When Beef Jerky Met Cherries Jubilee Read online

  When Beef Jerky Met Cherries Jubilee

  LEE PULASKI

  Copyright © 2016 Lee Pulaski

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1522993061

  ISBN-13: 978-1522993063

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zachary could detect the distinct aroma of pork wafting through the house. The scent wasn’t enough to make him fly out of bed, but it succeeded in popping one eye open. He rubbed both eyes and pondered a serious question—should he seek out the source of the smell, or should he just wait to find out what happened next?

  Zachary knew perfectly well what was causing the smell. His man was in the kitchen, cooking up bacon and eggs. There was probably a stack of wheat toast slices sitting on a plate at the dining room table and a pitcher of orange juice nestled next to it. It had become a regular thing for one man to slip out of bed early and cook breakfast to make the other rise from the dead. Obviously, Newell had the drive to be the early bird today, but that was to be expected, as it was Monday morning, and he was the only one who needed to be at work today. With winter in full swing, Zachary’s bookstore, The Literary Barn, saw very little business on Mondays during the colder months, so he felt it was best to keep all the manpower focused on Tuesdays through Saturdays, when his faithful and new visitors preferred to browse.

  Gentle snoring could be heard at Zachary’s feet. He looked and saw Midnight fast asleep. The abandoned kitten he had found six months ago had grown into a sleek, ebony cat. Midnight had quickly made a friend in Toby, Zachary’s terrier. The two were inseparable at times. However, now was not one of those times, as the dog was not asleep in his usual spot on the floor next to Zachary’s side of the bed. Zachary leaned over to the other side to see if Toby had decided to shake up the status quo. Nothing.

  Wincing as he did it, he slid his feet out from under the covers, waking Midnight in the process. The cat looked at his master with curiosity, like he couldn’t fathom why a human would want to leave the bed if there was a furry friend keeping the feet toasty warm. Zachary mouthed a sorry as he tiptoed to the closet and grabbed his white terrycloth bathrobe. He reached for the bedroom door when the knob turned on its own, and Newell walked in.

  “Hey, gorgeous. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No. The smell of sizzling pork woke me. It smells great. Not to change the subject, but have you seen Toby?”

  “Toby is stationed at his usual spot under the table, watching me cook breakfast. There are times where it almost looks like he’s secretly praying something will fall on the floor.”

  “That little beggar. Well, now that I’m up, I can take him outside.”

  “Already done. He emptied his bladder ten minutes ago, and with that bitter wind, I don’t think he’s ready to go back out there right away.”

  Zachary smiled. “Thank you for doing that. Well, I’ll go out and feed the animals, since you’re busy cooking.”

  Newell put his hands gently on Zachary’s shoulders. “That’s already done, too. I woke up about an hour ago and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I figured I should get everything done that needed to be done and let you get your rest.”

  Zachary’s smile turned to a frown. “Now I feel bad because I feel like I’m not doing my fair share. Is there anything for me to do?”

  “You can enjoy breakfast. I want you to relax, honey. I wanted to do something nice for you, considering all the work you’ve put into this new place while I was getting over the flu a couple of weeks ago.”

  Zachary shrugged. “I can’t help it. I feel like I should be getting off my ass since you have to work today and I don’t.”

  “Do something fun then. Read a book.”

  Zachary shot a perturbed glance. “I run a bookstore, and it’s winter. Half the time, I’m reading books. I might as well open up the shop if that’s my only option.”

  Newell shrugged. “It was just a suggestion. I’m going to go eat.”

  “Newell, I appreciate everything you’re doing. I just want to be sure you’re not taking on all the work. That’s all.” Zachary kissed Newell on the cheek. “I’m hungry. Let’s chow down.”

  When Zachary stepped into the dining area, his eyes widened. Apparently, the bacon was cooked to mask the aroma of cinnamon French toast and scrambled eggs, which Zachary could see clear as day at the center of the table. A jug of orange juice sat nearby, and red wax candles were sitting on silver candlesticks, the wicks lit.

  Zachary folded his arms as he looked over the scene. “Have I forgotten some significant milestone in our lives? If so, I humbly apologize.”

  Newell chuckled. “No special occasion. I just felt like giving you a nice breakfast. That’s it.”

  Zachary smiled. “I see. So this is a love ambush. Uncle. I surrender. So where’s the maple syrup for the French toast?”

  “Sitting in the fridge, where it’ll stay. I bought some blueberry syrup. You’ll love it.”

  Zachary sat in a chair next to the table. “Is this the part where you drop some bad news on me? Did the bookstore burn to the ground? Did Alexander win the lottery and call to say he’s never coming back to work? I feel like I’m going to wake up any moment and find out it was all a dream.”

  “Eat, and then tell me whether you still think this is a dream.”

  Zachary poured some syrup on the French toast and took a bite. It was definitely real—really delicious. He suddenly had a vision of himself twenty years in the future and looking about eighty pounds heavier. As long as Newell still loved him then, it might be worth it to indulge.

  “If this is a dream, I don’t think I want to wake up.”

  “I’ll take that as a sign of affirmation for my cooking. I’m glad it pleases you.”

  Zachary savored every morsel of the meal. He was a decent cook, but Newell was superior in many ways, especially with breakfast. He couldn’t believe how much things had changed once he moved into Newell’s new farmhouse. The old one had been slowly decaying, and Newell had made the decision last summer to take out a loan and build a new home on the farmland once owned by his grandparents. At the same time, Newell had decided to ask Zachary to join him, as the two had been dating for almost a year and had grown very close. Zachary had been caught off guard at first, but he eventually decided it was time to take the relationship to the next level.

  “Newell, this was wonderful,” Zachary said after finishing his breakfast. “I’ll have to plan something equally tantalizing for dinner.”

  “Dinner will have to be late. Remember, I’ve got the community association coming in tonight to work on the quilts.” After Zachary snickered, Newell raised an eyebrow. “What has tickled you so?”

  “Just the thought of a group of men huddled in a feed store making quilts. It’s like a scene from a Dickens novel if Lewis Carroll had a hand in it and took the characters through the looking glass.” Zachary covered his mouth to muffle a giggle.

  Newell feigned annoyance. “Sasha’s going to be there, too, helping out. Besides, we’ve got to get that one for Anne Marie White Eagle’s new art gallery done tonight so it’ll be ready for her big opening later this week.”

  Zachary dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “I’m just teasing, Newell. I know what you guys are really doing.”

  “Good.”

  Zachary slowly stepped away from the table. “Playing poker and betting your farms away.”

  “Okay, next time I’m just going to get you day-old donuts and weak coffee for breakfast. You’re too witty when you’ve had a well-balanced meal.”

  Zachary really did know what the Gresham Community Association—GCA for short—was doing. The quilts were not the kind that you used on a cold winter’s night
to fight off the chill. The quilts were similar to the barn quilts seen not only in Shawano County but in many rural communities all over the country. The quilts were actually pieces of plywood painted with a quilt pattern and put on businesses and farms all over the village. The project had been in place for several years, but it had been months since any new quilt pieces were created, so the GCA had decided as a group New Year’s resolution to get back on track, and Newell had graciously offered the use of his feed store—specifically the basement—for the group to do its work.

  “Hey, Zach. If you want, the GCA found this really awesome quilt pattern with a book on it. I could make a quilt for The Literary Barn if you want.”

  “That could be fun. I’d been thinking of using that one part of the front for a new sign, since the expansion has just been finished, but a quilt block would probably look better than any standard sign that someone could whip up. I may just have some window decal created to show the name of the business, and let the quilt grab people’s attention.”

  “Sweet. I’ll get started on it tonight. I can have it ready in a couple of weeks.”

  “It’s not every guy who has his boyfriend make him a quilt. I’m the luckiest man ever.”

  “Don’t forget it. Well, I should warm up my truck, since it dipped below zero overnight.”

  Zachary shivered at the thought. Wisconsin winters could be brutal at times, and the nights when the mercury dipped into negative numbers were particularly nightmarish.

  “While you do that, Newell, I think I’m going to jump in the shower. Suddenly I feel the need for hot water.”

  Newell chuckled. “Sounds good, sweetie. I love saying goodbye to a clean man.”

  Zachary strolled back into the bedroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Man, he was looking pasty. Spring needed to come soon so that he didn’t look like he’d been hiding in a cave for fifteen years.

  Grabbing a towel, Zachary moved into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He couldn’t believe Newell had splurged on a walk-in shower when the new farmhouse was built. It was like the sort of thing you saw in mansions—or porn videos. Zachary liked having the space to move around without risk of banging his elbow on the shower door or getting tangled up in the curtain. It was also sufficient size whenever he and Newell decided to bathe together.

  Zachary stripped and set his clothes on the sink. He stepped into the shower and instantly felt warmer as the water cascaded off his body. For a moment, he pondered wiling away the day in the shower, but he knew it would lose its allure after a while, to say nothing of the second jolt that would hit when the next water bill came. Of course, it couldn’t hurt the house’s budget to spend a few extra minutes under the waterfall.

  A tap came on the bathroom door. “Hey, Zach. It’s me. Anne Marie just called. Her car died up on the reservation, and she was wondering if you could come rescue her. I offered to get her myself, but she seemed insistent on you being the white knight.”

  Zachary sighed. The world always seemed to launch its invasion whenever someone was in the shower. He turned off the water and grabbed the towel to dry himself off.

  “I can do it. Did she mention what she was doing up on the reservation, especially so early? Anne Marie lives on the east end of Gresham. The rez is at least a fifteen-minute drive.”

  “I didn’t ask. She seemed irritated. Probably a blow to the ego to have to ask for help at such an hour. I took the liberty of starting your Jeep so it’d be warmed up when you were ready.”

  “That was thoughtful. Did Anne Marie say where on the reservation she was?”

  “Over at Keshena Falls. Why would anyone venture out in subzero temps to be near water?”

  Zachary bit his lip and let his gaze drift to the bottom right corner of the shower as he put two and two together. Keshena Falls was part of the Wolf River, and he knew that part of the river, long ago, had been home to sturgeon. The Menominee conducted several sacred rituals involving water, and the sturgeon were a key part of the tribe’s belief system. Zachary wondered if Anne Marie had gone there for spiritual guidance and just forgot to ask the Creator to ensure her car would start again once she was done.

  Once dried off, Zachary dressed quickly, breaking out a durable pair of dark blue jeans, a long sleeved white T-shirt and a thick, black, turtleneck sweater. He walked out to the kitchen, where Newell was bundled up and enjoying a final cup of coffee before heading to work.

  “I guess you found something to do today, after all.”

  Zachary rolled his eyes. “Remind me never to criticize you again when you suggest spending the day quietly with a good book.”

  “I went ahead and started up your Jeep for you.” Newell kissed Zachary on the cheek. “Send me a text or something when you get home so I know you made it back safely. Do you want to drop by for lunch?”

  “Provided I don’t have to rescue anyone else today, that would be great. One o’clock?”

  “It’s a date. Have a good day.”

  Zachary blew a kiss to Newell, who was heading out the door. Then he walked into the living room and opened the closet to grab his winter coat, gloves and hat. Once prepared for the elements, he grabbed his house keys and started for the back door. He was stopped by a whine. He turned and saw Toby sitting under the dining room table, looking at him with pleading eyes that said, “Take me with you!”

  Zachary sighed as he felt his defenses disintegrating. “All right, pooch. You’re welcome to join me and help rescue a damsel in distress.”

  Toby wagged his tail and hurried to the back door. Midnight jumped on the counter next to the sink and meowed. Zachary scratched the black cat’s ears.

  “Midnight, you guard the house until we get back.”

  Anne Marie was standing next to her blue sedan when Zachary pulled into the public parking area of Keshena Falls. She was draped in a wool blanket, even though she was wearing a winter coat, snow boots and a thick, black ground-length skirt.

  As Zachary stepped out, a cold blast of wind hit him squarely on the face. He turned to Toby, who was sitting in the back. It appeared the dog only wanted to go for a ride; he had no intention of stepping outside and playing near the water.

  Anne Marie grabbed a backpack from the trunk of the car. “Zachary, thank you for coming out so early to get me. You must think I’m completely nuts for being out here in the wilderness in the dead of winter.”

  “Keshena Falls is hardly the wilderness, Anne Marie. The tribal clinic and other amenities are just a mile up the road.” Zachary took Anne Marie’s backpack. “So is someone coming to tow the car?”

  Anne Marie nodded. “Kibitz Towing is going to haul it to the mechanic in Gresham. I’m just hoping it’s a cold battery and not something more serious.”

  “Well, hop in the Jeep, and we can be warm as we wait for the tow truck.”

  Anne Marie slid into the passenger seat. “Well, hello there, Toby. I didn’t realize you were that kind of rescue dog.” She scratched the dog’s ears, causing the tail to wag.

  Zachary jumped into the driver’s seat and restarted the Jeep. “So, Anne Marie. It’s below zero plus a nasty wind chill. What possessed a nice girl like you to come out in the ice and snow so early in the morning?”

  “Seeking answers.” Anne Marie fidgeted. “I was kind of hoping the Creator could help quell some of the self-doubts I’ve been feeling about the art gallery. The opening reception is in a few days, and I’m just wondering if I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “How can you think that? When you made the announcement last summer that you planned to open the gallery, you had a bunch of people praising it.”

  “That was last summer—six months ago. I’d planned to have the gallery open before Christmas, and here we are now in February. I’m just worried that the whole effort could collapse on itself. I just wanted confirmation that I was doing the right thing.”

  “Anne Marie, you wanted to start the gallery to help build up Gresham as a destination
for visitors. You wanted the gallery to showcase local artists, and you know that Shawano County and the Menominee Nation have an overabundance of creative souls. If that isn’t the right thing, I don’t know what is.”

  “The question is whether or not I can make a living from it. I gave up my teaching position to make this happen. It seemed like a terrific idea at the time, considering how much guff and government red tape teachers have to put up with these days, but lately, I’ve been feeling like a scruffy musician in torn jeans and flip flops trying to use my brilliant skills with a guitar to make enough coin to buy Ramen noodles for dinner.”

  Zachary chuckled at the comparison. “Maybe you should really take the plunge and try to become a writer, because that was an amazing and descriptive character you came up with. Besides, take a look around Gresham and see what changes have taken place. Sigrid turned her diner into a supper club, and she’s been having tremendous success with it. The Lonesome Pine Ballroom is close to reopening, and considering what we had to go through to raise money for the renovations, that’s quite an achievement. Then there’s my bookstore, and even though we’re in our slowest period of the year, sales are up more than thirty percent since the expansion compared with this time last year. Our quiet little village of six hundred has seen a lot of growth and progress. What makes you think your art gallery is going to be the aberration?”

  Anne Marie fidgeted with her hands. “I don’t know. I guess there’s still a part of me that’s this scared little girl and wonders, ‘What can an Indian girl like me accomplish in a white man’s world?’”

  “I hope you realize that most folks in Gresham don’t think of you that way, Anne Marie. Sure, Gresham is predominantly white, but we have plenty of native neighbors to remind us that no race is superior to any other. Besides, I think you’ve more than proven your value to the village.”

  “See? This is why I wanted you to come rescue me. You know me better than most.”

  “Is that why you didn’t ask your brother, Christopher, or some other member of your family to come get you?”