Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Why couldn’t she just respond like a normal person?

  She brought her knees to her chest, curling into a ball. Her shoulders trembled, and exhausted tears slid past her fists, falling onto the dirt-streaked sheet.

  * * *

  Justin turned over, yanking the sheet with him. He was so far past exhaustion that he couldn’t sleep. His pillows were tossed and stacked at all angles, none of them comfortable. He jammed his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling.

  The people of Smithville had been amazing, and Tara was so sweet, so passionate. The day had been a blur of pleasure and surprise. Tomorrow the madness would continue. He’d been handed a list of helpers that would return to sheetrock the barn with Steve and lift and carry for Tara.

  He grinned. Somehow, he had managed to work his way into their good graces. He understood they had come for Tara, but they’d followed him and listened to his instructions, even asked him questions and laughed with him.

  Crickets chirped outside his window and somewhere, an owl hooted. He had finally gotten to the place where he could sleep without the sound of traffic and horns and sirens, but not tonight. His thoughts kept sifting through work to return to Tara, how she’d felt in his arms. Her green eyes glimmering in the fading light by the dumpster. He chuckled. Yup, he was the king of class.

  Shifting to lie on his side, he pictured Tara lying next to him, the sheet twisted between her long legs and tucked under her arms, her mouth open as she slept. Never before had a woman arrested his attention to the point of madness. Now that sleeping with her was a potential reality, he was nervous.

  She had obviously worked out some things in her own mind but after her statement in the living room, he wasn’t at all certain he’d know how to touch her. She’d said that when he was gentle, she got upset. What did that mean? Was she trying to tell him that she liked it rough? Somehow, he doubted that. She’d responded pretty well the last time she was under him on this bed, and he’d been winging it that day. Then again, she’d ended up freaking out.

  Rubbing his hands across the top of his head, he groaned. Denny and Muffy would be arriving in two days, and the house, at least, had to be finished. They hadn’t even broken ground for the spa yet and that would come, but the house had to be ready. He couldn’t stress Tara to the point that she fell apart – she had to be able to work.

  Springing from the bed, he strode to the living room and stubbed his toe on the leg of the couch. Muttering an oath, he flipped on the light and limped toward the kitchen. He took a glass from the new upper cabinets, got a drink from the tap and leaned against the counter, running his palm across the smooth cold granite. Mumbling, he tossed the remaining water down the drain and set his glass in the sink, then headed back toward the living room. As he unrolled the thick set of drawings, he rubbed his injured toe on the back of the other calf, and leaned over the table to scan each page, reviewing the work that remained to be done.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Sure enough, the crowd at the house was busy and loud, but well ordered. Steve had the crew in the barn in hand, Justin and several men were finishing the multilevel deck on the back of the house, and Becky was running interference between her crew and Tara.

  The deck was taking shape and nearly all the support trusses were in place. Justin positioned a joist hanger and raised the drill. A scuffle around the corner caught his attention. The drill whirled and slipped from his hand, spinning the screw into the air. He ducked and the screw barely missed his head. Scowling, he turned to see the landscaper arguing with Steve, as they stomped around the corner of the house. “Now what?”

  Waving his hands in the air, the landscaper cursed and gestured. “That woman! If she comes flouncing down here again, ordering my crew around—” He scowled and flung one hand in irritation. “She just might manage to have that tree dragged out of here over her ‘over her dead body.’”

  Justin plodded tiredly to the edge of the deck. “What’s going on?”

  Steve jumped in front of the irate man. “Sorry, boss, Tara says that willow tree in the front isn’t to be cut down, but it’s marked and it’s on the plans to go.”

  “That woman is a menace!” The landscape contractor gestured toward the house.

  Justin laughed and tromped down the steps to slap the contractor on the shoulder. With a grin he expertly turned him away from the house. “Calm down, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “I can’t work under these conditions,” the man complained. “This site is a madhouse and that woman is telling me she is in charge.”

  “We got this, come show me the tree.”

  They strode around the house to find the willow, its leaves showing the first signs of color, and in front of it was Tara – her arms clamped over her chest and her eyes as dark as night.

  After twenty minutes of negotiation, Justin convinced the landscaper to work on other areas until he and Tara could talk more about the tree. Crisis averted, he watched Becky shoo onlookers away and lead Tara back to the house to supervise the next truck full of furniture that was already backing toward the porch.

  Glancing around him, Justin had to agree with the landscape contractor. The site was a madhouse.

  * * *

  Adjusting the soft angora throw across the chair, Tara tilted her head to one side, surveying her work. The library nook and now the TV room were complete. Floor-to-ceiling white bookshelves that were filled with books lined the far walls, with two dark, overstuffed chairs flanking an antique table topped with a reading lamp. The floors shone dark under the warm silk rug, completing the library nook.

  Matching bookshelves lined the walls in the TV room, except where the large flat screen TV was anchored to the wall on a pivot. Leather sofas faced each other over a coffee table of aged, oak barn wood. Books, photos, and knick-knacks filled the shelves. Throws were tossed across the plush furniture and the large rug brought out the mint-green trim around the bank of window. Coffee table books and family photos added a long-lived-in, homey feel to the new space.

  The area between the library and the TV seating was filled with a handsome, oak scroll pool table, its cues resting along the wall in a matching rack.

  Satisfaction settled into Tara’s chest. The bedrooms were finished and now the upstairs living area was too. Her day’s work was almost complete. She sighed and headed down the stairs. Becky was thanking the lifting crew, and Tara joined her, smiling and hugging the tired men. She couldn’t have done it without their help. They promised to return the next day, and she waved as they headed across the porch toward their cars.

  She and Becky compared notes for the next day, determined that the kitchen, dining room, breakfast nook, offices, and bathrooms would all be completed by the next evening.

  Tara waved to Becky and wandered back through the house. The empty kitchen echoed with her footsteps as she passed, gazing out toward the new deck. A smile lit her face as she opened the French doors and wandered out onto the broad expanse of outdoor space Justin had created. Several seating areas were nearly completed, with patio furniture and dining sets being situated on different levels. Potted plants were being carried in to grace the corners and wooden steps.

  Justin lifted a hand in greeting and stood next to her. “What do you think?”

  She shook her head. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe you pulled this off.”

  “It’s pretty damn cool isn’t it?” He rocked back on his heels, his arms folded across his chest.

  Tara walked across the deck and flopped onto the top step, rubbing her shins. “I’m exhausted.”

  He leaned against the rail. “Me too, you about ready to call it a day?”

  Their eyes met, emotion flaring between them. They both knew that the end of the work day meant they could finally take an hour or two to be together.

  The last six weeks felt like six months, or even six years, maybe even eons they’d spent butting heads -- wanting each other
but instead driving each other crazy. As Tara watched, Justin headed toward her, missed a step, and nearly tumbled face first into a planter. She laid her head on her knees, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “Careful, boss!” the crew called, laughter cascading among the tired workers.

  He waved them off, then sat next to Tara. “Gotta be careful, they’ll think I’m falling for you.” His eyebrows waggled. “Ha, ha?”

  She smiled.

  He could see she was feeling edgy, so he stood and extended his hand. “Come on, show me what you did all day.”

  She looked up at him. “You really want to see it?”

  “Sure! Come on…”

  She stood and brushed off her rear.

  He headed into the kitchen and she followed. When they got to the stairs, he took her hand. “I feel like we’ve turned a corner, you and me.”

  She knew what he meant but didn’t know what to say. “How’s that?”

  “You know, first you didn’t want anything to do with me and I chased you, then I decided we weren’t meant to be, and you chased me, then you told me you were good with it, so I attacked you by the dumpster. Typical boy meets girl.”

  She giggled.

  They rounded the top of the stairs and Justin stopped in his tracks. “Holy crap, Tara, how did you do this?”

  She stood quietly as he circled the room, touching pictures and artwork. He pointed to a shelf. “This bookend, it’s an old caster upside down on a wood block.”

  She nodded.

  “And these antique, tin type photos are of who?”

  She shrugged. “Not a clue.”

  He circled the sofas, running his hand along the back, his fingers bumping over the brass brads. “These look thirty years old.”

  “They’re new, they came in last week.”

  “But these books, it’s like someone was reading them and just laid them down.”

  “They’ve been read.”

  “This is absolutely amazing. I feel like I’ve walked into someone’s home, and they’ve lived here for two generations.”

  “Thank you. That was my goal.”

  He wandered toward the west addition, his hand skimming the dark-green felt of the pool table. “Is this an antique?”

  She nodded her head.

  When he got to the bedroom, he paused in the doorway. “This is perfect.”

  She pushed past him and bent to fluff one of the many pillows on the bed.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down, then smoothed his hand over the covers. “This quilt is unreal, where did you get it?”

  “Winnie’s quilting club.”

  He looked surprised. “The ladies who brought lunch yesterday?”

  She nodded.

  “There are ten bedrooms…”

  “They did pretty well.”

  He chuckled “How much does one of these run?”

  She smirked. “They did pretty well.”

  He stood and glanced around the room. “So how much do you figure you made on the interior design of this upper floor?”

  Her face scrunched in thought. “It’s not as simple as you may think. I’d have to look at my notes.”

  “Why, you already had most of this stuff, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but I had to buy supplies like paint, brushes, rollers, screws, glue, tarps, power tools, stripper, and stains. Plus reupholstery and my hours, and hauling and staging. It all adds up.”

  He walked to the headboard. “What about this? It doesn’t look like you had to do anything with this. It looks like you picked it up at a fancy estate sale and brought it over.”

  She snorted. “I picked that up at a flea market and it was blue. I’ll have you know, I sanded that down and put three colors of paint on it.”

  “Three? But it’s white.”

  She pointed out where she had sanded off edges to make it look worn and to expose the blue-ish shades of white underneath. Then she showed him where she’d waxed it dark in the cracks to make it look old again.

  “I’d never have known. This place is just… I don’t have a word for it.”

  She only nodded, too tired and stressed out to bask in his adulation.

  He ambled across the room, leaned over the reading desk, and peeked through the drapes. The landscaping crew were loading the last of the tools into their truck, and the sun was quickly disappearing behind the barn. Dropping the curtain, Justin turned back to Tara. “Looks like we’re alone.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  He crooked his index finger at her to come to him.

  She trudged across the room, misery bright in her eyes.

  He took her in his arms. “Talk to me.”

  She laid her forehead on his shoulder and mumbled into his shirt. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  His fingers massaged the tight muscles up her back. “Are you worried about the work you did today?”

  She shook her head without looking up, her face rubbing against his shirt.

  “Are you worried about tomorrow? Because based on today, you’re gonna do fine.”

  She rubbed into his shirt more to indicate no.

  “Is it me? Are you wishing we hadn’t partied quite so dirty yesterday?”

  She giggled and punched him playfully in the stomach.

  Peeling her off his chest, he took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat and patted the bed next to him.

  She plopped down, making the bed springs bounce, to stare down at her hands in her lap. “It’s not you -- it’s just everything. It feels like my whole life has suddenly changed.”

  “This is a big project and it’s been complicated. I’ve wondered how you were dealing with everyone coming to help. Did that make you happy?”

  She shrugged. “Of course, but…”

  He waited, threading her fingers through his.

  “But, it’s like now I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”

  He turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, before, I felt like I owed them, and I kind of— I almost feel like now I owe them even more.”

  He turned, shifting on the bed to face her, their hands locked between them. “You know, I’ve never understood that. Why do you owe them?”

  She paled. “I don’t talk about it.”

  “Maybe it’s time you did.”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She looked up, her eyes bright with emotion. “Yeah…”

  He waited for her begin.

  Still gnawing at her bottom lip, she hesitated, but finally gave in. “You know part of it… that when I was six, Winnie came and took me from my dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, before that, the whole town knew what was going on— and they were all trying to decide what to do. Old Sheriff Montrose, you don’t know him, he died last year, anyway, he said he’d start the paperwork for Social Services, and everyone agreed, I guess.”

  Squeezing her hand, Justin smiled, encouraging her to continue.

  “Before he got the papers turned in, and it was a big deal because he had to file the papers in Uniontown, that night happened.”

  “So, he didn’t have time to get the papers filed before the night Winnie took you away?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, so I still don’t understand why you think you owe everyone this huge debt.”

  She twisted her fingers, pulling them from his.

  “Tara, what happened after Winnie took you?”

  She stared at the floor for a long moment before she spoke. “Nothing happened.”

  He tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t understand.”

  She glanced at him through her lashes. “That’s just it, don’t you see? Nothing happened. No one said a thing. No one filed paperwork. It was as if I’d been Winnie’s all along. The schools didn’t ask for my birth certificate, the local doctor didn’t ask for shot records, the sheriff didn’t
say a word. Nothing.”

  Justin began to get the picture. “The whole town just pretended you belonged to Winnie?”

  She nodded.

  “Why—what made them—?” He shook his head in confusion.

  “Exactly. I never knew what was going to happen. I didn’t dare talk about it, for fear I’d be told I had to leave. I’ve not asked anyone, not one single time, not one single person, a question about where I was going to go. Ever.”

  He sat staring, baffled, and then he couldn’t wait another minute to know. Speaking slowly, tentatively, he asked, “And your dad? Did that bastard ever— did he touch you?”

  She shook her head. “No, he just scared the hell out of me.”

  The tight knot that had taken up residence in Justin chest the night he talked to Winnie relaxed enough for him to breathe. Understanding that Tara lived with fear was bad enough, but living with memories of…

  Tara continued. “I spent years worried that he’d say he wanted me back, but he never did. I was actually relieved when he died.” She frowned, wringing her hands in her lap. “At first, I was scared and upset about being with Winnie, and I didn’t really understand anything, but then time went by – then more time. Finally, I didn’t know what would happen if I broke the silence.”

  He frowned, understanding dawning. “You’ve been afraid every day since you were six that someone would take you away from Winnie?”

  She nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I couldn’t, I didn’t know— I just wanted to make everyone happy, so I could stay.”

  “Oh my God, Tara.” His heart broke, constricting his breath. “Surely you didn’t think you had to earn their silence?”

  She sniffed and shrugged. “Sounds kind of crazy now, after all these years, but I guess I really did. I didn’t want anything to happen to Winnie either.”

  “To Winnie?”

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and nodded.