Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  The ground sloping away from the barn was clear of trees or brush, leaving the bus plenty of space to gather speed as it barreled backward.

  Tara’s mouth fell open, her arms reaching out as if she could stop the bus from hurling into the forested drop-off at the edge of the yard.

  “Oh my gosh!” Lizzie cried, taking off toward the bus at a dead run. But before she could get close, the lumbering vehicle veered to the left and crashed violently into the pole that held power lines for the inn. There was a horrible metallic smash and deafening crack of wood as the bus skidded to a halt. The pole wobbled a few times as the adults stared on in horror and then, in slow motion, the pole cracked and splintered, toppling over backward away from the bus, snapping the power lines from the inn and the barn, flinging them like writhing snakes shooting sparks of venom in all directions.

  “Stay in the bus! Don’t get out of the bus!” Lizzie screamed to the white-faced students as she danced away from the whipping power lines.

  Tara wobbled on her feet as Justin raced from the house. “What on earth was that?” he yelled, halting abruptly halfway across the porch, his mouth falling open.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick…” Tara muttered as she crumpled to the ground. Mr. Chatterton caught her elbow and lowered her to a sitting position on the grass, where she slumped, shaking her head, her complexion pale. Justin rushed to her side.

  Elliot stepped onto the porch, his eyes widening. The coffee cup in his hand tilted to the side, coffee pouring unnoticed onto the porch deck. He shook his head once, as if to clear it, then dropped the mug with a clatter and fished in his pocket for his phone to dial 911.

  “Hello.” He spoke clearly to the dispatcher. “We have an emergency at the Serendipity Inn in Smithville.”

  * * *

  Lizzie continued to call to the teenagers that they were safe inside the bus and to sit on the floor in the middle aisle, which the frightened students did without hesitation. Feeling helpless, she returned to her friend’s side. “Are you okay?” she asked Tara.

  The thin woman nodded her head and tried to stand but Justin pressed her back down. “You sit, do you hear me? You’re scaring me, and we have enough to deal with.”

  Tara complied, although with a scowl.

  Elliot joined them, surveying the scene with a keen eye. “I don’t think we can do much more until the power company turns off the electricity.”

  Lizzie’s head swiveled toward him, her countenance dark. “Do you think?” she snapped in frustration.

  He shrugged, wondering why she was irritated with him.

  Mr. Chatterton danced around the scene, wringing his hands and shouting instructions to his students in the bus, his hands fluttering in frustration and fear.

  Lizzie paced, her eyes on the whipping power lines, fearful that they might catch the brush along the drive on fire.

  Time ticked by, the seconds drawn and long, and then finally the faint whine of a siren reached them. A poof of dust appeared over the hill and grew in size, signaling that a vehicle was heading up the long drive toward the inn.

  The sheriff’s car rounded the curve of the driveway, lights flashing and siren screaming, and roared to a stop behind the flopping power lines. About the time he stepped from the car, the lines dropped and the sparks subsided. Hesitantly, the sheriff watched for a few second longer, then spoke into the radio at his shoulder and nodded. “It’s okay now,” he called out. “They’ve turned off the power.”

  Lizzie, Justin, and Mr. Chatterton hurried to the bus to help the students pile out onto the lawn. Elliot waded through the crowd of students to meet the sheriff and introduced himself with a handshake, explaining to the best of his knowledge what had happened.

  More sirens rose in the evening twilight as a cloud of dust once again appeared at the end of the drive. This time a fire truck lumbered up the drive, followed by an ambulance and a long string of cars and pickup trucks. The vehicles all parked pell-mell around the accident scene as the firemen jumped from their truck, still pulling on boots and gear.

  Elliot realized that they must be volunteer firemen from around town, who’d dropped what they’d been doing in their everyday lives to rush to the fire station. But then his thoughts were interrupted by the sheer variety of people clambering from cars and pickup trucks and crowding around the students. The noise level at the scene rolled like thunder. Most of the crowd appeared to be concerned parents, but in the mix was a woman well past childbearing years wearing a fifties-style waitress uniform. She was waving and issuing instructions, her bouffant hairdo bobbing.

  The little blond woman who’d been planting flowers the day before headed toward the crowd, the knees of her jeans covered with mud and her gardening gloves tucked in her back pocket. At her side was a large dark-haired man Elliot hadn’t met. There was an older man in blue coveralls whose drooping mustache twitched excitedly as he issued directions for the town folks to move their cars to make room for the emergency vehicles.

  The woman with all the jewelry who’d flirted with him at the spa was also there, wearing another bright-colored flowing dress, her bun bobbling and necklaces sparkling and jingling as she hurried among the students, calling them by name as she spoke to each.

  None of the students appeared to be hurt past a bump or bruise, so the alarm and fear of the situation soon calmed to a dull roar.

  Half the town must have followed the fire truck, Elliot mused, amazed at how the townspeople had dropped everything to run to the accident. He wasn’t sure if they’d done it from concern or sheer nosiness, but somehow the bustling scene warmed his heart.

  “You seem to find all this quite humorous,” Lizzie snapped. “Our small-town emergencies amuse you, do they?”

  Shocked by her vehemence, Elliot turned his attention to the angry woman. “Not at all.”

  Lizzie snorted and stomped away, causing Elliot to wonder again what he’d done to make her angry. He certainly seemed to rub her the wrong way, that much was obvious.

  Before long, parents collected their children and a tow truck came to haul away the bus. The ambulance crew had packed up and the firefighters left in their truck, assured that the hazard was past. Most of the onlookers had driven back down the winding drive toward town.

  Tara was seated on the porch of the inn, where she’d regained some color in her cheeks. Becky kneeled on the porch beside her holding a roll of paper towel, wiping up Elliot’s forgotten coffee spill.

  * * *

  Lizzie trudged across the yard toward the inn, relieved that a major crisis had been averted. She reached the porch as the sunset radiated across the sky, and she paused to take a deep breath. Admittedly, she’d lost her head in the crisis. Instead of remaining calm, she’d run around waving her arms like a chicken, looking like a fool in front of her new boss and everyone else. She’d even snapped at Elliot, who had done nothing wrong.

  She wiped her palms down the thighs of her jeans in an attempt to calm herself before joining the group. Her fingers were shaking and her knees felt weak, but none of these people knew how deeply car accidents upset her.

  She’d felt it the moment her mother had walked into her bedroom so many years ago -- something was horribly wrong. Her mom’s voice shook, and that never happened. The second she was told that her grandfather’s old truck had slid off the icy country road, she’d known he was gone. She couldn’t be near an accident since without that horrific surge of dread and loss returning.

  Today, as the emergency crews pulled away, she’d wanted only to collapse into the warm arms of a friend and sob. She’d desperately searched the crowd for someone she knew, someone to trust, who could help her. Tara was her only friend in town, and she was in no shape to offer comfort. Then her gaze had found Elliot. He’d been standing there supremely handsome and strong, watching the confusion and chaos, and she’d wanted to run directly to him and burrow into his composure. But then he’d smiled. Right there in the middle of the crisis, he’d smiled a lazy littl
e grin.

  Thank goodness she’d been snapped back to reality and hadn’t done anything stupid, but for some reason, Elliot’s grin had torn out her heart. She thought he would be more considerate of people than that. She should have realized that given his background and status, he’d be cold and unconcerned with their small-time country problems.

  Embarrassed by her neediness and lack of control, Lizzie squinted into the sunset, then turned and resolutely headed up onto the porch with the others.

  Justin gestured with one hand as he spoke on the phone, discussing the power situation with the utility company. Lizzie flopped into a chair across from Elliot and rubbed her upper arm across her forehead. She was sweaty and stressed, but mister city boy appeared to be content and happy, with one foot crossed over the other knee, his loafer bobbing.

  “Figures,” she muttered under her breath.

  * * *

  It was very nearly dark when Justin ended his call and tucked his phone into his pocket. “Well,” he sighed, “looks like they won’t be able to get another power pole out here until tomorrow afternoon, so we’re out of luck.”

  Tara nodded solemnly. “We’ll be okay for a night without power.”

  “Not so much,” Justin pointed out. “Our well pump is electric so we’re not only out of lights but water too. No showers or cooking. Besides, I don’t want you to do anything more tonight. I’m taking you to Winnie’s.”

  The weary woman tried to refuse but Justin stood firm.

  “What about Elliot?” Tara argued. “Where will he go?”

  Shocked by the comment, Elliot felt the weight of being a problematic guest. “Me? Oh I’ll be fine, I’ll simply get a room.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lizzie interjected. “You’d have to go clear to Uniontown. You can stay at my place.”

  Elliot sputtered. “I don’t—don’t want to be a burden, it’s no problem for me to go to Uniontown.”

  Tara frowned and stood. “I don’t want you to have to go so far this time of night. Stay here in town, please?”

  Elliot seemed shocked that Tara wanted to shuffle him off to Lizzie’s; after all, he barely knew the woman, and she didn’t appear to like him much. Watching Tara carefully as she worked to convince him it would add to her stress if he went to find a hotel room, Elliot’s suspicions grew. Did he see a hint of delight in her eye? Was she doing this on purpose to put his feet to the fire? Tara had definitely been amused at his awkwardness yesterday morning at the spa. He’d come here to check on the progress of the spa, mostly to calm his father down, but now he found himself drawn into all sorts of local drama. His business trips usually consisted of flights and hotels and walk-through meetings and drawings. This trip was definitely getting off track.

  Before he could complete the line of thought, Lizzie stood. “It’s settled then. Go collect your things while there’s still enough light to see.”

  For a moment Elliot hesitated, not one to be bossed around like a child; but the woman standing before him was a curiosity, and he had never been good at walking away from a challenge. It wasn’t like he really had the hotel option at hand. Besides, he wondered about Lizzie’s family, her children, and her husband, if there was one. Were they gypsies as well? An evening surrounded by Lizzie’s family would be entertaining, so he finally agreed.

  Chapter Seven

  All the way to her farm, Lizzie’s mind spun. A stunningly handsome man, the exact type her mother wanted, was following her home, and it was all her fault. The man was a contradiction, pulling her in one moment, then repulsing her the next. Why had she wanted to run to him earlier? She had obviously been out of her mind with worry. She’d have to keep a level head the rest of the night. She knew what she wanted in a man, and it definitely wasn’t a condescending clotheshorse -- no matter how good he smelled. She must be hormonal; why else would she even consider being attracted to Elliot?

  As she slowed to maneuver the turn to her driveway, she planned the evening in her mind. She’d offer him something to drink while she tended the animals, then she’d show him his room, the end. Simple enough. Her mind jumped ahead to imagine Elliot’s long frame on her narrow, antique guest bed. Did he wear boxers to bed…or did he sleep in the buff…

  Clearly, she needed to get out more, because this was ridiculous. She was not the needy type, nor the kind of flighty girl who fell hard for men. It had been a rough day, week… month, really. That was all. She was exhausted from moving and the stress of a new job, and the shock of the wreck had thrown her completely off. She just needed to get in the house and get her feet back under her. She had social skills and perfect manners, after all, and it was time to use them.

  * * *

  Elliot tapped his thumbs absently on the steering wheel as he followed Lizzie’s car down the highway. More than anything else at the moment, he was thankful that he didn’t need to find the turn for her driveway in the dark. He was fairly certain it was a location one could only find by chance, and only if they were not looking for it. Like…Brigadoon. That was it, he laughed out loud, she was a throwback, she and her llama-thing. The whole lot of them would disappear with a wisp of smoke, like the mythological Scottish town. They weren’t real at all.

  He snorted.

  The dirt driveway twisted and turned though the trees, giving Elliot the impression that he was leaving civilization behind. Curiosity bubbled in the back of his mind. Would Lizzie’s husband wear crazy clothes too? Maybe bright poofy shirts and gold hoop earrings? Would her children be barefoot and wild? Surely not…

  He pulled up next to Lizzie’s car and rolled to a stop, surprised to see that her house was dark, a looming shadow in the night. “They must go to bed early out here. You’d think someone would wait up though,” he mumbled. The old blue barn glowed softly from a hooded bulb on a pole, and he could just make out the shape of an enormous dog pacing the length of the corral fence. He frowned. Dogs didn’t like him much and the feeling was mutual.

  The slam of Lizzie’s car door broke his wool gathering and he jumped, watching her walk around the front of her car. He pushed open his door and stretched out one leg, never taking his eyes off her. The silence of the dark evening was shattered suddenly when the dog broke into a fit of barking, and Lizzie called out for it to hush.

  She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, then turned from the dog and glowered at Elliot as she waited, obviously irritated that he was taking so long.

  He collected his travel bag and climbed from the car. “Where is your family?” he asked as he closed his door, craning his neck to look past the house, as if the lot of them would be camped in a gypsy caravan wagon out back.

  Her frown deepened. “What family?”

  He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, concerned that he’d gotten his facts wrong. “You know… last night… you said everyone would be hungry…” His words drifted into the night.

  “I did?” Lizzie’s eyebrows rose.

  “Yeah… you said you needed to get home… everyone would be hungry…”

  She shrugged and started toward the house. “Oh, well, I was really tired.”

  He watched her walk away, still amending his thoughts around her response.

  “I must have meant Ingrid, Lily, and the dog,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked.

  Elliot hefted the strap of his bag over on his shoulder and followed. “The llama thing? That Ingrid?” he asked, picking his way across the yard, thoughtful of his loafers.

  Lizzie slammed to a halt and Elliot walked directly into her back, nearly sending them both sprawling. As he scrambled for footing, Lizzie turned to glare at him. “Llama thing?”

  Embarrassed, Elliot cleared his throat and staggered back a step, working to collect his scattered thoughts. “Oh right, alpaca?”

  “Do you call your friend’s dog a thing?” she snapped.

  “Of course not,” he huffed. “But they live in the house! They’re not… barnyard animals.”

  Lizzie stared a
t him for a moment, obviously trying to decide if he was being a jerk or he was just an idiot. Finally, she sighed loudly and turned back toward the house.

  Watching her walk away, Elliot knew for certain that staying with her had been a horrible idea. Finally, the truth occurred to him. “You live here alone?”

  With the screen door half open, Lizzie froze and turned again to glare at him.

  “I mean with Ingrid and… the dog and… the others… of course…” he added with a grimace.

  Lizzie flung open the screen, causing it to bang against the outside wall of the house.

  He caught it on the rebound.

  “Yes, I am the only human here.” She huffed up the back steps. “Why, are you scared I’ll take advantage of you or something?” At the top step she swung around to stare Elliot in the eye. “Would you feel safer if I had a husband? Or were you hoping for a few chickens or maybe a cow?”

  At this point Elliot was at a complete loss so he remained silent, holding her gaze. Heat sizzled between them, and he was confident that it would take more than a cow between them to cool her temper.

  Finally, Lizzie turned and stepped up into the small mudroom off the kitchen. He followed and the old screen door banged shut behind him. Lizzie flipped on the light and dropped onto an ancient wooden bench inside the door, then leaned down and unlaced her boots.

  As his eyes adjusted to the light Elliot blinked, taking in his new surroundings. His eyes roamed from the mudroom to the kitchen. An old sink under the window had small butcher-block counters on either side with a hooked rug on the wood-plank floor. The nine-pane window was filled with wavy glass, and a thin cord with scraps of lace hanging off it was draped across the glass. The windowsill was crowded with various colorful potted plants, -- herbs, he guessed. A battered wood table with two chairs sat in the center of the room with a basket of flowers on top. There were a few empty cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly in one corner. But the real eye-catcher was the huge brick fireplace that filled one wall of the large room, the cavernous thing was nearly tall enough to stand up in, with a gigantic mantle that was loaded with cookbooks and spice jars.