Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots (30 page)

Chapter 30

A couple of hours later we pulled into the town of
Centerville
.

Tom looked at me.
“Where to?”

“According to an article Justin found, there’s a wall at the school district that has plaques dedicated to employees who have died.
I’d like to go there.”

“Okay.”
He handed me his cell phone.
“Find out where it is.”

I called the district office and got a recording of the directions to the memorial wall.
We were there within minutes.
It was a large brick two-story building.
The grounds were beautifully manicured and there
was a small sign at the front: Memorial Wall in the back.

Tom, Shelby, and I got out and walked around to the back of the building.
The entire wall was covered in brass plaques.
On the top wa
s an engraved stone that said,
Our Family’s Funeral Plot.
Dedicated to the memory of the people who hav
e touched our children’s lives.
The plaques glistened in the sunlight and between each of them was a small crystal vase that held fresh flowers.
It was beautiful.
There had to be at least two hundred plaques.
There weren’t any dates on the plaques, just names, occupations and a few small symbols.
I saw coaches’ names with soccer balls and footballs, janitors’ names with mops and stars.

About halfway down I saw Danielle’s plaque.
It said her name and that she was a teacher.
There were three symbols under her name: a beagle, some math symbols, and a small hand.
There was a bench in front of her plaque, so I sat down.

Tom touched me on the shoulder.
“I’m going to take
Shelby
for a walk.
I’ll be back in a little while.”

I put my hand on his.
“Thanks.”

A few minutes later someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Was Tom back already?
I glanced up.
It was an older man with graying hair.
He wore blue jeans and a white polo shirt.
“May I sit with you?” he asked.

“Sure.”

We sat in silence for several minutes and then the old man spoke.
“It’s a beautiful wall, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s a wonderful tribute to so many good people.
But why aren’t there any dates?”

“When the wall was first envisioned we thought about putting dates on them but then decided against it.”
He gestured to the plaques.
“These people touched the lives of the children they encountered, not just while they were with us, but even today.
Many kids and adults still come to this wall to thank someone for helping them through a rough spot or just being there to listen to them.”

Tears welled up in my eyes.
“That’s so nice.”

“Which one brought you here today?”

“
Danielle
Slammers.”

“She was a nice lady.”

“You knew her?”

“I know everyone.”
He waved his hand in the air.
“I’ve been around for a long time.”

I pointed to Danielle’s plaque.
“I know that the beagle is for Sadie, her dog.
And the math symbols because she loved math.
But what is the small hand for?”

“Danielle always extended a helping hand.
She never hesitated to open her heart and her abilities to help someone out.”
He lowered his head and shook it.
“Unfortunately, she never accepted help from others and that’s not good.”

“No.”

“Everyone needs helpers, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

“It was sad, the way she died.
So violent.”

“Yes.”
I nodded.

“To be attacked and not be able to protect yourself must have been very scary for her.”

“I suppose so.”

He turned and looked at me.
“Do you know how to protect yourself?”

“Yes, I do okay.”

He turned back in his seat.
“That’s good.
Everyone needs to be able to protect herself.
It’s essential.”

“Sure.”

“Did you hear that they finally found out who murdered Danielle?”

It had only happened yesterday evening.
How did this man know about it already?
“They did?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“One of the officers from Clainsworth called my brother.
He’s a cop here in town.”

“Oh.”

“Closure is very important,” he continued.
“Danielle was big on finding closure for other people and I’m glad she finally got it for herself.”

“Me, too.”

The old man stood up.
“Well, it was nice talking to you.”

“You, too.”

“Have a good day.”

“Thanks.”

The old man left and a few seconds later, Tom and Shelby came around the corner of the building.
She was barking and chasing him.
He was laughing and practically falling on the ground.
It was time to go home.

Tom came up and sat down next to me.
“Ready?”

“Yes.
Thanks for letting me come here.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I met the strangest old man.”

“Where?”

“Here
.
”

“I didn’t see anyone.”

“He left while you were walking
Shelby
.”

“Oh.”

Tom stood up and lifted his hand.
I took it and we got back into his patrol car.
As he drove, I thought about Danielle and what the old man had said about her not accepting help and not knowing how to protect herself.
I was glad that I had Justin and Tom to help me, and that I could protect myself if I needed to.
Because like Danielle I liked finding answers and closure for people, too.

We never stopped the entire trip, just drove through fast food restaurants and kept going.
Tom seemed as eager to get home as I was.

It took us over ten hours, but we finally pulled into Tom’s driveway.
When I opened the car door, I was hit with the smell of the mountain pine trees.
It was fabulous.
And there wasn’t a sound, except the crickets and the wind whistling in the trees.

That evening, Tom fixed Chicken Cordon Bleu from scratch and I made apple cobbler in apple pots for dessert.
Afterwards we sat on his couch with a blanket stretched across our laps.
Shelby was on one side with her head on my lap and Tom’s dog, Duke, was on the other.
They had finally become friends, although it sure had taken a lot of doggy treats to get them there.

“This is nice,” Tom said and kissed me gently on my cheek.

“Yes,” I said and leaned my head against his shoulder.

“It was sure nice to hear that you loved me.”

“When?”
I sat up.

“In the mine.”

“Oh, yeah.
Well, I do love you.”

“I love you too, Liza.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, again, and we sat there for a long time.

Two days later, Tom went back to work and I stayed at home.
I was immediately bored and thought about the attention span of my kindergarteners.
Maybe it was catchy?
I refused to get back into jigsaw puzzles.
How do people do this every day?
On the afternoon of the third day, I
flipped
through some magazines and saw an article about different painting techniques.
Tom’s house had recently been remodeled and it could use a little color.
Every wall in the house was the same color - white.
I grabbed the magazine and Tom’s keys to his SUV.
I drove into town and stopped at the police station.

Tom was in his office doing paperwork, which he insists is ninety percent of his job.
He looked up when I came through the door.
“Hey,
Liza
.
What’s up?”

I put the magazine on top of his paperwork.
“What would you think if I did that to the upstairs guest bathroom?”

He glanced back at the magazine.
“I don’t know.”

Just then one of his officers brought someone into the station.
The person was screaming and yelling and pulling away from the officer.
Tom stood up.
“I need to help him.”

“What about the paint?”

“Do what ever you want, Liza.”
He went over and helped his officer subdue the person.

I went directly to the local ACE Hardware store and bought rollers, sponges, wallpaper boarders, and paint in several different shades of green.
When I got back to Tom’s house, I found a tall ladder and started in on the upstairs bathroom.
It was fun using the sponge to make different textures on the wall.

I heard Tom come into the house, calling my name.

“I’m up here,” I shouted.

He came into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”

“Painting.”

“Why?”
He looked totally confused.

“Don’t you remember me coming to the station and you telling me to do what ever I wanted?”

“Vaguely.”

I leaned against the ladder.
“I’m bored and if I can’t find something to do, I’m going home.”

“Paint whatever you want.”
Tom smiled.
“How about coming down and having some dinner?”

“What are you making?”

“Tri-tip sandwiches and French fries.”

“Yum.”

“What are you making for dessert?”

“Blue berry cobbler in an apple pot.”

“Perfect.”

Each day Tom went to work, I painted, put up wallpaper, and decorated every wall in his house.
I was careful to stay away from flowery boarders and colors that just didn’t go well with Tom’s personality.
He seemed happy with what I was doing.
At least he said he was.

Two weeks later, there just wasn’t anything left for me to redecorate.
That evening I fixed the only meal I can make that doesn’t come from a box — Chinese Chicken Salad and pot stickers.
Actually the pot stickers were from a bag, but that’s okay.

When Tom came in and dinner was ready, he sat down and looked at me.
“Going home, Liza?”

I leaned down and kissed him on the top of the head.
“I need to get home and check on my house and my yard.
My flowers are probably all dead or overgrown by now.
I haven’t been home in almost a month.”

“Not much landscaping to do here, I’m afraid.”

“Your yard is the forest.
I can’t mess with the forest.”

Tom laughed.
“I could build you a few more rooms to decorate.”

“No.
I’ll be back.
Besides, I still haven’t bought a new car.
A few years ago I had a student whose father owned a car dealership.
He told me if I ever needed a car, I should call him.
His kid was a born salesman.
If he wanted a particular toy and someone else had it, he could charm the other child right out of it.
He’ll definitely follow in his father’s footsteps.”

Tom shook his head.
“The apple never falls far from the tree.”

“You got it.”

Tom picked up his plate.
“If you’re leaving in the morning, let’s eat in bed.”

“Great idea.”

I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night, but I was still ready to go in the morning.
Tom made waffles for breakfast, my favorite.
I’m sure it was an attempt to get me to stay, but it didn’t work.
A few minutes later, an Enterprise Rental car was delivered for me to drive home.

Tom walked Shelby and me to the car.
I opened the back seat, put
Shelby
in, and hooked her up to her harness.
Then I closed the door.

Tom put his arms around my waist.
“I’m going to miss you, Liza.”

“I’ll miss you too.”
I kissed him gently.
“But I’ll be back.”