Black Raspberry Season (June-July) Part 2

 "Every day, I'd go over to the diner with Bruiser and we'd walk her home. Bruiser ... loved her too. She's been avoiding me lately and I went to ask her why. She wouldn't tell me. Just that I was wrong about how she felt. I wasn't! I know I wasn't! Something or someone scared her. She found out I'm not good enough for her."

 "Stop that, kid. You've made mistakes, but who the hell hasn't?"

 "Franco thinks I've done worse than the Marlene thing and I don't remember."

 "Like what?" Dante stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and eyed him skeptically.

 "He says he heard someone say I might have killed a kid when I was here that summer."

 "That's ridiculous. I've known you all your life and there's no way that you could have done anything like that."

 "Dante, I don't remember so much! What if I did? Even if it was an accident? Maybe it was someone Lisa knew and she thinks ...."

 "Kid, you are way off base here." Dante took a swig of his beer and then lit another cigarette. "What are you doing talking to Franco anyway? Has Franco ever told you the truth about anything? No -- it's Marlene. You mark my words. You dodged a bullet, kid. I don't know whether you know this, but she had a kid about two years ago."

 Fabian's head snapped up. He felt ice around his stomach and looked at Dante in horror.

 "It wasn't yours. Relax." Dante took another swig of beer. "Wasn't mine, either."

 "How do you know?" Terror sobered Fabian up in a hurry.

 "I'm married to her. I know when things happen -- or don't happen. It doesn't seem like it, but I keep an eye on her. The woman is trouble, but she's my cross and no one else's. We did some fairs and stuff in the fall when I retired from teaching. She took a liking to a kid at one of those.

 "A kid."

 "Fifteen years old. Nice Mennonite boy until she got her hands on him."

 "I was sixteen," Fabian said thoughtfully and toyed with his beer bottle.

 "She says she has to have at least one to teach," Dante shrugged. "I think that means per year. Anyway, having a kid was a disaster. She is not cut out to be a mother. Or much of anything."

 "Why do you stay with her, Dante?"

 "I took a vow, kid. I don't have much, so my word has to count for something."

 "I've never seen either of you with a child," Fabian said. "What happened?"

 "She's a beautiful little girl who deserves a much better mother than she got, so I made sure she got one. The kid's parents adopted her." Dante shook his head. "It's kind of a long story how it all came together, but at least Jill is somewhere she can grow up happy. And probably she will think that the kid is her brother. No harm in that until she grows up. We signed the final papers right before we came to Twin Mills." Dante finished his beer and signaled the bartender for another.

This might seem like Mayberry, but it's still a good idea to keep doors locked.

 He looked around. There were four boxes on the counter containing pies. These could be useful. He looked in the refrigerator and saw several dozen eggs packed in cartons. He took one and put it with the pies. Then he noticed the inner door. He opened it and found himself in the garage. He heard something upstairs. Lisa. He could go up those steps -- Lisa probably didn't lock her door when the garage doors were closed. He could go up there and convince her that she was wrong ... that they'd be great together .... He heard a noise close to the steps and decided to just settle for the pies and eggs. He grabbed them, then ducked out of the pie kitchen.

 Lisa came down the garage staircase and could have sworn she heard the outside door close in the pie kitchen. She went over to the door from the garage and it wasn't on the latch. The black raspberry custard pies she'd baked for the diner were gone. Her heart gave a mighty thump and she felt cold all over. She'd left those pies for just fifteen minutes while she went upstairs to shower. She opened the outside door, but didn't see anyone. The chickens were noisy, but that could mean anything this time of day. She crossed the driveway to her grandmother's house and knocked twice. Then she looked in the back door. Her grandmother looked up from her coffee and paper.

 "Hello, dear. Are you all right? You look a little wild."

 "I don't know yet. Did you go into my pie kitchen at all?"

 "No, dear. I just got up. Why?"

 "I just came down to get the pies for Anne and George and thought I heard the kitchen door. When I got to the kitchen, the pies were gone!"

 "What? Are you sure?" Her grandmother was appalled.

 "I'm positive. I packed them up and then went up to take a shower and get ready for work. When I came down, they weren't in the kitchen any more. I thought maybe someone had stopped to pick them up and you might have taken care of it."

 "No, dear. I haven't seen anyone."

 "And nobody called that they were coming to get them?"

 "No, dear."

 "May I use your phone, please? I'll need to ask Anne and George if someone can cover for me while I try to replace these pies. I hope I have enough raspberries."

 "I have some, dear. Your sister gave them to me and they don't agree with me very well. So you're welcome to mine. That way you don't need to use your private stash of berries. And be my guest with the telephone."

 "Thank you, Grandma."

She dumped him? Get out! Are you serious? There is something wrong with her!

 "Hello, ladies. What can I get for you this morning?" Lisa asked.

 "Is it true you broke up with Fabian?" Shelly asked. Lisa was as taken aback as though Shelly had waved a microphone in her face.

 "I think "broke up" would be a little strong," Lisa said, trying to talk around the tightness in her chest and throat. "There really wasn't anything to break up. We're just friends, that's all."

 "So you wouldn't mind if someone else dated him?" Shelly pressed.

 "No -- not at all." Lisa swallowed hard. "He's a really nice guy. I'll just bring you some more coffee." She went into the kitchen.

 Anne put down the salt shaker she'd been refilling and went over to their table.

 "Would you jump in her grave that fast?" she demanded, glaring at Shelly. Shelly looked at Anne, defensive.

 "Hey -- I just wanted to know if she'd mind. If she's not going to date him, I don't know why someone else shouldn't get a chance."

 "Of course she minds," Anne said, "but she's not going to admit that to you. She's still grieving, for pity's sake."

 "Grieving? She dumped him!"

 "That does not mean it hurts any less," Anne replied. "Sometimes, Shelly, you have the sensitivity of a goat." She followed Lisa into the kitchen. Shelly shook her head.

 "Don't know what got into her," she said. One of the other nurses replied, "She's probably upset because Lisa can go after her Bernie again now."

 "Good point," Shelly nodded. "I didn't really believe it about Lisa and Bernie, but maybe you do have something there."