t think she is going to come to me.” “Talk to her in a soft gentle voice.” He said in a sing-song way, “Hi Suzy, I’m Ned and I am not going to hurt you or Sam.” Suzy came over very slowly and sniffed Ned’s hand. I petted her, trying to make sure she knew everything was all right. She finally came closer and was sniffing all of him. “You should try to pet her now.” “Are you sure?” He looked up at me and you could tell he was scared. I nodded, then walked over to the table and got everything out of the brown paper bag. I put the bag of ice in the little freezer. “I brought you some food. Sorry, I couldn’t find any clothes though. Are you hungry?” “I’m starving.” “Well, I will try to get you more stuff tomorrow, but I have to figure out how to get it out of the house, so nobody sees me taking stuff or my mom doesn’t notice that it’s missing. I brought some stuff to clean you up, but you should eat something first.” Ned sat down and devoured the hamburger on bread with ketchup, mustard and a bunch of pickles. He drank the orange soda first. “Thanks, I needed this. I really don’t want to get you in trouble. I just have to think about what I should do next.” “Well, you are going to draw attention to yourself walking around all bruised up and bloody.” “Yeah, I know.” He said looking down and eyeing the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Don’t you like peanut butter and jelly?” “Yeah, but I am trying to decide if I should leave it for breakfast.” “Shoot, I didn’t think of breakfast. I have to collect eggs tomorrow morning. We split them with my brother’s family. Do you know what? You could go over there in the middle of the night and take some if you want.” I saw he didn’t like the idea. “I can try to figure out how to get some without the boys noticing. Sometimes they are watching cartoons while eating breakfast when I come over early.” I saw I was going to lose sleep trying to feed this guy. “Go ahead and eat it.” It was gone in a flash. Suzy had been dancing around him thinking she might get a morsel of food off him but unless he lets her lick his hands I doubt if there was a crumb left. “You should give Suzy one of the slices of cheese. You will be her friend for life.

< Back Pane Pugliese Bread of Puglia Prep Time: 15 minutes to make but four hours for both rising times Cook Time: 35 minutes Serves: makes 2 large loaves, 3 bread loaves and 4 small loaves pictured here Level: About the Recipe Ingredients 1 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast or ½ small cake (9 grams) fresh yeast 1/3 cup warm water 3 cups water, room temperature 4/5 cup (200 grams) Biga 7 ½ cups (1000 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon (20 grams) salt Preparation By mixer Stir the yeast into the warm water in a large mixer bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Add 3 cups water and the starter (biga) and mix with the paddle until well blended. Add the flour and salt and mix until the dough comes together and pulls away from the side of the bowl, 1 to 2 minutes. You may need to add another 1 to 2 tablespoons flour. Change to the dough hook and knead at medium speed for 3 to 5 minutes. The dough will be very soft and elastic but will never pull entirely away from the bottom of the bowl. If you want, finish kneading by hand on a floured surface with floured hands until the dough loses it stickiness and is soft and velvety, about 1 minute. First Rise Place the dough in a lightly oiled large bowl or plastic tub cover tightly with plastic wrap, and let rise until tripled, about 3 hours. Do not punch down. Shaping and second rise Flour your work surface generously, flour a dough scraper and have a mound of flour nearby for your hands. Pour the dough out of the bowl, flour the top, and cut into 2 or 3 equal pieces, depending on how many loaves you are planning. Flatten each piece of dough and roll it up lengthwise, using your thumbs as a guide for how tight the roll should be. Turn the dough 90 degrees, pat it flat, then roll up again still using your thumbs as a guide. Shape each piece into a ball by rolling the dough between your cupped hands and using the surface of the work table to generate tension and pull the dough taut across the skin of the dough. Place the loaves on a floured parchment paper set on baking sheets or peels cover with a heavy towel or cloth and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour. Baking Thirty minutes before baking, heat the oven with baking stones in it to 450 degrees F. Five to ten minutes before baking, flour the tops of the loaves and dimple them all over with your fingertips. The imprints will disappear but will keep the bread from rising crazily in the oven. Let stand 5 to 10 minutes. The loaves will feel as soft as a baby’s bottom when ready to bake, although you will notice a bit of resistance in the dough. Sprinkle the stones with cornmeal. Italian bakers turn the dough over into the oven very carefully with a swooping motion that scoops up some of the flour on the peel. You may prefer to slide the loaves onto the baking stones without turning them over, or, if they are on baking sheets, the loaves can be baked directly on the pans. Bake until golden brown and crusty, about 50 to 60 minutes for the larger loaves, 30 to 35 minutes for the smaller ones. Check by knocking on the bottom of each loaf and listening for the hollow ring that indicates it is cooked through, but if you’re in doubt, bake for the longer time indicated. Cool on racks. Variation To make puccia, the traditional olive-studded bread of Puglia, knead a scant 8 ounces pitted small salty black olives into the dough after it has been mixed. Let the dough rise until triples. Divide into pieces the size of a lemon (7 ounces or 200 grams) and roll each piece into a ball. Let rise again covered until doubled and bake at 425 degrees F for 20 to 30 minutes. Or I mix in 25 grams each of wheat bran and wheat germ, 75 grams of ground flax seed and 200 grams of whole wheat flour then enough of all purpose flour to equal 1000 grams. I am not real picky on being exact except I want at least 600 grams of all purpose flour. Previous Next

< Back December 2025 Kimberly Caristi Dec 15, 2025 This Christmas party table is just a small part of our party celebration. We got into having a Christmas party when we were dating. When we were in college we took ashtrays from Arby’s to make ornaments. We bought store bought cookies and I made a couple of cookies that I knew by heart. We gathered our friends the first Saturday after the Thanksgiving weekend. Had a few friends bring their guitars and we say sang Christmas songs. We continued having it on that first Saturday after we got married until my body gave out. I miss making as many candies, cookies, dips and appetizers in one week as I could. The only item I started before that week was I soaked my stemmed cherries in rum for a couple of weeks. People couldn’t believe I did everything in a week. I couldn’t have done it without my kids and husband taking up the slack and helping me or doing my duties around the house. We would get our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving and started decorating our tree and home. We cut down a tree if we could find a tree farm; if not it was a non-profit place. The last thirteen years we have decorated an artificial tree. I always was sick when we had our party and it took forever for me to realize it was the Christmas tree making me sick. I would get a sinus infection that always turned into bronchitis or worse. Previous Next

The site is about Kimberly Caristi's books, travel, recipes and photography. Welcome to my heart. Let me open the door. “Cooking is a caring and nurturing act. It’s the kind of the ultimate gift for someone to cook for them.” -Curtis Stone “Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” – Ibn Battuta “So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” – Paulo Coelho Kimberly's Bio

​Ellie hasn't had an easy life.  The one solace in her life is her art.  A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art.  Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence.  He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. My Daughter thinks I ruined her life…I did my best to make her life better. Written by Kimberly Caristi Ellie hasn't had an easy life. The one solace in her life is her art. A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art. Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence. He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. I did my best…learning to live without my dad When my dad died when I was seven and my mom and I were left alone. I mean very alone. My dad’s parents pretty much pretended we didn’t exist. My mom made the excuse that since dad was their only child we just reminded them of their loss. I did get a Christmas present a couple of times then we never heard from them again. My mom was an only child, too, and her parents had died in a car accident before I was born. Her only aunt Mary sent me gifts until she passed away when I was twelve. She lived too far away to visit but we wrote letters. Aunt Mary was the sweetest aunt, she never missed calling us on our birthdays and at Christmas. We were the smallest family I knew. Did I think I had the saddest life? No, it was filled with paper and colors. I didn’t know any better. It might have helped that I was young or I was happy being just with my mom. My memory of my dad filled me with joy. He was funny and charming at the same time. My mom made sure that I didn’t forget him by telling me stories of their lives together before I came along. I wanted to be like him but at a young age I realized I was like my mom and proved it when I was in my thirties. I was quiet like my mother and I wanted to be just like her though I failed at getting some of her traits like being organized. I have gotten ahead of myself… My mom took in laundry and did typing to make money. She kept me busy by giving me paper to draw on while she worked. I didn’t mind; I loved it. My aunt Mary was delighted that I loved to draw so she would send me colored pencils, pens and better paper. A couple of times great aunt Mary sent me art books that I still have to this day. Those were the occasions when the great part of her name really personified her. Someone other than my mother took an interest in what I really loved. A couple of times she would call me, and we would talk about the book she sent. I loved those moments. It was the two art lovers in the world alone with our book. I knew she read before she gave it to me because I would find personal notes in the margins. My mom and I were devastated when we got the news that she passed. Aunt Mary was our ray of sunshine in this world and our only connection to our past. My mom’s reaction was we had work to do though she cried while she worked for several days. It was hard to get past my grief to see that my mom grieved too. She knew this lovely woman who took an interest in me from afar. My mom had grown up with Aunt Mary being there for her in person at all the important days in her life. My great aunt Mary was a tangible person who hugged her and did more for her than called her a few times a year. I did learn that we, my mom and me, grieve by getting to work and providing for your family. At first my mom loved that drawing kept me busy then she would get mad because I wasn’t doing my chores. To be honest, drawing would take me into another world where I could imagine anything. It allowed me to live in a magical place that I created. I turned my cat into a purple cat…purple was my favorite color. I would beg kids at school for their purple crayons because mine were usually down to this little, tiny piece that was the size of the piece that kids broke off the tip of their crayons. I never abused any of my crayons, pencils or pens. I would ask everyone who would bring laundry or pick up manuscripts if they had an extra pen or pencil I could have. My mom hated me asking for a handout though she never said, “Don’t ever do that again.” I thought she secretly was thankful, so she didn’t have to buy them. When I got to middle school my art teacher saw something in my drawings and tried to teach me some techniques that I still used in some of my art. Ms. Inmann was in the wrong place; she should have been a college professor. She couldn’t draw or paint very well because she had shaky hands. Still, she taught me to draw with so much finesse that I started to sell my drawings. My mom said I had to start making money to help pay for my addiction of wanting all these pencils and paper. I started babysitting and drawing the kids I watched. I wanted to get down drawing faces. When the parents came home and saw the drawings I would be working on at their kitchen table, they would ask for them. I would tell them that I was going to use the back because I didn’t have much money for paper, then they would offer to buy them. I wasn’t totally lying; I would have used the back. The better I got the more I could ask for my portrait work. I would ask Ms. Inmann how much I should sell them for. Soon I was making more selling my drawings than babysitting. That snowballed into me being called by friends and families of my babysitting clients asking me to draw their child, parents or a beloved pet. When I got into high school I got into paints. I had another good art teacher, Mrs. Plank. She was a beautiful woman inside and out who was always covered in paint. I wanted to be just like her. When I first met her in ninth grade, she told me that I should be a model not an artist. She told me that I could make a lot of money as a model. A couple of weeks after I started her class Mrs. Plank talked my mom into letting her take me to a couple of modeling agencies. No one asked Elli if that was what she wanted. No one even thought to figure out if this was something Elli could handle. No one thought if this was in Elli’s best interest. After all the interviews I got asked to be added to two of the three agencies that we visited. I thought the one that declined me was the only one that saw it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t the one actively trying to get into modeling. One month every weekend I went to modeling school to learn how to walk. Who knew you had to learn to walk a certain way? I didn’t. I learned great posture though my teacher said I was a natural at holding my body correctly, even though I was tall for a girl and had a nice figure for a fourteen-year-old. I learned to put on makeup that made me look older. I learned how to take care of my thick massive curly red hair. I had tried to cut it one summer when I was in second grade. My mom thought it was because I was upset that my dad had just died, and I was acting out. I just thought it was because I had fallen asleep with gum in my mouth, and I didn’t want to get in trouble for it, so I cut my hair. I had to go see the school counselor for the rest of the year and play with puppets. I suffered through modeling for almost a year. I hated it. I was thankful that Mrs. Plank noticed that modeling was not my passion. Finally, Mrs. Plank really saw that I was better and more passionate about my art than I was about modeling. When she would ask me how my modeling was going, she didn’t see me excited. She thought a young girl asked to model should be floating on cloud nine. On the other hand, when I talked about my art, I was so excited and happy she realized my true passion. One spring day she took me aside in the classroom. “Elli, you need to speak up for yourself. You have talent in front of the camera though your art supersedes it by leaps and bounds. If you wanted to, you could earn more money as a model for a while then you can paint for the rest of your life.” “I don’t want to do that,” I don’t know where I got the nerve to tell her what I was feeling. She agreed with me after a long discussion, “I guess modeling is not for you. Let’s work on your art. I will talk to your mom.” I was nervous because I knew my mom loved the money and the clothes I got to keep. I had never hugged a teacher before or since but that day I just squeezed Mrs. Plank. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will do whatever you want me to do in the classroom. I will clean your paint brushes, scrub the floor, sharpen the pencils. Whatever you want.” “Okay Elli you might regret your offer,” she smiled at me. I didn’t know if it was the smile or knowing I was not going to have to model anymore that made me feel wonderful. I didn’t care because I could just work on my art. It wasn’t long and Mrs. Plank came over to our house and had a lengthy conversation with my mom. I sat in the hallway trying to hear their discussion. Both of them were soft-spoken like me and all I heard was that Mrs. Plank thought I should give up modeling. They had to talk about more than me because they started to talk on the phone in the evenings every once in a while. My mom called me in the family room after Mrs. Plank left. It was awkward at first, my mom kept twisting a napkin in her hands then she opened up to me. She knew I wasn’t really happy doing modeling. She apologized for not telling me to quit earlier. Come to find out she thought I would fall in love with it soon because what young women didn’t like clothes and attention. She was thankful that I really never got into wearing nice clothes. Our relationship got closer that day because we started to talk about everything. She stopped worrying that she wasn’t providing all the best clothes that most teenagers wanted, and I was willing to talk openly about what I was feeling and thinking. I promptly stopped doing everything I learned in modeling school except keeping my shoulders back. Martha, my modeling coach, said it was good for you whether you were a model or not. She said I would thank her for this when I got older. I learned that if I don't keep a good posture when I draw or paint my back would hurt. When I wanted to dress up for prom and go out on a date, I did use some of the makeup skills I learned. Well, when Mrs. Plank started to just teach me how to paint it opened a whole new world for me. I loved it. Mrs. Plank was thrilled that I took to painting so fast. Freshman year we were learning how to draw with pencils, chalk, charcoal, pastels and at the end of the year we started watercolor. I was ahead of all my freshman class, but Mrs. Plank couldn’t let me advance. I just worked on better techniques. Painting with watercolors was okay but in our sophomore year we got to move into acrylic and oil paints. I was in heaven. We learned all kinds of ways to paint from abstract to impressionism to realism to pointillism and the list went on. Like I said, Mrs. Plank was a great teacher. Mrs. Plank was a champion of mine, one of the things she did for me was enter my paintings into competitions. We were always shipping this piece or that piece to somewhere in the states and a couple around the world. I won enough money to buy me canvas, new paints and good brushes plus lots of turpentine. My mom was not as impressed with the painting money coming in, it wasn’t like the modeling benefits. She was thrilled I was happier. She was always in my corner telling me how proud she was of me. The only thing that drove her crazy was I never got the hang of watching the clock. She lived by the clock. Her customers expected their clothes or papers to be ready on time. As all mothers did, she wished for me to have a normal teenage life. My mom couldn’t get past the fact that I didn’t want to go out on dates more often that I was more excited by my love of art. I read everything I could on the subject and tried to copy the best artists, trying to figure out their techniques. My English teachers commented that they wished I would find something else to write about or do a book report on. I guess it was a rare subject for them to not have read the books their students wrote about. I thought they got bored with the subject too. Mrs. Plank told me not to listen to them. She was proud that I could write as well as paint. My senior year my mom was getting nervous because I kept getting information about art schools from all over the country. I thought she was worried I was going to leave her. I kept telling her I wouldn’t leave her and that I must be getting these applications because of all my art competitions. I didn’t ask for one of them. Secretly, I thought it would be nice to get out of Missouri, but I couldn’t go without her. She was my everything. I had no one else. She worked so hard to keep us afloat. After my dad’s death things were so hard on us. I remember rubbing her shoulders as she typed. I could feel the tightness in her muscles. I did lug in the laundry detergent and the spray starch from the car. Once in a while I would throw things into the dryer for her if I weren’t covered in paint and she didn’t have to worry about stains. Anytime I earned a penny I handed it over to my mom. She usually handed it back when I needed new brushes though. She would laugh at me because of how hard it was for me to ask for money. “You know you have earned this money. Why all the anxs?” Mom said, shaking her head. “Because I am not sure we have the money at this time for the brushes.” “Silly bean, you are the reason that I am not doing as much as I did. We are a team, remember?” She put her forehead on mine. “Yes, a team.” Every once in a while I would forget and fidget trying to ask for money for paint or brushes. I did my best…to stay close to my mom I applied and got accepted to Central Missouri State University. My mom was so thrilled it wasn’t that far from home. Just before school started my mom decided to move to Warrensburg with me. I was a little surprised…well, really surprised. She thought she could get more work in a college town. We packed up our little house into a fifteen-foot moving van and had room to spare. Mrs. Plank had helped me sell all of my paintings in a show that a friend of hers had for me in her Kansas City Art Gallery. I was so nervous standing around trying to be polite to all the people who wanted to buy this up-and-coming artist’s artwork. That show paid for the moving van and the first and last month’s rent for my mom’s little house plus gave us a little nest egg. I wanted to live in the dorm and my mom was fine with that, but I was worried about having enough room in my dorm for my paintings. I knew I had my mom’s house to use if I needed the room. To help pay my bills I got a work-study job in the library. It was my first job that I got paid weekly. This was a first for me. My problem was my issue with time. I was constantly late. My boss was going to fire me after my first month, but he soon realized that I would work later than I was scheduled by way more than I was late. He finally agreed that I would work when I could. I liked working in the library because I met a bunch of people. I would never say I was shy because I could talk to anyone, but I liked it better when I was approached instead of the other way around. I was doing better not shutting people totally out of my life. I knew I had issues after my dad died getting close to people. It was very hard on me and Mom. We really clung to each other. I learned at an early age that a person you loved could be gone in a flash. I never went to bed without saying I love you to my mom and giving her a hug. Even when I was upset with how she was dealing with my dad’s death I still hugged her and said, “I love you.” I showed my friends that I cared for them every day by ending our time together with a hug. I really never had a boyfriend in high school because I couldn’t devote that much time to them. I would rather go out with my friends. I didn’t care if they had boyfriends because that just gave me more time to paint when they got preoccupied by their relationships. I used painting as my way of keeping people at a distance, never really letting them get too close to me because I knew friendship was always iffy. When my dad died, I lost several of my friends because they couldn’t handle that he was gone and how sad I was. My dad was the life of the party, and all my friends loved my dad. He always made them laugh and feel good about themselves. I learned all about it in my psychology class in my junior year in high school. I self-analyzed myself and my mom. I came to terms with my dad’s death that year, but it took me a couple of years to let people get really close to me. That was when I met Russ. Russ was a very good-looking young man with great manners and knew how to make me feel special. He would wait for me to get off work and walk me back to my dorm. He would meet me in the cafeteria and carry my tray of food over to his table where his food was getting cold. We would sit with his friends who became my friends. He bought me new paint brushes for every occasion. My sophomore year my work study was in the first-year art room. My teacher asked specifically for me. Ms. Adams saw my work in Kansas City and was excited when she saw my name on her class list. She hoped I was one-in-the-same Elli Wright. After my first drawing she knew I had to be the same artist she saw in her favorite gallery. Raven became more than just a teacher in my sophomore year. She became my mentor and advisor but most of all a friend. Raven had won several awards for her art. She was known for her paintings of people in Harlem, where she was from. I asked her once why she moved from New York to a small town in Missouri. She had followed her heart. He was the assistant baseball coach. Sometimes she wonders if she did the right thing because half of the year, she was a baseball widow. She hardly saw him. I went to some of the games with her and both of us talked more about art than watching the game. Russ came a few times and asked if we even knew what was going on. We said together “No.” Russ didn’t know anything about art. He didn’t understand why I had to draw so many things over and over. Why the painting I was working on would change from one day to the next. He would comment that he liked the yellow flowers and why did I make them purple. After a few months he stopped asking why I changed things. My work kept getting noticed by other professors. The department secretary called me Star instead of Elli. I finally told her one day, “I am sorry that I haven’t corrected you Ms. Barnes. My name is Elli.” She laughed, “I know, I call you star because you are the star of the department.” I must’ve turned as red as my hair. “Oh,” was all I said. I was so embarrassed. I did feel a little pride that someone thought I was a star of the department. My paintings were going to more competitions. I got to travel all around the United States, Canada, a couple times to Europe and once to Hong Kong. I was never so nervous in my life. Raven said if I really wanted to be an artist I was going to have to learn to talk to people and put myself out there so people would get to know me. I never asked to put my paintings into competitions. My professors were the ones to tell me I had to do this or that. I kind of liked it that way. Raven kept telling me I was falling into being a real artist instead of making myself an artist. She would get so mad at me. “You are not pursuing your art. You are letting it happen.” “I don’t know what you mean. I am taking all the classes I can. Trying everything to see what I want to do.” “If you want to get known you have to enter competition after competition. Put yourself out there and do juried competitions. Make business cards and a website for heaven’s sake. You can paint all you want but if you want to make a living you have to sell, sell, sell. One of those sells, is yourself. You have to let people know about you.” Raven was almost yelling at me. She was an intense woman for sure. “I enter competitions,” I said with conviction. “Only when one of us comes to you and says do this.” “Well, I do it. Don’t I?” “You need to do the research. Get on a computer and find things for you to enter.” “You know I hate computers.” “Well, then you are just going to be one of those local artists that could have made it big.” She gave me one of those looks that drove me crazy. “Don’t look at me that way. Do you really think I can make it big?” Raven actually flicked me on my forehead. “Why in the hell do you think everyone is telling you to enter all these competitions? Get it through that thick skull of yours,” she said with great exasperation. “You could be the next Picasso, Pollock, O’Keefe or Thomas Hart Benton if you wanted it badly enough. You just have to go for it. They are not going to hand you this accolade without you putting yourself out there. You have the work ethic; now show people you are worth it.” That speech came at a time when I was letting Russ get into what I called my inner circle. So far, my mom was the only one I let in that circle. I started to let myself really love him. I had only one example of what love was and that was my parents. My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She moved away from her home. She had started college when she met my dad but when he was offered a job in Kansas City, he took it. They were married by the justice of the peace near my mom’s parents. They were their witnesses. That was probably why my dad’s family didn’t want anything to do with us. I was totally guessing this because my mom really didn’t want to talk about them. She would tell me all about my dad though. How wonderful he was, how good-looking he was and that I had his looks but way prettier. She always told me how pretty I was and would touch my face then pull back my hair. He was smart too. When I introduced Russ to her, she thought Russ reminded her of my dad. I thought about what Raven said for a couple of days. I decided I would do what she was doing. I was going to teach art and do art on the side. That way, I would be able to have Russ and my art…I thought. At the end of my junior year and the night before Russ graduated, he asked me to marry him. I was so surprised I felt like I was in love, so I said yes, especially since my mom really liked him. She knew he would make order in my life. That was the only thing I didn’t understand: why everyone got so frustrated with me. I did my best to keep everyone happy. I worked late at night when I was not needed. I lost sleep because they wanted me to be there for them. Why couldn’t they accept that when I was having a show, I needed to finish what I had started. I had lost all my friends because I didn’t have time for them. I only made time for Russ and my mom. So, what if I was a little late and I had paint all over myself. Russ had been offered a job in Kansas City at a financial firm doing budget analyst stuff. He tried to explain it to me, but he said he could see my eyes glazing over. He just wanted me to be there for all the social events because he wanted to show off his beautiful bride to be. I tried to be there for everything but several of my paintings had won some competitions and I had to travel with them. If I had to pay for all my travels I wouldn’t have gone. My professors were nice enough to not dock me for missing my classes. To be honest they let me, and some other students work at our own pace. A couple demanded things to be done on a certain date, but the rest said as long as they were done by the end of the semester it was okay if I missed classes here and there. My senior year I took my first sculpting class. I had a new love. You could give me anything and I could make it into something. I literally went out to the dump to find things to weld together. I made friends with a woman named Emma in my sculpting class. We would dig through the trash at school, or we went to junk yards together to find things. Some Saturdays we would go to garage sales at the end of the day to see what people wanted to donate to our art class. Emma and I became inseparable especially since Russ was living close to work. He was saving for our house; he would tell me. I was thrilled I had more time to get more work done. Emma was now in my inner circle. I think she was in my heart before I even knew it. She was so full of life that I was sucked into her inner circle too. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Our friendship was something very special. She got me and I her. My mom would cook for Emma and me on Saturdays and Sundays and sometimes during the week she would call us in the afternoon to see if we wanted to come over for dessert or breakfast for dinner. We were thrilled when we would come over and find a cool piece of trash, she found on the side of the road thinking we could do something with it. Emma was an expert welder if you ever met one. She had real skills when it came to welding. Her favorite place to go was car junk yards. She would climb all over things to get to something she just knew was there. We were both working on our Senior Show our last semester. Hers were all sculptures while I had paintings, one sculpture and chalk drawings in mine. Emma went out late one evening when I was too busy to go with her and when she didn’t show up around midnight, I knew something was wrong. There were a couple of guys working in the welding room and I asked them if they would go with me to the junkyard to see if we could find Emma. When we pulled up, we saw Emma’s car, so she had to be there. Of course, the gate was locked, which didn’t stop Josh and Tony from crawling over the fence. I called the number on the gate to see if they knew anything. No, they hadn’t seen her come in or leave. That was when I got scared. I called the police next. While I was telling them the situation Josh yelled for me to call an ambulance and a tow truck because a car was on Emma. Well, that changed how the police were talking to me. Everything seemed to be in slow motion or so fast I couldn’t keep up with what was going on. I had climbed over the fence before the police, ambulance and fire department got there. I was talking to Emma trying to keep her calm while I was a nervous wreck. I rode with her to the hospital, and I watched as the EMTs, then the doctors, worked on her. I was ushered out to the waiting room. I had never been so scared in my life. Josh and Tony came to the hospital and sat with me. We four had worked together all year and helped each other when someone needed a third or fourth hand. When the doctors were getting ready to take Emma to surgery to try to stop the bleeding they came out and told us that she wanted to talk to me. I just knew that meant they weren’t sure if Emma would survive. The guys looked at me and I knew they were thinking the same thing. I definitely wanted to go to her though it was just that my feet were glued to the floor. I was able to free my right foot then my left and it was the most difficult walk I had ever taken. It was Emma that did all the talking. She wanted me to know that she loved me more than her sisters put together, which was a lot. I was to tell her parents that she was sorry for taking one too many chances. She wanted me to sell all of her art and give the money to her parents. They didn’t need her art to sit around and collect dust, they needed a new car and to pay off her bills. She had my wedding present hiding under her mattress. It was supposed to be my something new. It was a locket, and she already had a picture of my mom and Russ in it. I listened as she told me all these things as tears ran down my cheeks. It was so hard for her to talk but she wanted to tell me, no she had to tell me all these things. I finally stopped her when I saw the nurse come in. “Emma, my sweet Emma, I will be waiting right here for you. You, my sweet thing, will be okay. You have to be okay. We have a lot of art to make together.” The nurse started to interrupt. “I love you, Emma.” It was the last thing I said to her. She didn’t make it through the surgery. I was devastated. My mom came to the hospital to pick me up. I didn’t call her, Tony did. I was a basket case. I curled up on my bed at my mom’s house and cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t go back to school. Russ drove to Warrensburg the next day when he called my mom to find out why I wasn’t calling him back. He knew that Emma was very important to me. I wouldn’t talk to Russ; I didn’t want to see him. I thought I should call off the wedding. I couldn’t get married in a month. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, and I was still covered in paint. I only ate a couple bits of food that my mom made me eat. I had my back to the door when I heard a knock, then the door opened. “I said, I don’t want to see anyone. Please go away.” I said in the saddest voice I have ever heard come out of my mouth. “I don’t care what you want.” It was Raven. “Get your sorry ass out of bed and into the shower now.” I turned and looked at this very mad woman. “You heard me, get your butt out of bed now.” “I can’t.” “Yes, you can, and you will. Emma’s parents are here, and they need to talk to you. I can smell you coming down the hall, so get your butt into gear and get in the shower.” “I can’t talk to them. I am the reason their daughter isn’t here.” “You pushed the car onto her?” Why was she talking to me like that? I just lost my best friend, my sister. “I should have gone with her to the junkyard. If I had she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” I couldn’t believe I was crying again. How much water could come out of you before you shriveled up and died? “No, you shouldn’t have. You had your own stuff to get done. Emma took a chance to find something she thought she just had to have. She had enough pieces finished for her project; she just wanted to do more. She made the unwise decision to climb on something not safe.” “But.” “No buts. Shit happens. We don’t always get to choose how things go down. Like right now. I have two parents waiting to talk to you. Their hearts are broken. It is a terrible thing to bury a child. The least you can do is talk to them.” I got up off the bed and started to walk past her. She grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. Oh, how I needed that hug. Finally, she said, “And brush those pearly whites while you are in there,” as she pushed me off of her. I couldn’t help it. I blew out my breath into her face and laughed. She play swatted my behind as I walked past her. Russ was in the living room when I came out. He came rushing towards me and gave me another great hug. “Elli, I am so sorry.” “Please, not now Russ. I just got my crying under control, and I am right on the brink of crying again. I have to go see Emma’s parents.” “I know. I can take you.” “That would be great.” “You should tell them that we will name our daughter after Emma.” That promise made me laugh, “So you think we will have a daughter?” “We have to. It would be a shame to waste all your beautiful genes on a boy. I figured that we would have a couple of each.” I should have called him. He had brightened my mood. “We never talked about having children or how many we would have. Four children means a lot of diapers and midnight feedings. Are you sure that is the correct number?” “We can have as many as you want. I have a stellar job, and I know I will be promoted sooner than I thought I would. My boss loves me.” He was very proud of himself. “I would love a large family. I think I missed out on being an only child.” “You think you missed out on not getting to sit where you wanted to in the car, the living room or kitchen table? You missed out having fights over what to watch on tv?” I stopped him. “Okay, I get it.” Seeing Emma’s parents was hard. I told them what Emma told me to tell them. It broke my heart to see them cry. Russ ended up coming in with me and I was glad he did. He comforted me then told me to go comfort Emma’s parents. I didn’t know if I would have the wherewithal to do that. They gave me the locket that Emma had made for me. It was beautiful. She didn’t tell me she made it. Just looking at it I could tell. Raven was there as well as Dr. Mullens, the head of the department. It was a difficult meeting, and I was glad Raven made me do it. When Emma’s parents left Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I was so nervous. I had never been called into a principal’s office before, and that was what it felt like when Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I looked at Russ and he said he would be by the car when I was finished. Dr. Mullens sat in his chair and motioned for me to sit in the chair across from him. My hands were all sweaty and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. Since the chair I was sitting in was a fabric chair I started to rub it like I was wanting to know what the fabric was made from doing so I dried my hands. “Ms. Wright, I don’t know if you are aware that Mr. Pembrook will be taking a leave of absence to work on his PhD. We were wondering if you would be willing to take his place while he was gone. He teaches first year art students mainly and art appreciation which is a core class. You have shown great promise while you were here. Pembrook and Adams think you are an excellent choice to fill in while he is away. If we can get another line when he gets back, we can have you apply for the job, but it will have to be a national search. What do you think? Wait, don’t answer me now. Think about it while you are finishing up for your senior show. I will expect an answer by the end of next week.” “Will I be paid?” He chuckled, “Yes, you will be paid standard adjunct faculty pay. Though you will have all the studios open to you for your own work plus some of the standard supplies.” “I don’t have to think about it. This will give me the experience I want to see if I would be any good at teaching. I know I should have figured out what I wanted to do besides painting all day. Thank you for giving me a chance.” “Come in next week and I will have a contract ready for you.” “Thanks again, Dr. Mullens.” “Thank you, Ms. Wright.” As soon as I walked out of the main office Raven met me with a shove. “I told you to stop letting things happen for you. You took the job without thinking about it didn’t you?” “Well, yes.” I didn’t get a chance to elaborate. “When will you take charge of your life? Well, I am glad you are sticking around so I might beat some sense into you.” She gave me a hug then played smacked me on the back of the head. “Your split personality is showing through.” I gave Raven a shove in the shoulder. “I have to go tell Russ.” I did my best…I got a teaching job Russ was pleased that I came out smiling. He wasn’t sure about me taking the job though. “Where are we going to live? I thought we would get a condo near my work until we started a family in a couple of years.” “Russ, didn’t you think I would want a job?” “I make enough money for us to live on. I just thought you would want to paint for a while until the children come.” “Seriously, you thought I would give up my work to have children?” I couldn’t believe he thought I would do that. “I just thought they would take up so much time that you would want to be there for them. I know you can go back to work when they are older.” “What century are you from? What about you giving up your job to take care of all these children you want?” “Don’t get mad. I just thought that is what you would want to do. We can play it by ear.” I looked at him and wondered if he really knew me. “You do know that my art is not a hobby. Don’t you?” I stared at him and wondered if he understood me. “Hey, who set up your website? Who is keeping it up to date? Who replies to the comments? You haven’t even learned to upload pictures to it. I am being supportive here.” He had turned the table on me, it was his turn to be upset with me. I gently touched his shoulder and leaned into him and kissed him softly on the lips. “You do all this for me. Do you think we are ready to get married? We hadn’t even talked about how many children we wanted. What else have we not talked about?” “Well, I know I am ready. Do you have second thoughts about us? Has Emma’s death changed things for you?” I cringed when he said her name. Maybe it had woken up my dreams of who I really wanted to be. Her words and her parents’ words came flooding back to me. ‘You are an amazing artist. Honor Emma by being the best you can be.’ He was searching my eyes with so much concern. “Don’t you love me? I know I love you.” “Of course, I love you.” “Then it is settled. We are getting married in less than a month.” Russ kissed me and gave me a warm embrace. I went home and painted a sign ‘Be the best you can be.’ I would keep the sign forever as a memory of this time in my life. My Senior Show was a success, as was Emma’s. Everyone chipped in on their sales to be able to send Emma’s parents $100,000. I got back the nicest letter of appreciation from them. They were giving a scholarship to any student going into art at her high school. With all the money left over after paying her bills, they were able to buy a nice used car. I saw where Emma got her huge heart from. I reached over to touch my sign. “Emma, thank you for being my friend. I promise you I will work my butt off to be the best artist I can be.” I had made enough money to pay for my part of the wedding. When Russ asked me to marry him, I told him that I didn’t want a big wedding. My mom didn’t have any money. She still took in laundry and typed up theses. She indeed had more work living here next to a university. He was okay with a small wedding and said he would talk to his parents about paying for the reception. I didn’t think they were thrilled with the idea. Since he was the only boy in the family, they thought they would get one wedding break. After my show I was able to give them some money. Well, I tried to give them money, but Russ’s dad wouldn’t hear of it. He told me to put that money to good use like more paints, brushes and canvases. Mrs. Shaw didn’t seem happy about it. She did add that some furniture would be nice too. I thanked them for their support. Mr. Shaw came over and gave me a big hug. I knew it was going to be difficult to win over Mrs. Shaw, but Mr. Shaw was another story. He was one of my biggest fans. Since Emma was gone, I had my mom stand up for me. She was taken aback when I asked her to be my maid of honor. “Are you sure Elli? You can ask one of your other friends. I am an old lady.” “Mom, you aren’t that old. You have always been there for me. Who better to stand up for me at my wedding?” I reached over the kitchen table to grab her hand. “Mom, I want us to walk up together too. Come, I don’t think you want to wear Emma’s dress, so we need to pick you out something beautiful to wear on my special day.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a daughter like you.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a mother like you.” Our wedding was small, and we got married in Russ’s church to make his mom happy. My mom and I didn’t go to church after my dad died so I was fine with it. I really liked the minister who performed the wedding. He had everyone get out of the pews and encircle us as he performed the wedding. It made it feel so special. After the wedding ceremony we walked across the street to the church hall. We had a lovely dinner and the best wedding cake I have ever tasted. I hoped there would be leftovers. My hopes were dashed because everyone else thought the cake was as good as I did. Russ didn’t have time to go on a honeymoon so we went to the nicest hotel we could handle paying for. I just couldn’t justify paying several hundred dollars for one night in a hotel. We compromised on a hundred and fifty. I had never paid that much for a hotel and if my mother knew how much it was, she would have gone crazy ranting on how much we could have bought at the grocery store for that much money. When I paid almost that much on the dress she wore in the wedding, she threw a fit until I said I guess I will not get married then. I wished I could say our first few months of married life were wonderful times, but they were not. We had to get used to each other’s habits. I felt like I was doing a better job of adjusting than Russ. I knew he liked things a certain way, but I thought that would change when we got married. Aren’t you supposed to think of the other person when you get married? We had decided to live halfway between our jobs. Well, when it came time to find a place to live the couple of places in Lone Jack were not up to Russ’s standards. We settled on a place in Lee’s Summit. Russ wasn’t really happy about it, and he made sure I knew it every time he got stuck in traffic. I tried to tell him that I had to drive farther so stop complaining. When classes started up in the fall, I would stay with my mom a couple of times a week. I started keeping more clothes there than I did at our apartment. Russ hated that I was always covered in paint so I would go to my mom’s house to shower and change before going home. Then he wasn’t thrilled that I spent so much time at my mom’s house. He thought it looked wrong. “I work late, I have to shower before I come home and then I have over a half hour drive to get here. On days when I teach the next morning it gives me less than six hours of sleep. We could live in Warrensburg if you want me home every night.” Well, that shut him up for a little while. Our communication skills left something to be desired. I would swear I told him something and he would yell that he told me something. Russ started somewhat calmly then it crescendoed into an ear-splitting scream, “You never listen to me when I talk. You are always thinking about the next thing you are going to paint or what you are going to be teaching the next day.” I said through gritted teeth, “Why can’t you understand that I have never taught before! This is using a different part of my brain. I am exhausted driving back and forth, teaching four classes and I have to produce art to stay active. You are the one who wants to live in an apartment that has no natural light. We live in a cave. I have no room to paint in this place even if there was light. I told you that, then you went and signed the contract without me.” My last sentence must have gotten to him because he changed his tactics. He almost sounded like the loving husband I thought I married, “I have to drive too. I work hard all day. I would like to come home to my wife and have a nice dinner.” Yes, he worked all day at a desk. Oh, he played racquetball three days a week during his lunch hour with friends. Who gets an hour and a half for lunch? He worked late almost every day, so he didn’t have to deal with the traffic. I would like to come home from work to a husband and a nice dinner too. I didn’t know who he thought he married. I had never made dinner for him before. I really didn’t cook. I had never had to cook before. My mom would cook between doing laundry and typing to use another set of muscles, she would say. She did give me her favorite cookbook when I got married and wished me luck. Why did everyone expect me to change when I got married? Was that what I was supposed to do? I talked to Raven about my situation. She said marriage was a give and take situation. If no one gives and always takes, marriage becomes a losing battle. Okay, I decided that I would try to have dinner on the table on Fridays and Saturdays, and we would go to my mom’s house on Sunday. I was happy with myself that I actually accomplished my plan. That worked for a while. Mom made enough for Russ to take some leftovers home for a couple of nights that I wasn’t there. Russ liked my mom’s cooking so that helped too. Two years went by in a flash. I was getting known around the United States as an up-and-coming American artist who could paint in many styles. Usually, an artist picked one way of painting, but I loved to change how I painted. Dr. Mullens had several talks with me about picking one style or technique of painting many times. He thought one way would be best for my career as an artist. I was thrilled that he thought I could have a career as an artist but I just couldn’t pick one. It was what drove Raven mad many times too, though Dr. Mullens never got mad or yelled at me. Raven did. I was making almost as much money selling one of my paintings as I was for teaching one of my classes. Some of my sculptures would bring in a pretty penny too. I didn’t see what was wrong with what I was doing. Dr. Mullens called me into his office one spring day. “Ms. Wright.” “I’m sorry Dr. Mullens, I did change my name to Elli Shaw,” I said with some apprehension. “Don’t you sign your paintings, Wright?” Russ wasn’t happy that I signed my paintings Wright, so I changed to Shaw. He made a big deal with it on my website that I was now Elli Shaw. He sent out flyers to all the galleries that had my paintings to let them know that I was now a Shaw. “Sir, I just changed a couple of months ago to signing Shaw. It was easier to hide the smaller name.” I felt I had to give a reason why I changed besides that my husband wanted me to use his name. “Why do you hide your name anyway?” “I hate to distract from the painting.” “Don’t you want to be known?” The furrowed brow was telling. I needed to stop hiding behind my paintings. “Yes sir.” I gave a huge sign more than I intended because I knew what was coming. “Then sign them with a flourish Ms. Wright.” Why did everyone know what was best for me? I was doing pretty good here. “Your contract is ending soon. Dr. Pembrook is coming back in the fall. I am sad to say I didn’t get another line to hire another teacher. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind teaching a couple of classes still as an adjunct. You can use the studios still,” he added like it was a selling point. It was a selling point. I didn’t have anywhere else to paint or do my sculpting. “Yes, I would like that.” Raven wasn’t pleased with me again. I disappointed Raven more than Russ, I thought. I wanted my marriage to work but Raven thought I should either paint full-time or teach full-time. My evaluations from students were some of the highest in our department. Apparently, I had not pissed off any of my students. That was my assumption why I had a high ranking in the department when it came to evaluations. I thought Raven was a great teacher. I haven’t had a bad art teacher, and everyone has been so supportive. I had avoided the teachers that I heard weren’t that great. I knew of professors who shouldn’t be teaching. I had some of those in other departments. I had just been lucky, I guess. I came home one August day and actually made dinner. It was a weekday so this would be a surprise for Russ. Well, he surprised me. He was so excited that I had the table set, I was not covered in paint, dinner was ready, and it was a weekday. He came running at me with the biggest smile and swung me around ending in a passionate kiss. He pulled back from me, “Do we have time for some action in the bedroom before dinner?” I laughed, “I should surprise you more often. I think so.” He picked me up and carried me to bed. Russ was laying on his back and panting. “What a great way to end a perfect day!” “I’m guessing you don’t have much hope for dinner,” I looked over at him. “No, no I trust dinner will be wonderful. I have great news.” I turned on my side resting my head on my hand. “I have been promoted. I start in a couple of weeks. They told me to take a vacation before I start because I won’t have time for a while. You aren’t teaching right now, it's perfect.” “I guess I can finish my work when we get back. Where do you want to go? How about…” I was interrupted. “I have the perfect place: Destin, Florida. We used to go down there when I was a kid.” “I was thinking New Orleans, there is so much to see there.” “I want to relax because I have to hit the ground running when I get back. I want to lie on the beach and chill.” “Okay,” I said with disappointment. I really hated his idea, but he seemed so happy about it. We drove down on the weekend and found a cheap hotel near the beach. We did have fun, and I had time to prep for my classes in the fall. Russ couldn’t believe I still used a legal-size pad of paper to plan my classes. I love how they come in different colors so I can have one color for each class. He said we could afford a computer for me, but I said I was fine with my paper and pen. I had forgotten my birth control pills but it wasn’t the first time I had done that, so we weren’t concerned. We should have been concerned. We had the distraction of being so busy when we got home, we didn’t have time to think about each other, just our own work. I went to stay with my mom for the week and he put in tons of hours at the office. He had to work over the weekend, so I was free to stay another week with my mom. It was a little bit of a misnomer saying I spent the week with my mom. I might see her in the morning. Often, she tried to make breakfast for me though I tried to pass on it until I got a pouty face. That was when I knew I was going to have to have breakfast with her if not today, definitely tomorrow. For fall break I asked Russ if he wanted to go to Oktoberfest in Hermann for a quick getaway. We needed to reconnect. It was all set. I went home that Friday and got out our suitcases and started to pack. I came across my old pill container in the bathroom and thought, damn I hadn’t been taking my pills. I thought about it for a moment and realized that we had only had sex a couple times in the last two months. This was not good on many levels. Aren’t young married couples supposed to have sex all the time? All of a sudden, a huge light bulb went off over my head. Our life was so busy the first couple of months we got back that I didn’t even notice that I had missed my period not once but twice. I dropped everything and ran to the closest store and hoped that I would beat Russ home. I didn’t want to have him see what I was about to do…take a pregnancy test. I sat there staring at the stick. How were we going to take care of a baby when we barely took care of ourselves? Our house was a disaster area. I was hardly home so most of the mess was Russ’s, though he expected me to clean it up. Well, he had another thing coming if he thought I was going to pick up after him. We were both so busy working on our careers that we barely talked anymore. How were we going to do this? I stopped asking questions I couldn’t answer and just stared at the stick. Russ came home all excited and ready to go on our mini vacation. He found me sitting on the couch with the stick lying on a napkin on the coffee table. I was tired of holding it. I thought for a moment if I ignored it, would the whole thing disappear? I wanted to have children but not yet. I thought maybe when I was thirty and was well established. “Do you have all my stuff packed too?” he said as he walked past me into the bedroom. “Elli, I thought you wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. Why is everything just lying on our bed?” He came back in and looked at me. Well, he could at least see that I was upset. He rushed over to me, “Elli, what is it? Your Mom or one of my parents?” I looked him in the eyes then I looked at the coffee table. “What’s this?” I could see the realization cross his face. He got the biggest smile on his face. He grabbed me and kissed me all over. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement. We made love right there on the couch. It was the first time we had done it someplace other than the bed. Russ probably thought the bed was covered in clothes, so this was the neatest place to do it. He was good though I have no references, but he was nothing like what I saw in the movies or on tv. “I take it you are happy that we are having a baby?” “More than you know, aren’t you?” “I just wonder how we are going to do this. We barely see each other now. How are we going to take care of a baby and when will we see it?” “Don’t be silly. We will make time. You don’t have to teach anymore. Don’t look at me that way. I didn’t say you had to give up painting. Instead of going to Hermann, why don’t we start looking at houses? We can get a house where you can paint all you want.” “I can just paint when the baby doesn’t need me, is that it?” “No, we can work something out.” I had a bad feeling that Russ’s ideal world wasn’t a realistic one. I went along with it because I wanted it to be perfect. We started looking at houses in the morning, then the afternoon and all-day Sunday. Finally, we talked to a realtor that we both liked at one of the open houses. We gave her our criteria of what we wanted in a house. We didn’t feel we had to get out of the apartment right away since we still had a lease until May. For the first couple of months, we saw a ton of homes that didn’t fit either what Russ wanted or what I needed. Then she would call us every once in a while, when something new came on the market. One day in March, Russ called me to tell me that he had just bought a house in Liberty. “Russ! How could you do that? I haven’t even seen it!” We haven’t even looked at homes in Liberty. It was too far away from Warrensburg. “Don’t get mad. I think you will love it. It is such a hot market there that I was afraid we would lose it.” “Why didn’t you call me to come look at it?” “I knew you had class and would want to wait. Cheryl called me this morning and said she just did a walk through with the realtors and knew that we would love it. You can see it this weekend. I promise you; you are going to love it. Wait until you see the kitchen, it is beautiful.” “Like I love to cook!? What about the light? Where will I paint?” I was so frustrated. “There is a three-car garage that has room for you to paint.” “Is there heat in there? How about air-conditioning for the summer?” “We can get a space heater, and you can open the garage door in the summer.” Great! I can sweat my pants off in the summer and freeze to death in the winter. “Is there any light in there?” “Of course, there is light in there.” “Russ, you know what I mean. Am I going to get enough natural light to paint by?” “I think so.” He wasn’t sure, I could tell. Why did he do this? “The best thing is we don’t have to use your money to afford it. We can just do it on my salary. I hear the silence on your end. This makes it so you don’t have to worry about painting after the baby comes for as long as you want.” I told myself over and over you have to give and take to make a marriage work. My pregnancy had been more than I could have asked for. I had very little morning sickness and I was lucky I was carrying all the weight in front like a little basketball. I had a couple of months to go, and I was crossing my fingers that the delivery was as easy as carrying her. Last month the doctor did a sonogram, and she was pretty sure we were having a little girl. Russ was standing there crying and holding my hand as we looked at the screen. “Look Elli that is our little Emma.” It was times like these that my love grew for Russ. I could be so frustrated with him, and he would be so sweet the next minute that my frustration would float away. When I went to look at the house my heart sank. There was a lot of natural light everywhere except the garage. Oh, the garage had some natural light, and it was big so I knew I could get some nice size canvases in there and I could use my blow torch for metal work. It was a lovely home, and it had an inground pool. I felt rich. My mom was going to love the place. I was wondering if she would move here to be close to us and Emma. I was learning that you can’t plan everything or things for Elli always change. Well, my mom had met a couple of widows who worked at the university. She first met Sheila, mom was typing up Sheila’s papers and mom transcribed her book. Mom thought Sheila’s book was interesting and they started talking. Sheila was the first real friend I had seen my mom have. I never thought about it. I was an awful daughter, was my thought, when this realization overtook me. Sheila, Lois and Mom started to share expenses in a cute home near campus. Mom had stopped doing laundry for anyone else but who lived in the house. They were thinking about getting someone else to move into the fourth bedroom. They all agreed that it had to be someone who fit their little group. I was worried that I wouldn’t have a place to stay when it was a late night. Lois and Sheila thought I fit into their little group very well and left the bedroom empty for me. I was happy that my mom had these new friendships. Emma came the week after finals. I didn’t know how lucky I was to get all my grades in, and I was able to take about a half a dozen paintings downtown to the art gallery to sell. Max, the new director of the gallery, said I needed to get an agent. I had been taking paintings to the gallery since Ms. Plank took me there. He said, “You could have your paintings all over the States if you had someone working for you to get your name out there.” I was pleased and a little embarrassed by his gushing all over me. We kept walking back and forth in front of my paintings and he finally asked me if I would mind if he worked on getting me known. He would only take a small percentage of the sales. I thought why not. We never wrote up a contract, but we shook hands and that was when my water broke. Max drove me to the hospital. I told him I could do it on my own, but he insisted. Russ met me there and Emma came into the world two hours later. My mom came to the hospital and was so excited to see her baby have a baby. She couldn’t believe how easy this pregnancy was for me. That was when I heard her horror story about having me. Why didn’t I ask her how it was to have me before? I really was not a great daughter. She was in labor for days with me. The doctor thought her labor would stop because she wasn’t progressing. She had morning sickness the whole nine months, so she was begging the doctor to take the baby. Finally, on the third day the doctor said it was time to decide about having a c-section. Mom didn’t have any help after the baby was born, which made Mom not excited about having another baby. My parents had just started talking about having another child when my dad died. I couldn’t believe my mom’s confession at my hospital bed. Why wasn’t my mom mad at me? She ended by saying she was lucky to have just me because she just barely made enough to take care of the two of us. I made a vow to myself when I sold my next painting, I was going to do something really nice for her. My luck continued as Emma was the perfect baby. I could paint with her in her baby carrier, and I got a lot of work done. Once Russ came home and went ballistic when he saw paint on her head. I hadn’t even noticed it. We went out to buy a playpen that night. That didn’t help much because she was happiest when she was in her carrier. To be honest, so was I; I couldn’t get enough snuggles in. I didn’t know I could love someone that much. When she got too big to be in the front, I wore her on my back. She loved it when I would paint big paintings because I would be moving all over the garage. I sold two large paintings thanks to Max. One on each side of the country. I was able to buy my mom a new car. Nothing fancy but it was new and paid for. It was small so she could see over the hood, and it had the best safety rating in case she got into an accident. She was very proud of the car and her widowed friends didn’t worry about her coming to visit me. She couldn’t believe me when I handed her the key and said it was hers. “Honey, I can’t take this. It is too much.” “Oh, yes you can, and you will. You have been very good to me. Besides, I wanted you to be able to come visit me without worrying about you on the road with that old junker. Besides, Russ has already ordered someone to come and take your car to sell it for parts.” With the leftover money we put windows all along the side of the garage to give me more natural light. I was glad there weren’t any trees along this side of the house. I would have to wait until the next painting was sold to insulate the garage. I decided not to go back to Central to teach. Raven wasn’t sure about my plan even though she supported me. I decided to paint full-time for a year. I didn’t think I could leave Emma with a sitter just yet. Max was working on selling my paintings or trying to get them into museums. I was feeling pretty good about everything. I just wished Russ were feeling good about the situation. He was thrilled I wasn’t going back to work though he thought I would put more effort into the house. Of course, I painted Emma’s room. It was so adorable in my opinion even if I was the one who designed it. I painted all kinds of butterflies flying all over the room. Russ thought I should paint the rest of the house because it was all white. He thought I would want to decorate it too. I wanted to paint. The only way I knew how to decorate was with my paintings. I felt like we didn’t have money to buy anything that was decorative. We used our money to go towards house payments, house bills, and buy food and clothes. Russ’s clothing bill was huge while I was happy with wearing what he called workout clothes. My mom would let me paint the walls when I started to earn enough money for my own paints. When I would go to the hardware store for paint, the clerk finally asked me one day what I was painting with these small amounts of paint or paint that was on discount because the color wasn’t mixed right. I told him I was an artist, and I used anything I could find cheap. I just needed to paint. From then on, he would keep paints for me behind the counter and sell them to me cheaper if I would show him a picture of what I painted. One day I went in to sketch him behind his counter and brought him a painting I did of him on a piece of wood I found in the trash behind the store. This simple gift actually got him all teary eyed. He had me sign the back because when he died, he wanted to leave it for his children to sell because he knew I was going to be famous one day. I was so touched by him that I got glassy eyed too. I started to put paintings that I just wasn’t sure if they were finished around the house. I thought if I saw them in a different light or a quick glance, I would see what was missing. I had to admit I got a little carried away. One day Russ came home. “Elli, I feel like we live in an art gallery. Plus, I see all these little handprints all over the furniture and floors. Can’t you at least wait until they are dry before you bring them into the house, so Emma won’t mess them up and in turn make a mess of our house? It can’t be healthy for her anyway. She sucks her thumb and half of these handprints around here are missing a thumb print.”

< Back Pizza alla Sicliliana Sicilian Pizza Prep Time: 15 minutes plus rising time Cook Time: 12 Serves: 1 to 2 pizza crust Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 2 ½ teaspoons (1package) active dry yeast or 1 small cake (18 grams) fresh yeast 1 ½ teaspoons sugar 1 ½ cups plus 1 tablespoons luke warm water (105 to 110) 2 tablespoons (25 grams) lard or olive oil 1 ½ teaspoons (8 grams) salt 4 ¼ cups (550 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour Preparation BY HAND Stir the yeast and sugar into the water in a large mixing bowl; let stand until foamy, about 10 minutes. Stir in the lard. Whisk in 2 cups of the flour, 1 cup at a time; add the remaining flour and salt then stir until the dough comes together. Knead on a lightly floured surface until soft and velvety, 10 to 12 minutes. BY MIXER Stir the yeast and sugar into the water in a mixer bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Mix in the lard with the paddle. Add the flour then the salt mix 1 to 2 minutes. Change to the dough hook and knead at medium speed until soft and velvety, 3 to 4 minutes. (I always knead a minute to make sure it has that it truly is kneaded enough) BY PROCESSOR Stir the yeast and sugar into ½ cup warm water in a small bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Place the flour and salt in a food processor fitted with the dough blade and process until several pulses to sift. With the machine running, pour the dissolved yeast, 1 cup plus 1 tablespoon cold water, and the lard through the feed tube and process until the dough gathers into a boll. Process no longer than 20 seconds to knead. Finish kneading by hand on a lightly floured surface until smooth, soft, and velvety. Rising. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and let rise until almost doubled, about 1 hour. Punch it down, cover again, and let rise just 20 minutes. Shaping Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and shape in a thick disk. Roll it out with a rolling pin to a 12-inch circle, about ¼ inch thick, leaving a thick edge. Turn the dough over several times as you roll it, so that it won’t shrink back later. Place on an oiled baking sheet, a peel sprinkled with cornmeal, or a 12-inch oiled pizza pan. {I oil the top of the dough (this keeps the sauces from making a soggy crust) fold it in half brush off the flour and lightly oil what will be the bottom. Place the oiled side down on the oiled pizza pan. I then brush off any excess flour and lightly oil that side then flip the dough open and top with the sauce, toppings and cheese. I bake it in a 450 degree oven on the rack in the top position for about 12 minutes (my oven isn’t consistent so you might want to check it)} Previous Next

< Back Strasbourg Pastries (Strassburg-bakelser) Prep Time: ten minutes to mix together and about ten minutes to put through the press. Cook Time: 10 minutes Serves: 12 Pastries but you will want to double, triple or quadruple this recipe Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 4 oz.(1/2 cup) butter 1/4 cup powdered sugar 1 Tbsp vanilla sugar (Van-O-Van is the best) 1/2 cup sifted all purpose flour 1/2 cup potato starch flour Filling:1/2 cup seedless raspberry preserves or melted chocolate morsels Garnish: powdered sugar Preparation Cream butter, powdered sugar and vanilla sugar until fluffy. Add the two kinds of flour one at a time and beat vigorously. Press the dough through the #5 pastry tube into small flat rosettes directly onto cookie sheet about an inch apart,or use a super shooter (it is easier this way) with flower disc.Bake at 350F for about 10 minutes (do not brown). When cool sandwich the cookies two by two with filling between. Before serving sift powdered sugar over the cookies. Makes approximately 12 pastries Spend ten dollars and buy an electric cookie shooter you will love me for it Previous Next

Tessa is an over ambitious young woman.  She turns over her father's farm to an organic farm, becomes a chef, competes in a competition of young chefs, opens a restaurant, raises pekin ducks and emus.  She has one great fling and a drunken night.  Tessa sees love all around her but thinks she will never find that one true love. Written by Kimberly Caristi Tessa is an over ambitious young woman. She turns over her father's farm to an organic farm, becomes a chef, competes in a competition of young chefs, opens a farm to table restaurant, raises pekin ducks and emus. She has one great fling and one drunken night in Italy which is life altering. Tessa sees love all around her but thinks she will never find that one true love. This Magic Moment My excitement was so hard to contain. I was finally going home with my school art project that I worked so hard on. I couldn’t wait to show my mom and dad what I had been working on. As a second grader I was one of the last kids to get on the bus. There were only a couple of kids in first grade and afternoon kindergarten who were behind me. I was very proud of my project, and I bounced my way up the stairs to show Mr. Vanleer, our bus driver, my house. I had picked the nicest looking popsicle sticks to make my farmhouse. I colored them with the salmon marker making sure that I covered the whole stick in a pretty pink color. Of course, my house might have needed to be painted again but that didn’t matter. I was going to give it to my dad, showing him how much I loved our house and him. I was beaming from ear to ear after Mr. Vanleer said it was the nicest house he had ever seen. I had only gotten past a few rows when some mean boy thought it would be funny to trip me, which sent the house flying and to my utter dismay crashing into three pieces. My heart was broken. I was trying desperately not to cry because I had been taught that big girls don’t cry, nonetheless, a few tears did escape. I was saved by our neighbor Chase, who helped me pick up the pieces and had me sit with him. Chase was in seventh grade. He was the oldest of five brothers, all who rode the bus with my sister and me. Frank was in fifth grade, the twins Louis and Gab were in third grade with my sister Tina, and Andy was in first grade. Chase was so helpful; he used his chewing gum to glue back the pieces together. He talked to me about my house and asked me what my favorite subject was in school. We talked the whole way home. He carried my art up to the front of the bus when it was my turn to get off. His was the next stop after you crossed over the creek. When the weather was bad the bus didn’t cross the creek because it would never make it up that hill it was so steep. They either had to walk the rest of the way home or if they were lucky their mom would pick them up. I would never want to walk across that creek in the wintertime when the water was as cold as ice. Once I fell in the creek where it crossed our property and I was swiftly picked up by my dad and he ran with me in his arms all the way to our house. I was wrapped up in blankets and heating pads for a couple of days and got all the hot chocolate that I wanted. I walked our long driveway home with Tina talking all about Jordan, her new love. Tina was only nine but that was all she talked about was love. I have heard my mom and dad talk about her obsession with love. Apparently, it scared both of them. I was too young to understand it but I thought I would have been scared too if I were her mom. While she yammered on about him and how the other girls were jealous of her, I thought about how kind Chase was and thought he was the nicest boy I knew. Maybe I loved him. The Very Thought of You As the years went on, I watched Chase become the king of the bus. His word was law and everything he said went unprotested. He picked the radio station, and we all had to be happy with his choice of music…no one protested. If someone sat in his seat all he had to do was stand there and look at them. He never lifted a fist as far as I saw, unlike his brothers who were always fighting. Even the older kids who still rode the bus deferred to Chase with his undeniable presence. One day when I was in seventh grade I was late getting on the bus. There was only one seat that had only one person in it and that was Chase’s. I saw there were kids with three to a seat. No one ever asked Chase if they could sit with him. He was a senior and there were unwritten bus rules never ask to sit with a senior. The route our bus took in the afternoon was pick up the kids from the high school first then it went to the middle school. We drove a half hour to the elementary school which was another half hour to our house. Half of the kids got off our bus and got on their buses to go in all directions. If you were flying overhead when all the buses left the school, you would have thought it looked like a bunch of yellow ants leaving the anthill. With my arms full of books and a cake pan, I very tentatively asked Chase if I could sit with him. He picked up his book bag without saying a word. I was so nervous I could feel the sweat trickling down my back on that cold winter day. I didn’t want to bother him, so I sat staring straight ahead. Usually, I was very talkative with everyone, but it was Chase, he was the king. I saw that he was eyeing me out of the corner of my eye. Finally, I took a deep breath, “Do you want to say something?” I should have asked meekly but there was not a meek bone in my body. “I am just wondering if there is something in the cake pan you have sitting on your lap,” instead of being gruff he smiled at me. “Yes, I had to do a speech about France so I made a couple Buche de Noel to share with the class.” “A what?” “It is a cake made to celebrate the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. It’s from the Celts.” I was very chipper of course I was it had to do with France. Anyway, I was proud of myself for knowing all this information about a simple cake. Since he hadn’t stopped smiling at me that made me nervous. A smile shouldn’t make you nervous, it just was the way he was smiling. I continued talking, which was my forte other than baking. I started baking with my mom when I was five since she started working outside of the house. I have gradually started to bake more and sometimes made dinner. I was getting better because we were eating more of it than our dog, Rusty, though when I started Rusty wouldn’t even eat it. “Anyway, a Buche de Noel is like a Swiss roll. Do you know what a Swiss roll is?” “How old are you?” he asked, almost laughing at me. “Twelve? Why?” I said it like I had done something wrong. “You sound like you are way older. Do you have any left?” I was a little worried because if everyone asked, I wouldn’t have any left for my dad and I promised him a piece of cake. I guess I could just make a new one. “Yes.” I said timidly. “Can I taste this Buche de Noel?” I laughed at him butchering the pronunciation. I was thankful he laughed, “You have a great laugh,” he said leaning over to my ear in a low tone. I turned red. In a similar low tone I said, “Yes, but please don’t let anyone see because I don’t have enough for everyone, and I want to save a piece for my dad.” In a hushed tone he said, “Okay.” I snapped off the lid on the side closest to him and lifted it just enough that he could get his hand in and out without losing the slice of cake in his fist. He carefully took a bite with his head against the seat in front of him trying to hide that he had something. I watched patiently to see what he thought. I didn’t have to wait very long, and he turned his head and with his eyes open wide, “You made this?” I nodded my head. “This is very good.” Frank turned around, “What’s good? Do you have food?” Chase licked his lips very fast and lifted his head to confront Frank, “Clean out your ears! I said, ``It is good that she is going to move when the little kids get on the bus.” He gave me a look and winked with the eye that Frank couldn’t see. We talked the rest of the way to the elementary school about all the things I could bake. When I told him I could make a very good cherry pie he let me know that cherry pie was his favorite. I told him I would make him one someday. While walking up our drive, Tina was talking about her new dress for the eighth-grade winter dance this weekend. Mary Jane would be so upset when she saw Tina with heels and a dress that mom actually bought for her. I barely listened because I was thinking of Chase and how he thought I was the best baker he ever met. I knew that was saying a lot because I had his mom’s baked goods at the church picnic. He told me I should become a baker. I had been thinking I would like to become a chef someday. I watched the reruns of Julia Child’s show all the time and it didn’t look that hard. Cherish or Cherry Pie In the spring when I got on the bus all the high school boys were needling Chase, saying they knew he was a jock, but they didn’t know he had brains, too. Everyone knew he was a jock. My dad said Chase’s arm was like a rocket launcher. The football flew out of his arm and landed on the money, which I assumed meant the player caught the ball. Chase also played baseball. He was not the pitcher because his dad wanted him to play professional football instead. I didn’t know you could choose. Chase’s dad and my dad were good friends. Chase was being heckled on the bus which surprised me, no one picked him. I finally heard what they were teasing him about. Come to find out he was named Valedictorian of his class, so he was not only a jock but very smart. When I got off the bus, I had the nerve to speak to him. “Congratulations Chase,” was all I could muster. He gave me his captivating smile and thanked me. At dinner time, I told my mom and dad about Chase being the Valedictorian. My mom said he was the whole package. I asked what that meant and she said he was good looking, smart and an athlete. I guess he was just that. I suggested that I make him a celebratory cherry pie. My mom said that would be a nice gesture. Saturday morning, I got all the supplies together that I needed and made Chase a cherry pie. Mom drove me over to deliver it. I wanted to drop it off and run but mom wanted to visit with Mrs. Richards. I had to sit there while the two of them had a cup of coffee. I was thrilled to find out that all the boys were out working on the farm. I wanted to be nice nevertheless I knew I would be teased if the younger boys saw I baked a pie for Chase. When my mom told Mrs. Richards that we wanted to congratulate Chase with a pie. I was happy that it didn’t come across as me making it for Chase but the Deigert family congratulating Chase. Monday when the Richards boys got on the bus, they told Tina to thank my mom for the best pie ever. It was better than their own mom’s pies. I smiled to myself, but Tina blurted out, “Oh, my mom didn’t make the pie, Tessa did.” She was proud of me. Well, that sent the boys into an uproar. They started to tease me that I liked Chase. They were sitting in the seat behind me tormenting me except Chase who went back to his seat. After a few minutes of taking a bunch of jabs I stood up and I turned around putting my hands on my hips. I leaned forward enough to look like I was going to spit fire and said, “I thought I liked all of you but not anymore. If any of you ever do anything that deserves a pie you won’t be getting it from me!” I was not quite yelling though my voice was higher than usual. I saw Chase sitting in the back and he gave me a thumbs up. I turned back to the front and said in even a louder voice, “Though I doubt any of you could even spell Valedictorian let alone be one.” I sat down with a thud. Well, that shut them up. When Chase got off the bus he stopped at my seat and thanked me for the pie. I was thankful that his brothers were off the bus by the time he got to my seat. He told me I did a good job of handling his brothers. I thought I had to because he was no help. To me this great guy that everyone looked up to was knocked off his high perch as far as I was concerned. The issue was I had put him there. I decided he was just another guy with a big ego. A couple of days later I received a card thanking me for the delicious pie. I couldn’t believe he sent me a thank you card. That was very nice of him. I put it in my treasure box with my arrowheads and my rabbit's foot. Maybe Chase wasn’t that bad . Good Riddance Mrs. Richards called me one day and asked me if I would make a cake for Chase’s graduation party and some cookies. It felt weird talking to an adult about what flavors she wanted in a cake and what kind of cookies. I asked her how she knew I made cakes and cookies. She told me that my mom and dad have been bragging about me for years and all this time Mrs. Richards thought it was really my mom’s baking not mine. “When the boys came home and told me it was you who made the pie, I knew your parents had to be telling the truth.” I stood a little taller that day. I made a black forest cake, chocolate cherry cookies, peanut butter cookies and lemon sugar cookies. The black forest cake was the biggest cake I had ever made. Since I knew Chase liked cherries, I thought he would like that cake the best. Mrs. Richards ordered a chocolate cake: well that just wouldn’t do. It had to be special. We got to go to his graduation party. We drove up their long driveway, up on top of the hill where this grand house sat surrounded by trees. Everyone around here had gravel driveways though the Richards was made from white rocks which really looked so nice against the green grass. Our house was a simple farmhouse with gables and a big picture window in front with a really beaten-up screen door and a wooden screened-in porch to the side of the house. The Richards house was a huge two-story white house with pillars in the front. They had a circular driveway that let you off at their front door. The parking area next to their garage looked out onto a lake. If you wanted to park in their garage, you would drive behind the house. I was in awe of that house though I felt uncomfortable in it when I had my work clothes on but today, I had on a party dress as my mother called it. We arrived before the guests to help set up some chairs and, of course, put my cake and cookies on the table. I was nervous that something might be wrong with the cake. My dad taste tested all the cookies, so I knew they were good…well, he approved. He loved the new cookie that I made up. It was a chocolate cookie base with a maraschino cherry topped with a chocolate glaze. He said I will have to start making those cookies all the time. Mrs. Richards asked me to serve the cake, so I had to stand by the cake table the whole party, which was a drag unless someone took a bite of the cake in front of me and told me how good it was. I didn’t tell anyone that I made it. I just smiled and said I was glad they liked it. Chase came by with some of his friends and they took some cake plus enough cookies that their plates were like pyramids. He smiled at me but didn’t say anything…he was knocked down another peg. After a couple of hours of standing on my feet I begged my mom to let me walk home. It was only a couple of miles, and it was a beautiful evening. I only had to beg a little bit before she told me I had to be careful crossing the creek not to get my shoes wet or dirty. Tina wanted to stay and make gaga faces at all the boys. When Andy heard me say goodbye to Tina, he asked me if he could tag along because he was bored. Andy was the sweetest of all the Richards boys. I didn’t think the middle three were nice at all. They were kind of rough and mean if you asked me. We saw Chase and some of his friends out front and the hooting and hollering that was done while Andy and I walked down the road pissed me off. I tried not to have it bother me, nevertheless it did. I would never understand boys and teasing. I took off my socks and shoes to cross the creek. Andy jumped across. I thought about attempting that but figured if I slipped and fell, I would have Andy laughing at me and I couldn’t stand that at the moment. I had a lot of pent-up frustrations, more like anger. We started cutting through the fields to make the walk shorter. We made plans that when we got to my house, I would change my clothes, and we would play on my tire swing. Well, that didn’t happen. While I was stepping through some tall grass a copperhead struck my ankle. I let out a blood curdling scream that probably could have been heard at the Richards if someone had been listening. I told Andy to go back and tell my parents what happened, and I would meet them at the crossroad. We both knew I had to go to the doctor. I had never seen Andy run so fast. It wasn’t long before I saw our car come speeding down the gravel road with dust flying everywhere. I was sitting in the middle of the road because I wanted to make sure that I could see a snake coming at me. Nobody was happy with me, not even me. I knew I was to walk with a stick in the grass. It took me over a week to feel better. Chase sent me a get-well card along with a thank you for the best cake ever. He said it was better than the Noel cake. I was sure he just remembered the Noel part and not the Buche. He said he was going away to college and if I wanted to send him cookies, he wouldn’t mind, especially the chocolate ones with cherries. He added the lemon cookies were a close second. The thank you helped but it still bothered me the way he treated me or the way he let other people treat me. He had another thing coming if he thought I would make him cookies and send them to him at college. Friends in Low Places The next time I saw Chase was at Frank’s wedding. Tina and I were pretty sure Frank and Candace got caught doing it in her bedroom and her dad said they had to get married, or he was going to send Frank to jail because she was seventeen. Frank looked so unhappy during the ceremony and got drunk at the reception at the Richards home. Chase got drunk too. He was home from college. I was in ninth grade and Tina was in tenth. She was in heaven because there were two boys to every one girl. She never stopped dancing the whole night. Tina got all the best genes when it came to the body. She had all the curves in the right places. I was always told by the sweetest of my aunts that if I would lose ten to twenty pounds that all the boys would flock to me instead of Tina. I didn’t want a guy that bad. If they didn’t like me the way I was then they could just move on, that was my mantra. My mom would say it was my baby fat that made me adorable. Again, I was hired by the Richards to make petit fours, mini lemon meringue pies, and mini cheesecakes. My mom said it would be our gift to them. I thought that cheated Frank out of a gift, but I really didn’t see the marriage lasting after watching them at the wedding. I kept all the recipes simple for me because it was such a big order. I always hoped that one of these kinds of events would get me more jobs but when they found out it was a fourteen-year-old girl that made the desserts, they lost interest. I was standing out of the way just watching the dancing. Chase came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “The desserts are very good. Have you picked out the culinary school you will be going to?” I turned around to the smell of booze. I could hardly stand being so close to him. I stepped back and replied, “I am not sure where I am going to school.” Chased stepped forward and leaned in very close to my face. I was a little scared, but I was not going to show it. He started to sway a little and asked, “Do you want to dance with me?” I did not like Chase the older I got. “No, I don’t dance.” Which was a little bit of a lie. I loved to dance but I only danced on my own or with my girlfriends. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He tried to pull me by the hand onto the dance floor. He bumped into some guy I didn’t know, the guy turned around and pushed Chase. Chase then fell into someone else and then all hell broke loose. A big fight ensued. My dad was just walking in from outside and saw what was happening. He grabbed my sister and me then shoved us at our mom. He ran back and started grabbing guys and tossing them to the side. My dad was a big guy and nobody tangled with him. Mr. Richard then took a shovel from the fireplace and started hitting guys over the head that wouldn’t stop fighting. It was kind of comical, but I didn’t dare laugh, though on the way home everyone in our car was laughing about it. A couple of days later I got a card from Chase saying he was sorry for his behavior. He just couldn’t stand how Frank was making the biggest mistake of his life and used alcohol to deaden the pain of the day. I didn’t know why he was writing an apology to me. He should be writing one to his parents. Teenage Dream In my sophomore year my life changed for what I thought was the best thing ever. In Biology class I realized that we were ruining our earth with all these pesticides. I begged my dad to let me have a part of our land between where I got the snake bite and the river to try my hand at organic farming. The field where Andy and I walked across was already organic. It was our hay field so I knew I would not have to worry about the pesticides floating over my organic ground. It wasn’t hard to convince him. He was thrilled I took an interest in farming. He told me that I would have to do everything myself. We had a discussion of what it would take to become an organic farmer. My mom took part in our conversation. Years later she told me the reason why she wanted to be a part of the discussion was she didn’t want my dad to make it out harder than it would be. She made sure I really understood what would be required of me. I knew it was going to take years to be certified as organic, but I could let people know I was not using pesticides or chemical fertilizer on my plants. I have worked on our farm since I was a little girl and loved it. I thought that was why my dad agreed to let me take on all the responsibility of working our land. My mom really got behind it and helped me do research on how to proceed. She even found a farmer’s market in St. Louis where we could take our produce. I made a sign that said we were in transition to becoming an organic farm and this year’s crop was not treated with chemicals. We did well enough that mom wanted to do it again next summer. She could tell I was already into it one hundred percent. I was in heaven as some people say. I loved planting and taking care of the plants. I took pictures of some of my fruit, like they were my babies. That was when my mom realized that this was my true calling. We met some lovely people there and got to try some great barbeque at a restaurant nearby. Mom and I saw what people were paying for organic berries so we decided we would plant some black raspberries, more blackberries and red raspberries. Organic farming was not for the faint of heart. I thought I was working harder than I was before. I joined the FFA, Future Farmers of America. In the spring our advisor coaxed me into making a presentation at the state fair. I felt so honored to be asked. Since I was going anyway, I thought I would enter a few baking contests. I entered my best blackberry cobbler, sour cherry pie and ‘The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie’ contest in which I added almond extract, dried sour cherries and chopped candied almonds to offset the sour cherries. I was pleased to win first place for my sour cherry pie and took third with my cookie recipe. I didn’t pack the house for my presentation, though the people that were there told me I did a good job. Even a couple of people asked me if I could point them in the right direction to become organic certified. That lifted my spirits because I was responsible for changing people’s minds. For a minute I thought I could do it for a living, trying to change people's minds about using pesticides. I got asked out more in my junior year of high school than any year. I got more form to my body the summer between sophomore and junior year. Tina gave me her old clothes to wear instead of wearing jeans and a jean shirt. I did something with my unruly hair, too. I also started wearing makeup. Tina was always on me to make myself look better. Her mantra was if you didn’t look good you didn’t feel good. Sometimes on the end of that she would add about yourself. I did feel better when I looked nice. The issue I had was working on the farm. It was hard to look good all the time. The one important thing I learned while I was in the FFA was that kids on dairy farms had it rough. I felt for those kids. My friend, Alison, had to get up so early to milk before school. I was glad we didn’t get into dairy farming because those people don’t have a life. You couldn’t take a day off if you just didn’t feel well. Those cows want to be milked morning and night. My vegetables didn’t require me to get up early. I had been known to pick my vegetables at night to make dinner. I found dating not worth all the work. My understanding of the purpose of dating was to have fun with someone, right? Well, that was what I thought. I was spending my time with a guy, and he would be telling me about someone we knew and how he was so much better than him, bragging how he was way better at whatever sport they were playing, or my date was trying to go all the way on our first date. None of that interested me and they were not interested in getting to know me. She’s in Love with a Boy My parents told Tina she had to go to a year of community college before they would allow her to marry her high school sweetheart Greg. My parents said Greg had to go to some sort of college, too. Tina visited the community college and after talking to a couple of teachers decided that she wanted to go away to college. My parents were thrilled that she fell in love with the idea of going away to school instead. She applied to several colleges in Missouri and got a scholarship that helped pave the way. That surprised all of us because it looked like she wanted to go to all four years to earn a degree. That was news to Greg and he didn’t like that idea at all. In fact, he was very upset with Tina. He told Tina if she went away to college he might not be here when she got back. As it turned out, Tina was fine with that because when the fall break came around, she brought home Scott. Scott was from St. Louis and had never been on a farm. It was love at first sight…Scott and the farm. It took a little more time for Tina and Scott to fall in love. He was so excited by everything. My parents were astounded by Scott, he seemed more excited about where Tina lived than he was with her. At the dinner table the conversation centered on what mom and I were doing. Scott was a biology major, and organic farming really interested him. Tina hung onto every word he said. The funny thing was she started to have an interest in what we were doing, too. It was like a light had gone on in her head about other things in life besides men and how she looked. When Tina and Scott left to go back to school all of us decided that this guy was a keeper. We didn’t know if Scott was the reason for Tina’s change or going to college. Either way mom and dad were happy. Dating my senior year really tapered off to just going out with a group of people and having a fun time. Really, I hung out with FFA people because we were all interested in farming. I even persuaded a few to try their hand at organic farming. Not everyone had a great support system like I did. I felt so blessed to have my family take an interest in what I did. So far dad hasn’t gone totally organic, but I haven’t given up hope that he would someday. My Girl Gab Richards got a girl pregnant, and the Richards had a quick wedding. Mrs. Richards hired me to make the wedding cake and some appetizers for the little reception they were having. It was my first wedding cake, and I was excited. It was going to be a simple wedding cake flavored with vanilla and almond extract with a butter batter. She wanted a raspberry filling. The frosting was a vanilla Italian buttercream with little pearls around the edges. The bride’s family was roasting a pig, so she wanted my appetizers to be a simple pick up with your fingers, kind of thing. I made stuffed mushrooms, mini cream puffs filled with chicken salad and mini quiche for the vegetarians. She was going to put out sliced cheese, salami, and assorted vegetables with a dip. The disdain in Mrs. Richards’ voice when she told me the bride’s family was bringing baked beans, potato salad, apple sauce and corn bread told me not to say “that sounds good” when she finished. I arrived early in the morning to bring the cake. I was surprised how they have added onto the house. I guess the only son to leave was Chase. Frank and his wife and their little brat were living over where the garage used to be. They made the garage into a large family room. They added a huge garage at the backside of the house. Six large vehicles could fit into that garage, it was so big. I was to set up the cake table in the new family room. I had everything looking just right when I turned around and saw Chase in his boxer shorts and a T-shirt. “What happened to my little girl?” The former me would have turned red by that comment but hanging around a bunch of guys in FFA had taught me to blow off comments besides, I thought that statement was a little weird. I gave my best nonchalant smile, “Hi Chase. I see you have dressed for breakfast.” That made him self-conscious, which pleased me. “Sorry I didn’t know we were having company.” I said a little flippant, “I am not company. I am the hired help.” Chase put on a serious smile, “So where are you going to culinary school?” “I am not going to culinary school. I am going to Mizzou for an agriculture degree.” I was proud of my decision. “Tell me you are not going to hang around here?” He said, with a look of exasperation. “I love it here. I have started an organic farm on part of my dad’s property. Every year I add more land.” Again, I was proud to be a successful organic farmer. I had to stand up to what I believed in. “My parents told me about you. They think you are nuts.” Chase was such a smart aleck. “Well, I am not the Valedictorian that you were, but I did graduate last week fifth in my class and got a full ride to Mizzou. So, if I am nuts then so be it.” I smiled and walked past him. “Tell your mom I will be back an hour before the reception please.” Chase yelled after me, “You still owe me a dance.” I left feeling good and if Chase thought I would dance with him he was going to have a rude awakening. I returned at the said hour dressed in a classic black dress and a pair of high heels. After an hour of standing, I wished I had worn flats. Now Chase was in a very nice dark blue suit and starched white shirt. He came up behind me and whispered, “You are making a mistake not going to culinary school.” I answered flatly, “Thanks but I think I know what is right for me.” I turned to face him. This time he wasn’t drunk. “So, no drinking to Gab and him making the biggest mistake of his life?” I saw him cringe…good. “No, I have given up on my brothers. Well, maybe not Andy, he still has some sweetness in him. This time I think Gab is happy – just look at him. He is all smiles. Now, take a look at Frank, he is the poster child for bitterness.” My eyes moved from Gab with his arm around Amelia to Frank and saw the harshness in his eyes. It looked like Frank was looking at Gab and hating him for being happy. Well, that was what it looked like from here. Gab and Amelia were a good-looking couple and I bet they would have beautiful children together. Frank’s wife Candice was nowhere to be seen. I bet she was upstairs with their little one, Frank Jr. He was a little brat if there ever was one. Mom said when she came over here Frankie ruled the roost and was a little terror. Chase broke my train of thought, “How about that dance you owe me?” He smiled at me, then held out his hand for mine. “Well, the funny thing is there is no one dancing. Besides, I told you I don’t dance.” He took a hold of my hand and said, “Please come with me.” I didn’t know why but I didn’t resist. I knew why because he said it in a sexy voice. We walked outside where most of the bride’s family were gathered around the pig though some people were dancing to the music they were playing. “This is where the fun and action is happening.” He swung me around and pulled me towards him. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Just a second,” the pout on his face was adorable. “I have to take these shoes off; they are killing me.” Oh, we had fun dancing with everyone outside. That was more to my liking. Someone called out, let's do a square dance and he started calling out moves. I didn’t think I laughed that much in a long time. Dancing barefoot in the Richards yard was a treat to the feet. I didn’t know how much fertilizer they used to get grass to feel like carpet. I hoped they didn’t eat the fish they pulled out of their lake. It was getting late, and people were going inside to eat dinner. I went to sit down (more like I flopped down) on the little hill at the edge of the woods. Chase followed with his suit jacket in hand. I started the conversation, “Where are you living these days?” “New York,” he said a little out of breath. “Wow, that is pretty far from this farm. You ran as fast as you could to get away from this place.” “I had to get away from this life to see what was out there. Aren’t you a little curious to see the world?” “Maybe to go on vacation but really the beauty of this area can’t be beat.” He made a huffing noise of disapproval. “Hey, I watch the travel channel.” “That is literally watching the world go by through a window,” he chuckled. “Well, in a couple of weeks I will be flying to Paris. Do you know about this city? It happens to be in France.” I said a little bit snooty. “Ooh la la,” he shook his hand to exaggerate how little he was impressed. “Have you been to Paris?” It made me curious a guy who wanted to see the world and I bet he had only seen New York. “No, but I could if I wanted to.” Chase sounded like a little kid. I stood up, “Then don’t mock me until you have.” I walked off with Chase calling after me. It was time to cut the cake and serve it. As soon as I was finished, I collected my trays and put them in my truck and didn’t look back. I didn’t think I would be doing any more business with the Richards. I knew Chase wouldn’t be getting married and Louis was too smart to get caught by someone wanting to get married. I was betting Andy would do it right where the bride’s family took care of the reception. In a couple of days, I got a postcard from New York saying, ‘New York has everything Paris has and more. Come visit and I will show you around, Chase.’ Mon Amour, Mon Ami (My Love, My Friend) I was so excited to go to Paris with my French class. It was my graduation present. My mom had promised to look after the garden and she would take the lettuces, the strawberries and the herbs that were ready to the farmer’s market the weekends that I was gone. I found myself in total awe of everything I saw and ate. I really needed to work on my pastry skills after eating my first croissant. We spent the whole day in the Louvre Museum. I lost count of all the paintings I had seen on my trip. I couldn’t believe I saw all those famous paintings in person. My favorite part of the day was eating. Who wouldn’t want to eat French food? I could have spent the whole day eating. I got the idea of raising goats while in France and started to do research in the hotel then I sent the information to my mom. The next day my mom sent me an email asking why was I spending all my time doing research when I should be sightseeing. The following day I sent her a picture of me at the top of the Eiffel tower. We spent a week in Paris and a week-long trip touring around the countryside. It was so beautiful. There were flowers everywhere and the smell of lavender filled the air as they were just starting to bloom. I took a selfie with the background of thousands of sunflowers at one stop. They were just starting to open up and the sun was in the right direction for them all facing my back as I took the picture. It was my favorite picture I took on the trip and put it as my screensaver on my computer. The part of the picture with me was covered up with all my icons that didn’t matter because what I really wanted to see was the sunflowers and that bright blue sky. When we went to the castles in Sant Malo and Brest they were a highlight of the trip for the guys. Knowing that the pirates had a base in Sant Malo excited them more than me getting to eat cheese and bread in France. I thought the castles were beautiful, especially the one in Sant Malo. The water was so clear and blue. What I found entertaining was that it took me to go over four thousand miles to see the Atlantic Ocean when I could have driven to see it in less than a thousand miles. Vegetables When I got home, I had a lot of work to do to keep the bugs and blight away from my plants. The weekly trips to St. Louis were a treat, literally a treat. We have one restaurant close by our farm, the Crow’s Nest was nothing to write home about. It was a greasy spoon, and the spoons were usually greasy. Mom and I made a big deal out of it finding somewhere special eat. We picked a new place for lunch which was our excitement for the week. We always brought back something special from St. Louis for dad, so he was loving my enterprise. Tina wasn’t into extravagant food as she put it. After the first couple times we stopped bringing her food because mom wasn’t happy that dad was eating what Tina didn’t want. That summer I expanded my entrepreneurship by adding bread to our stall. I had seen people pay top dollar for a good loaf of bread and I thought I could compete with the best of them when making bread. I made two kinds: a French baguette and a hearty whole wheat bread. The first time I brought a couple dozen of each, and I sold out in an hour. The truth was that the vendors around us bought most of them. They told me that I had to bring bread every week from now on. I bought a convection oven for our stall and brought enough dough to double the number of loaves and baked them in our stall. The oven was a pain to hall to our stall each week, but it was worth it. By the end of the season, people were coming up to us saying they would miss having fresh baked bread on Saturdays. Mom and I figured out that it would be too costly to bake bread and deliver it here each week during the off season, so that was out of the question. Plus, I was starting college and when I came home, I would need to attend to my garden. When you live in a farming community you hear about everyone personal business usually at the general store or the post office. We heard our neighbor Mrs. Preston had cancer. Mom suggested that I make her some chicken soup or some broth. She had heard Mrs. Preston was having trouble keeping her food down. The chemo was making her so sick. I went to work making Mrs. Preston both chicken soup and a chicken and vegetable stock. There were just as many vegetables in the stock as there were chicken bones and meat. I did a good job of straining the stock so if she just wanted something light the stock would fit the bill. I thought it tasted good, nevertheless I wasn’t sure if it would stay down. I made some cookies as well because Mr. Preston had commented on them when I made them for Frank’s wedding. I headed out very satisfied with my collection of organic soup, stocks plus nonorganic cookies. I hadn’t gone that far over on having everything organic yet. It was hard to find organic stuff at our grocery store. I thought it would be cool to get to that point though. When I was crossing over the creek and heading up the hill, I could just see the Richards’ massive home from the road. I definitely could see their green grass. It saddened me that I knew their runoff of chemicals was polluting our creek and river. Mr. Preston’s property was on the north side of the road from the Richards’ property and at the top of the hill his property was on both sides of the street. Mr. Preston did not have a huge production of corn and soybeans, but it was his farm, not a corporation. I detested that we had a couple corporations around here because they were ruining the land. The thought of what was polluting creeks and rivers would just rile me to the bone. Mr. Preston used herbicides and pesticides: all the stuff I was against, though when one of your neighbors was sick you helped them out or brought them chicken soup. It wasn’t a full forty-eight hours before Mr. Preston was at my house asking if I would mind making his wife more stock. It was the first thing she had kept food down in a month. I had seen she had lost weight at my visit and it was difficult for me to look at her when she talked. I told Mr. Preston that it was because it was all organic. I didn’t know if that was the truth, but I thought it was true or I wanted it to be true. Some of the reason could be that our vegetables tasted so much better than what you get at the grocery store. I knew our chicken tasted better than anything I had elsewhere. He sat in my kitchen and talked to me about what it took to become an organic farmer. I started to make enough soup to last a week for Mrs. Preston. She couldn’t get over how good it tasted, he said. Scott told him that it was because I made it. I assured him it was because it was organic. Scott had come for a visit and was listening to our conversation and would add a tidbit here and there. Scott was getting to know as much as me. After his first visit he started doing his own research on organic farming. He had even looked up some grants that I could apply for. I hoped and prayed that Tina and Scott would never break up. When everything was packed up, he laid two twenty-dollar bills down on the table and said he didn't know how much he should pay for the information he received. He asked if he had any questions, could he come by again? I told him the soup and the information were free and tried to hand him back his money. He wouldn’t take it and said if I didn’t take it, he wouldn’t ask us for help again. I pocketed the money. I felt bad for him because he felt that he was the one who made his wife sick. Their beautiful old farmhouse sat not twenty feet in any direction from the area where he sprayed all that poison. Their barn sat right up against the field. There was no wasted space. I bet their own home garden got some of the spray since it sat up against the field, too. The Freshman I was ready to go to Mizzou and everything was packed when Tina came into my room to talk to me about what to expect from guys in college. I didn’t think they were any different than they were in high school. She told me to always travel around campus with a couple of girls: the more the better. I thought it was funny and she told me to stop laughing she was serious. Our schools were not far from each other. A few hours were all, but I would miss seeing her. The past year I had mom and dad to keep me company, which helped. When I was missing her terribly, I would go in her room and call her…texting wouldn’t do. I didn’t know what we were going to do when she got married and moved away. I didn’t know if Scott was the one, but their relationship was the longest she had been with one guy. This past summer she would hitch a ride with us and spend the day with Scott then he would bring her home late at night. Sometimes when we woke up on Sunday, we found him sleeping on our family room couch. Mom finally told them that if he were going to spend the night that Tina should sleep with me and he could have her room. By August, he had pretty much moved in on the weekend, coming out on Friday and leaving Monday morning for work. He worked in his dad’s law office as a secretary though he called himself a clerk. His dad knew Scott didn’t want to become a lawyer, but I thought Mr. Turner was hoping if Scott hung around the office, he might want to become one. I knew Scott wanted to be a farmer. It was just that Scott didn’t know it yet. Scott talked about how he felt out here, and I knew that was the same feeling I got when I came back from St. Louis. Dad was showing Scott what it took to be a farmer, and mom and I were showing Scott what it took to be an organic farmer, which he loved. He helped me do all kinds of jobs from spraying the plants with pepper spray in hope of getting rid of the insects and maybe the bunnies would stop eating the produce. We might have one Mexican bunny because he keeps eating one head of lettuce that I keep spraying with hot sauce. Scott had helped me build tunnels for more than just the tomato and pepper plants. We have added some tunnels for my berries too. While I was in college, I went home most weekends to work on my gardens, or should I say my farm. I had a lot to do cutting out the old canes of black raspberries, raspberries and blackberries. I trimmed the fruit trees because I was training them in the espalier style. I wanted them to be flat trees like a trellis. It was an ancient way of producing more fruit and keeping the dead wood out. My dad only allotted me so much land, so I had to make the best of it. I was growing them along guard wires around the outline of the lettuce garden. The lettuce only needed five hours of light, and the trees would help to keep the lettuce cooler. Hot sun and temperature make for wilted lettuce. The only good, wilted lettuce was with bacon, vinegar and sugar. On a beautiful fall day, I stopped by Mr. Preston’s to see how his wife was doing and I brought a big pot of chicken soup. I was checking to see if he had any questions and to be honest, I wanted to check if he was getting frustrated with the process of changing over to being organic. We talked about his process of changing over his land. Mrs. Preston was doing better and was as interested in converting to an organic farm as well as Mr. Preston. She was looking so much better, and she had just finished having her chemo treatments. Now, she just had to get checked every so often. They both had a positive attitude that she was cancer free now. I prayed she was cancer free as well. I brought over a book that I had used in one of my classes for them to read. I was feeling good about what he had started to convert already. I really liked them, and they seemed to like me. I felt like our dynamic had changed. We sat and talked about my classes and what I was doing at the percent time on the farm. I knew I already had grandparents but maybe I could treat them like a great aunt and uncle. We had always seen each other at church functions, town festivals or neighbors’ parties but this experience of bringing Mrs. Preston soup and talking about what it meant to be an organic farmer had brought us to another level of connection. I was getting to know them on an adult level, and they treated me like an adult, which was so nice. I had decided to major in Agribusiness management and minor in Agricultural systems technology before I started college. At orientation, I talked to a great advisor then she sent me over to the departments to talk to a couple of professors. I wasn’t interested in doing an internship because I already had my own farm. I didn’t know what they said to all the prospective students but they both said they looked forward to having me in class. They both thought I had a good plan set up and were a little nervous that I was putting too much on my plate. I assured them that I was a serious student and wanted to get the most out of my college experience. I took a test to see if I could test out of any French classes. I was happy that I tested out of both first year’s classes. The person who gave me the exam said I was just points from testing out of the first three semesters. I might be getting ahead of myself, but I might have two minors, the second one being French. I loved everything French. Shoot my bedroom had a French theme with a picture of the Eiffel Tower hanging over my bed. I planned on decorating my dorm the same way. My mom bought me a bedspread with the Eiffel Tower, French stamps, the word “Paris” and all things French. I definitely was a Francophile. Sticking with my French theme I decided to take classes in the culinary arts and hone my skills on becoming a real chef. I had to learn how to make some of the food that I had on my trip to France. I was taking an overload and wasn’t worried about it. Cooking had become a passion. I loved baking but cooking the main dishes was so much more exciting. Our weekly honors meetings to discuss a book we were all reading was one of the highlights of my week. I wanted to do something besides studying which was the biggest percentage of my awake time. I knew I didn’t want to join the running group. That was too hard on my body. So, I took up walking with a group of walkers. Walking was fun and I could talk and meet people doing it. I met a young man who had gotten hurt his senior year in high school playing football and walking was the only activity his body could handle at this point. Jonah was a nice guy, and I thought we would have fun on a date so I finally asked him if he would want to go to a movie with me. We had a great time and started to see each other more often outside the walking group. By the end of the school year, he was able to start with the running group. Neither one of us said anything about getting together during the summer. I think we used each other for a fun time when we needed a break from our studies. Jonah was as dedicated to his studies as I was. I thought he would make a great doctor. He had a passion and a compassion that would make him an exceptional doctor. Plus, he had a sense of humor that would put his patients at ease if they got sick. The Sunday before the end of the year of my freshman finals, Mrs. Richards died of ovarian cancer. After she was diagnosed, she only lived for a couple of months. Her funeral was the day of one of my finals and I had to do a presentation, which was more or less a part of my final for the class. There was no way I could responsibly miss these finals for a woman that I only saw a few times a year. She always wanted to entertain at her house, so mom and dad went there. Mom was thrilled she didn’t have to worry about what condition our house was in. I used our screened in porch for plantings as well as our sunroom. Either way when you came into our house you smelled dirt unless I was baking, then the smells were something delicious. I wrote Chase a letter telling him I was sorry for the loss of his mom and apologized for missing the funeral and the reason why. I told him a couple of special stories about her that were triggered when I made a cherry pie or had vanilla cake. I wrote a nice note to Mr. Richards, too. I didn’t feel I had to write to all the brothers since they still lived at home. When I got home, I had a letter from Chase thanking me for thinking of him and the kind words I said about his mom. He understood why I wasn’t there, which made me feel better about missing the funeral. My first year of college I kept my scholarship, and I made the Dean’s list. I had heard of the freshman fifteen. Most freshmen came home having gained weight in the first year. I lost fifteen. My mom was so worried because I had lost so much but I assured her that I ate. I just never got used to the food and I talked too much while I sat with friends. Really they were my study partners who valued food more than studying. I was usually late for dinner so I ate what I could and left. I really didn’t feel like I had tried to lose weight, it just was a happy coincidence. At the end of her sophomore year, Tina had decided to become a teacher like mom. My mom was honored and happy that she finally decided what she wanted to do. My disappointment was she was behind in getting all the requirements fulfilled in two more years, so she stayed at school to do two summer terms. To my dismay, we only saw Scott and her occasionally until August. Then Scott almost moved in. My dad said we should just add his name to the mailbox. We teased dad on how old he was because nobody got mail anymore. The statement brought me to thoughts of Chase. He must have an old soul since he wrote letters. Power of Two Thinking Out Loud The day I arrived home after my freshman year, I was so excited I talked nonstop to my parents about what my exams were like and what I was going to start to do on the farm. Both of them begged me to eat something and I realized they just wanted me to stop talking. The both laughed when I told them what I thought and they said maybe. I slept twelve hours straight that first night. That would be the last day I wouldn’t set an alarm. I didn’t have time to relax because my garden needed to be tended to. I say garden but it was acres and acres of vegetables. My mom did as much as she could though my land needed more than one person to take care of it. It was getting so big I could use another person or two. I would hire kids around my area to help when it was crunch time. When I was in need of people to pick the fruits and vegetables before I went to the farmers market, I would hire a couple of kids from town who didn't have jobs. Our town only had a general store and a post office so usually kids had to drive to the next town which only has a few more job options, or some would ask farmers if they needed help. I had a few young kids who would ride their horses to my place when they wanted pocket money. I was happy for the cheap labor. I realized that if I wanted some of them to stick around, I was going to have to be willing to make working worth their while. My thoughts kept coming back to I needed to find someone who loved the land as much as I did. Life was so busy working I didn’t even know what end was up sometimes. I took an online class during the first summer session. I wish I would have thought to take another class during the second summer session because it would have made my life a little easier during the school year. I liked the online class because I could work at my own speed. I finished before the deadline and thought that was easy. I was sitting at the table with my laptop working on my class schedule for the rest of my college career when Scott plopped down next to me. I could tell he wanted to talk so I finished up my work and saved it. “What’s up?” I said looking at him dead on. “I don’t want to bother you, but I have been thinking about your plan with your business. Do you mind if we go into some detail about where you are heading?” “Sure, though I think we have really talked my plan to death. Scott just come out and tell me is there something wrong with my plan? You can tell me. I am a big girl and I can take it.” I leaned in to show him I was open to whatever he had to tell me. He has been nothing but helpful since the day we met. “I really think, if you want to expand what you are doing, that you need someone working for you besides your mom. Would you be interested in hiring me?” He hesitated a little, “You know that I graduate next year, and I think I have something to offer you in your business. Maybe you would be interested in a partner?” I was nineteen years old, and I had someone who wanted to be my partner because he liked what I was doing. The feeling I had when he suggested him being my partner got me all excited. I just said over and over, “YES!” My dad came in from the barn and my mom came down the hall when I was saying yes. I explained what happened very quickly and my mom was saying yes just as much as I did. Both my parents were so happy because they saw that I had the potential for making a good living being an organic farmer, but it was going to kill me before I got started. I definitely needed more than just my mom to help me. Since Tina was sleeping in as she did every Saturday morning in August, I was making breakfast for everyone else. If we waited until Tina got up, we would be eating lunch. We finished eating and were sitting around the table talking about my classes for next year and Scott was all antsy. Finally, he spoke up. “Mr. Deigert, I would like your permission to marry your daughter.” Mom and dad looked at each other and smiled. I guess they really liked him. “Scott, do you really love her?” “Mr. Deigert, I never imagined love could be like this. Yes, sir with my whole heart. The only issue I have is whether I will make enough money for us to live on. I want to farm like you. Well, more like Tessa. Sir, I think Tessa and I could take her ideas and run with them. We just need more land as I see it.” These were the words I wanted to say but had been afraid to approach my dad until I graduated. Maybe having a partner who spoke his mind was not a bad thing. “Well, Scott, I have been thinking about all the changes Tessa has made and thought I am getting too old to change all of my ways. Her mom and I have been thinking when Tessa graduates, we will give her this house and all of my acres and move in with my mom and just farm her land.” My mouth dropped and I was at a loss for words for a change. When mom and dad got married grandpa split his land and gave dad half of it. They still farmed together but mom and dad were responsible for the taxes and upkeep of their land. Dad’s sisters had no interest in farming and had moved away. Aunt May lived in Florida and Aunt June lived in California. We rarely saw them. “How about this? I give the land to Tessa and Tina will get the house that way you will always have a roof over your head. You will never be able to sell it though unless Tessa says it is okay. Of course, Tessa can live here until she builds her own house somewhere on this land.” “Mr. Deigert, that is very generous of you. Tessa, are you okay with this?” “Scott I can’t wait until you marry Tina and get her out of my bed. Just to warn you, she hogs the covers. Other than that, she is great. I think we will be great partners.” Scott got up and hugged me. Mom and dad, not wanting to be left out, got up to hug Scott and me. We were all hugging when Tina came into the kitchen. “What am I missing out on? Why are you all hugging?” I didn’t know what Scott’s plan was, so I spoke up. “Scott and I are becoming business partners.” “Scott, you finally asked her. Oh, Tessa he will be such a hard worker just wait and see.” Tina came up and gave Scott a hug and then turned and gave me a hug. I smiled at Scott, and he shook his head no like don’t worry about it. Then I saw him pull a ring box out of his jeans and he got down on one knee. I turned Tina around to face Scott. “Tina, I have thought long and hard how I would ask the love of my life to marry me. I thought she would want her sister and parents around and I hope I am right. Tina Louise Deigert, would you do me the honor of marrying me and making my life complete?” The squeal probably was heard all the way down to the Richards and Grandma’s. “Yes, yes, yes,” was all that was coming out of her mouth. I was so happy for them…for me too. I was getting a brother and a partner. I thought my life was pretty good. Tina on the other hand was worried about me. Later that night as we were going to bed Tina begged me to find someone so we could have our children together. “Aren’t you lonely? You don’t have someone to share your life with, Tessa. Please start dating, for me.” “First, I am not lonely. I don’t have time to be lonely. I am working my butt off at school and when I come home, I don’t stop. Second, I share my life with you. I don’t think I have gone a day without texting or talking to you. Don’t forget I went out on dates with Jonah.” The nudge I got from her told me she knew there was nothing going on between the two of us. “Okay, I will think about dating if it makes you happy.” Tina pulled the covers off me which made me take my pillow and hit her. That action started a pillow fight like we had when we were younger. We were making so much noise that dad opened our door to see if we were okay. He yelled to my mom, “Honey our girls have gone nuts.” Tina swung her pillow and hit him in the gut. Dad left the room and brought back his pillow, and mom came running in after him with her pillow not wanting to be left out of our family pillow fight. Mom finally said, “We give up.” Scott was leaning on the door watching us and we hadn’t even noticed him standing there. “I love this family.” As dad past Scott, dad hit him on the back of his head with a pillow. “Welcome to the family Scott.” Life goes on My sophomore year I decided I could graduate early if I took just one more class a semester and a few online classes in the summer. I could take the online at home as long as the internet didn’t get interrupted. I only had a few issues so as long as I stayed ahead of deadlines, I should be good. Maybe I could talk my dad into a better service. My advisor was against the overload, but because some of my classes could be credits for both my major and minor, I thought that would help me graduate earlier. I still wanted to take classes in the culinary arts, and I wondered if I could get my associate degree so I would have the credentials for being a chef. I really didn’t need the business part because I was already working on my business in agriculture. I really thought my culinary classes were my extracurricular activity. To be honest with myself everything was so easy for me. I just had to put the work in to get the degree so businesspeople would take me seriously when I talk to them about my products. Some weeks seemed to blend together. I didn’t know how I did it, but I was still making the dean’s list at winter break. I knew I was going to go home and sleep for a week. Tina and Scott came home for part of the break and spent a good deal with Scott’s dad. I apologized to Scott because I had missed his mom’s funeral. Mrs. Turner died after a massive heart attack. I had an exam that was a fourth of my grade and my parents told me that since I had never met her to just send Scott and Mr. Turner a card telling how sorry I was to miss her celebration of life. That was what they called it because she was always the life of the party. Mom and Dad invited Mr. Turner to our house for Christmas dinner. He and his wife had never come out to the farm before. Mr. Turner was always too busy to come. Well, Scott insisted that his dad had to at least come out to the farm for dinner. I thought it was my duty to make it the best Christmas dinner ever. I had picked up a few tips from my classes and was ready for a Christmas dinner gathering.My dad’s words were ‘my, you have put on a spread here.’ I went all out to make a fabulous dinner with table decorations and all. We started with a butternut squash soup. The butternuts were from my garden. I made a standing rib roast, garlic smashed potatoes and green beans, with a Caesar salad, homemade dinner rolls and for dessert I made a buche de noel. When I was cutting the dessert, I thought about Chase as I do every time I made it. I wondered what he was doing or where he was living? Mr. Turner was very impressed with the dinner. He suggested that I could open up my own restaurant if I wanted to give up the farm. Everyone laughed because they knew my answer…never. I would never give up on my farm. It hurt me to be at school and being away from it. We made a ton of food during the holiday. Mr. Turner kept telling me to call him Scott, which I couldn’t do. It was too weird. He called our Scott, Scottie. He was not a Scottie to me or anyone else. Mr. Turner was so happy to be with us, but you could see the strain on his face if someone brought up Mrs. Turner’s name. I felt bad for him. Since Scott wanted to live out here instead of staying with his dad that added to his pain. I knew being an only child had to be hard on Scott. I didn’t know what I would do without Tina. I knew my parents had us later in life. Dad always said he couldn’t get married because he was waiting for our mom to come to him. Mom came to our part of the world to start over. She had been married to a man who had died in a car accident. She met my dad at our church social because one of the other teachers invited her. It was love at first sight for my dad. It took my mom a little while to warm up to idea of getting married again. I was sure they would have had more children if they had met earlier. It was kind of sad because they were the best parents. My spring semester went by in a flash. My mom was so worried about me because I looked awful. She didn’t say awful, but I could see myself in the mirror and knew that it was true. If I didn’t come home on the weekends, I would never have sunshine on my face. I had not kept my promise to Tina. I did not have one date the whole school year. I saw Jonah once in the library and we talked for a half hour. Maybe I could say that it was a date. I promised I would do better in my last year. We all went to Scott’s graduation which was fun. My parents spent the night in a hotel, and you would have thought they were on their honeymoon. It was so cute to see them having fun and flirting with each other. I hoped I could have that someday. Flirting was so much fun. I just hoped you didn’t lose the ability to flirt if you didn’t use it. I slept in my sister’s dorm room. She was taking summer classes again so she could graduate next year. She was a little jealous that I knew what I wanted before I started college, and now I would graduate with her. I just hoped they were not on the same day because I didn’t want to miss seeing her get her diploma. We all went out to a fancy restaurant and Mr. Turner was so nice because he said my food was so much better. I was just glad he paid the bill. He didn’t like that we all ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. He kept saying, “I said I was paying for this dinner, and I want you to get what you want.” To make up for it he ordered a bunch of appetizers. Tina ended up with part of mine and mom’s dinner to take back to the dorm. Three little birds Scott and I came back to the farm after his graduation and started working on a plan for what we wanted to accomplish in the next five years. I told him I couldn’t plan much farther and we could revisit our plan in a couple of years if we felt like we were going in the wrong direction. I had to admit I didn’t like changing horses in midstream. It was one of my flaws. We decided to add a few animals to the farm. Scott wanted to add Pekin ducks to the mix because their meat was the preferred duck meat and he was confident that we could start supplying a few restaurants and if it were profitable, we could add a larger flock. We had a lake and a couple of ponds around the barn and since the cows were moved a few years ago to grandma’s property both of the ponds were looking a lot healthier. The lake was behind the house, so the cows never were bathing or doing other stuff in it. Scott professed, “Tessa, I have done my research I promise you. I think they will provide more income than expenses by far. There is some time that has to be spent when they are hatched and for the first three months but after that if we train them where their habitat is they take care of themselves.” “Train them? You want us to train the ducks?” “Oh, these ducks learn a routine and they want to stick to that routine. If I get everything set up, we won’t have a problem.” “You know I won’t be back full time until next year. Do you think you can handle getting everything ready?” “Yes, I can work on the pens and shelters for the emus at the same time.” “Did your dad look over the contract for the loan to make sure we were getting the best deal?” “I wanted to talk to you about that.” It was my biggest worry and now he was scaring me. “My dad said he is ready to sell the big house and move into a condo. He isn’t entertaining anymore, and he hates being in that big house all alone. As it is he doesn’t spend but about five hours at night when he sleeps. He wants to give me the money from the sale after he buys his condo. The problem is we don’t know how long it will take for the house to sell so we might have to wait a little while. Then we could be real partners.” I was flabbergasted and when I recovered, I shoved him in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you start with this! I really didn’t want to get a loan. I was only doing it because you thought we should.” “Well, I did want a loan, but dad didn’t tell me his idea until the night of my graduation.” I shoved him again, “I can’t believe you waited two days to tell me this.” I looked down at the table then looked up at him. “You know this doesn’t bode well with me, your keeping something this big from me.” “I have to tell you the truth. I was scared to tell you because the house is worth a couple of million dollars and all the furnishings are probably another million.” My mouth dropped and all I could muster was, “Oh.” “I promise I will never keep something this big or small from you again. I am guessing by your reaction Tina didn’t say anything about how much my family is worth. This really proves she loves me for me and not my money.” “Wow, she never said anything about you being from money. She did tell me you have a beautiful home and it was huge plus she would hate to have to clean it. She hates cleaning our house, so I really didn’t think it was that big.” I gave a nervous chuckle because of how much he was worth. Scott chuckled too, “Your sister is something else.” “Yes, she is. Look, by the way, I don’t expect you to Scott was shaking his head, “Since you have put in all the money for the land and prepping it, how about I put up the money for the fencing and shelters for the ducks and the emus.” I was shaking my head no. “Yes, you don’t realize how much you have already put in plus all your sweat equity has to count, don't forget. We have to come up with a new name for the bird’s part but we could leave the Deigert for the produce. You have been doing this for six years now and have a growing clientele. We could put up the bird's name under my name until we get big enough to have another company name. As far as an agreement I think my marriage contract will be enough for me. I plan on spending quality time with my wife so she will never want to leave me. I know I will never want to leave her.” “You two are almost as gross as my parents. I am glad you found her. Now, how about we name the bird part of the company Turner birds or something like that. I think it’s only fair that your name is a part of our company like mine. We could come up with a company that incorporates these two and we can draw a paycheck from them. I know it would be nice to stop putting every penny I make back into the farm. I would like to travel a bit. How about you?” “I know your sister wants a nice honeymoon. She says that after she graduates in May, she will need a rest, and she wouldn’t mind if it is on a beach somewhere.” “I know what she means. I have one more year of ball busting work. I don’t know if I will be able to come back much this fall because I have so much work to finish my culinary degree.” I gave a sigh. Scott looked at me with concern, “Why are you getting a culinary degree? You are the best cook I know. You don’t need a degree for that.” “I don’t need a degree for what I am doing now.” I was being a little shy but I really wanted to tell Scott my idea. “Touché. Do I have to worry that you will get tired of farming and want to be a chef?” He gave little nervous chuckle. Then looked at me with concern written all over his face. “Well, if I tell you, you will understand why you can’t say anything to Tina. If you don’t want me to tell you, tell me now. Though I am dying to tell you.” I was squirming in my seat, waiting and hoping he could keep a secret from Tina. “Okay as long as you know if she asks me about what you are going to tell me I won’t lie to her.” “Fair enough, I have been thinking about buying out The Crow’s Nest and making it a farm to table restaurant. I think my business degree will help with the running of the restaurant too. When you suggested emus, I was ready to jump on board. I learned about their meat in class: how it tastes like lean beef but is higher in protein with less cholesterol. As you pointed out, the fat pad on their back is a wanted oil in many industries so this investment is a good one. I know to make a profit the cost will be higher than beef. That said, we will have to convince the public that emu meat is better for them in all ways.” I saw how excited he was just by looking in his eyes though he hadn’t said a word. “So, what do you think, you aren’t saying anything.” “I am trying to get under control before I say anything! This makes me so happy, and I know your sister will be happy. I totally get why you don’t want to tell her yet, until you are sure.” “This is why I want a paycheck so I can save for the restaurant.” “Hey, I would so invest in your restaurant. I know my dad would love it if you would open a restaurant too. He has been telling me that you should be a chef not a farmer. This farm to table is so in. We could make it a destination restaurant. We will have to put up ads in St. Louis papers and radio stations.” “Hey, you are getting carried away. I haven’t said I was ready yet.” I liked how Scott was there to support me but it was too soon. Though with how excited he was it was hard for me not to jump at the chance. I had to have him take a step back. “Oh, right. See I told you I am so excited by your confession I could hug you. Hell, I am going to hug you.” He came over and gave me a huge hug. My dad came in just as he was hugging me. “Hey, isn’t one daughter enough for you.” “Oh, I am hugging my wonderful partner because she said yes to raising Pekin ducks and Emus. I am going to be The Birdman. We will offer free range chicken, duck and emu eggs. Though it will be a while before we have the latter two. We have to build up to that.” He smiled at me and kissed me on the forehead. Scott and I were now both going over to Mr. Preston’s to help him with his farm. We only went over there every couple of weeks to make sure he was letting the land come back to what it should be. The field that was across the road from the house he was letting become a hay field. This property butted up to Mr. Richards’ property. He was worried that some of their chemicals would come onto his land. I told him that we would get the soil tested to see how much spray came across to his property. We suggested that he let a strip of land become a natural barrier. He could plant trees and plants that are native to this area of Missouri. That suggestion made him feel better. Mrs. Preston was looking healthier than the last time I saw her; she has gained back some of the weight she lost and she had color back in her complexion. She wore a scarf with a straw hat like my grandma wears to garden in. I saw whisps of fine hair peeking out around her face so she hadn’t lost all of her hair. I was happy for her and Mr. Preston.