Had she ever cried so much in her entire life? She wasn’t sure but she didn’t remember crying more than once or twice before she got sick. Then again, she didn’t remember ever feeling deeply enough about anything to cry. She’d mandated her life like a business and thrown an angry fit when it hadn’t gone as planned.
Shifting guiltily on the sofa, Julia pushed away her past. She was here now, and she had created plenty of drama to keep herself busy. So much for her plan to hide away and live quietly. That option was long gone.
At some point in the night, Chad had tucked her into bed and silently walked away. And she had let him. Neither of them had known what to say. He’d wanted her until she’d lost it and freaked out on him. He must think she was some kind of wacko. She’d been in fine form all right, yelling that she was disabled and tossing notebooks at him, then sobbing for an hour.
A frown fell across her face and the coffee cup lowered to rest on her stomach. Her head tipped back onto the pillows and her gaze roamed across the tin ceiling, searching for hidden clues as to what to do now, but there was nothing in the ancient pattern that gave her any ideas.
Pulling her feet from the coffee table, Julia sat up and leaned forward, placed her cup on the table, then rubbed her hands across her face, her fingertips circling to rub her still swollen eyes.
She remembered bits and pieces of her past, memories of being perky and confident. How could it be that she was even the same person? She felt like Frankenstein’s monster, as if she had been completely disassembled then sewn back together haphazardly, with pieces sideways or missing, and now with parts not even from her own body. Surely, the ugly scars between the parts of her were obvious, with deep uneven stitches pulled through her skin, leaving gaps and puckers that could never possibly heal into one cohesive person.
Giving herself a mental shake to dislodge the horrible image from her mind, she reached for her coffee cup. Swallowing deeply, she felt the hot brew burn her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She cussed and pushed up from the sofa, then wandered back to the kitchen to dump the coffee, rinse her cup, and set it in the sink. It was time to think about moving forward. If there was one thing she knew, it was that nothing was gained from lingering in the past.
Collecting a fresh notebook, Julia climbed onto her bed to sit cross legged and chew on the end of her pencil. Balancing the notebook on one knee, she scribbled Flower Shop across the top of the page, then under that, Business Plan. Balance sheets, business license, income statements, and cash flow analysis rolled around in her mind in a jumble as she struggled to list and order the things she needed to consider if she were going to open a flower shop.
* * *
Tara’s horn tooted in the driveway as Julia reached for her purse and glanced into her room to check the kittens. As she hurried across the living room, she instructed Ringo under her breath, “You be good and don’t bother George and the babies, okay? I will only be gone for a few hours.”
The little dog whined, his brown eyes liquid and pleading to go along but Julia slipped through the door and locked it. Tara waved and grinned as Julia crossed the yard.
As Julia opened the truck door, Tara dusted at the seat of her work truck. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess in here.”
Julia clicked her seatbelt and shrugged. “No problem.”
“So, are you ready to create a display counter?” Tara asked, turning to watch traffic as she backed onto the street.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
Tara snorted. “Try not to sound so thrilled – I’ll get a big head.”
Julia shook her head. “Sorry, it’s not you, I’m just—in a funk today.”
“Why? What happened?”
“What makes you think something happened?”
Tara’s gaze darted from Julia to the highway, concern etched across her face. “Your eyes are red, and you look exhausted. Is this not a good day to go to the warehouse?”
Staring out the window, Julia frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
“—Obviously,” Tara replied. Silence filled the truck as they rattled down the highway. “Sorry the radio doesn’t work,” Tara offered, unsure how to reach out to her new friend.
Julia waved one hand as if to say no big deal.
Tara stared out the windshield, her frown deepening. As they slowed to pull off the highway, she sighed and tried again. “Come on, I’m a good listener. I heard your date last night got off to a bit of a rough start. Did it get better?”
Julia’s head fell back, and she stared at the roof of the truck. “Of course, everyone would know about that. I’d almost forgotten.”
“I heard it was pretty awesome actually, you with your hand all over Chad’s—Hey, it happens, okay? Do you really think anybody will judge you harshly for spilling water? That stuff happens to everyone.”
“I guess,” Julia muttered as she turned to stare back out the window.
“Where did you go when you left the diner?”
“Uniontown. Well, we went to Chad’s place for him to change first.”
Tara laughed. “That’s a stylin’ bachelor pad, isn’t it?”
“Kind of horrifying actually. Why does he live there? Is it a lack of money?”
Shaking her head, Tara pulled up behind the warehouse, put the truck in park and turned off the ignition. She bit her bottom lip for a moment as she gripped the wheel and stared out the windshield, and then turned to Julia. “You know, I really don’t think so.”
“What do you think then? I can see the wheels turning. Speak,” Julia demanded.
“Well—has he told you anything yet?”
“About himself?” Julia asked. “No, he’s been far too busy dealing with my freak-outs.”
Tara grinned sadly. “Well, I need to hear that story, but back to Chad, it’s almost like he’s been—on hold—since he came back.”
Julia shifted in her seat to face Tara. “About all that, what on earth happened to him? He seems to think the whole town feels sorry for him.”
Tara grimaced. “Yeah— well, they kind of do.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
Tara released her grip on the steering wheel and tossed her hands in the air. “Ah what the hell, it’s public knowledge.”
Julia waited, unsure what was to come and wary that she wouldn’t like what Tara was about to say.
* * *
The afternoon sun beat hot on Julia’s back as she squatted in front of the display case, pushing the sander up and down.
Tara had dug the beautiful old oak cabinet out of her stash, and they’d dragged it behind the shop, along with the armoire Tara was sanding. The display case was waist high, with a wood top and scrolled wood trim. Glass windows in the front of the case would display vases and other gifts for sale, and a cash register would sit on top.
At least that was the plan. Right now, the piece was a filthy mess. Water damage marred one side and deep scratches and stains covered the top counter. Since Tara was working next to her, showing her how to sand and clean the piece, Julia was feeling more secure about her ability to restore the piece.
Tara stood and rubbed her back. “Shall we take five for a water break?” she asked.
Julia nodded and switched off the sander, then followed Tara back to her truck. Accepting the dripping bottle of cold water that Tara offered, Julia leaned against the truck, her mind sifting through the story Tara had shared earlier.
Chad must have been absolutely crushed when his best friend had been killed, and to know he’d sent William on the errand that had ended his life must have made the tragedy nearly unbearable. No wonder Chad felt responsible for William’s family.
According to Tara, the weather had been bad that day, a Nor’easter blowing hard with near blizzard conditions when William’s delivery truck had spun out of control on a bridge, hit the guardrail, and careened over the edge.
Julia wiped her dripping hand across the back of her neck, shaking her head over the
weird twist of fate that she actually remembered seeing footage of the wreck on a morning news show before she got sick. Sadly, she hadn’t even flinched over the story that morning as she’d contemplated her upcoming meetings and activities.
How had she been so cold and self-centered not to realize that people’s lives had been shattered? The wreck had made a sensational story, not only because of the utter gore of hurling over a bridge into an icy river in a blizzard, but when the truck hit the rail, the back doors had flown open, strewing packages across the highway and down the sides of the narrow ravine. Some parcels had stuck in trees and others had floated down the river.
Julia remembered now that she had paused long enough to wonder if anything she had mailed could have been lost, but then she had shrugged it off to get on with her day.
A lump lodged in her throat just thinking about William, Chad, Bobby, and Bobby’s poor mother. Tara said it had taken almost two days for the weather to clear enough for rescue crews to retrieve William’s body from the river. Had Chad and Bobby’s family held out hope that William had somehow survived the fall and drifted down river?
Tara tossed her empty water bottle back into the cab of her truck. “You okay?” she asked Julia. “Do you need to stop for a while? We could finish tomorrow.”
Tipping up the bottle to get the last drop of water, Julia sighed and screwed the lid back on, then tossed the bottle into the truck with Tara’s. “No, I’m fine, thanks though. I think I’ve about got the display case sanded. Will you check my work?”
The two women wandered back toward the furniture. Tara smoothed her hand across the bare sanded wood of the top, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “Looks much better, don’t you think?” she asked.
Julia nodded in agreement.
“Do you want to stain it or paint it?”
Circling the piece with a critical eye, Julia struggled to focus her miserable thoughts back to the task at hand. “Would it be blasphemy to paint it?”
Tara laughed. “Honey, the best thing about shabby chic is that you can do whatever you please with it. And if you don’t like it, just sand it down and do it again!”
The tightness in Julia’s chest lightened a few notches at Tara’s smile, and she resolved to put aside her concern for Chad and how his past would affect their new and tentative relationship. At least until she got home and had the time and space to think it all through, that is. She did, however, finally have a grasp on why Chad felt as if everyone looked upon him with sympathy. Undoubtedly, they did.
She couldn’t even think about Bobby and how she had unintentionally heaped more pain upon his thin shoulders.
* * *
Later that night as she lay in bed, Julia tugged the covers up to her chin and contemplated the shadows playing across the ceiling. The narrow and spiky tree branch shadows of her first few nights had been replaced with shifting patterns of leaves in the breeze.
One of the kittens woke and mewed in the darkness, then hushed as George’s purr reverberated through the room. Ringo shifted on the bed and fitted his curled body against Julia’s side. The house creaked and shifted, speaking to her of its day and many others long past.
Chad wandered through her thoughts, touching tender places in her heart, and triggering apprehension in her mind. He’d been so gentle with her the night before, holding her as she cried. He hadn’t responded to her revelation of memory problems. Had he decided that she was just too messed up to deal with? He already had a plate full of his own troubles.
His laughter on the sidewalk outside the café came to mind. Was she a diversion to his problems? Or maybe she offered him a chance to move past them, like Tara said?
Julia frowned. She could barely manage her own baggage – she was in no position to help anyone else. What should she say to Chad now? Things would already have been awkward after her meltdown, and now that she knew about Bobby and William, she’d be even more tongue-tied than usual.
Chad had texted her earlier, asking if he could come over the next evening to talk about deliveries for the flower shop. Knowing that she’d wake up in a few hours and shower and dress with the intent to see him felt different now somehow. She’d already considered what she would wear, what she’d offer him to drink, maybe she’d make a vegetable tray, or a whole dinner? Maybe she’d try perfume again. It had been forever since she’d done much prep-work to meet with a man, and it made her feel fake. Like she was trying too hard.
Was she trying too hard? Chad had liked her in faded jeans and a sweatshirt with no makeup; maybe she should just go with the natural thing. No, absolutely no effort didn’t feel right either.
Her sigh melted into the room and drifted to the ceiling. What would she say? Planning for the flower shop was moving along; they could talk business. She’d applied for a license and printed out forms as well as worked on the business plan. She’d even created a business card template. Being able to talk with him wasn’t what worried her, she realized, it was all the non- verbal communication that concerned her.
The way he’d look at her -- his hands moving as he spoke, and his fingers rubbing his jaw. She knew his touch. Hell, just being in the room with him limited the amount of oxygen.
She clamped her eyes closed and wondered what it was about a man that did that to a woman. Was there a hormone they could capture in a test tube that made women get soft and stupid? Her eyes drifted open. She didn’t think they’d found it yet, because if they had -- it would be packaged and sold by the gallon.
Maybe it was her. Maybe she was just needy and not capable of living on her own. Maybe she was scared and had somehow twisted her issues and confused them with feelings for Chad. Did she have feelings for Chad? Where had that come from? If she never saw him again would it really bother her?
Her fingers clenched onto the quilt. She’d resolved never to allow anyone into her life that she couldn’t stand to lose. Could she lose Chad and come out the other side able to move on? What did she need him for?
Her eyes darting back and forth with her thoughts, Julia skimmed across all her encounters with Chad -- his laughter, his capable attitude, his dealings with Bobby, his tenderness.
With a flash, she realized she’d been married for three years and had not felt as deeply about her husband as she did about Chad. She’d wanted Brad, respected him, sure, but he hadn’t— no, it wasn’t him, it was her. She hadn’t been vulnerable enough to feel anything this deeply.
She hadn’t even contemplated what it would mean to pour out her heartache and turmoil onto a man and to be held and comforted. And likewise, neither had she considered being open enough to experience a man’s personal tumult, let alone want to help. None of that would have appealed to her in the least, even if she had considered it.
So, what had changed? Why was she so different now? What about the tragedy of her illness had altered her on such an elemental level?
* * *
Winnie waited calmly on Julia’s porch and rang the bell a second time as she adjusted the loaf of foil-wrapped banana bread tucked under her arm like a football. Footsteps and rustling behind the door prompted the old lady to purse her fresh lipstick and straighten her back.
The lock clicked and the door swung open. Ringo squeezed through the opening and circled Winnie’s feet. Glancing up to Julia, Winnie smiled, then hesitated. “Julia, honey, are you feeling okay today?” she inquired, her forehead wrinkled in concern.
Julia smiled lamely and pushed open the screen door. “Morning, Winnie, this is a nice surprise, come in.”
The old woman shuffled in and placed one hand on Julia’s arm, then caught sight of the living room. “Oh my!” Winnie’s hand dropped and she turned to gaze into the room, her mouth falling open. “I heard you’d been shopping, but this is—why it’s simply lovely!”
Julia grinned, ran her fingers through her bed-fresh curls, and tugged her bathrobe tighter across her chest. “It did turn out pretty, didn’t it?”
“Has Tara seen this?” W
innie asked wandering past the window seat, taking in the soft pink cushions, crocheted throw, hand-embroidered pillows, and sheer drapes.
Shaking her head, Julia walked toward the sofa, motioning for Winnie to follow. “Not yet,” she answered, allowing herself a moment to admire the way sunbeams played through the blue glass bottles in front of the mirror on the mantle.
Winnie tottered to the sofa and perched delicately on the edge, tucking one ankle under the other. For a long moment she scanned the room, her eyes softening when they settled on the soft curvy chaise in the corner. Finally, she turned back to Julia. “This is for you, dear,” she said, holding out the banana bread.
Julia accepted the gift, momentarily startled. “Thank you, but—what did I do to deserve this? It smells heavenly.”
Winnie clucked and arranged her purse on her lap. “You are you, that’s all.” Her head tilted to one side. “Are you feeling under the weather today?”
Shrugging, Julia blushed and tugged again on her robe. “No, just slow to get moving. How about I cut this and make you a cup of tea? Can you stay for a bit?”
“That would be lovely,” Winnie replied with a nod.
Julia turned toward the kitchen. “Want to see how the kitchen turned out?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Oh my, yes,” Winnie huffed as she hoisted herself from the sofa to follow Julia down the hall. “But first I want to see those kittens.”
Julia motioned for the old lady to follow her into the bedroom. When Winnie stepped to her side, Julia bent down by Ringo’s bed, carefully lifted a sleeping kitten, and stood, offering the kitten to Winnie.
Winnie’s wrinkled cheeks trembled as she took the kitten, cupping it gently in her gnarled hands. The kitten woke and mewed loudly.
Julia bent and petted George, reassuring her all was well.
“My, but she is the sweetest little thing, isn’t she?” Winnie murmured.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 48
