Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  A footfall behind her broke the spell, and she turned to see the old man. The creases and furrows in his face seemed deeper than before, his eyes brighter. “Do ya like it?”

  Tara stood spellbound, not sure if the old man was seeing her or an apparition. She could only nod, her fingers rising to her heated cheeks.

  He coughed, then spoke in a solemn tone. “I ain’t never let nobody back here before.”

  She blinked, only one word coming to mind. “Why?”

  He stared at her, his jaw working. Finally, he spoke. “Why did I build it, or why did I let you see it?”

  “Both.”

  He tottered to one of the chimes, untangling the trinkets from a branch. “Well, I suppose it’s cuz I had a world of hurt, and I couldn’t make it stop. I— I lost somebody you see…”

  She waited, not breathing lest he stop.

  “I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Fit to make me crazy. So, I busied myself with this here. Fer her.”

  Tara’s eyes darted from chime to chime, estimating the millennia he’d spent creating chimes. “Why did you let me find this place?”

  The old man paused, his wrinkled face still, and his black crow-eyes shining. A tear slipped down one cheek. “Cuz you remind me a her. She were the only one fer me.”

  Tara didn’t know what to say. There were no words of comfort for the old man. Slowly she moved among the chimes, admiring each one, touching them as they danced in the breeze. The old man had lovingly made each piece with the woman he loved in mind. Had she ever felt a love that deep? Did she build things for the people she loved?

  After circling the clearing once more, she returned to where the man stood. His dirty beard moved and shifted, to reveal a broken smile. There was nothing to say as they basked in the moment, eye to eye, as an understanding passed between them. Finally, they turned and left the clearing.

  Tara reached her truck and the man stopped at his rifle. She didn’t care about wood trim now – she would come back another day. Raising her hand to say goodbye, with a sad smile, she opened her door.

  “Young lady…” he called.

  She turned to look back.

  “Don’t wait too long.”

  With that, he turned and tottered toward his shack.

  Did he mean don’t wait too long to come back? Or did he mean don’t wait too long and lose someone she loved?

  She climbed into her truck and backed down the road to a spot where she could turn around. As she rattled toward the highway, his voice echoed in her mind over and over. Why had his cryptic words pierced her so deeply?

  Pulling the old truck into a wide spot by the road, Tara climbed out and stood looking over the mountains and valleys that spread forever, as far as she could see. Greens turned to blues, which turned to purples, and finally disappeared into the haze.

  One thing was clear. The old man had warned her not to wait. Tara rubbed her hands down her face. She understood that she had been coasting for a long time. Business had been good, her shop a success, and folks loved the homes she rebuilt. Winnie had been healthy. She’d felt time creeping up on her for months and she’d fought it.

  A person could judge the old man in the woods and label him as “touched.” But she had been just as confused, holding to her life at this one point in time, as if she could tread water here forever. She saw herself in the old man. Hoarding her things, building her own brand of chimes, and clinging to her past.

  In reality her entire life was changing. She loved Justin. As strange and hopeless as it felt, she had to admit to the feelings she could no longer conceal. She suspected everyone but her knew it already anyway.

  She frowned and laced her fingers across the top of her head. The forest whispered and the treetops waved.

  Her thoughts tumbled backward through her life, to the childhood she’d tried to forget. She had only a few memories of her time before Winnie, and those were enough to keep her from digging for more.

  Tara wandered toward the drop-off and kicked sand over the edge. Rocks and dirt tumbled down into the ravine, collecting more debris as they rolled and bounced.

  The kids in school had called her hedgehog; likely because she was prickly. It was true – she was even prickly with the people she loved. She didn’t have friends, well, other than Becky, but Becky was an employee.

  Prickly wasn’t working for her anymore. She knew she was intelligent and driven but giving and warmth had never been one of her gifts. Maybe it was time.

  Winnie was getting older, the market had shifted, she was in love, and helping build a resort. Her world was transforming, no matter how she’d fought it, and she was tired of fighting the universe. It was time. If changes needed to come, then they could come.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tara drove back to town feeling tender, as if she’d been trampled by a stampede on the inside, where it didn’t show. The sun set across the valley as she emerged from the mountains, sunbeams reaching through the clouds. Glancing at her watch, she considered stopping by the resort to check the crew’s work for the day, but instead she turned toward home. The same work had been done whether she checked on it or not.

  Her gut churned at the realization that she’d taken a step back, but as uncharacteristic as it felt, she also felt a lightness fill her heart, as if she could breathe easier. She wouldn’t go to her room and unroll the heavy set of drawings tonight, no obsessing over details and planning every move. She’d sit with Winnie, maybe watch a little TV.

  She sensed herself stretching and even though she ached with the change, like a pulled muscle, she recognized the satisfaction that came with effort. It had been a long time since she’d considered changing her approach to life. She was awkward and off balance, but she was okay. Now she just had to maintain.

  * * *

  The next few weeks were riddled with unseasonal thunderstorms that hindered progress at the resort. Concrete pours were rescheduled, and roofing couldn’t be laid, which in turn held up sheetrock and paint on the interiors.

  She knew the community was planning a big event for the opening, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

  Daily, she paused in her work on the furniture to breathe deeply and remind herself that she could do the work and do it well. She was nagged by concern, however, as each day produced more storm clouds, and mud puddles grew into lakes of mire on the jobsite.

  Unless the weather gave them a break soon, their only choice would to be to move back the grand opening ceremony. Fall weather was just around the corner and the pressure was building to a pinnacle.

  Dodging the sinkholes of mud in the long driveway to the resort house, Tara surveyed the site, biting her bottom lip in concern. She had purposely stayed away to let Justin work in peace, but the schedule required that she finish her painting of the interior details and speak with him about paint schemes for the house. The barn could be completed a week late, but the house had to be finished on time.

  Landscaping also had to go in before the temperatures dropped, and she couldn’t imagine an opening ceremony with the town folk sitting in mud.

  As she rounded the final curve, the sprawling house came into view. The new porches along the front perfectly accented the wings on each side. Workers were fighting the rain and wind to place sheets of wood for the new roof on the west wing. The east addition stood with the trusses open to the weather.

  Once the crew could nail the wood sheets down, they’d need to get tar paper on as quickly as possible so the wood wouldn’t be damaged. On the other hand, they couldn’t lay down tar paper on soaked wood.

  The landscaper had been out and marked a red, letter X, on the trees to be removed. To her horror, the stunning weeping willow between the house and barn bore an X. They couldn’t remove that tree – it represented everything beautiful about the country home. She made a mental note to speak to Justin about it, then shrugged it off – paint was uppermost on her mind.

  She watched the roofers struggle in the wind for a
moment longer, then headed inside to find Justin. The front room was taking shape. Windows were in and the new subfloor was patched in the areas where replacement trusses had been required. The new stairs were in, complete with a landing and rails.

  Peeping into the open-plan kitchen, she could see windows installed there as well, and that the plumbing and gas lines were run. The electrical work had begun but couldn’t continue until the weatherproof roof was in place.

  She knew that given one good dry day, they could have the tar paper down and the inside of the house could move forward but the weather report didn’t offer much hope. The house was at a standstill.

  Pulling her tape measure from her back pocket, she set about measuring the rooms for paint and furnishings. The new formal dining area on the back that would feed onto multi-level decks was only framed in, with bare studs and no walls, but she could still pull a tape to get square footage, get a sense of the space.

  With her notes scribbled on her clipboard, she followed the stairs up to measure the rooms that would become the TV theater room, library nook, and guest bathroom. The new additions on the west side would house the bedroom suites and an office; the east wing would have guest suites as well, but also included dressing rooms and showers for the main pool and workout room.

  Lost in her vision, she was wandering across the room when Justin tromped angrily through the opening to the west wing. He was soaking wet from head to foot and waving his clipboard to fling raindrops off his paperwork as he went.

  Tara froze, wanting very badly to say and do the right thing, but having no idea what that would be. This was their first meeting since she had decided to drop the prickly attitude, and she gripped her pencil to the breaking point -- her mind spinning for something to say.

  He looked up and ground to a halt. His clipboard slipped from his grasp and went flying across the room.

  Tara ducked and turned to watch his paperwork slide down the wall with a clatter.

  Justin took off his hardhat, flipping off rain, and ran his palm across the top of his head. He grinned, embarrassed, his eyes darting to the clipboard then to Tara. “Hey, it’s been a while…”

  “Hi Justin.” She smiled shyly.

  No words passing between them, but a palpable current flowed through the room, linking them with energy they both struggled to sever.

  Justin cleared his throat and pulled the sodden shirt away from his chest. “I noticed you haven’t been out here for the last few nights.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “How did you know?”

  “I keep an eye on my work sites. You left tire tracks, foot prints. I stayed out a few nights to see who was coming around.”

  “You watched me?” Embarrassed and ashamed, she was also angry but mostly at herself. She had no right to take out her frustration on Justin, so she pushed her irritation away to regain her composure.

  “I did.” He showed no shame in protecting his work.

  Tara faltered under his piecing gaze and looked away. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He returned his hardhat to his head and a drop of water dripped from the front rim onto his chest. “You weren’t hurting anything.”

  “Except your pride?”

  He chuckled. “Nah, not really. I’d have a hard time staying away myself.”

  Tara grinned in relief. Putting her anger aside had kept the conversation friendly, and he’d given her credit for caring. Mentally, she patted herself on the back.

  The silence in the room would have been deafening, had it not been for the rain and the clatter of the crew on the roof. They both shuffled their feet and glanced away. Tara spoke up. “I see the weather has really put a damper on your progress.”

  He cringed. “It really has. We’re weeks behind. I’m getting worried.”

  “When do you think it’ll be ready for paint?”

  He scratched his head next to his hardhat. “At this rate, I’m worried about even getting the roof on. Nothing can happen on the interior until we’re water-tight.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I have some layouts to show you, could you come by the house tonight?”

  He considered her offer. “My cabinets were delivered last night. Want to talk at my house and we’ll unwrap the boxes?”

  Her eyes brightened and her lips twitched into a smile.

  Justin cringed and his arm twitched, making Tara think he would reach for her. He glanced away and cleared his throat, then tromped past her to the clipboard and bent to pick it up, taking his time to brush it off and readjust the paperwork. When he turned back to her, his expression was once again bland and unruffled.

  Tara was happy that he wanted to show her anything, let alone his personal space. He’d been so distant and cool to her, but now he must see the efforts she was making to be closer to him and he was responding. She considered his invitation a definite step in the right direction. “That sounds fun, want me to bring anything?”

  He flipped through the papers on his clipboard, struggling to hide his uneasiness. “Whatever. Come around seven? That gives me time to clean up.”

  Her mind flashed to the memory of Justin in the shower. “Okay, seven.”

  Both stood awkwardly, then each moved at the same time, dancing to pass and go down the stairs. He stopped and extended one arm for her to pass. She smiled up at him through her lashes.

  * * *

  Justin paused in the living room and watched her open the front door. She raised her hand to wave goodbye.

  He wandered to the window, cocked a hip against the wall and watched her trot through the rain, down the incline of the driveway to her truck, her braid bouncing against her back. She was happy, so why wasn’t he?

  * * *

  A knock on the door at seven sharp brought Justin from the kitchen. As he reached for the doorknob, he braced himself for impact. If only he could actually huddle face down with his arms over his head, he might get through the evening without touching her.

  She smiled from the front step, her hair billowing around her face, whipped by the wind, and rain pelting the step around her. He moved back, holding the door and she hurried past him.

  Shaking off the raindrops she laughed. “It’s really coming down out there!”

  He stayed silent, having no words to express the unpleasant mix of pleasure he felt at having her near, and at the same time bitter resignation that he couldn’t have her. He took the streaming raincoat when she shrugged it off. Unable to ignore the heat it retained, he hung it on the back of the door to dry.

  She wiped droplets from her computer bag and set it on the floor near the sofa. “So, how’s the kitchen coming along?”

  Lost in the movement of her lips, he shrugged, forcing himself back to the conversation. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She tilted her head and scanned him from head to foot. “You okay?”

  He offered her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’m good, just tired and stressed.”

  They stood a moment longer, basking in the sensations passing between them.

  Justin moved toward her, extended his hand, then dropped it to his side. “You seem good – calm and happy. Aren’t you worried about the resort?”

  Her face registered a thrill when he reached for her, then dashed to a frown when he changed his mind. She scowled at the resort comment, as if it had been a bucket of ice water over her head. “Of course, I am.”

  Reassured by her spark of irritation, he regained a bit of footing. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant… you look good.”

  Multiple expressions flitted across her face. Annoyance altered to recognition, then a concerted effort changed her countenance to acceptance, and finally to an expression of composure. She was working to control her responses tonight, and he wondered why. He quite liked the flustered, angry old Tara. When he was with her, anything could happen.

  She pulled her hair over her shoulder and smoothed it between her fingers. “Thank you.”

  This was new. Her whole demeanor wa
s different -- softer, off kilter.

  He fixed his eyes onto hers. “How’s Winnie?”

  Her gaze flitted to one side, then down, her hands tugging at a snarl. “She’s well, thank you.”

  His eyebrows rose. Thank you again? Had she ever thanked him twice, for anything? He was intrigued. Pushing to see more of her attitude, he tossed in a barb. “Like I said, you haven’t come by the work site to check up on me lately.”

  He saw the sharp retort on her lips, where she caught it, then fought to pull it back. She licked her lips once, then again. “No, I’ve been busy.” A nervous grin flashed then disappeared.

  His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong here.

  Tara turned toward the kitchen. “Can I see your cabinets? Or did you want to see the interior layouts first?”

  Choosing the layouts, mostly in order to be near her, he followed her every movement. She lifted the computer bag and pulled out her laptop, noting his interested gaze following her as she glanced along the floor for an outlet. Bending behind a dining chair to reach the plug-in, she tossed him a smile over one shoulder and turned so her backside was toward him, catching him completely off guard. She’d never tried to be coy with him before – to his knowledge anyway.

  Without meeting his eye, she situated her computer on the table, adjusted it to be parallel with the edge, pulled up a chair, then sat down and tapped her fingers on the table top as she waited for the computer to boot up.

  He pulled up the chair next to her and scooted it close, waiting for her to flinch. Instead, she met his gaze, her eyes brilliant with unspoken desire.