I know all my faithful followers were crying their eyes out because I haven’t posted in three weeks. Am I right? Well, sorry about that. My family and I were gone traveling to a camp meeting and visiting some friends so I have been busy.
My “cousin,” Amie, is doing a thing kind of like a digital chain story called Lovely Links in Literature or LLIL, on her blog. I was fourth in line and below you can read my part that I wrote. You should probably read the other parts here first, that way mine will make more sense.
“Dustin?” the man started from his chair where he had been looking out the window; grey clouds looming on the horizon.
“Oh, hi Kate,” he said, turning to face a pretty lady with chocolate colored hair.
“Honey, I was getting worried about you. I thought you were going to be home by four?”
“Sorry about that, Kate. I just had some matters to finish up here first, but I’m done now. How about we drive home together? I can leave my car here and pick it up tomorrow.”
“That will be fine,” Kate replied.
The man and his wife walked out of the building and got into a small maroon colored car. The first raindrops began to pelt the windshield as they drove out of the parking lot.
I must now interrupt our story to give a little background about our characters. The man was Mr. Dustin J. walker. He was in his late forties, tall of stature and heavy set, with misty gray green eyes, and short, coal black hair.
Mr. Walker had once been known as Edward Landers. He, his twenty five year old sister Eliza and his mother and father had moved to Abbeyton when he was nineteen. A year later, Edward had married Mary Simson and moved into number 77, Elm Grove Street; a little down the way from his parents.
Not long after his marriage, though he had always been a somewhat rebellious child, Edward began to reveal his real self; the black heart that had been kept hidden while living with his parents shown through.
His young wife had died two years later from an unknown sickness. And, some said, heart sick over her husband’s wrong doings. Edward’s father, Leonard, followed Mary to the grave one month after from an ongoing fight with cancer. At a time when Edward’s mother, spinster sister Eliza, and his seven month old daughter, Kyrie, needed him most, he wasn’t there.
Mrs. Landers eventually got custody of Kyrie and had daily praying meetings with her friends and daughter for her son. As the only man in the family, it was supposed that Edward would care for the three, but instead he only added more burdens. Having lost all his money in gambling one month after his wife died, he came to his mother to borrow some, but was turned away at the door with a sorrowful look by Mrs. Landers.
Nevertheless, Edward managed to scrape together some money two days later to feed his gambling addiction. That night, a fight broke out between several men and Edward was involved. He packed up his belongings and fled the town without coming to say goodbye to his family. He was never heard of again.
Ten years later, Edward had a new identity. He had changed his name to Dustin Walker, gained some weight and dyed his used to be blonde hair, dark black. He had also gotten remarried, to Kate Rayner.
Mr. Walker heard that Abbeyton’s mayor was up for election and having already been involved somewhat in politics, he decided to go back to the town and run for mayor. It was now four years later and he was running for reelection. But let us now get back to the story.
Randal Lemons sat in a chair reading a book when his phone beside him rang. He glanced down at the caller id, “hmm. I better take this call.”
He went out his apartment door and down the stairs with his Great Pyrenees dog, Woof, following along behind. They walked around to the back of the apartment complex where Randal paced back and forth in the small yard as he talked on the phone.
“Hey Eddy, I mean Dustin.”
“Hi Randal; I thought it was time we had another talk. Now that we’ve gotten past the democratic primary and avoided a runoff, it’s time for us to start planning what we are going to do so I can beat the republican candidate, Neil Binverisie. As my political advisor, I wanted to know what you think we should do.”
“Well, since I’m your only buddy from when you used to live in Abbeyton who still lives around here, I was the one to help you out and I’m glad that you hired me as your political adviser. Now that the race is pretty tight, we are going to have to remove all evidence against you that might be found. They can use anything to win the election.”
“But nobody even knows I used to live here,” Mr. Walker said.
“Yes, but Binverisie could still investigate. I heard that old newspapers are kept in the archives of the town library. We need to figure out a way to get in there and destroy them before anyone can find them. Then we will come up with our own accusations against him.”
“Alright, Randal, I trust you to take care of that. In the meantime, I’ll start creating rumors about Binverisie. Kate’s calling me for dinner so I better go. Bye Randal.”
“Bye Dustin. I’ll look into it all tomorrow morning.” Randal said. He pressed the end call button and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. “Well, Woof old boy, looks like I’m taking a trip to the library tomorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Kyrie,” Jill whispered, leaning over to give her friend a hug.
Phil hugged Kyrie from the other side. Edmund made a face, but Alec’s stern glance sobered him.
“It’s okay,” Kyrie said finally. She stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“How about we do something else?” Jill suggested.
“And I know just the thing!” Edmund cried.
“What might that be?” Phil twisted around from where she had been poking through another box.
“We can make pie!” Edmund exclaimed. “And we can make it a contest so it will be more fun: Jill and Kyrie against me and Alec.”
“What about me?” Phil wondered.
“You can help either team out and be the judge of whose pie is the best,” Edmund suggested.
“Have you ever even made a pie before, Ed?” Jill asked skeptically.
“No, but everyone always says ‘easy as pie’ so it can’t be hard. Besides, I’ve seen mother and you make them all the time; it doesn’t look to difficult. What do you say Alec?”
“I’m fine with it,” Alec replied.
“I think we should ask Kyrie since this is her house,” Jill put in.
“Oh, it sounds like lots of fun!” Kyrie said, her eyes sparkling. “I never bake. Aunt Eliza does it and I only help out sometimes.”
“Well,” Jill said smiling. “There no better time to learn like the present. Let’s all go down to the kitchen and decide what kind of pie we are going to make.”
The five children traipsed down the attic stairs and followed Kyrie into the large and airy kitchen. The walls were painted a cherry yellow that matched with the yellow polka dotted curtains, which ruffled in the breeze from the open windows.
“What kind of pie shall we make?” Alec said, as Kyrie handed a large cook book, yellowed with age to him.
“How about apple? That’s always good” Edmund said.
“Yeah, but then we have to cut the apples,” Alec pondered. “What are you girls making?”
“I think raspberry pie would be delicious! Do you have any raspberries, Kyrie?” Jill asked.
“Sure. There’s a whole quart in the fridge. Aunt Eliza buys them for me to snack on. They taste so good!”
“All right then. Let me just find a recipe,” decided Jill, opening another cook book and turning the pages.
“How about we make pecan, Ed?” Alec spoke up. “Here is a recipe for one.”
“Yum!” Edmund cried, “Let’s do it! Where are your folks, Kyrie?” Ed asked, as he began to get out ingredients for pie crust.
“Grandmother had a doctor’s appointment today, so Aunt Eliza took her. They won’t be back for a couple of hours,” Kyrie replied.
The two teams talked little as they made their pies, with Phil helping them both when needed.
“How big should I chop the pecans?” Edmund asked Alec.
“I don’t know Ed, but I’m trying to roll out this crust. Ask Phil.”
“Hey, Phil!” Edmund hollered from across the kitchen, “Will you come chop these nuts for me?”
“Sure,” Phil said. “There isn’t much the girls need help with over here.”
Jill and Kyrie worked like a well-oiled machine. Their crust was perfectly shaped by Jill’s experienced hands, while Kyrie mixed up the filling. “I think the boys are having a little trouble over there,” Kyrie giggled.
“Hmm,” Jill said, “Edmund, do you really think it is that easy now?”
Edmund gave a grin, “it’s working out splendid! Don’t you think Alec?” His brother gave only a grunt as a reply, for he was engaged in carefully pressing the pie crust into the pan.
The oven had been preheated and at precisely the same time, both pies were put in.
“Well, we finished the same time you did,” said Edmund to the girls.
“Yes, but it wasn’t a race,” argued Phil. “The real test is in the tasting.”
“And I think I know who the winners are,” Jill said.
“Us!” exclaimed Edmund with a saucy smile.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” laughed Jill.
“Oh? Wasn’t it?” Edmund asked. “I don’t know who else could be the winners. Our pie looks quite good. Don’t you agree, Alec?”
“It could win a blue ribbon at the county fair!” Alec said proudly.
Phil shook her head “without my help you boys would be nowhere.”
“Well,” Kyrie interrupted, “Aunt Eliza said to clean the attic if we played in it, so I think we had better do that while the pies bake.”
The children collected brooms, feather dusters, rags and other cleaning supplies, and hauled them up to the attic. As they cleaned they talked, though Jill noticed Kyrie was a bit quite.
The older girls organized the boxes and bags, Alec and Edmund swept, and Phil dusted.
“These window sills have dust an inch thick,” Phil said, wiping her rag across the wood. Just then the timer beeped down stairs.
“That must be our pie!” Kyrie cried. “I’ll get it. The rest of you stay up here so how it looks will be a surprise.”
Kyrie soon returned her face all smiles. “It looks splendid!”
“How about ours?” Edmund asked hopefully.
“It looked alright. You set a timer, right?”
“Yes,” Edmund nodded. “For thirty five minutes.”
The hour dragged on as the Worth children and Kyrie continued talking and cleaning. “What is that strange smell?” Kyrie said, resting her head against a beam and turning up her nose.
“Our pie!” the boys yelled in unison.
Edmund made a wild dash for the stairs and was the first to reach the kitchen. Black smoke billowed up from the oven in front of him. “Oh, dear,” he sighed.
I hope you enjoyed reading this!
Have you ever made pie?
Did you ever have a big disaster happen in the kitchen? My next younger sister and I call ourselves the Crazy Cooks because of the crazy things that happen when we cook. XD