by Tari Faris
Libby shrugged. “I was going to go for a ride on Petunia.”
“Petunia?”
“Sorry. My bike.”
“Perfect. I just ran two miles, but I could stand to burn a little extra energy today. I’ll go steal my sister’s bike from next door. She’s on her honeymoon, she won’t care.” Olivia checked her watch. “I have to be back in time to go serve at the shelter with the church. You can join me if you want.”
“With your church?” Now probably wasn’t the time to mention she didn’t do church. “Maybe next time.”
Within a few minutes, they were cycling north on Henderson at a comfortable pace. About two miles out of town Olivia turned down a dirt path and stopped in front of an old building. She dropped the kickstand. “Hope you don’t mind the break, but I figured we needed to talk about some of your problems too. And biking makes that difficult.”
“My problems?” What had Luke told Olivia?
“How can I get you to want to stay in Heritage unless we address some of them?” Olivia dropped onto the bottom step of the building. “Let’s start with the man who yelled at you.”
Oh, those problems. She could talk about those. She followed Olivia to the building but didn’t sit. “I think he’s Hannah and Luke’s new neighbor. Or at least someone there to work on the house. I’d rather never see him again.”
“In a town our size, that isn’t likely.” Olivia leaned back on her elbow. “There aren’t too many people I can imagine yelling at you though. Well, there is one. Gray hair, good-looking in a Richard Gere sort of way, and acted like he owned the world?”
“Not gray. Black. More good-looking in a—who’s that guy who plays Superman? Not Christopher Reeve, the new guy.” Libby climbed the steps and tested the door. Locked.
“Henry Cavill? Well, that rules out Dale Kensington.” Olivia sat upright. “You said he was moving into the house next door?”
“Or helping someone move.” She peeked in one of the windows, but thick dust obscured her view. “What was this place?”
Olivia looked up. “A one-room schoolhouse. Want to see inside?”
Libby worked the door handle again with no luck. “It’s locked.”
“Of course it is.” Olivia pushed to a stand. She motioned for Libby to follow her. “What did he yell at you about?”
“My dog got in his yard.” Libby high-stepped through the tall grass as they circled to the back of the building. She’d have to do a tick check later.
“That’s all? Sounds like a grump.” Olivia stopped at a door on the back side. She slid a loose board to the left, then reached her hand through. The door popped open with a click. “I’ll figure out who this hot guy is and help you take him down a notch.”
There were no steps on this side, so Olivia lifted herself up in the doorway, then offered Libby a hand. Libby took it and pulled herself up.
“I didn’t say I thought he was hot.” The door slammed shut, and she sneezed as dust filled the air.
Olivia brushed off her hands and led them through a small mudroom to the main room. “You said Henry Cavill. That says it all.”
The main area was about fifty feet by twenty feet with three windows on each side. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling with cobwebs covering the expanse between. The floor appeared solid but the wood weathered and worn. Amazing.
“You seem pretty curious about this Henry Cavill person.” Libby squatted down and ran her fingers along the weathered gray boards. “Are you in the market for a boyfriend?”
“I have my own difficult man in my life. I don’t need yours.” Olivia’s voice echoed in the room.
“You have a boyfriend?”
“No. I have a complicated relationship. We volunteer together. Flirt. And just when I think we’re about to take a step forward, he takes about five steps back. We’ve been doing this little dance since we met almost two years ago, and my patience is running out.” Olivia jabbed her hands on her hips. “That’s why I applied for a job in Phoenix. I can’t keep going on like this.”
“In Phoenix?”
“Yes, but I’m here to help for now. Let’s talk about the library. What does it need most?”
“Calling that place a library is an abuse of the word.” Libby ran her finger down the glass pane of the window, leaving a trail behind. “I think it might be dustier in there than it is in here.”
“It needs a good cleaning? I can help with that.”
“It’s more than the dust.” Libby brushed off her finger. “No one will want to go there. It’s a dungeon. A library should be central in the community. A place people want to be—want to gather. I thought about seeing if any of the empty storefronts along the square were available—”
“Don’t bother. There’s no way Kensington would give up that space. He has his heart set on strip-malling it as soon as he can get Leah and Caroline to agree to sell their share.” Olivia ran her hand over some markings on the wall. “And since Hannah had that section of houses along the square zoned as historic, all of them have been bought up to restore and resell. The only land in the middle of Heritage left is the square, and, well—”
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
Libby scanned the wood for obvious water damage. “I watched a whole program about moving buildings on PBS.”
“You want to move a building? To where?”
“To one of the corners of the new square. How perfect would that be?” She crisscrossed the room, feeling for any weak boards.
“They had a fire to clear the old buildings from that square. I’m not sure how they’d feel about dropping a new one in their place.”
“But hadn’t Hannah originally wanted to keep the Manor?” Libby leaned against the aged chalkboard that still hung on the front wall.
“Yes, but there was beautiful history in the Manor.” Olivia checked the time on her watch.
“This schoolhouse has beautiful history too. Imagine it. The library in this old one-room schoolhouse in the square.” Libby did a full turn with her arms stretched out.
Olivia paused and studied the room again. “You’re a genius. But would they do that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t know who to ask. If Hannah were here she could—”
“You could take it to the committee.” Olivia made her way to the back door and popped it open again.
Speak to a committee? A chill traveled up Libby’s spine. “I don’t talk to crowds. How about I submit a report?”
“It isn’t a crowd. Only about five or six old men—and Nate.” Olivia bit her lip, then lowered herself to the ground and held the door for Libby. “A presentation wouldn’t be enough. You’d need someone to champion this, and I think I know who to ask.”
“You do?” Libby scooted to the edge and jumped down into the grass. A tick check was definitely in order when she got back.
“Yes. Nate. And I happen to be serving at the shelter with him tonight.”
“You’ll ask him?” Which meant she didn’t have to go through the stress of meeting another stranger. And with Olivia’s charisma, there’s no way this Nate guy would say no. This was almost too good to be true.
“Yes, but it’s still a long shot, so don’t get your hopes up.” Olivia disappeared around the corner of the schoolhouse.
Not get her hopes up? Was she kidding? For the first time since arriving in Heritage, she was starting to believe that moving here wasn’t a mistake after all.
Why had he worried about this? Everything was going great. Nate scrubbed the last of the creamed corn residue away from the large stainless serving pan, then handed it to Olivia. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She took it and sprayed it down at the industrial sink. Steam billowed up around her, causing white-blonde ringlets around her face where a few wisps of hair had escaped her bun.
He grabbed the next pan with a stronger grip. Friends. They were only friends.
Serving alongside Olivia exposed a gap in his life
that he hadn’t even realized was there. Her passion to love people and love these kids filled him with the hope that they could make a difference here.
Who was he kidding? It filled him with hope that a relationship between them could work, but that was false hope.
She set the pan on the counter to dry. “Can you move old buildings?”
He picked up the chili pot and began to scrub. “Me personally?”
“Your family’s company. Do they do that?”
“No. They’d contract that out. But we did that for a project before. Whether it can be moved or not depends on the building. How old are you talking?” He grabbed a pad of steel wool and worked on a bit of overcooked chili that had cemented to the bottom.
“The one-room schoolhouse on the corner of Mathews and Chapel.”
“Chances are that building doesn’t have electricity or plumbing unless it was upgraded later. That move would be a snap, assuming the structure is still sound. I’m pretty sure the town still owns it. So if you plan on stealing it, you probably shouldn’t tell me. Since I’m on the town council and all.”
She pulled the towel from her shoulder and swatted him with it. “Very funny.”
“Where would you move it?” He handed her the pot and pulled the plug in the sink.
“I met Luke’s sister. She was hired as the new librarian and wants to make the schoolhouse the new library in . . . the town square.” She rinsed the pot, then took the towel from her shoulder again and started drying it.
“In the town square? Does she know we just emptied the town square of old buildings?”
“I was hesitant at first too. But it makes sense.” Olivia hung the pot from a hook on a rack. “It’d only take up one corner, and there would still be plenty of space between the library steps and the gazebo. I think if Hannah was here, she’d love the idea.”
“Hannah? The one who set the old buildings on fire?” He handed her another pan to put away.
“Hannah who was also crushed when the Manor burned to the ground with the vet houses.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she bit her lip. “What do you say, board member? Is it a possibility?”
When she looked at him like that, it always made him want to throw caution to the wind, pull her into his arms, and tell her he’d make it happen. But that was a big no-no. He grabbed a cloth and set to wiping the counters down. “I don’t think a building is a part of the plan.”
“I thought you said on your way here that the plans weren’t finalized. This is the solution. Could you at least talk to the committee about it?” Olivia turned on the hot water and rinsed both sides of the sink. “Libby is willing to put together a proposal, but can you see if they’re at least open to the idea?”
“Moving a building is a big project in itself.” Nate looked up, prepared to say no, but the hope in her eyes stopped him. He turned his attention back to the pan in his hands. “I’d need to look into a few things. Make a few calls.”
“That would be perfect.” Olivia gripped his arm with a little squeal.
Nate stilled as the warm water from her hands dripped down his forearm and disappeared under his sleeve. Why did every part of him have to be so affected by her?
“Nate?” Her voice had lowered, and the vulnerability in it almost broke his resolve.
Nate swallowed hard and backed up. “I’ll finish in here. Why don’t you see if Mrs. Jones needs any help out there?”
Olivia yanked the towel from her shoulder and dried her hands before marching through the swinging door, her steps more forceful than necessary.
He’d kept Olivia at a safe arm’s length for the past year and a half, and everything was working—sort of. He grabbed a towel, dried the counter, and did his best to forget the way her hand had made him feel.
The tattoo boasting “master of my fate” taunted him from his forearm. God may have pulled his life out of the pit he’d dug, but that time had cost him so much, not the least of which was the possibility of a future with Olivia. Nate pounded his fist on the metal cart, sending an echo through the room just as Olivia walked back through the door.
“What did that cart ever do to you?” Her laughter tugged something deep inside he couldn’t identify. “Mrs. Jones said we’re done out there.”
Nate shoved his hand in his pocket and faked a smile, forcing his eyes anywhere but in her direction. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.” The hurt in her voice had become too familiar. It was easier when she was mad.
Nate pushed out the back door and marched toward the van boasting Grace Church on the side. The white fifteen-passenger van seemed a little overkill for just the two of them, but it was that or take his motorcycle. Having Olivia’s arms wrapped around him wouldn’t help his resolve in the least.
Olivia fell into step next to him. “My professor got me a phone interview with the Phoenix Tribune.”
His step faltered. Phoenix? As in 1,600 miles away? He drew a calming breath and ignored the pressure choking him. “That sounds exciting.”
He opened her door and waited, his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet.
She paused in front of him, her pink Converses toe-to-toe with his boots. He was all wrong for her . . . in so many ways.
“You really wouldn’t care if I moved across the country?”
Nate took short, even breaths, but her sweet vanilla scent still got in. Teasing him. He just had to keep it together a few more minutes. “I’ll . . . I mean, we’ll miss you. The church, that is, but I want the best for you. If you think this is it, then I’ll wish you the best.”
“Look me in the eye and say that again.” The words came out just above a whisper.
He lifted his eyes to hers. Must be strong. “Are we going to play junior high games?”
“This isn’t a game, Nathan. But I’m tired of feeling like it’s one. You treat me like I have the plague most of the time, but then you look at me like—”
“Like your pastor.” Nate focused on the trees past her shoulder.
“No. Like you want to kiss me . . .” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “Kiss me as much as I want to kiss you.”
Nate’s heart thudded in his chest as his eyes found hers again. That was a mistake. With one look she reached in and offered a balm to his wounded heart. What would it feel like to let himself be loved by Olivia?
Her fingers brushed against his side as her eyes closed. She was closer now. But had she moved or had he? He swallowed against a dry throat.
He had to stop this. If he allowed it, he’d never be able to let her go. He couldn’t chance destroying her life too.
Nate took a quick step back. “We should go.” He willed his pulse to slow as he walked back to his side of the van. He slid into the driver’s seat, set the engine to life, and pushed in the CD sticking out of the player. Who knew what someone had left in there, but it was bound to be better than awkward silence.
Olivia slid into the passenger seat and slammed her door. Hard. She was back to being mad. Mad he could handle.
“You know what, Nathan Williams? I’ve about had it with you. You’re being an idiot.”
Nate kept his eyes on the road, sending up a silent thanks that he had an excuse not to look at her.
“Olivia, you know I think you’re an amazing . . . asset to the church. Nothing can happen between us. I’m your pastor.” Nate drew a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his chest.
“Stop hiding behind the church. You aren’t a priest. Pastors marry all the time. Pastors date all the time. You asked me out, remember? I had a good time, and I thought you did too.”
Nate white-knuckled the steering wheel and clenched his jaw. “It’s never been my intention to hurt you or send mixed signals.”
“Mixed signals?” She huffed and crossed her arms. “Like flirting with me one minute and treating me like I disgust you the next? Or looking at me back there like you care for me and then telling me that if I move to Phoenix the church will miss me? Your s
ignals are more than mixed, buddy, they’re . . . I don’t know a word that means worse than mixed, but they’re that.”
“I do care for you, Olivia.” His chest tightened as the words came out in a low volume, but as the silence stretched out, he had no doubt she’d heard.
“But not enough.” Her voice lowered on the last word.
Stopping at a red light, Nate thrust his left arm toward Olivia. “See this?”
“Your tattoo?” Anger still pinched her face.
“Yes. It says ‘master of my fate.’ I got this when I was eighteen, and I lived by this motto until I was twenty-two. That’s four years. Four long years of many very bad choices.”
Olivia sighed. “It’s not like your other tattoos and piercing scars say ‘choirboy.’ I know you have a past, Nate. What does that have to do with me?”
She didn’t get it. “Do you remember our date?”
“Our one and only date? Yeah—pretty clearly.”
The light turned green and Nate eased through it. “Do you remember our talk right before I dropped you off?”
“No.”
“Well, I do.” Nate merged onto the highway. Why couldn’t they be home already? “You said you’d never been kissed. You talked about how you’d waited all through high school, all through college, until you found someone you thought you could marry.”
“Did you think I was pressuring you to kiss me or, for goodness’ sake, marry me? Because that wasn’t it at all. I mean, it was our first official date and you were asking me questions. It came up.”
“Don’t you get it? You waited. For a date, for a kiss, for . . . everything.”
“You don’t want to be with me because I’m too pure? Now, there’s irony for you. I finally find a guy I want, and he won’t have me because I waited for him.”
No, that wasn’t it—not fully anyway. But it was easier to say that than to explain he didn’t trust himself not to turn out like his deadbeat uncle—that in ways that mattered he already had turned out like him. It had been the week after their date that he’d found out about Chase. That had been the real game changer. But that wasn’t a story he could tell. For now he’d stick to the facts he could share.
