Three Ingredients II – 15: Ribs, Watermelon, Corn

Welcome back to our interactive 1920’s culinary mystery serial!Kittens Daisies wheat ad vintage

The “ingredients” for this episode are from the very talented “Kraftycat” at Kraftycat Creations. You don’t have to be a crazy cat person to enjoy her blog.  Not only does she make adorable kitty toys, she makes wonderful gifts and jewelry for the humans.  I hope you’ll check out her great blog.

It seems that our “ingredients” bring as many questions as answers lately. What’s in store this week?  Keep reading to find out!  Bon appétit!

15.  Ribs, Watermelon, Corn

With Apparition

A vial of smelling salts that Maestro produced out of nowhere brought Mattie around from 1920s Fainther faint.  Andy and Vicar Varley helped her to the vicarage.  Everyone was concerned about the older woman, but she insisted that it was “only the vapors” and that she didn’t want anyone fussing over her.

The clang of pots and pans in the kitchen made me cringe.  It sounded like Maestro Martino was tearing apart the unfamiliar room as he looked for things.  The ghost chef had insisted that Mattie Maddox, and the rest of us too, needed a fortifying meal after the shock of seeing Daisy’s specter.  Of course, Vicar Vance Varley and Mattie had no idea that Maestro was himself a poltergeist.

Soon the aroma of Maestro’s bourbon baby back ribs dinner wafted to my nose as Andy, Granny Fanny, Mattie, the vicar, and I sat in the clergyman’s cozy parlor.  I could imagine the ribs melting in my mouth and my stomach gave an impatient growl.

The vicar’s cautions to Mattie about sharing information with “strangers” — that would be us, made Andy Avis suspicious and he whispered his concerns to me.  However, a discrete Daisy thread adquestion revealed Vance Varley moved to Tybee Island from Gulfport, Mississippi only ten years before.  So presumably he was nowhere around Savannah, Georgia at the time of Daisy’s demise.  Besides, I was pretty sure he would be a bit young to be involved.  When he again spoke to Mattie in a cautionary tone, she let him know where she stood, and explained to us.

“Vance has showed me great kindness since he came to Tybee.  He also became my friend and confidant,” Mattie said and patted the vicar on his knee.

There were a few age spots and an enlarged vein on the top of her hand.  It was clearly the hand of an old woman, but it did not look arthritic.  I was relieved for the painter in her.  It would be a shame for someone so talented to give up their art.

“Daisy wants me to tell what I know about her passing, else she would not have come to us.  There would have been no apparition,” Mattie said in a level voice.  “Vance, I know your only concern is for my safety, but I don’t want this shadow hanging over me anymore.”

She turned to the rest of us — Andy, Granny Fanny, and me.  “Don’t think poorly of Vicar Varley,” she said, though she didn’t sound worried.  “He’s only trying to protect me.  You see, after Daisy died, I continued to work for Henry Kingston senior.  However, when King Henry passed on, something odd happened.”

“Something odd, you say?  What sort of odd?” Granny asked, and I supposed she wondered Vintage Watermelon Seedswhat could be stranger than ghosts appearing.

Mattie’s expression and tone said she suspected more than she was about to reveal.  “After the funeral, I was surprised to see Byron Binghamton once again become very close to young Henry.  See, I had overheard King Henry tell his son that the Binghamton boys weren’t welcome in his home any more.  He told his son that he’d cut those ties if he knew what was good for him.

When the boy protested, Henry senior threatened to disinherit him.  So at least outwardly, young Henry quit having anything to do with the two Binghamton brothers, athough I was pretty sure they all hung out together when nobody was looking.  Why, they were so close you could spit a watermelon seed further than the space between them!  I always said those three were thick as thieves…” she said and seemed far away in thought for a moment.

Mattie’s eyes were on her hands folded calmly in her lap.  When she looked up, her tense frown suggested she wasn’t as calm as she appeared. She exhaled sharply, as if in frustration.

“Right after King Henry passed on, young Henry called me into his father’s library,” she said.  “When I entered the room I could still smell Henry senior’s cologne and a trace of tobacco from his pipe.  For a second it was as if he was still there.  It made me angry to see the boy sitting in the chair behind the big desk.  It was too soon, and it just wasn’t right,” Mattie said, clenching her hands.  “But I held my peace.  Then I saw those two Binghamton Antique daisy cup saucerbrothers lounging on the furniture…” she said.

“Or rather Byron was sprawled on the leather sofa.  Bradley was sitting with his legs crossed in a chair.  His posture was relaxed, but he looked tight as a drum.  His eyes had dark shadows under them, and his mouth looked like the frown he wore was etched permanently into his face,” Mattie remembered.  “Bradley acted so cold and detached that day, I couldn’t believe he went to the Church for his profession.  But then again, maybe it makes sense,” she said in a pondering tone.

Then she gave herself a little shake and went back to the core of her story.  “Anyhow, the group of them told me they were pensioning me off.  It wasn’t just Henry III, as one might have thought.  No, all three of them contributed.  And I had the impression that Bradley Binghamton was behind it — he looked so stern, and he took over the speech when young Henry started blustering and threatened me,” Mattie said.

“Threatened you?  How?” Granny asked her gently.

“There were all sorts of vague threats in that library,” Mattie answered shaking her head as if confused.  “I didn’t fully understand what they were talking about, but I did grasp the fact that they wanted me away from there and they wanted me quiet.  I just didn’t know what they seemed to think I knew about,” she said.

Vintage Daisy art“And Bradley — Bishop Bradley Binghamton, you think he was behind it?” Andy asked.

“What I meant to say,” Mattie corrected herself.  “I felt like Bradley was the one who wanted to pension me off, to pay me to keep quiet… even though I didn’t know what I was keeping quiet about…” she added looking confused.  “I believed young Henry and Byron had something a lot worse in mind for me,” Mattie said with a shiver.  “I actually think Bradley wouldn’t let them do something that bad, and made them basically pay me to go into hiding,” Mattie told us.

“They said I had to leave Savannah, and never show my face there again,” Mattie continued.  “Back then, Tybee Island seemed far enough away.  I’ve never been one to ‘think big’ as they say.  In those days there was no road here.  This barrier island was as far away from Savannah as I had ever been, so that was where I went.  And I went as fast as I could too, I can tell you.  Their threats were vague, but there was murder in their eyes,” she said and wrapped her arms around herself as if she was suddenly cold.

Andy looked at Vicar Vance Varley again.  “And what is your part in all this?” my friend asked suspiciously.  “You were pretty obvious about not wanting her to tell us anything.”

Vicar Varley shook his head as if in denial.  “Oh no, son.  You misunderstand,” the vicar began, but Mattie hurried to his rescue.

“I befriended the vicar when he first came to Tybee.  For years I had felt isolated, imprisoned here.  Vance didn’t have any family or friends anywhere in the Savannah area before he came here.  So I felt safe in making friends with him.  One day he wanted me to come to the mainland with him; he was being recognized for the work he’d done here on the island.  I got upset and refused to go.  Then I felt guilty, and I confided in him the things I’ve just told you,” she said.Daisy teapot

Well, applesauce!  Mattie Maddox told an interesting story, but it didn’t do a blessed thing but create even more questions.  It reminded me of the knitting I ruined for Granny once when I was a kid.  She made me unravel and untie every bit of it before I could go out to play.

As I saw it, the most tangled skein of yarn in this particular knitting basket was Henry Kingston, the young man who was actually a young punk.  It didn’t surprise me.  I thought back to the fancy shindig Granny catered at his mansion when I first came to Savannah.  It was all part of a sting operation put in place by Granny Fanny’s old friend Moses Myrick, a revenuer.  That’s right, a real life G-man.

Henry Kingston wasn’t found guilty of any crime related to that business, but his girlfriend Daisy cup saucer vintagesure was.  And Kingston knew all about it, even if his fancy lawyer got him off the hook.  Plus, Henry was a married man.  The fact that his wife knew about his affair didn’t make him any less of a heel in my eyes.

A strain of opera rolled from the kitchen.  I didn’t realize Maestro had such a voice.  Apparently he liked to sing while he cooked.  Granny had been so upset about having a ghost in her kitchen that he didn’t get to cook very often.  I knew he enjoyed cooking though, because often I heard him at night, puttering in Granny’s kitchen.  My stomach rumbled again, and I hoped that the aria heralded the arrival of dinner.

Regardless of the fact that Maestro Martino died centuries before, he had a wonderful Italian accent.  It was not diminished when he unexpectedly tried to take on a southern accent to announce that dinner was ready.  Andy and I looked at each other for a minute and then burst out laughing at his comical voice.

“Ya’ll come ‘n get it.  Dinner’s ready,” Maestro announced in a bizarre combination of Italian and southern accents.

“Why do you laugh Signorina o Signore?  I said it just as you taught me, Signore,” Maestro said sounding a bit crestfallen.

Daisies VictorianThe anticipation was clear on every face when we saw the meal the ghost chef had spread on the table.  He looked at our expressions and smiled, once again his bubbly self.  Bourbon baby back ribs, corn on the cob, sliced sweet potatoes drizzled with maple syrup, slaw, and cornbread awaited us.

Maestro pulled out a chair and seated Granny Fanny with more gallantry than I had ever seen, even from him.  Of course that prompted the vicar to seat Mattie.  With more grace and apparent practice than I would have expected, Andy did the same for me.  I was rather taken aback at the gentlemanly side of my old friend.  Maybe he was learning more than the movie business out in Hollywood.

We had barely begun to eat the delicious meal when a pop-fizz sound made me look up in concern.  I exchanged a look with Maestro, who seemed very apprehensive.  Just as I started to think nothing would happen, a mountain of white daisies cascaded down onto us, the table, and the food.  We were practically buried in blossoms.

No one spoke.  The vicar cast a fearful gaze around the room.  He clasped his hands in Michalemas daisy cardprayer, but I didn’t think he was saying grace.  Andy looked annoyed as he picked daisies from his ribs.  Then he shrugged and put a big bite into his mouth and complimented Maestro, in between the yum-yum sounds he mumbled.  Mattie laughed at Andy, and then threw a handful of daisies into the air with a girlish giggle.

I looked across the table at Maestro Martino.  He grinned jovially but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  His smile quickly faded and his expression became contemplative and serious.  I asked him what was on his mind.

“Daisy has become suddenly powerful,” Maestro said in a tone that suggested he was sorting his thoughts as he spoke.  “I think here, with the flowers, she meant to celebrate seeing her old friend again, and naturalmente she used the daisies to let us be certain it was her, no?  Her physical appearance at the stained glass window, it also indicates she has become powerful,” he said in a worried tone.

“But that’s good isn’t it?” I asked.  “Maybe now she’ll be able to help us find out what happened to her — and what or who is responsible for her death.”

vintage queen of the mayÈ possibile,” Maestro answered doubtfully.  “But power, especially new power does not fill in the knowledge she was missing.  You see?  Daisy has power that is new to her.  She doesn’t know how to use it well, as you can see,” he said motioning to the flower covered dinner table.  “What if she becomes frustrated or confused in her quest for the truth?  What if she, with her new power, becomes angry?” Maestro asked in a dire tone that gave me goose bumps.

Daisy had been affable and kind in my encounters with her.  But what if she got upset with the search for her killer.  Or what if she suspected the wrong person and acted on a false assumption.  After all, moments ago Andy thought the vicar might be involved.  What if Daisy became a powerful, vengeful spirit?

***

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Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

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Three Ingredients II – 14: Chickpeas, Curry, Coconut Milk

Vintage shampoo adPete & Repeat

Two chickpeas, Pete and Repeat were in a pod-boat. Pete fell overboard. What was left?

“Repeat!” you say?  Well, alright then… Pete and Repeat were in a boat—

Okay, I’m just being silly. I would have done something with “Lather, rinse and repeat” but I couldn’t come up with anything.  It took me this long to realize that I was repeating an “ingredient” from Episode-13.  But do you really mind?  What vegetable could be cuter than a chickpea?

The ingredients for this episode are from the remarkable SheketEchad at the “Sunflower Solace Farm” blog. I hope you’ll visit and learn a little about her.  I could relate to her “About” page, because the idea of a little piece of heaven homestead is akin to my own dream of a cottage in a tiny town, or an adobe in the desert.  I’m in a wistful mood, so fantasies of a dream home and ideal life come readily, if intangibly to mind.Pug Girl hat

Since I didn’t give you an episode last weekend, you might need a refresher. At the top of this page, click on “Cookbook-2 Three Ingredients (Serial Home)” — all the past episodes are stored there (omitting the introductions).

Our flapper has been upset. Granny Fanny wanted to send her home. Andy was so afraid of  Granny that he wouldn’t even look at Pip.  What would become of our 1920’s culinary mystery without Pip?  Here’s Episode-14.  Bon appétit!

14.  Chickpeas, Curry, Coconut Milk

With Vanished

Tybee Island LighthouseI sat dangling my bare feet over the ocean.  Daisy sat next to me, idly swinging her feet.  Saltwater sprayed our toes when a wave came to shore.  The salty mist was a little cold and I drew my feet back.  However, it didn’t bother Daisy.  She was dead.

Her head snapped toward the coast and her eyes looked like she had recognized something that I couldn’t see.

“You should go back,” she said with a wan smile that went no further than her lips.

“I don’t want to go back,” I told the ghost woman.  “I’m too upset about all the horrid things Granny said to me.  I haven’t done anything racy.  And I was trying to help you!  It’s wrong for her to take her spite out on me when I’m doing something good,” I said rebelliously.

“Her spite?” Daisy asked.  “Oh, you mean about that handsome detective who had such a crush on her?  It’s a shame that didn’t work out, but her heart is divided.”

“How did you know about all that?” I asked in surprise.

The dark-haired girl laughed.  “We ghosts talk.  Didn’t you realize?  Some of them are big ole gossips!” Daisy said impishly.  “Detective Dabney Daniels is not the only lawman in Phanny’s heart.”

“Why do I feel like you just pronounced her name slightly differently?” I pondered aloud.vintage queen of the may

“I think that’s part of your gift, Pip — the gift that lets you see spirits.  I doubt that it sounded any different, but you knew that it was spelled differently in my mind,” Daisy explained as I waited in confusion.  “Her name was originally spelled with a ‘Ph’ — it was Phanny, not Fanny.  Didn’t you know that she was a ‘Pip’ too?” Daisy asked.

“You know, it seems like my pops said something about her being another Pip,” I said.

Daisy continued.  “Not wanting to stand out or be different, when people spelled it with an ‘F’ she didn’t correct them,” the spirit told me.

“That does not sound like my grandmother at all,” I said shaking my head.

“She’s much stronger as a person now than when she was a young girl,” Daisy said agreeably.  “But Phanny never liked feeling different.  That’s why she unconsciously shut off her gift of seeing spirits. It made her unique when she desperately wanted to be like everyone else.”

Daisy patted my arm.  Her hand was very cold.  That time the smile reached her eyes.  “Really though, you need to go back.  It’s important that you witness something,” she said vaguely.  “You’ll see,” she commented in answer to the question that was on my face.

With a huge sigh I stood up on the big rock.  The sound of a large splash in the distance 1920s Mermaidencaused me to turn seaward.  I wondered if it was the merman.  Daisy urged me to go back.  I knew I was procrastinating.  I’d have to face Granny Fanny sooner or later.

I was so distraught when I ran away from Granny and the others at the church, when my shoes came off I hadn’t paid any attention.  I had no idea where they were, but I spotted first one and then the other along the beach.  Still dragging my heels about going back and facing everyone, I turned and looked at the big rocks.  Daisy was gone.

Picking up my wet, sand covered shoes I headed back the way I had come.  Or I tried.  I quickly found that the property around the church was a labyrinth of garden paths.  I wandered if frustration.  Finally I spotted the gravel that reminded me of chickpeas, and I knew I must be headed the right way.

“Pip!” someone called and I turned toward the voice.  “Not that way.  What you need is this way,” Daisy appeared and motioned for me to take a different path.

Actually, it was hardly a path at all.  Trail was a more fitting term, and that was generous.  When I started down the narrow trail Daisy vanished again.  Exasperated, I reached out and clutched at the air in the spot where she’d been.  Why couldn’t she ever just tell me something, plain and simple?  Why did there always have to be all that mystery?

After a few more steps I slowed my pace because I heard voices.  I stopped beside some Bonaventure Cemetery - Savannahdwarf palmetto and other palms.  A perfect red rose that reached through the palms hinted that more of the flowers grew beyond my hiding place.  I knew I must be back in the main part of the garden.

I tried to place the voices, but they were only slightly familiar.  Then I recognized the voices of Mattie Maddox and a man.  Ah, that would be the vicar, Vance Varley.  A third voice entered their conversation.  Granny Fanny.  Or should I call her Phanny, I thought in aggravation, but I let that go as unimportant.

The vicar sounded like he was consoling her, telling her not to worry.  “If she’s not back soon, we’ll send a few men out to look for her,” he said and I realized they were talking about me.

I’d be in even more hot water if I caused them to go to any trouble.  So I took a deep breath and got ready to make my presence known.  Then I heard Andy’s voice.  He sounded really agitated.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Andy began but my grandmother rode right over him, putting him in his place.  Andy cleared his throat and started over.  “Mrs. Peabody, it was firmly engrained in me to respect my elders, and not to talk back or interrupt.  And I’m sorry to do just that, but I need to have my say,” he said so firmly that my mouth dropped open.

Could that really be my old pal Andy Avis?  The mild little Astronaute-man who wrote science fiction stories, and jumped if anybody so much as said boo?  I shifted closer, trying Buster Keatonnot to make any noise.

“Pip deserves some consideration here,” Andy began, and after the way he let me down when Granny showed up ranting at me for going to the island without asking her first, I was shocked.  “She — we might have acted rashly, but we had to decide right then and there, if we were going to catch the last ferry.  And in all fairness, Pip did send word to you. She’s not a little child —”

“As long as Paisley is under my roof she’ll live by my rules, or go back to her father!” Granny exclaimed, and I thought that would be the end of it.

However, Andy surprised me by continuing.  “Please, Mrs. Peabody. I will have my say this once,” Andy said making me wonder at how he could be so polite yet so… so… insistent.

He wasn’t going to curry any favor with my grandmother, but my little Astronaute-man didn’t shut up at all.  I grinned ear to ear as I listened.  Who would have thought Andy could be that audacious?  Then my always hungry stomach rumbled when I thought of the other kind of curry.  Andy’s voice got my mind off my empty belly quickly though.

“Besides,” Andy was saying.  “Mrs. Maddox was our chaperone the entire time,” he added on a note of finality.  “I’m sure you don’t mean to cast aspersions on her morals and what she’d allow to go on in her home.”

Oh, I thought, nice one Astronaute-man.  Even Granny fanny couldn’t have manipulated an argument any better than that.  Maybe Andy wasn’t such a wuss after all.  Granted he wasn’t exactly heroic.  I’d always know he wasn’t the hero type; it took a little push for him to go into action during any of the things that happened to the group of us at Santa Rosa Sound and the Ca’d’Zan mansion.Ca d Zan-1

Even so, I never would have thought Andy would sink so low as to just hide behind something, while somebody attacked me verbally — even if it was my grandmother!  I still felt stung and abandoned that nobody stood up for me.  However, at that moment Andy was doing a lot to make amends for his behavior a little earlier that morning.  He stood up to my grandmother, and Granny Fanny in a tirade was enough to scare the pants off any man.

“It’s true,” Mattie confirmed.  “Why they really were the sweetest most well behaved young couple I’ve ever seen.  Why, nobody would have even thought there was anything between them,” she added sounding a bit mystified.

“That’s because we’re only friends,” Andy told her, sounded a tad exasperated.  “There wasn’t going to be any hanky panky in the first place.”

Granny Fanny mumbled something that I couldn’t make out from where I stood.  I movedVintage Pug painting closer and found a spot where I could peep between the palmettos.  My grandmother sat on a garden bench with a large handbag clutched on her lap.  Her fingers tightened on the leather, and she looked very stressed.  At first I thought there was a piece of luggage next to her feet, then I heard whining which told me that the case was a carrier for Wriggles, the little pug dog she was keeping for Arabella Wong.

I was surprised that Granny brought the dog with her, but I supposed she felt like Tybee Island wasn’t part of the mainland and maybe she wouldn’t get home in time to take care of him.  Wriggles barked and Granny started fishing in the huge handbag, eventually producing a leash.  In a moment the pug was sniffing the garden, Mrs. Maddox, and the vicar, and living up to his name with that tail wagging wiggle of his.

A sudden gust of frigid air made me shiver.  To my surprise I saw Daisy sitting on a bench across from Mattie Maddox.  Granny’s eyes widened in shock when the spirit woman suddenly appeared and she clutched the leather bag to her chest.  Andy saw the spirit too and took an involuntary step backward.  Wriggles went over and sniffed her shoes, and Daisy reached down to pet the pug, but she kept her sad, uncertain gaze on Mattie.  After a moment she smiled sweetly.

The spirit’s eyes wandered to the perfect red roses that grew behind the older woman.  Following her gaze I saw that white daisies grew in between the roses.  I realized that the setting was the same one I had seen in some of Mattie’s paintings.

Daisy’s words came back to me, “She said that I was as fine and good as any rose.  Kind Mattie — she knew I never thought as highly of myself as I should.”

“My dear, dear friend,” Daisy murmured looking at Mattie.  “How did you come to be an old woman?  Has it been so long?”

1920s Owl ClockAndy and Granny reacted to her words, but Mattie and Vicar Vance seemed oblivious to Daisy’s presence.  Granny fidgeted with the big purse in her lap.  I knew she wasn’t ready to accept the fact that she could see ghosts, but circumstances were forcing her to see them.  Then she opened the bag and took out that old wooden owl clock.  Maestro Martino bound himself to that clock when his cursed bottle was broken.  It was part of his curse — he had to be bound to an object, and could not be away from it for too awfully long.

But why would my grandmother bring the clock with her?  Yet she did, and moreover she held to it tightly, as if it was some sort of protection.  I was so intrigued by the scene playing out before me that I didn’t realize I was walking out into the open, making myself part of it.

Granny Fanny looked at me, and her eyes lit with happiness. However, the joy quickly flashed to pain, and then to anger.  I drew back, wishing I was still behind the dwarf palmettos.  No one spoke and it was uncomfortably quiet.  Daisy patted the bench beside her, and I gathered my courage and walked past my grandmother to sit beside my ghostly friend.

A pop-fizz sound broke the silence.  Maestro Martino appeared.  He was wearing his usual chef’s garb.  Wriggles started barking furiously at him.  Unlike Daisy, and I assumed most other spirits, Maestro Martino’s presence was so powerful that anyone could see him.  Of course, that was provided he actually wanted to be seen.

I was blocking their line of sight, plus the barking of the little dog distracted the vicar and Mrs. Maddox enough that they didn’t realize that Maestro had not walked into the garden inVintage Rose German Cologne the ordinary way.  He really had simply appeared out of thin air.  Maestro hurriedly took off the tall chef’s hat and hid it behind his back.  Remarkably, the pug quieted and sniffed his odd Renaissance era boots.

I had thought the dog was afraid of the ghost chef, but then I realized Wriggles was afraid of the hat, not the spirit.  Maestro was mischievous enough that he plopped the hat back onto his head for a moment and made a funny face.  The pug started barking again.  The poltergeist grinned and tucked the hat into his jacket.  Wriggles looked up at him, yapped once, and then wagged his curly tail.  His little black face looked like it was smiling.

Vicar Vance apologized and introduced himself and Mattie Maddox to the newcomer.  “I didn’t see you come up, sir.  Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

“This is…” Granny hesitated.  “This is Mr. Martino.  He was kind enough to escort me today on short notice,” she said somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh! It was you who radioed about the ferry being in trouble!” Vicar Varley cried.  “You have my heartfelt thanks, Mr. Martino.  I can’t tell you how helpful that was.  Some of those people might have succumbed to hypothermia if we had not been ready for them. But thanks to you we had everything in place when the boat limped to the dock.  I can tell you it was quite a scene on the beach last night.”

Maestro looked pleased but slightly embarrassed. He insisted that it was nothing, and started speaking Italian.  Since his English was perfect, if accented, I thought he must have done that to throw off the vicar — to keep him from asking unwanted questions.

Dormedary Coconut ad“Oh Signora, Che fortuna!” Maestro cried and pointed toward a palm tree that was different from the ones surrounding it.  “How fortunate, no?  It is a coconut palm.  Perhaps we could get the coconut milk for your special fruit cake recipe?”

“We don’t need to bother anyone with that right now, Maestr… I mean Mr. Martino,” she stammered.

I was amazed that Granny had helped the ghost come to the island.  She was still furious that Andy and I had unknowingly brought him into her kitchen in the first place.  Granny Fanny and the poltergeist argued more often than they spoke civilly.  Yet she backed up so that she stood closer to Martino than she did to the living people.

She didn’t get any closer to Daisy though.  Granny looked at the ghost woman suspiciously.  I supposed that Granny had grown accustomed to Maestro Martino.  And as he said himself, he was one powerful poltergeist!  Did she feel the need for protection?  But why?

My grandmother glanced at me, and I saw worry and sadness in her eyes.  Could she really have been so afraid for me that she took comfort in knowing someone powerful like Maestro was at her side?  Had an imagined need to rescue or protect me been stronger than her fear and distrust of the supernatural?  I suddenly felt like a heel for causing her to worry.

Meraviglioso,” he murmured and cast a meaningful look at Granny Fanny.  Maestro held the look for a bit longer than it seemed to me like he should have.  It wasn’t just a look.  It Vintage kitchen bouquet adwas an adoring gaze.  Then I knew he was up to something.  The exaggerated look of longing was an act, despite the fact that the spirit really was attracted to my grandmother.

The vicar and Mattie both noticed the way he was looking at Granny.  She blushed and looked away, clearing her throat.  Mattie gave an unexpected smile at Maestro’s behavior.  She leaned toward the vicar and whispered something about people in love being so sweet at any age.

I wasn’t sure if my grandmother heard what Mattie said, but she shot a glare at Maestro.  Then the flirty ghost bowed over Mattie Maddox’s hand in his courtly way.  He whispered something in Italian and the old gal actually giggled like a school girl.  I had to admit, the Maestro had a way about him.  He said something else to her in that accent of his.  It was English that time, but I didn’t catch what he said.  However, Mattie blushed and tittered.

When Mattie caught her breath, she looked at my grandmother.  “And you were worried about these two young people… but you set sail, so to speak, with this handsome rake!” Mattie chided playfully.  “Oh, now… I was only joking, dear.  No offense intended,” the older woman said when Granny’s glare transferred to her.

Maestro Martino laughed a bit too loudly.  He was still up to whatever it was.  “Sì, is it as you say, the pot calling the kettle black?” he exclaimed and then laughed again, but gave Granny 1920s two women gardenan adoring little tweak on the cheek.

Granny looked astonished, not just at Maestro, but at what Mattie said.  After a moment she shook her head ruefully.  “I guess you have a point, Mrs. Maddox,” she said, but I knew my grandmother too well to feel relieved that fast.

“Now please, you call me Mattie,” the other woman said warmly.

I wondered what Maestro had said to Mattie.  I couldn’t imagine what it was, but it seemed to have started things in the right direction.  Between Mattie and Maestro, maybe Granny Fanny would calm down enough that she’d give up the idea of sending me home to Florida.

Or maybe the antics of the little dog would distract her enough, I thought as I watched Wriggles wrap his leash around and around a bench leg.  When he ran out of lead, he started to whine and pull at the confining mess he’d made for himself.  However, no one was paying much attention to him.

Just as I noticed that Daisy had disappeared, I saw that a rose and a white daisy were at Mattie’s feet.  She wore a bemused expression as she leaned down to pick them up from the pavement.  The woman looked at Granny rather than me when she spoke.

“You know, when I was young I had a friend, a best friend… Pip reminds me of her.  She was so headstrong and intelligent, and so vital.  But she didn’t think as well of herself as she 1917 Vogueshould have,” Mattie said.  “I hope your granddaughter realizes how special and valuable she is,” she added looking at me from the corner of her eye and giving a little nod.

“I’d love to hear about her, your friend,” I cut into the conversation, causing Granny to raise an eyebrow at me.

“It was so long ago now, but I’ve never forgotten,” Mattie Maddox spoke in a soft voice as her memory stretched back over decades.  “Oh, she was a strong young woman, but just as sweet as she was strong.  I couldn’t imagine how anyone could fail to love her, but there were plenty of people who resented her.  King Henry though, that’s what they called Mr. Kingston senior, he worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Vicar Vance Varley at first gave Mattie a quizzical glance.  Then the look on his face shifted to worry and fear.  “Miss Mattie—”

“She?” Granny prompted, obviously curious despite the situation.

“Mr. Kingston’s second wife, Daisy,” Mattie said.  “I was her personal maid, but she always said I was her best friend.  She certainly was mine, but I always felt I didn’t do enough…” Mattie said but her words trailed away with her thoughts.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but at the end, I think she thought King Henry had left her,” Mattie went on.  “She was so badly off by then, I think time was passing differently for her.  Daisy didn’t understand everything that was happening then as she drifted in and out of 1920s faceconsciousness.  Her husband wasn’t at her side every minute.  To be honest, I thought he should have been there more, but he was beside her more than many men would have been,” she said in a reasoning tone.

“He arranged for an important doctor to come to Savannah and take a look at her.  King Henry left on the ferry to pick up the doctor at Union Station.  I think the hours must have felt like days to Daisy, and she thought he’d left her.  She passed before he even got to Savannah.

“Miss Mattie,” the vicar interrupted.  “What you’ve told me in confidence… It might not be wise to disclose to strangers,” he said sounding very agitated.

Mattie sighed and smiled a small smile.  It reminded me of Daisy’s sad smile, and I wondered if they shared that expression because they had been so close.  “Vance, I’m an old woman.  I’m not worried about that.  And I’m not going to look over my shoulder anymore,” Mattie said flatly and my curiosity rose at her affirming tone.Stained Glass 2

Though I was mesmerized by the odd exchange between Mattie and Vicar Vance, it registered with me that something in my surroundings had changed.  Something was missing.  It was quiet.

I glanced at the bench where I last saw Wriggles pulling at his leash.  The collar was there, but the dog was gone.  Granny followed my gaze.

“Oh great heavens!  Where is that doggone dog?” she exclaimed.  “I have to find him. I said I’d take care of him,” she said and hurried down what was probably a random garden path.

Everyone followed Granny.  I heard barking up ahead.  Even before I could see the building I saw the bright golden glow.  My feet squished uncomfortably inside my wet shoes as I hurried along the paved path.  The barking grew louder and then I rounded a curve where huge shell pink camellias grew extraordinarily tall.  The path opened onto the beautiful stained glass window, the one Daisy showed Andy and me back at the abandoned warehouse, the same one Mattie Maddox had in her paintings.

The golden and aqua light reflected in the glass was impossibly bright.  I knew it had some supernatural help.  It cast a golden glow over the red roses that grew before it.  I heard alphonse mucha 1Mattie gasp.  Vicar Varley clasped his hands prayerfully before his chest and murmured something about God.  Wriggles stood barking at the window.  With every bark his little body scooted backward a few inches.

Daisy, looking even more ethereally beautiful than I’d ever seen her walked toward us from the window.  She gave me that little smile that rarely reached her eyes.

“You are so close Pip.  I can feel it,” Daisy said.

Mattie Maddox crumpled to the ground.

***

Recipe:  Curry Mushroom Toast – Cooking Club 1908

Adapted from: Cooking Club Magazine, February 1908

1908 Cooking Club Curry Mushroom Toast

Recipe and Photo Credit:  Tori Avey at History Kitchen http://toriavey.com/history-kitchen/2014/02/curry-mushroom-toast-cooking-club-1908/

Please visit Tori’s great blog for step by step instructions and photos, as well as a terrific post.

Ingredients

1 baguette, cut into 12 slices

1 lb button mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

1 1/2 cups vegetable stock

3 tbsp olive oil, divided

1 1/2 tsp curry powder (or more to taste)

2 tsp flour

1/2 cup heavy cream

Salt and black pepper

Yields 6 servings

Directions

Preheat oven to 200 degrees F.

Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in the bottom of a nonstick skillet over medium high heat. Add the sliced bread and toast for 2-3 minutes, or until golden brown.

Transfer the toast to a baking sheet and place in the oven at 200 degrees F to keep warm.

Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the skillet and add about 1/2 of the sliced mushrooms. Cook until brown, about 8-10 minutes. Then add remaining mushrooms and continue cooking for an additional 5-7 minutes.

Sprinkle curry and flour over the mushrooms and stir to evenly coat.

Add vegetable stock to the pan and stir to combine. Cook until the liquid thickens and is reduced by half.

Reduce heat to medium and add cream. Cook until thickened. Stir in salt and black pepper to taste (I used about 1/2 tsp of salt and a pinch of black pepper– your amount may vary based on the saltiness of your stock). Remove from heat.

To serve, place 2 slices of toast on a plate and spoon the curry mushroom sauce over the top. Sprinkle with chopped fresh parsley if desired.

 ***

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Three Ingredients II – 13: Chickpeas, Winkles, Rice Pudding

2 Flappers Pug Motorcycle SidecarOne of the ingredients for Episode-11, red currants, caused me to add a merman to our serial.  Later I had the thought that Andrea Stephenson might like that character. You see, she has written about mythical water beings like selkies.

So I am very pleased to tell you that the ingredients for this episode are from the marvelous magical mind of Andrea Stephenson at Harvesting Hecate: Thoughts on life, writing, creativity and magic.  Andrea’s blog is captivating. Charming and well written, it covers a wide range of things in a very organized, easy to navigate way. I always enjoy my visits there.

Last time we all wondered about the mysterious relationship between Daisy and Mattie Maddox. Will anything be revealed?  What turn will the “spooky ingredient” cause the story to take? Most importantly, we left Pip with Granny Fanny very angry, and exclaiming that she was sending our flapper back to live with her father!  Granny is a formidable woman and Pip has been through an awful ordeal.  What will Pip do?  Find out now.  Bon appétit!

 

13.  Chickpeas, Winkles, Rice Pudding

With Unnatural Cold

In the past twenty-four hours I had fallen overboard from a ferry, nearly drowned, been kissed by a merman, rescued by a ghost-rider (on a giant seahorse no less), and reduced to wearing a borrowed old-lady dress.  Add Granny Fanny’s eloquent outrage — and mind you Granny ranting on her soapbox could strike terror in the heart of a revival preacher…  I refuse to accept the label of emotional young girl, but hoserfeathers!  It was more than even a flapper could take.

1920s Buster Keaton sad

Buster Keaton, 1920’s

Andy Avis, my old friend gave me a sheepish glance and prudently retreated behind Vicar Vance Varley.  Good ole Andy wasn’t going to be any help.  Not that I could blame him.  Granny Fanny in a tirade was enough to frighten any man.  However, I couldn’t help feeling a little betrayed when my friend looked away without saying a word in my defense.

The thought flashed into my distraught mind and I wondered if that was why our friend Mona “the movie star” was never interested in Andy, despite the torch he carried for her.  I remembered the time, back at the building where I lived with all my friends.  Boris’ apartment was burglarized.  The Russian had a painful limp from a bad injury that ended his ballet career, but he charged after the burglar nonetheless.  When Andy and Mona arrived a moment later, Andy went after Boris and the thief.  But he hesitated noticeably, even though Boris had a head start and would catch up with the man first.  Andy wanted to impress Mona, so he gave chase, even though he was afraid.

At the time I had thought the fact that Andy rose above that fear made his action truly courageous.  However, as I stood outside the church on Tybee Island, with my grandmother ranting at me, I wondered if I had been right.  Mona never said an unkind word about Andy, but did she see something in him I had missed?  Something that told her Andy was a wuss?

man_ray_tearsAnybody would have thought Andy Avis didn’t even know me.  Unconsciously I stretched my hand toward him, but he studiously did not look at me.  I burst into tears, turned on my heel and ran.

I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going.  The sound of the double doors closing behind me and cool air against my face told the functioning part of my brain that I had gone inside the church.  But I didn’t stop there.  I ran straight through the sanctuary and out the back door.

My shoes were still wet from my dunk in the Atlantic, and my feet slid around inside them as I ran tearfully through a carefully laid out garden.  My kitten-heels clicked on the brick pavers.  Shrubs, flowers and statues outlined the curving path.  Mulch surrounded colorful impatiens that circled the base of an ancient oak tree.  Tiny beige gravel that looked like Pink Pampas Grasschickpeas bordered a row of sculpted planters.  I pushed my way through ornamental grasses, some of which were taller than me.  Pink pampas and fountaingrass whispered drily at my passage as if accusing me.

Accusing me of what?  I hadn’t done anything, yet even the grass criticized me.

Then I was alone on a stretch of beach.  One of my shoes caught in the sand.  I stumbled when it came off my foot.  Not stopping, I kicked off the other shoe and continued my flight barefooted.  I saw a sand dune ahead, crowned by swaying cattails.  There was no clear way around it, so I just kept going.  I skirted the cattails and mostly slid down the other side of the dune.  The sound of waves lapping against the shore met my ears.  The ocean was about a hundred yards away.

I slowed to a staggering walk as I approached the sore.  Several large boulders dotted a haphazard path out into the Atlantic, and my feet moved toward them.  Sunlight shimmered in a small tide pool.  Little shells that were broadly ovate and sharply pointed were abundant in the pool.  Some of them crawled.  Winkles.  The sea snails moved as they fed on algae and barnacle larvae.

In the distance I heard a slap, like a large fish hitting the water.  I glanced out to sea and wondered if it might even be a dolphin.  However, it was too near the shore for a dolphin, unless the ocean floor dropped off sharply near those big rocks.  Some parts of the shore did that.  It could be dangerous for beachgoers.

A sunbeam glinted off one of the shells, and I stood and looked at the winkles.  My racing 1920s La Vie Parisienne Mermaid by hérouardthoughts gradually slowed as I watched the measured movements of the sea snails.  There was something almost hypnotic about it.  The salt breeze brought a snatch of song to my ears.  Or was it an instrument, rather than a voice?  The slow cadence matched the movements of the winkles and it soothed my troubled mind.

The music became more insistent.  The melody pulled me closer to the shore.  I wandered aimlessly, letting my feet choose the way.  I climbed onto the rocky path made by the boulders.  Perhaps mankind had lent a hand, because they were arranged in a way that made it easy to skip along from one to the next as they stretched out into the ocean.  The sun soaked rocks were comfortingly warm against my bare feet, and I skipped to the furthest one.

I sat down and dangled my feet from the rock.  The ocean didn’t reach that high except when a wave came in, but now and then the sea spray misted my toes.  I heard another big splash, followed by the sound of something large surging up from the water.

Abruptly the bright green eyes of the merman were locked with mine.  His long pale green hair tickled my shoulder as he leaned in and kissed me.

Now I want you to know that while I wasn’t a prude, neither was I in the habit necking with strangers.  No matter how exotically beautiful they might be… and the merman truly was stunning, both graceful and virile, and handsome as Valentino.  At the time I didn’t realize that he had an innate hypnotic ability.  He could lull the mind without 1925 Review Ad; butterfly kisshaving any intention of doing so.

So I kissed him back.  Come on… what else would a flapper do?  And I kissed him again.  His arm dropped from my shoulders to my hips as he wordlessly urged me to go back to the ocean with him.  I wondered foggily how I could understand him so well when he didn’t speak a word.

A large wave crashed against the rock, splashing both of us.  He smiled and I relaxed against him.  His arm around my hips held me tighter.  Then an unnatural cold touched the back of my neck and I shivered.  He mistook it for pleasure and his bright green eyes started to glow in response.  I didn’t pay any attention to a tiny pop-fizz noise that blended into the sound of the waves caressing the boulder.

“I remember this place. A few times I came out here to think,” Daisy said.

1920s face

The ghost woman appeared on the other side of me, and I pulled away from the merman’s kiss, turning to her in surprise.

“But I became too weak to hop across the rocks,” she added as if she described a distant memory.

The merman’s eyes widened when he saw the spirit.  He snarled then hissed.  There wasn’t so much as a splash as he dove into the ocean, cleanly cutting the water like a knife.  A broad green tailfin broached the surface and gave the water an angry slap.  Daisy looked at it with a derisive expression.

“Merfolk don’t cotton much to ghosts,” she said, her southern accent took on more of a rural 1920s Seaside Postcard Flapperedge than usual.

After I thought about it, I realized that Daisy had more of an accent when she spoke of times before her marriage.  I supposed that being around different people, hearing different ways of speaking caused her country manner to fade.

“After that… that place,” she said, sounding more her sophisticated self.  “I was hurt, bleeding.  Somebody brought me here.  I think it was Henry.  Yes,” she exclaimed as part of the memory became clear to her.  “My husband brought me here after that horrible hospital.  But I didn’t get better, and he went back to Savannah.  He came often, but I kept getting weaker.  I wasn’t able to be vivacious enough to make him stay,” she spoke softly and I could hear the self-blame in her tone.

What hospital, I wondered.  I thought whatever the horrid thing was that Daisy couldn’t remember had happened at the abandoned warehouse.  Then I remembered Andy’s title research on the building showed that it had been used as some sort of hospital at one time, during a war.  It was possible that it had some medical purpose again later.

A newer puzzle came to me.  “Daisy,” I began but wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.  “The old woman on the beach?  Mattie Maddox?  You stood behind her on the beach last night and you seemed very unhappy.  Did you know her?”

1916 Norma and Constance Talmadge

1916 Norma and Constance Talmadge, film stars

Daisy looked at me uncomprehendingly for a second.  Finally she seemed to remember the moment. “Oh yes, that woman. She seemed familiar to me.  Mattie, you say?  Mattie was the name of my personal maid!  Could that old woman have been my Mattie?  I believe you’re right Pip!”

“You seemed sad, maybe even angry when you looked at her,” I said rather cautiously.  “You had such a frown when you watched her.  Did Mattie do something to you?  Was she part of the horrible thing that happened?”

“Yes,” Daisy said then stopped.  “No.  No, she wasn’t part of it, I don’t think,” the spirit stammered.  “No, Mattie took care of me afterward.  I remember now.  Mattie stayed.  She refused to leave my side, even when Henry had to go back to town.  Why, her fiancé broke off their betrothal because she wouldn’t go back to Savannah.  I was so hurt for her sake.  I was upset with her too.  I felt she was ruining her life, to take care of me,” Daisy said sadly.

“I felt like Mattie was my only friend then.  I was too weak to go out and do much.  I remember that I lost a lot of blood, and there was infection…  But Mattie was always there.  She’d take me in a wheelchair outside into the pretty garden.  There were beautiful roses.  One day she upset everybody by planting daisies amid those prize roses.  She said that I was as fine and good as any rose.  Kind Mattie — she knew I never thought as highly of myself as I should.  And she’d even get the kitchen staff to make my favorite rice pudding.  She made sure I had it whenever I wanted.  But I suppose I reached a point where I wouldn’t eat much of anything,” Daisy told me.

I felt like I had pieces of a puzzle spread out around me.  It seemed like the parts of it should fit together, but they just weren’t quite right, they wouldn’t lock into place.  I tried to sort through all the things we had learned about Daisy and the warehouse.1916 Hart Schaffner ad

My jumbled thoughts centered on that big old photograph back at the Kingston mansion — the one of all the young men.  Daisy had made it clear that it held important information, even if she couldn’t say what it was.  Andy and I figured out that two of the boys were the Binghamton brothers.  One of whom owned the Bijou theatre, and the other became a high ranking bishop.  But who were the others?  The photo was of a large group and as far as I could remember it was mostly boys of about the same age.  There might have been a couple of older men.  If only I could remember all the faces.  Suddenly inspiration struck.

“Daisy, I know you can’t remember what happened to you.  And it’s okay that you don’t understand why the photograph you showed me is important,” I said.  “But can you remember the photo itself?  It was obviously a special occasion.  Can you tell me who was in it?” I asked imploringly.

Her eyes took on an unfocused look as she dredged up the memory.  Daisy jumped as if startled.  I asked what was wrong and she gave a rueful chuckle.

Vintage Tuxedo ad“I just remembered the big flash when the photograph was taken,” she answered.  “Yes, Pip.  I remember the picture now.  All those boys.  Of course Henry’s son was in it the photograph, and the Binghamton brothers.  Those three were thick as thieves.  Bradley was a nice enough boy. But that Byron — I just didn’t feel right about that boy.  He was so self-centered.  I was afraid he’d be a bad influence on young Henry.  I hate to say it, but my stepson had a tendency to be greedy,” Daisy remembered.

“Anyhow, it was a sort of mentoring group for future businessmen.  Henry and his friend Alastair coached all those boys along with their regular schooling, grooming them to be Savannah’s future, as Henry liked to say.  My Henry had the photograph taken after all the boys graduated from school.”

“His friend Alastair?” I asked as something tickled at the back of my mind.

It wasn’t a name I heard often.  The only Alastair I knew was my friend whose family owned Wong’s Chinese.  Granny was dog sitting their little pug while most of the family was on vacation in California.  Then I remembered Granny Fanny saying the words “Alastair the elder.”

My thoughts returned to Granny’s cottage and a time not too long ago (Cookbook-1, Episode-2) when she talked about her tea set.  Granny had given me a downright wicked, Grannys teacupmischievous smile and even wriggled her eyebrows.  Then her expression turned fond and she chuckled as she told me how she came to have the set.

“They were a gift — when I was a very young woman.  They were actually from Mrs. Wong’s grandfather,” Granny Fanny had told me.  “He was a widower.  Yes, he was interested in me.  Oh Pip, are you surprised that a man besides Grandpa was interested in your Granny?” she’d said with a smile.  “If ever I was going to be attracted to an older man, it would have been Alastair Wong the elder.  He was a fine man.”

I tried to remember seeing an Asian man in the old picture.  But the faces were all so small that nothing stirred in my memory.  However, I did remember an odd shape about one man.  I had thought maybe it was a flaw in the photo.  Yet as I concentrated I realized it was a thing, not a defect.

“So Alastair’s great-grandfather was in the picture,” I voiced the thought.  “Which one was he, Daisy?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the ghost said with a smile.  “He’s the one with the parrot on his shoulder.”

chatelaine_1928 Feb

***

Recipe:  Creamy Rice Pudding with Brandied Cherry Sauce

Rice pudding

Recipe and Photo Credit:  Betty Crocker.com

Prep time:  15 mins

Total time:  4 hours, 20 mins

Servings:  8

Ingredients

Rice Pudding

4 cups milk

¾ cup uncooked regular long-grain rice

1/3 cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

2 eggs, beaten

1 cup whipping (heavy) cream

1 teaspoon vanilla

 

Brandied Cherry Sauce

½ cup sugar

1 tablespoon cornstarch

¼ cup orange juice

1 ½ cups frozen unsweetened tart red cherries (from 1-lb bag)

2 tablespoons brandy or orange juice

Directions

  1. In a 2-quart saucepan, heat milk, rice, 1/3 cup sugar and the salt to boiling over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer uncovered 40 to 45 minutes, stirring frequently, until rice is tender and mixture is thickened.

  2.  Stir a small amount of the hot rice mixture into eggs, then stir eggs back into mixture in saucepan. Continue cooking over medium heat about 3 minutes, stirring constantly, until heated through. Cool for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally.

  3. In chilled large serving bowl, beat whipping cream and vanilla with electric mixer on high speed until thickened. Fold in cooled rice mixture. Cover and refrigerate at least 3 hours until well chilled.

  4. In a 1-quart saucepan, mix 1/2 cup sugar and the cornstarch. Stir in orange juice and frozen cherries. Heat over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until mixture boils and thickens slightly.  Stir in brandy. Serve sauce warm or chilled with pudding.

 ***

 Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Three Ingredients II – 11: Red Currants, Baked Beans, Polish Sausage

Young Lucille Ball

Young Lucille Ball

Am I in an odd “place” or is it just the weather? The moon? Solar flares maybe? Could it be this week’s ghostly ingredient from the Jar of Spooky Things?

I can’t define it — this odd mood, so I may as well just roll with it.  However, be warned that it might make this episode of Cookbook-2 a little peculiar too!

Not everything writers do is influenced by the nature and contents of our mood, mind or memories. Some characters have nothing at all to do with our personalities or pain. And some do. However, I think most of what we write is influenced by our experiences. It would take a talented writer indeed to fully remove self from the words.

So for most of us, a piece of the heart, the soul goes into what we write. The same Episode 11is true for great cooks — a little of their spirit and a lot of their love is stirred into everything they prepare.  Take a tour of A Pug in the Kitchen, and you’ll see an example of how true that is.  Suzanne supplied the ingredients for this episode.  Her blog is packed with great food and clear instructions. But what makes it a truly special place are the touches of real life, the bits of her that you’ll find in each recipe and post.

And now, a brief reminder of where we left things last time…

Bon appétit!

***

Saltwater and rain drenched everyone.  Passengers screamed.  The captain shouted for calm.  Huge waves poured into the small craft.  Thunder roared.  Lightning blasted the darkness, eerily illuminating the terrified faces around me.

A double pronged bolt of lightning fractured the sky right above us.  The boat launched into the air again.  That time I lost my grip.  I felt myself lifted off my seat and into the air.

***

11.  Red Currants, Baked Beans, Polish Sausage

With Supernatural

Esther Williams

Esther Williams

It was a big soft cushion of black velvet.  I settled against it as I floated down.  Down.

The world was so quiet and peaceful.  I relaxed and drifted further into dark serenity.  A gentle downward motion cradled me.  Peace.  It was a wonderful calm feeling.  I never wanted to let go of it.

Then icy cold stabbed through me, jolting my arms, my legs with abrupt freezing pain.  Shocked, my eyes bulged open, but I couldn’t see.  The world around me was black and empty.  Suddenly I realized that I couldn’t breathe.

I finally understood that I was under water.  My arms and legs floundered as my mind told them to move, to swim.  However, in the shock of the cold depths, my body didn’t listen to what my brain said.  My muscles seemed confused, trying but not succeeding to comply with mental demands.

Something scaly brushed past my legs.  I twisted in the Atlantic, still descending.  Then I felt a soft caress, like a hand on my shin, gently pulling me even farther down.  I swung out my leg instinctively.  A bubbling chuckle answered my kick.

1920s La Vie Parisienne Mermaid by hérouardIn the darkness I saw a glimmer reflect from opalescent scales and a broad fishtail.  Bright green eyes were unexpectedly locked with mine.  I saw a beautiful face that could have been either male or female, surrounded by a nimbus of long floating green hair.  The face loomed closer and I was kissed passionately.

At first I struggled in fear.  Then I realized that my lungs were filling with air.  He backed away, and I saw his bare chest, marked with what appeared to be strange tattoos.  I stretched out my hand beseechingly.  I tried to plead for help, but only succeeded in taking in more of the ocean.  With another watery chuckle he glided closer, eyes softly glowing in the night.  He licked his lips and the light in his eyes intensified.  His expression scared me more than the prospect of drowning.

Abruptly he broke eye contact and looked around suspiciously.  Something about the way his green hair floated made me think he was using it in a sensory way.  His fierce expression turned fearful.  With a powerful thrust of the broad fin of his tail he plunged deeper into the Atlantic and disappeared.

Applesauce!  A mermaid.  No, a merman, I corrected myself as I struggled in vain to reach the surface.  I had always thought mer… people were supposed to be playful rescuers.  But that guy really scared me. Then I remembered something from school, about long ago sailors telling tales of men being dragged to their deaths by mermaids.  I 1903 Seahorse cigarette carddidn’t know what to think.  It had to be a hallucination anyway.  After all, I was drowning, and with that I realized the breath of air he gave me was already exhausted.

Despite the frigid ocean, my lungs burned, ready to explode.  I saw a narrow stream of small blood red bubbles, and I thought perhaps my lungs really had burst.  Although I knew that had not happened.  Yet.

I looked at the tiny bubbles in fascination as they floated toward me in single file.  They reminded me of ripe red currants.  The line of translucent red currant bubbles became a loop and it circled around me.  I heard a pop-fizz sound and the red bubbles drew snuggly around me, no longer a loop but a lariat.

A current surged against me, pushing me halfway around.  Charging toward me was a giant seahorse.  As it drew close, the seahorse reared back, snorting supernatural fire the ocean could not quench.  The glowing white form of a Stetson hat shone from behind the creature’s head.  Caleb Colman leaned forward, took off his hat, and gave me a dazzling grin.

“Hey little filly,” he said.  “It looks like you’re in a mite of trouble,” the erstwhile ghost-rider said as he gave the supernatural lasso a gentle tug.

Caleb put an arm around me and placed me in front of him where he sat astride the enormous seahorse.  He whipped the lasso, cracking it heavenward.  The seahorse snorted fire and bolted upward.

Boy and SeahorseIt was still pitch black, but I sensed we neared the surface of the Atlantic.  Caleb leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I know that I owe my chance at redemption to Maestro Martino, and I hope you’ll thank him for me.  But if it hadn’t been for you Miss Pip, it never would have happened.  I’m just trying to say that I’m grateful to you.  And I’m grateful to be able to help you in return,” Caleb said.

Unexpectedly when I broke the surface of the water, I sailed up several feet into the air, like a dolphin.  But what goes up must come down, and I hit the water again with a cold splash.  I heard Andy scream my name and immediately after, a life preserver plopped into the ocean next to me.

***

Sputtering, wheezing, coughing, and finally a belch of smoke preceded the reanimation of the ferry’s engine.  The captain’s soot streaked face broke into a smile.  Some of the passengers cheered, but half of them were too wet, cold, and shocked to express emotions.  The small craft limped to the dock at Tybee Island.1920s Fish Costumes

To my surprise a line of torches lit the shore.  A dozen people moved forward, eagerly greeting the passengers of the unlucky boat.  They had made fire pits, and had blankets ready, which was a great comfort to everyone.  The aroma of food came to my nose and I was suddenly hungry.  A woman came toward Andy and me with a bowl in each hand.

“It’s only baked beans,” she apologized.  “That’s all we could do on short notice.  I was already cooking them for the picnic tomorrow, but this is a more important use for them.  C’mon they’re warm and hearty.  Have some; it’ll do you good,” she said as she handed us the bowls which we gratefully accepted.

She called over her shoulder to someone.  “Vance Varley, will you please hurry up and give these kids some blankets?” she said, though I couldn’t tell to whom she spoke.

The woman was right.  Having some warm food in my belly did make me feel better.  At that moment, filet mignon couldn’t have been any better than those baked beans.

Heinz baked beans adA man put a blanket around my shoulders.  A bit of white at his collar shone in the firelight.  He turned and put another blanket around Andy.  The man quickly moved to someone behind us.  I heard the voice of Mattie Maddox talking enthusiastically to him as he tucked a blanket around her.  I was glad to see that the older woman had taken one of the few camp chairs.  He told her not to worry, that they would make sure everyone got home safely.

“Vicar Varley, how could you possibly have known, especially in time to get all this together?” she asked him.

“I tell you Mattie, it was the oddest thing,” the clergyman began.  “I was in the kitchen Vintage Mermaid Seahorsewhen I heard the radio start making all kinds of noise.  The dial was spinning crazily, not even on any normal channel.  The static and screeching were so fierce that I covered my ears.  Then I heard a foreign man.  He said the ferry was in trouble and that we had to be ready to care for the passengers when it got to shore.”

“A foreigner, you say?” Mattie Maddox said in a curious tone.

“I-talian, I think he was,” the cleric said.  “I believe he said his name was Mister Martino, but I’m not familiar with any Martinos in Savannah.”

Andy and I looked at each other, our jaws hanging open.  I moved my mouth to ask how, but the word didn’t come out.  Andy got that look on his face that he gets when he’s thinking up something for one of his stories.

“They say that spirits can control electrical things, like the telephones and radios,” Andy said in an amazed voice.  “Maestro must have pulled some kind of poltergeist switchboard shenanigan.  But I don’t understand how he could have known.”

Memory came clearly despite my frazzled and soggy state.  “Maestro knew I was upset when the ghost-riders accidentally took you,” I told Andy.  “He said the presence of the riders and the Devil’s Herd are such a strong phenomenon that he felt them, and somehow that let him tune into me as well,” I said but Andy didn’t seem to understand, so I tried to explain.  “Just before I went overboard, I saw the Devil’s Herd in the sky.  I 1920s Mermaidsalso saw a horizontal bolt of red lightning that seemed to point straight at the island,” I added and looked inland.

Andy followed my gaze.  The church steeple was alight.  A smaller, partially obscured building stood next to the church.  The lights were also on there.  I supposed it was the rectory.  I took a few steps in that direction so that I could see past a clump of needle palm trees.  The unobstructed view showed me an arched stained glass window that glowed golden and aqua in the night.

I shivered, and it wasn’t because I was soaked to the skin.  I was looking at the exact window that Daisy had made appear in the abandoned warehouse.

Mattie Maddox looked my way when I moved.  I gave her an encouraging smile.  She turned back to Vicar Vance Varley.  “That nice young couple over there,” she said in a quieter voice, but I was easily within earshot.  “They were planning to ask for beds in the hostel.  But are you going to have room? I expect some of these other passengers are going to need a place to stay the night.  It’s awfully late for anybody to be trying to get home,” Mattie said in a concerned voice.

Vicar Varley patted Mattie’s shoulder.  “Don’t you worry your sweet head about it Miss 1920s MermaidenMattie.  The hostel was already full, but we’ll manage in a time of need,” he said in a confident voice, but his face looked uncertain.

“No,” Mattie said flatly.  “I already offered to let them stay with me, but I could tell they just didn’t want to put me to any trouble when they said they’d go to the church hostel.  Vance,” she added with authority and switched from calling him Vicar to using his first name.

“You’ll have to insist to them for me.  It won’t be any trouble at all.  I even have a nice supper with Polish sausage already cooked and waiting in the icebox.  And it’s too much for just me.  Polish sausage, cabbage, pierogies — why that’s too good to let it go to waste.  Those two can stay the night at my house, and that’s that,” she said.

I had not expected Mattie Maddox to be such a forceful woman.  It seemed like she had known Vicar Varley for a long time, based on the way they acted with each other.  I had to laugh.  I’d hate to be on the wrong side of an argument with her.  Mattie had the heart of a flapper for sure.

The stained glass window in the rectory pulled my gaze back toward the churchyard.  That was definitely the window in Mattie’s painting.  I was certain that it was also the one Daisy, the ghost woman showed us as a clue to the mystery of who killed her. 1924 Peterpan Mermaids

I bit my lip in frustration, wishing poor Daisy hadn’t been too devastated to remember much of anything.  However, I shuddered to think what might be so horrible that even in death the memory was unbearable.  But then again, I guessed that anyone who was murdered would be traumatized.  Holy Hannah, what an awful thing!

I could imagine someone sweet and gentle like Daisy befriending Mattie Maddox.  Daisy was from a very poor family, and she wouldn’t have thought twice about her status being harmed by that kind of friendship.  Not Daisy.  If Mattie had been her friend before Henry Kingston fell in love and married her, then Daisy wouldn’t have ended the friendship just because Mattie was a maid rather than a socialite.Argosy Weekly Story Magazine The Sea Girl Ray Cummings

Another idea came to me before that thought even finished running through my waterlogged noodle.  A wealthy man like Kingston would have had a lot of servants, just like his son had a whole staff to take care of that swanky mansion.  Maybe I had it backwards. What if Mattie had worked for the Kingstons and then became friendly with Daisy?

No… I told myself that whole line of thought was crazy.  Savannah had plenty of rich bluenose aristocrat types who could afford maids.  Mattie knowing Daisy the Dainty Dish was too much of a longshot.

As I looked at Mattie, a pinkish aura appeared around the older woman.  I blinked.  Was I going to start seeing auras as well as ghosts?  I wondered what “pink” meant.

A moment later Daisy appeared behind Mattie.  The spirit frowned as she looked down at the woman.  I didn’t think her expression was one of anger.  Rather Daisy looked pensive or perhaps confused.  After a moment Daisy’s form disappeared.  Mattie turned around, as if she felt someone behind her.  The older woman looked at me and gave a cheery little wave.

The sound of the ocean drew me.  I pulled the rough blanket closer around myself and strolled out onto the beach.  Twinkling stars reflected in the water as it lapped against the shore.  The breeze hummed a hypnotic tune in my ears.  I saw two specks of sparkling green out on the gentle waves.

The emerald sparks started to move closer, and I realized they didn’t come from reflected starlight of any kind.  They were eyes.  A broad shimmering green tailfin surfaced and slapped the water with a loud splash before heading back to sea.VIntage Mermaid and baby

***

Recipe:  Baked Beans with Salt Pork

Recipe Credit: Mrs. Wilson’s Cook Book (1920).

Ingredients

1 pound of beans

1 can of tomatoes

1 cup of chopped onions

1/2 cup of syrup

1 pound of salt pork cut in pieces

2 tablespoons of salt

1 tablespoon of paprika

Instructions

Soak the beans over night or early in the morning. At noon place in a kettle and cover with water. Bring to a boil and drain off the water. Cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook for fifteen minutes. Drain.

Now add tomatoes, onions, syrup, pork, salt, and paprika. Add sufficient water to cover beans one inch deep. Mix well and then cover the pot closely and bake in a slow oven for four hours.

 ***

Tune in next weekend for a new episode with “ingredients” from Willy Nilly To and Fro ~ The Philosophy of Inanity.

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless otherwise stated.

Three Ingredients II – 10: Strawberries, Avocados, Lobster

buster n lucyThanks for coming back to another episode of our interactive culinary mystery serial.  The “ingredients” all of you send help make sure the story includes a multiplicity of ideas.  However, the cupboards are bare again.  Everyone is welcome to leave three food-related things in the comments. That’s what drives this pantser story — your varied ingredients.

Variety is something I’ve always enjoyed.  When I find a restaurant I like, I want to try something different from their menu each time I visit.  This week’s ingredients are from a woman who adds all sorts of variability to her life — Sally Georgina Cronin, at Smorgasbord – Variety is the Spice of Life.  Her books and her blog cover a remarkable and useful assortment of things. Here is just one of Sally’s many books.  I hope you’ll check out Sally’s fiction and nonfiction books, and her amazing blog too.

Forget-Viagra-Pass-Me-Carrot

Keep an eye out for some links for fun, information, and recipes throughout today’s story. Without further ado, here is the episode of Three Ingredients Cookbook-2 that Sally’s ingredients inspired.

Bon appétit!

10.  Strawberries, Avocados, Lobster

With Warning

1921 Dodge RaodsterThe tan spoke wheels of the black Dodge Roadster spun merrily when I saw their reflection in a shop window.  It was a sunny day and we put down the tan ragtop.  Andy and I drove around Savannah and the general area the whole morning.  We looked at every church we could find, hoping for one with a window that matched the glowing image Daisy the Dainty Dish caused to appear to us in the abandoned warehouse.

It was well past noon when we drove toward a roadside fruit stand.  “I’m starved.  Why don’t we stop and get something here.  Maybe something to make a cobbler for supper too,” I added as the inspiration struck.

Andy slowed the Dodge and we pulled off the road.  “Strawberries!” I exclaimed.  “They’re beautiful too,” I said as I opened the door without waiting for Andy to come around and open it for me.

He shot me a look for my impatience, and I suppose for my lack of ladylike behavior. But I was a flapper, after all.  I could throw convention to the winds.  Besides, Andy was my Strawberry girldear old friend, not my beau.  When he caught up with me I was still going on about how good the strawberries looked.  I asked if he didn’t agree.

“Oh Pip,” he began and gave me a lopsided grin. “They’ll be the berries!”

I rolled my eyes at Andy’s pun.  The aroma was heavenly and I inhaled deeply as I selected several small baskets of the luscious red berries.  Andy insisted on paying as he said he planned on eating the majority of the cobbler.

Our chatter about being hungry turned into a conversation with the stall keeper about what there was to eat nearby.  The man told us there was a pier about a mile up the road and recommended one of the vendors for a bite to eat.

While the guy talked, Andy picked up a black pebbly skinned pear-shaped thing and tossed it happily.  The stall keeper took on a professorial tone.  “Had them alligator pears brought up special from Florida,” he told Andy.

“We’re both from Florida,” Andy told the man.  “I remember my grandpa calling avocados alligator pears,” he said fondly.  Then he turned to me.  “At least that was one familiar thing in California.  This kind of avocado got real popular there fairly recently.”

“I see you know your onions — and your avocados,” the man said and chuckled at his own joke.

I wouldn’t have expected the guy to know his slang.  My expression must have said as much and he smiled.  The grin took ten years off his face.  Maybe he wasn’t such a codger after all.

We both picked out a few more things and then we were ready to settle up the bill.  The stall keeper looked at the strawberries and then looked at us carefully.  “You know,” he began but hesitated for a second before continuing.  “For special customers…  I could be talked out of a bottle of strawberry wine.  Don’t worry, everything’s jake,” he added upon seeing our surprise.Fruit Stand

Both of us grinned.  “I wasn’t expecting to run across any giggle water here,” Andy said and told the guy to add a bottle of the wine to our purchase.

“On one condition,” the man said.  “You gotta promise not to get spifflicated until you get where you’re going.”

The pier turned out to be a hotspot, just short of being a carnival.  I could tell it was a fun place before we got out of the roadster.  There were lots of bathers in colorful suits who came for the narrow strip of beach.  All manner of vendors were setup with their crafts and wares along the boardwalk and out onto the pier.

We walked past a stand where a man played a happy tune on a banjo.  Yet when I thought about it, any song sounded cheery when played on a banjo.  The stall boasted several beautiful handmade instruments the musician and his wife had for sale.  However, they Mouth Harpdid most of their business with the smaller less expensive things like harmonicas and mouth harps.

The woman gave us a quick demonstration of the mouth harp.  It had a flexible metal “tongue” attached to an oval metal frame.   She put the tongue part inside her mouth and plucked with a finger to produce a note.  She offered to help Andy learn to play the odd little instrument, but he politely declined.

“I tried to play one of those jaw harps when I was a kid,” Andy commented derisively.  “All I did was pinch my mouth.  Bad.  I looked like I had cold sores worse than Maestro gets as supernatural punishment for leering at your grandmother.”

The scent of something delicious wafted to my noise.  The banjo music trailed behind us as we made for the food stalls.  To my surprise we got into line and the person in front of us was Hank Hertz, Savannah’s youngest police officer.  I invited him to join us, but Hank pointed out a booth the police department had set up.  Hank said he was “on duty,” and had to man the booth.

Soon Andy and I had paper baskets full of crispy fried chicken, golden-brown biscuits, coleslaw, and some German potato salad.  We sat down on a sun-warmed bench to eat.  It gave us a view of the brightly colored stall awnings to one side and of the little beach to the other.  It was fun to watch all the activity and different people.Lobster beach girls

Some of the bathers cavorting on the sand caught my attention.  A huge lobster had somehow caught hold of a flapper’s bathing suit and another girl tried to pull it free, resulting in a humorous tug of war.  It didn’t look like anyone was in any danger of being harmed.  Andy and I chuckled at their antics.

If I hadn’t known Andy so well, I would have thought he really had been about to starve.  There wasn’t a scrap of chicken left on those bones.  However, that was how Andy ate fried chicken.  He always said the very best part was right on the bones, and sometimes I wondered if he would munch into the very bones!  I had to admit it was delicious.  I licked my finger after the last bite of moist crispy deliciousness.

Crisco Fried Chicken

Click for recipe

We dodged a yellow jacket that buzzed around the big garbage can as we threw away our trash.  That was one angry looking bee!  I jumped backward away from the yellow jacket, just as I heard the bell of a ferry coming up to the pier.  I nearly stumbled into an artist’s easel and I apologized profusely.

Trying to make amends for nearly turning over her work, I started looking at her paintings.  The one I ran into was a truly lovely landscape with a building and flowers; daisies amid red roses.  I saw that she signed the painting Mattie Maddox.  However, I began to see a central theme to her work — stained glass windows.  I murmured something to Andy, but I couldn’t get his attention, he was so engrossed in the paintings.

Horse feathers Pip!” he finally looked up at me and whispered an exclamation.  “Look at this.  Most of them are stained glass windows!” he said and I tried not to roll my eyes since that’s why I had been trying to get his attention.

Mattie the artist was flattered by our interest in her work.  (That just didn’t have a ring to it, I thought.  Shouldn’t it be Annie the artist?  Or Abbie?)  I told her we were looking for a church with a particular stained glass window.  She showed us all of her church paintings, but none matched the image of the window Daisy the ghost woman showed us.

Mattie Maddox was a kind and charming woman, so it was pleasant to pass a few minutes talking to her about her paintings.  She was a little beyond middle years.  Her hair was heavily streaked with gray and pulled back into a tidy bun.  Mattie’s stall was the neatest one I had ever seen.  When I commented on it, she said that through most of her life she worked as a chamber maid and the neatness was a firmly ingrained habit.

“Mattie the Maid!” I exclaimed and then was horribly embarrassed, fearing I had been offensive.

I tried to explain my fondness for making names for people I liked, such as Mona the Movie Star, and of course Andy the Astronaute-man.  Mattie seemed to be a sweet soul and was not bothered by my silliness.  She tilted her head to one side as if a thought suddenly came to her.

Stained Glass 2“I wonder… It wasn’t the church, but the rectory has a lovely window with shapes and colors like you described,” she said as she moved toward a stack of unframed canvases in the corner of the little booth.  “I did so many different paintings of it.  I guess I was trying to work through some grief over a friend who died.”

Andy and I both murmured our condolences.  “Oh don’t you fret none,” Mattie said.  “That was so long ago.  Ah!  Here’s one,” the artist exclaimed as she pulled out a square canvas.

The piece was covered in bright hues of gold and aqua, and featured an arched stained glass window.  Roses and wild flowers mingled; a contrast of sophistication and the commonplace, to frame the window.  Mattie looked at it with a sad expression in her eyes.  “She was the one who was really the rose,” she whispered as if to herself.

My excited gasp was echoed by Andy.  The artist chuckled at our enthusiasm.  Andy pulled out his wallet without even asking the price of the painting.  At first Mattie declined to take anything for it, apparently she thought we were newlyweds and she was charmed by our excitement.  Naturally Andy insisted on giving her a good price.

“Where is this place?” I asked eagerly.

“It’s the rectory, not the church,” she reminded me and I nodded.  “The one out on Tybee Island,” she said and then took a hurried look at a watch that was suspended from a chain around her neck.  “Oh my, would you look at the time!” she exclaimed.  “I have to hurry and put away my things so I can catch the ferry,” she said and then looked at our puzzled faces.  “I live on the island and this is the last ferry of the day.  It will be leaving in just a few minutes.”Savannah Beach postcard

Mattie went on to explain that Route 80, which connected the island via road with the mainland, was washed out.  “We’ve had so many storms this summer,” she said.  “So the ferry is the only means of getting there for now.”

“We’d very much like to see the place,” I said and then remembered Granny Fanny.  I doubted there was a telephone on the island.  Mattie said that was the last ferry of the day.  If we went, we’d be stuck overnight.  How would I let Granny know, so she wouldn’t worry?  It was a lot simpler when I lived on my own in the old office building where Andy and my other friends used to rent our apartment “offices.”  I didn’t have to worry about making anybody else worry.

“Pip!” Andy exclaimed.  “Mrs. Peabody would want us to have a chaperone.  And we can’t just go off to Tybee Island without letting her know,” he said and without being asked, went about helping Mattie lock up her paintings.1920s Friends at Beach

I had noticed that Andy called my grandmother Granny most of the time.  But when she turned into an authority figure in his mind, she suddenly became Mrs. Peabody.  Plus I was surprised at my old friend.  Who’d have thought he could be such a stick in the mud?  A chaperone?  I was a modern woman, a flapper.  I didn’t need a chaperone!

Andy’s insistence on propriety seemed to greatly impress Mattie Maddox.  She smiled and offered to have us stay the night with her.  “I have a little cottage on the church grounds.  There’s only one bed but you two are young — I have plenty of quilts and could make pallets on the floor for you,” she offered.

Of course I wouldn’t dream of putting her out that way.  Then she mentioned that the church operated a small hostel.  Mattie said she would be happy to introduce us to the chaplain.  I was already nodding eagerly when Andy again reminded me about my grandmother.

“But there’s no time!  I don’t even know where the closest telephone would be,” I complained and pointed at the ferry.

Tybee Island LighthouseThen an inspired thought came to me and I ran down the pier as fast as I could.  Three strides later, Andy caught my elbow and ran beside me.  He asked me in a very frustrated voice what I thought I was doing.

“Hank!” I exclaimed.

“Um nope, doll face, I’m Andy,” he quipped.

“No, silly.  Remember Hank Hertz?  I introduced you at the chicken stand?” I reminded Andy and he grunted something affirmative.  “Hank is a wizard with the radio.  He’ll get word to Granny Fanny.  Plus he knows about Daisy the Dainty Dish.  He’ll want to help.”

I asked Andy to go back and get us a place on the ferry, and not let it leave without me.  He said he’d bribe the captain if necessary.  As I reached the boardwalk, I looked down the pier and saw Andy carrying some packages for Mattie Maddox toward the ferry.  He was a good guy, I thought to myself.

Hank saw and understood my haste.  Having worked at the pier all summer he was familiar with the ferry schedule.  He said he wouldn’t need to worry about radioing an officer at the police station to call Granny Fanny.  Hank promised to stop by the cottage on his way home.  His shift was almost over.

He also let me know that there was a radio at the church’s rectory, just in case we needed1929 Radio News Sept to reach him.  Hank, radio wiz that he was, had his own radio, and even a mobile set up in his automobile.

In no time Andy and I were settled next to Mattie Maddox on the ferry to Tybee Island.  The Savannah River emptied into the Atlantic Ocean just north of the barrier island.

The ferry bobbed slowly on the stretch of ocean between the island and the small Atlantic coast of Georgia.  I closed my eyes against the glare of the evening sun on the water.  I might have dozed for a minute, but I noticed that I no longer felt the sunlight on my face.  Unexpected clouds overcast the lowering sun, creating a purple sunset.

I remembered the sailor’s old saw, Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.  Well, purple was not red, I thought, but determined not to be apprehensive just because I was on a small craft, out on the open ocean.  What flapper would let a little thing like that bother her?

Black clouds rolled in, abruptly turning the evening to night.  I felt my hair stand on end.  It didn’t feel like an ordinary storm.  The ferryman shouted some kind of warning to all the passengers.  However, I didn’t hear what he said because I was focused on the wind’s mournful call.  Mournful and familiar.

Thunder rolled and to me it sounded like pounding hooves.  A brilliant red bolt of lightning shot a horizontal path across the sky, like an arrow pointing toward the island.  When I looked at the black clouds I saw the Devil’s Herd ploughing up the sky and pursued by the ghost-riders.  One cowboy strayed from the rest and took off his Stetson hat with a seated bow toward me.  His horse snorted fire and reared up, screaming a challenge to the black-horned cattle.Glowing-Longhorns copy

With a strong feeling of satisfaction I noted that the ghost-rider was not Caleb Colman.  Maestro Martino’s sacrifice had not been in vain.  Caleb the ghost-rider had gotten his chance to redeem himself, though I had no idea what it was.

I looked around me in wide-eyed amazement, but no one else had seen the ghostly display.  Rain began to pour.  Then in the darkness the ferry hit a giant wave.  The boat went up into the air.  I felt my posterior leave my seat and I hung on for dear life as the ferry crashed back down against the stormy water.

Saltwater and rain drenched everyone.  Passengers screamed.  The captain shouted for calm.  Huge waves poured into the small craft.  Thunder roared.  Lightning blasted the darkness, eerily illuminating the terrified faces around me.Lightning

A double pronged bolt of lightning fractured the sky right above us.  The boat launched into the air again.  That time I lost my grip.  I felt myself lifted off my seat and into the air.

***

Recipe:  Strawberry Cobbler

Strawberry Cobbler

Recipe credit:  Flimish Minx on Food.com.  Photo credit: Chia

Strawberry Cobbler

Total Time:  1 hour

Prep Time:  10 minutes

Cook Time:  50 minutes

 

Ingredients

4 cups strawberries, cleaned and sliced

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 cup sugar

1 egg, beaten

1/4 cup butter, in cubes

 

Directions

Pre-heat oven to 375°F.

Spread the sliced strawberries evenly in an 8 or 9 inch square baking dish.

In a medium sized bowl, mix together the flour, baking powder and sugar.

Add the egg, and mix (a fork works best) till crumbly and the dry ingredients are completely incorporated.

Spread this over the berries.

Dot with the butter cubes.

Bake for 45-50 minutes, until the top is golden and the berries are bubbling.

Cool slightly before serving.

 

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

 

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