Hometown Healing

by Jennifer Slattery

  “I’m waiting for someone, but thanks.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rissa glanced toward the door. “Who?”

  Heat climbed Paige’s neck. “Jed Gilbertson.”

  Rissa’s eyebrows shot up, and a slight smile emerged. “I see.”

  Ah, small-town life. She could just imagine how quickly rumors would circulate. “To talk about theater scripts.”

  Rissa gave a slow nod that indicated she was less than convinced, though Paige rambled on about random particulars to prove her claims. Soon the conversation shifted to nap times, cartoons and motherhood in general.

  After a few minutes more of small talk, the ladies excused themselves to a vacant table near the back.

  Paige was left to nervously sip an iced tea while she waited for Jed to show up for their scheduled meeting. What was she thinking? How in the world could she work with the man when a simple glance fired up her pulse? But she needed the money, and Mrs. Tappen needed her. At least, that was what Mom kept telling her.

  Based on Jed’s rapid response to the email she sent the night before, Mom’s words appeared to be true enough. Paige had messaged him with a payment figure almost as soon as she’d gotten home. It’d taken Jed less than twenty-four hours to set up a lunch meeting to discuss her potential contract.

  He had indicated a fast turnaround time, which could work in her favor, should he try to squeeze her.

  But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t a user. Never had been.

  With her legs crossed, she jiggled her foot, and her eyes were trained on the window, to the street beyond. She couldn’t seriously be nervous. Not to meet Jed Gilbertson.

  She was about to make a dash for the restroom when her phone rang. Mira. “Hey, thanks for calling me back.”

  “What’s up? You sounded sort of panicked in your message.”

  “I’m about to meet with Jed.” She filled her in on the details.

  “Oh. The two of you reconnected, then? How’d that go?”

  “Smashing. Unemployed girl begs her ex-boyfriend for a job and lands herself a heartache waiting to happen.”

  “You still love him, don’t you?” A child whined in the background.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t. But I really need the money.”

  “So, now what?”

  “Woman up? Act like the functioning adult I am? Then douse my highly unstable emotions in a tub of chocolate frosting.”

  “You’ll invite me to join you for that last one, right?”

  “Only if you bring your own tub.”

  “Which begs the question—when were you going to ask me to lunch?” The whining on Mira’s end had turned into a wail. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I gotta go. The troops are getting restless.”

  “I understand.” She ended the call in time to see Jed heading her way. Carrying a manila folder, he wore a navy shirt and faded blue jeans, and was clean-shaven.

  Had he shaved for her?

  Of course not. The man did pick up a razor every once in a while.

  His easy smile made her heart jump. “Howdy.” He removed his hat and raked a hand through his dark hair.

  She cleared her throat. “Hi.” She took a sip of her tea while Sally Jo, the waitress, relayed the daily specials.

  When she left, Jed opened his folder, pulled out a document and slid it toward her.

  The contract. “Thanks.” She glanced over the first page. “You drafted this up in a hurry.”

  “Asked a family friend who’s a lawyer to write it up. I think it’s fair for both of us.”

  “Your dad didn’t help you?”

  “Nope.”

  Apparently things were still tense between them. Did they talk at all, or had he and his dad become near strangers? It wasn’t her business. Besides, her empathy for Jed wouldn’t help her maintain a safe emotional distance.

  She returned her attention to the document and studied the amount offered for the script. The terms said he’d pay half up front, and the rest once she delivered the first draft, as well as royalties based on sales thereafter.

  She turned the page. “For marketing pieces, I get paid by the word?”

  He nodded.

  The wage was less than she’d anticipated. Because he and Mrs. Tappen didn’t have more to give, or because he wasn’t aware of the going rate for writers? Then again, she only knew how much freelancers in Chicago got paid.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “We’d love to offer you more, but we just don’t have it.”

  “I see.”

  Sally Jo reappeared, chatted a bit, took their orders and then left.

  An awkward silence followed.

  Obviously Jed was taking on the bigger risk here. Besides, she wouldn’t just be working for him. Every dime she earned would be coming from Mrs. Tappen’s account, too.

  She considered that and the contract terms while they waited for their food. She didn’t want to appear overly anxious. It wasn’t as though she had anything better to do, except gather more article rejections. Plus she truly wanted to help his grandmother out. As much as the thought of working with Jed knotted Paige’s stomach—and sparked confusing emotions—it was the right thing to do.

  She rummaged through her purse for a pen. “Seems fair enough.” Not as much as she’d hoped, but enough to secure her spot at the writers’ conference. She initialed where indicated and then signed.

  “Your turn.” She pushed the document toward him.

  His boyish grin halted her breath. “Looking forward to working with you.” His dark, penetrating eyes searched hers, as if he wanted to say more.

  “Yes, well...” She fumbled for her drink.

  She needed to find a way to get hired on somewhere permanent. In a city with nice restaurants, lots to do, and with lots of potential stories, fashion or otherwise, to write on. Because the longer she stayed in Sage Creek, the greater the threat of heartbreak.

  Chapter Nine

  Jed would arrive at any moment.

  Paige fought the urge to pace, or check her appearance in the mirror for the tenth time. She found her nervousness infuriating. After fourteen years, one would think she’d long since moved on. But when his dark brown eyes latched on to hers, and he offered her his crooked, boyish smile, her insides turned to jelly. Which was why she should’ve insisted on meeting him at the furniture place. If she had thought New Life Furnishings would show up on Jed’s GPS, she might have.

  She’d soon spend nearly two hours alone with the man. What would she say?

  What if his emotions were as jumbled as hers, his memories as sweet, and he initiated one of those conversations?

  Did she want him to?

  What she wanted was to return to Chicago. She could never support herself and Ava in Sage Creek—at least, not doing what she loved.

  An engine hummed in the driveway. She gave Ava a squeeze and grabbed her purse. “Be good for Grandma.” She looked at her mom. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “I’ll probably spend most of the day in bed anyway.” She rubbed her temples. “See if I can’t sleep off some of the ache in my bones.”

  Paige bit her bottom lip. “What about Ava? You sure you’re okay watching her?”

  “Some grandbaby snuggles will do me good. Besides, it doesn’t take much energy to read stories.” Mom waved a hand. “Don’t worry, nap time will come soon enough.”

  The doorbell rang. Expelling a sigh that did nothing to calm her jittery stomach, she answered the door. Jed stood on the stoop, looking way too good in snug jeans, a T-shirt and his Stetson.

  “Hey.” She offered what she hoped to be a confident, nonchalant smile.

  “Howdy. You ready?”

  She nodded, slung her purse over her shoulder and matched his steps to the truck. She reached for her door, but he beat
her to it with his citrusy scent drawing her to him.

  She’d always loved his cologne. Had helped him pick it out over a decade ago. Interesting that he still wore it.

  She grabbed the handle above the window. Of course his truck was one of those high-rise kinds, and she was wearing a dress and wedges, making climbing in gracefully nearly impossible. But before she hoisted a foot onto the running board, he extended a hand.

  She looked at him.

  “I don’t bite.”

  Face heating, she accepted his offer. “Thank you.” His callused skin felt rough against hers. She placed her purse on the floorboard and settled into the seat. She waited with hands clasped in her lap for him to get in.

  He did and cranked the engine. “How’s the little one this morning?”

  It touched her that he’d think about Ava. “Rambunctious as ever. We spent the morning playing ring-around-the-rosy.” It’d become her favorite game, since Sunday. Trinity Faith’s nursery volunteers must’ve taught it to her.

  “You’re such a good mom.”

  Paige’s heart squeezed. “Thanks.”

  “Grandma said how much your mother’s enjoyed having the both of you around.”

  Paige gazed toward the house. She should’ve brought Ava around more. How sad that it took losing her job to do so.

  Jed backed out of the driveway. “Where is this little jewel?”

  “Out a ways. Toward Driftwood.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted, then.”

  Her stomach did a little flip. She searched her brain for something intelligent to say. Anything besides staring out the window like a lovestruck idiot, which she absolutely wasn’t and refused to be.

  Besides, he was her boss now, as strange as that felt. What would that be like, working for him? With him? Near him?

  Every day.

  If the last time they’d spent any consistent time together was any indication, her emotional resolve was one boyish grin away from crumbling.

  What then? Could things between them turn out differently this time? But she’d have to stay in Sage Creek. Was she willing to do that?

  He turned down a long country road. “My grandma says you’ve been trying to sell some journalism pieces.”

  “How would she know—”

  “Your mama and her do a lot of talking. Probably more than they should.” He laughed. “Makes me wonder what you’ve been hearing about me.”

  “I’ll never tell.” Because she had nothing to tell—nothing but good. He’d refinanced his home, located on fifteen acres about five miles north of town, to save his grandmother’s house and business. Spent a good chunk of each week at her place, helping her with lawn care, grocery shopping and whatever else she needed. Went to church every Sunday. The guy was practically perfect.

  Who’d ditched his girlfriend for parties and cheerleaders. Maybe if she reminded herself of that often enough, her ricocheting pulse would simmer down.

  He passed a slow-moving Chevy. “What got you into fashion?”

  She shrugged. “I discovered cute strappy sandals and sequin clutches.”

  “You still like fishing?”

  “Haven’t been in a while.” Not since the last time Jed took her. Neither of them had caught a thing. Three hours in, a storm had hit and sent them running, shivering and laughing to his truck. They had pulled into a roadside diner, fifteen miles north, for hot cocoa and fries.

  “Guess we’ve got to fix that, don’t we?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “What are you doing?”

  A tendon in his jaw twitched. “How long you gonna stoke that anger of yours?”

  “I’m not. I just... Let’s not complicate things, all right?” Every interaction with him initiated questions she didn’t have answers to. One in particular she might never know definitively: If she trusted Jed Gilbertson with her heart, would she come to regret it?

  “We were real good friends once. Don’t make sense to let a hard year destroy what took a lifetime to build.”

  “Please, Jed. Let’s not do this. Not today.”

  “We need to talk things out sometime. Considering we’re going to be stuck in this truck with one another for a chunk of time, today’s as good a day as any.”

  “Why are you pushing so hard?”

  “Because I care for you, woman.” He slammed a fist against the steering wheel, making her jump.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and took in a long, slow breath. “Guess you should’ve thought of that before you traded me in for Little Miss Pom-Pom.”

  “Thinking a thing don’t make it so.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His features softened. “I didn’t leave you for Christy, and I for sure never cheated on you. I started hanging out with her gang, sure. The other football players, I mean.”

  A group who’d always snubbed Paige and made her feel like a frizzy-haired outsider. Maybe that was why she became so passionate about fashion. Because in Chicago, at Chic Fashions magazine, she’d finally been part of the “in crowd.”

  Until they’d tossed her out, too.

  “But mainly I just chased after the next party. So I didn’t have to think about what college I was going to go to, if I’d make it as an adult or how much my father hated me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I knew Christy had a thing for me—I’m not going to lie. No, I take that back. She liked that I was a quarterback. And I was flattered.”

  “Oh, you were a whole lot more than flattered.”

  “All that talk about us—it was nothing but lies started by her small-minded friends. I never paid her any attention.”

  “That’s not how things looked from where I was standing.”

  “I listened to her. Laughed at her jokes, maybe. Went to the same parties she did. That was it. I only had eyes for you. I tried telling you that, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Her heart said he was telling the truth. He’d never been the cheating kind. But admitting that would force her to confront her primary reason for pushing him away—fear. Fear of falling in too deeply and allowing her emotions to override her reason, like what had happened with her ex-husband. Fear of choosing Jed and Sage Creek over her independence and career only to find herself heartbroken and unemployed—again.

  She’d only truly loved three men in her life—her father, Jed Gilbertson and her ex.

  She’d lost all three.

  He released a sigh. “Not everyone’s like your dad, Paige.”

  * * *

  Jed frowned and focused on the long dusty road ahead of him. Why’d he have to push things? Just when Paige was starting to loosen up, even crack a smile on occasion. Now she sat stiffly with her arms crossed, staring out her window. Not saying anything except to bite out which direction to turn.

  Great way to start their working relationship.

  Should he attempt small talk? Ask about her writing? Nah. Wisest thing he could do was let her simmer down some, chew on what he’d said. But they still had some talking to do—about script-writing stuff. Probably should’ve stuck with that from the get-go.

  “Turn here.” She pointed to a dirt road flanked by two long rows of oak trees.

  He complied, and they continued down a long, curved road lined with evergreens and splashes of bottlebrush flowers. Dust swirled behind him as pebbles pinged his undercarriage.

  They rounded the bend, and a yellow scalloped ranch with a metal roof and covered porch came into view. The place could use a good paint job, and more dandelions than grass covered the overgrown lawn extending behind it. Not surprising, considering the ministry most likely ran on volunteers and donations.

  “Guess this is it.” He cut the engine.

  She nodded and got out.

&
nbsp; He followed her up a lopsided set of stairs.

  She rang the bell. “I called this morning and told them we were coming.”

  “Appreciate it.” He hooked a thumb through his belt loop and gazed out at the rolling hills to his right. About five hundred feet past a dilapidated wooden fence stood a partially demolished barn. Wooden planks were stacked nearby.

  Paige rang the bell again.

  “Coming,” a deep voice called out from inside. Heavy footsteps approached, and the door screeched open. “Hey-lo, Paige.” A tall man with blond hair curling up from beneath a sweat-stained ball cap grinned at her.

  Her countenance instantly softened. “Hey, Noah, thanks for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure.” His gaze shifted to Jed. “You must be Mr. Gilbertson.”

  Jed nodded, and the two shook hands.

  “Come in.” Noah stepped back. “I’m the founder of New Life Furnishings, a ministry that helps men rebuild their lives through good old-fashioned woodworking. We give a man something productive to do with his hands, something he can be proud of, and something to shoot for.” He led them down a long hallway, past a makeshift office and through a galley kitchen. “Don’t know how much Paige told you—”

  “Just the basics, and the fact that you all have some quality one-of-a-kind pieces.” Despite her detailed descriptions, they were hard to visualize without seeing them for himself. Seemed every time she talked, his mind snagged on something else—like the way her eyes danced when she laughed. Or the adorable way she fiddled with her curls when deep in thought. Or how she rubbed at her collarbone when trying to make a decision.

  And the way her entire face lit up whenever Ava came near.

  She used to look at him in much the same way, as if he were the only one around.

  Noah led them out of the house and down a wooden plank spanning a mud puddle. “Like I said, we do all our work in the old barn out back.”

  How much had Jed missed? Reining in his thoughts and emotions, he focused on the man’s words rather than the beautiful, fiery woman half a step ahead of him.

  They followed Noah into a large red barn that had been converted to a woodworking facility, which smelled like cedar and varnish. A handful of men stood over various machines with sawdust swirling around them. Rustic chairs, barstools, tables and bed frames filled one corner, at least ten feet out. Shelves lining the walls about six feet up were filled with prepped branches, stumps, bins of nails and what have you.