Linda Evans Shepherd - The Potluck Club Takes the Cake

By Sunday morning, I had a plan. I was going to make Jack Dippel pay if it was the last thing I ever did. And I was going to stay strong through it all, even if it killed me. Though, Lord, you knowI didnt start out that way. Oh no. Last night I was a complete wreck. Blessedly I didnt wakenot one timeduring the night. When I woke it was because the alarm on my bedside clock was beeping at me, jarring me out of my deep slumber. I reached for it, pushing the off button, then rolled over on my back, aware that Id not even moved in my sleep.

For a brief momentonly a second, reallythe memories of the night before stayed locked deep within my minds vault. That place where, while sleeping, humans put all the issues from the day before that they dont want to remember. Its almost like a gift from God himself. A fragment of time when, as far as we know, all is right with the world.

Then I remembered. It started out as a heaviness in my stomach, then pushed itself past my shattered heart and burst into my memory. God ...

I sat up and held my head in my hands. What am I going to donow? I asked the One who knows me best.

But I didnt wait for an answer. Not really. I just kicked at the covers, padded over to the bathroom, and began getting ready for church and the rest of my day. A day, ironically, that would end with me and my skunk of a husband heading up to a mountain cabin for two miserable days and two unbearable nights.

It was sometime during church that my plan of actionof revengecame to me.

Jack and I were sitting in our usual pew. I had placed my purse between us, just so he could not touch me in any way, shape, or form. During the sermon, I happened to glance over at Lisa Leann Lambert, Texan transplant and all-around busybody. (By the way, did my eyes deceive me or was she sitting with Clay Whitefield?) Well, anyway, that was when I remembered seeing an old Oprah (or was it Montel?) show in which women exacted what they called legal revenge on the men who had hurt them. One of the women (like Lisa Leann, hailing from Texas) had received a call from her soon-to-be ex-husband telling her hed run off with his secretary (or was it her best friend?). He and the wife owned a brand-new BMW (or was it a Mercedes?). He instructed the wife to place an ad in the paper so as to sell the car, then to send him the money at this address. Whatever else had been theirs was now hers. The other car, the house, the property, and the bank accounts. The now-jilted wife did exactly as he instructed. She placed an ad in the local paper and sold the car to the first respondent. As the new buyer handed her the check for $100, he said, Why so cheap? This car is worth a fortune! To which the woman replied, He told me to sell it. He didnt say for how much.

By the time I got home from churchhaving heard not one word of the sermon, I am ashamed to saymy head was swimming with all the rotten things I could do to Jack during our time away in Summit Ridge. It would surely not be a time he would soon forget! Sure, this wasnt the Christian way to act, but right then, at that moment, as far as I was concerned, the Christian way just wasnt going to cut the mustard.

So to speak.

Jack arrived right on time, grinning like a schoolboy about to make his first conquest. When I opened the door, he stood on the porch, hands on his hips and feet spread wide. As the high schools head coach, he was most comfortable in this stance. You ready? he asked. He glanced upward. Its supposed to start snowing again any minute. Id like to beat it if we can.

December in Summit View almost guarantees daily snowfall, though we could go days without seeing so much as a flake. But the ground and surrounding mountains were always snow-topped, as pretty as a postcard. The past couple of days had seen clear skies, but the weatherman had promised that by early evening wed start seeing the white stuff again.

Come on in, I said to the snake, all the while giving him my bestest, most fakest smile. Im nearly ready.

As Jack stepped over the threshold, I pointed toward the kitchen, all the while heading back to the bedroom. The groceries are already bagged up or in the cooler if you want to go ahead and load them.

I felt Jacks fingers wrap around my wrist. I stopped cold, a fraction of an inch from clobbering him with the fist of my other hand. He tugged a bit, turning me toward him, pulling me into his arms, kissing me gently on the cheek. Heres to the start of a great weekend, Goldie, he whispered in my ear. I shivered. Not out of passion, but disgust. I had planned and plotted. I wasnt about to let a little thing like a kiss ruin my scheme.

I smiled at him, reaching over and giving him a quick kiss in return. I cant wait, I said.

Well, at least that much was true.

We were halfway to Summit Ridge, which was about an hours drive, when Jack declared that we needed to stop for gas. Do you need to use the ladies room? he asked me as we pulled into one of those new, fancy-schmancy truck stops, complete with showers, restaurants, shops, and such.

I said that I could probably stand to stretch my legs.

That wasnt all I could stand to stretch. Id like to stretch his neck from here to the maternity ward of Summit View Medical Center, but I didnt add that little bit of info into the conversation. Not yet, anyway. That would come soon enough.

It was all part of the plan.

As soon as Jack parked and we exited the car, I noted hed left his cell phone sitting in the cup holder of the console. I smiled with evil delight.

Ill pick up a few snacks for us. Want coffee? Jack asked as we entered through the glass doors.

You know how I like it, I said, making a beeline for the restrooms. I even managed to smile at him for good measure.

I have to say that the ladies facilitythough meant for women truck drivers, mainlywas fairly impressive. If I hadnt been in such a hurry to get back to the car, I would have taken the time to enjoy it. The wallpaper was feminine and completed with a matching border. The sinks and countertops were a nice faux marble, and there were little baskets filled with assorted lotions and soaps. Tiny paper cups were stacked near bottles of Scope, and there was even a cozy seating arrangement in one of the front corners of the room. The best part, though, were the electrically warmed toilet seats.

Now thats something worth coming home to!

But I didnt have time to linger, even on the warmth of a toasty toilet. I took care of Mother Natures call, washed and dried my hands (and yes, I used some of the apple-scented lotion; I couldnt help myself!), and then went right back to the car. Jack, I saw, was still standing in line.

I hadnt counted on the car being locked, though. As soon as the door handle popped out and back, I grimaced. Drat. Didnt much matter, anyway. I looked toward the glass walls of the store and saw Jack making his way toward me, hands gripped around Styrofoam coffee cups and a small brown bag of goodies tucked under his arm.

He smiled at me as he exited, and I folded my arms across my middle. You locked the car, I said.

Well, of course I did, Goldie, he said, making his way to me. He extended a hand, and I took my cup of coffee. Just the way you like it, sweetheart, he said. They were low on sugar, so I just stuck my finger in and stirred a bit.

Gag me. Ha-ha, I said, pretending the man had made a charming remark. But my pretense didnt last long. Could you hurry it up? Its freezing out here.

Jack unlocked my door with the remote, and I sat down in the already chilly car, wrapping my coat around my legs as Jack shut the door behind me. When he scurried around to the other side and slid in, he handed me his cup of coffee and set the bag on the back floorboard. Ill just pull around and get gas. Boy, the prices are outrageous.