The Blue Door

14



THE CRAZY DRIVER



Were you listening, sir?”

Abner turned from the yahavim who flitted around him, sparing his apprentice a wry glance. “Why do you assume I wasn’t?”

“It’s usually the case, sir.”

The silver-haired angel frowned thoughtfully and murmured, “So it is.”

“Things are stirring, and the girl seems to be at the center of it all.”

“You cannot see the center if you cannot see the whole,” the Caretaker absently chided. “And it would seem that we have a more pressing problem.”

“Do we?”

“Mmm,” Abner hummed in concern. “One of my flock is missing.”


The Milton County Fair was a long-standing Pomeroy family tradition. According to Grandpa, the fairgrounds were spitting distance from the farthest edge of their property, between them and the sprawling acreage of Sunderland State Park, north and east of town. Prissie had always wondered if you could catch any of the sights and sounds of the fair from their house, but she doubted she’d ever find out. From sunup on the first day until the last fireworks finale, her family practically lived there.

Every summer during the festivities, Jayce Pomeroy closed up Loafing Around, making the ten-day event a kind of family vacation. Not that they didn’t work. Far from it! Grandpa had staked out a prime location back in the day, so Pomeroy Orchards maintained a presence on one of the fairgrounds’ busiest corners, right in the middle of everything. They were famous for kettle corn and caramel apples, and ever since Jayce had entered the bakery business, they’d added apple turnovers.

Early on the first day of the fair, Neil helped Grandma Nell manhandle the huge coffee pot into place. Once it was perking, it would lure in the rest of the crews who were still setting up. The weather promised to be gorgeous — bright and clear, with just enough of a breeze to carry the scent of pancakes and sausages from the restaurant run by the Lion’s Club. The only thing that detracted from Prissie’s excitement was the offending presence of her father’s trainee.

She didn’t appreciate Ransom butting in. The very thought made her angry enough to use a little more force than necessary when putting the big kettle corn scoops into their place at the end of the cooling tray. Ransom glanced over from where he was loading trays of baked goods into a glass display case, but didn’t comment. If nothing else, it gave her the chance to turn up her nose at him.

“Okay there, Priss?” Tad asked.

“Grandpa will have a fit if you dent his baby,” Neil remarked warily.

“I know,” she mumbled irritably. Really, it was all Ransom’s fault.

Koji had gently pointed out that the teen was putting in a lot of hours helping Jayce and Auntie Lou stay a step ahead of each day’s turnover quota. Prissie grudgingly admitted this was true, but a part of her had hoped that her father would ask her to lend a hand.

Last night, Dad hadn’t come home until late, and when Momma had gotten them up at the crack of dawn, Prissie had wished she was more like Koji, who didn’t need to sleep. Tad plodded along as usual, but then her oldest brother really only had one speed. Still, she could tell he was sleepy, and Neil’s contagious yawns weren’t helping.

Beau and Koji trudged past, sharing the handle of an old red wagon loaded with boxes of popcorn that were to be stacked against the far wall of their booth. They’d already made several trips, bringing the oil, salt, and the special powdered glaze they needed for whenever Grandpa took it into his head to do a batch of caramel corn. The young angel’s gaze darted around, trying to take in everything at once. Catching Prissie’s eye, he smiled brightly. “This is exciting!”

“Can you believe he’s never been to a fair before?” Beau announced to the rest of the group.

“No kidding?” Neil remarked in surprise.

“Make sure you show him around,” Grandma Nell urged, including each of her grandchildren in a sweeping gaze.

“Thank you very much!” Koji exclaimed, then followed Beau back toward the van to get another load of supplies.

“Weird kid,” remarked Neil.

Prissie gave him a scolding look. “That’s not nice.”

“He obviously grew up with different traditions,” Grandma Nell said in a quelling tone.

Neil ruffled his blond hair with a chagrined expression. “I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just a little … I dunno.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” interjected Ransom, whose gaze followed the young angel. “So where’s he from, anyhow?” Prissie froze and glanced nervously at the teen. He noticed and quirked one brow at her. “You don’t know?”

“I do,” she retorted.

Nell Pomeroy calmly answered, “His paperwork said he’s from the Northern Marianas.”

“Where’s that?” Prissie asked in surprise.

“They’re islands in the Pacific Ocean,” her grandmother explained. “It’s halfway around the world, but they speak English … which is why we haven’t had to deal with a language barrier.”

“Oh,” she managed, realizing that Koji would have to have a cover story. Random kids didn’t just show up on people’s doorsteps. As Prissie puzzled this out, she happened to look in Ransom’s direction. He looked the same as usual in jeans and a T-shirt, though he also wore a plain white apron like the kind her dad used when he was at work. The addition struck her as odd, until her dad showed up, hauling a cooler. Ransom snapped to attention so fast, he practically saluted. “Can I help you with that, sir?” he inquired.

“No need,” Jayce replied amiably. “Did you finish loading that case already?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Prissie was annoyed. In class, Ransom always acted so carelessly, far more interested in making people laugh than in anything the teachers had to say. Yet here he was, falling all over himself to impress her dad. Someone who was supposedly up until midnight icing turnovers had no right to be so energetic, and a non-family member shouldn’t be so enthusiastic about their booth. She watched him closely, and when the opportunity presented itself, she confronted him. “Aren’t you tired?” she blurted.

Ransom shrugged and said, “I’m okay. What do you care?”

“I don’t!” she protested. “I was just wondering.”

“Uh-huh. Well, for your information, I’m a morning person.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Since when?”

If any of her brothers had been on the receiving end of this look and tone, they knew enough to back down, but Ransom was either very brave or very stupid. He did that funny little eyebrow quirk again. “Since always. I’ve been up early for a paper route since I was twelve, and I run in the mornings.”

“You run?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not on our track team,” Prissie argued.

“Nope. That was at my old school, before… .” He hesitated, then crossed his arms over his chest and finished, “Before I moved here. Satisfied?”

Prissie wasn’t satisfied, but she was ready to be done. “If I were you, I’d go home,” she snapped.

He snorted quietly. “I knew you were bossy, Miss Priss, but I didn’t know you were lazy.”

As Ransom sauntered off, Neil snickered into his sleeve, and she rounded on him instead. The fact that her older brother dove for cover only partially soothed her ruffled feathers. Her archnemesis had forced his way into her world, and she was certain it would ruin everything she loved about the fair.


Momma was the one who insisted that the day Prissie turned in her pie at the judging booth should also be her first free day, and she was grateful for her mother’s foresight. She was suffering from a bad case of nerves, knowing that the judges would soon be tasting her entry. It made her jumpy just thinking about it.

Prissie doubted she could have remained in the confines of the booth without exploding like so much popcorn. So instead, Momma turned her loose on the fairgrounds, but not alone. She was secretly thankful that she had a readymade distraction in the form of her youngest brother, Jude. Taking Jude’s small, sturdy hand in hers, Prissie asked, “What first?”

“Can we check on Maddie?” he asked hopefully.

They crossed to the far end of the fairgrounds where the barns were arranged in neat rows. Beyond these was an open field backed by a steep, forested ridge that was fenced off — the boundary of Sunderland State Park.

Inside the poultry barn, she and Jude made their way along the wide aisles lined with wire cages. There were all kinds of chickens clucking and crowing in concert. Further along, the ducks, geese, and a handful of turkeys added to the cacophony. Grandpa had obviously been around earlier, for their ducks and chickens — including Maddie — had already been cared for, and their eggs had been collected.

Jude gave his hen some last minute advice regarding her upcoming judging, then promised to stop back later that afternoon. “We’ll bring popcorn,” he whispered, and Maddie ruffled her feathers and offered a crooning buuuck-buck.

Satisfied that he’d done right by his pet, Jude announced, “Ready!”

For Prissie, today would be a free day from Koji. The young angel had wanted very much to experience all the wild rides, but Prissie couldn’t stand them. She preferred to keep her feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much. After some discussion, they’d decided on a three-way split. Prissie would watch over Jude, Beau would show Koji around, and Momma would take on Zeke. The family joke was that five Pomeroys took up the fingers on one hand, but Zeke was a handful all by himself.

Dad had given them enough money for all-day midway passes, so Prissie led Jude to a ticket booth where they were fitted with bracelets. These were great because her brother loved to do one ride over and over again until he was satisfied with it. It took a long time for Jude to tire of anything, but it was kind of fun to watch him thoroughly enjoy each part. She waited patiently while he trotted up the stairs to the giant slide again and again, then joined him on the merry-go-round for half a dozen turns. That ride was pretty much the limit of her daring. They rode side by side, she on a white stallion with pink roses braided into its forelock, and he on a coiling dragon with fierce red eyes.

By midday, things were picking up, and they had to wait in line for each of the rides. Much to Prissie’s chagrin, they ran into Ransom and his friends in front of the bumper cars. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked loftily.

“I have the afternoon off,” he replied with a careless shrug. He turned back to talk to the other members of his gang before Prissie could properly snub him, so she settled for glaring at the back of his head.

Ever since Ransom had transferred into their school, he’d been hanging out with the same group of guys. Brock was a husky teen with curly black hair and a surly tough-guy attitude, and Joey was skinny and shy, with straight dishwater blond hair falling over his eyes. Both of them played on the football team with Neil, but she didn’t know either very well because they were in the grade above hers.

Ransom’s other friend was Marcus, a guy Jennifer had been wondering over ever since he’d joined their class the year before. While her friends could go on and on about his dusky complexion, big brown eyes, and cleft chin, Prissie couldn’t get past his hair, which probably would have been uniformly brown if it weren’t for a wide section at the top that was dyed platinum. When you added to the equation his ever-present brown leather jacket and rumors that he’d been shuffled around from one foster home to another, it equaled trouble.

As they neared their turn, she couldn’t resist another jab. “Aren’t you a little old for a ride like this?” she asked snidely.

“Nope. Nobody’s too old for fun,” Ransom replied amiably. “Besides, you’re here.”

“I’m with him,” she countered, nodding toward Jude.

He smirked at the six-year-old. “Hey, squirt! You taking your big sister for a spin?”

“Yep!” he replied cheerfully.

The teen leaned forward and conspiratorially added, “Bet she’s a backseat driver!” Jude giggled, and Ransom offered, “You stick with me, and we’ll wreak a little havoc out there.”

Before Prissie could protest, her brother exclaimed, “Cool!”

When the ticket-taker let them through the gate, Prissie moved resolutely toward a red car, but her younger brother hurried past her and hopped into a green one. He beamed at her and said, “Since we’re on the same team, we should have the same color!”

For a moment, Prissie had no idea what he meant, but then she followed Jude’s pointing finger toward Ransom, who was strapping into another green car. “Oh, honestly,” she grumbled, but she let her brother have his way. Stepping in, she smoothed her skirt over her knees before making sure he was securely buckled, then folded her arms over her chest.

As the crackle and snap of electricity signaled the start, Ransom whizzed past and circled to come alongside them. “Not gonna drive, Miss Priss?”

“I’m just along for the ride,” she replied with a disapproving frown.

“Guess that makes you her chauffeur,” he said to Jude. Gesturing urgently, he pointed to someone in the opposite corner. “See that guy in the orange car … the one with crazy hair? That’s my good friend Marcus, and he’s our target. Come on, squirt!” With a whoop, Ransom led the charge against their unsuspecting prey.

Prissie pursed her lips as the chase sent them careening all around the floor. If there were rules to this game, they made absolutely no sense. She couldn’t tell who was “it” because they kept switching midstream. As far as she could tell, the game was just an excuse to ram into each other as often as possible.

Ransom cruised by and cheerfully asked, “Why so grumpy?” She just scowled, and he grinned more broadly. She wasn’t quite sure what irked her about Ransom, but he just seemed to push all her buttons.

Circling around, Ransom pulled up alongside them. “Maybe we should put you in your own car next time. You’re building up a lot of road rage! I’ll bet you could even give Brock a run for his money out here!”

Jude gasped and eagerly begged, “Can we go again, Prissie? Please?”

“May we,” she corrected, shooting a sulky look at Ransom. There was no missing the challenge in his quirked brow, and she smoothly answered, “Whatever you want, Jude.”

They queued up at the end of the line along with Ransom and his buddies. Once their turn came around again, Prissie asked, “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

Jude fixed her with a reproving look. “I know how to drive, Priss. Haven’t you been watching?”

“Fine,” she sighed, but when they stepped through the gate, she made sure her little brother was securely buckled into his green car before choosing a red one for herself.

As soon as the sparks skittered across the ceiling grid, the cars lurched into motion, and “the game” entered its second round. Jude zoomed over to Ransom, who didn’t seem to mind adding a six-year-old to his gang of hoodlums, and they put their heads together for a quick conference. Prissie took a moment to locate Brock, Marcus, and Joey, but they were off along the far edge of the ring doing their best imitation of whirling dervishes.

Knowing she was outnumbered, she decided that her best bet was to go on the offensive and exact a little vengeance on Ransom’s bumper. As soon as she saw her way clear, she punched the accelerator and aimed for the two green cars.

“Scatter!” Ransom yelled, and he and Jude split up.

Prissie might prefer to behave like a lady, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to give as good as she got. She did have five brothers, after all, and she’d been driving tractors since she was eight.

Jude wasn’t at all surprised by his sister’s single-minded intensity behind the wheel and squealed in delight every time she rammed him, but Ransom opted to steer clear.

He played hard to get, swerving back and forth, wending his way through the other drivers as he offered offhand apologies for the madwoman in his wake. Ransom laughed every time he looked over his shoulder at her. “Last hit earns the win,” he taunted.

After several near misses, the teen made a series of hand signals that alerted Prissie to the danger of an ambush, though she couldn’t tell who he was communicating with. He circled around and let go of the steering wheel, casually clasping his hands behind his neck and smirking at her. He was wide open, and that was good enough for her. Prissie had to admit she was having fun, and it looked like she would get the last hit. Putting on a burst of speed, she raced into a head-on collision, but before she could exult over her final triumph, Jude broadsided her just as the power was cut, and their turn ended. “Gotcha!” the boy shouted gleefully.

His gray eyes shone with happiness, and before she had time to get irritated again, Prissie’s face softened at the sight. It was impossible not to smile when Jude was happy. “Yes, Judicious, you got me,” she graciously conceded. Unbuckling, she stepped out of her vehicle and gave her skirt a brisk flap before flipping her braid over her shoulder. Ransom was still buckled in, his arms draped over the small steering wheel as he gazed bemusedly up at her. “What?” she asked sharply.

“So you do know how to have fun,” he remarked blandly. “I never woulda guessed!”

“I have more fun depending on the company,” she said.

“I had fun, too!” Jude exclaimed as he tucked his hand into Prissie’s. “Thanks, Ransom,” he said politely.

“Sure, kid,” he replied, unbuckling and unfolding his lanky frame from the bumper car. With a careless wave, he backed toward his friends. “See you later, Miss Priss.”

“I don’t think so,” she returned haughtily.

“Can’t avoid it. We’re both working the evening shift at your folks’ booth,” he rejoined, then slouched off with his friends, bound for the roller coasters.

“He’s nice!” Jude announced.

“He’s annoying,” she corrected, tugging him off in the opposite direction.


By mid-afternoon, Jude was sticky, sleepy, and satisfied to be led back to the family’s booth to rest. They followed their noses toward a rich, sweet aroma that could only mean one thing. “Grandpa’s making caramel corn!” Jude exclaimed. Forgetting his weariness, the boy pulled at his sister’s hand, practically dragging her the rest of the way back.

Beneath the canopy behind their stand, Prissie could hear the hiss of the burner under the kettle, and when she rounded the corner, there was her grandfather, using the long wooden paddle to keep the popcorn moving over the heat. The air was thick with the smells of sizzling oil, popping corn, and burnt sugar — perfect for bringing in customers.

Grandpa Pete tipped the batch out onto the cooling tray and broke apart some of the larger clusters. Beau and Koji spread the pile across the cooling trays with their scoops, giving the batch a little time to set up before bagging it for sale. Waving at everyone, Prissie circled around to the very back, where a picnic blanket and a few seats were arranged in the shade. Jude ignored the mismatched collection of lawn chairs and flopped down onto the blanket with a handful of caramel corn. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Grandpa ambled over and chuckled at the site. “Looks like you did a good job of wearing him out,” he said. He tapped the cooler with the end of his paddle. “Get something to drink and rest a bit. Your mother and grandmother should be back soon, and you can all go to the exhibition hall together.”

Prissie’s heart skipped a beat then raced ahead. She’d nearly forgotten the upcoming judgment, possibly because she’d spent most of the day trying not to think about it. The results of the pie baking contest would be announced at four o’clock.

A little while later, Grandma Nell and Auntie Lou came into view. They had their heads together and were talking a mile a minute. Just behind them came Pearl, pushing Amberly in a stroller. Her husband Derrick manfully toted the oversized boxes they used to transfer the caramel apples from the bakery. Uncle Lou brought up the rear, hands in the pockets of striped shorts that left his knobby knees exposed. His straw hat, dark sunglasses, and camera made him look like a tourist in his own town.

For several confusing minutes, everyone was talking at once, but eventually, a small group split from the rest, moving purposefully toward the exhibition hall — Grandma Nell, Momma, Pearl, Prissie, and both Lou’s.


With a wistful expression, Koji asked, “Should we go along to offer our support?”

“Nothing doing!” Neil replied. “That’s girl stuff.”

Koji considered this for a moment, then pointed out, “Both your father and Ransom bake.”

“Well sure,” the teen replied with a shrug. “But that’s business. This is competition!”

As Prissie and the other ladies disappeared around a corner, Koji tried one last angle. “You like pie, though.”

“You bet, but I like pie on my plate. Looking at pies I’m not allowed to taste is just asking for trouble.”

The young angel studied Neil closely for several moments before declaring, “Turning away from temptation is very wise.”

Prissie’s older brother grinned and said, “You’re not the first person to notice I’m a wise guy.”

“Nor the last,” Grandpa Pete snorted. Dropping a hand onto Koji’s shoulder the old man said, “In my experience, this is best. Let Prissie share her news in her own way when she gets back. I’m prepared for any eventuality.”

Koji gazed at him expectantly.

Crossing to the stack of boxes that held all their supplies, Prissie’s grandfather fished out a box of glaze and showed it to the boy. “If she wins, we celebrate with pink popcorn. If she doesn’t, we cheer her up with pink popcorn.”

“This, too, seems wise!” Koji said in delight.

Grandpa gruffly replied, “Like they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”


The fairgrounds boasted two large halls. One was given over to merchants who sold everything from knives to woodburning stoves, however, the second hall was home to all of the arts and crafts competitions, including the cooking contests. It was a great place to get out of the August heat and look at all kinds of interesting things—jars of jams and jellies, knitted afghans, colorful quilts, paintings, lace doilies, pottery, woodcarving, and photography.

Grandma Nell was of the opinion that hovering around the judges while they did their tasting soured the flavors of the pies they were sampling. It was her custom to deliver her entries, then leave well enough alone. Because of this, Prissie hadn’t seen any of the other entries yet. Together, they walked up and down the rows of long tables, sizing up the competition. Grandma Nell and Auntie Lou were old pros, so they recognized the names of their usual rivals and exclaimed over the most promising newcomers to the contest circuit.

“Where’s your entry?” Aunt Pearl asked in a low voice.

“The junior class entries are over on the far table,” Prissie replied, pointing.

“Let’s go check it out!”

Taking a deep breath, Prissie slowly followed Pearl along the lineup. There were more than she’d expected. Lemon cheesecake pie, blueberry crumble pie, raspberry mousse pie, crème brulee pie — each sounded more sophisticated than the last. “These are pretty fancy,” she remarked, feeling foolish. Next to all these other adventurous recipes, her apple pie must have looked awfully plain. When they finally made it to her entry, she was actually surprised there were pieces missing. “At least the judges tried it.”

“Let’s get a picture of you with your pie.” Uncle Lou’s voice just behind her shoulder made her jump. He held his camera at the ready, waving her to get closer. “What did you end up calling it?”

“Candy Apple Pie,” Prissie murmured, offering a wan smile before the flash popped.

“The name suits the color,” he commented. “Kinda pretty, unusual for apples.”

“Do Nell or Naomi ever make those candied apples? Not the caramel ones, but the ones dipped in sugar syrup?” Aunt Pearl asked. “That’s what this makes me think of!”

“Crust looks good,” offered Lou, still eyeing Prissie’s entry critically.

“It won’t win,” Prissie stated flatly.

Uncle Lou straightened and peered at her from under his bushy brows. “How do you figure?”

“It’s too plain.”

“Louise has been entering these competitions at the county level and the state level for forty years, so I’m something of an expert when it comes to pie,” he declared, patting his stomach for emphasis. Waving toward the long line of entries, Uncle Lou said, “People always try to dazzle folks with their presentation, but all that gussying up won’t fool any judge worth their salt.”

“Really?” Prissie asked.

“Taste is what counts,” he asserted. “Now, as much as I’d like the chance, I can’t very well taste these entries, but I’ve got a nose. The smell will tell you if the taste is there!” With that, Uncle Lou leaned down and took a good whiff of her pie. “This here’s a good pie,” he announced with authority.

His compliment helped bolster Prissie as the minutes crept along, and promptly at four, a group of five people wearing official-looking badges filed toward a podium standing in the corner of the room. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! The time has come to announce the winners of this year’s competition. However, before we do that, I’d like to take a moment to thank the contest organizers and introduce our judges.”

As the woman at the microphone droned through the credentials of the men and women who’d tasted all their pies, Grandma Nell, Auntie Lou, and Naomi Pomeroy found their way over, and they formed a little huddle of hopefulness in front of Prissie’s entry. Aunt Pearl crossed her fingers and whispered, “Isn’t this exciting?”

Prissie could only shake her head. It wasn’t exciting; it was excruciating, and she thought she might be happier never knowing the judge’s verdict. Glancing around desperately for an escape route, she spotted someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. Ransom stood just inside the doors, his hands shoved casually into his jeans pockets. “What’s he doing here?” she protested.

Aunt Pearl followed her gaze, then smiled warmly. “Why wouldn’t he be? That boy’s bound and determined to be a fancy pastry chef. He’s probably getting ideas.”

She glared, but Ransom’s attention was where hers probably should have been, because she didn’t realize that they’d announced her name until Auntie Lou whooped and Grandma Nell pulled her into a hug. “Congratulations, sweetie!”

“Not bad at all for your first time out!” declared Uncle Lou.

Then she was in her mother’s arms. “I’m so proud of you, Priscilla!”

Finally, they released her so she could walk up to the front and receive her ribbon. It wasn’t until she had thanked the judges and turned back toward her family that she saw the words printed in the center of the rosette — Second Place.