by Rae Davies
It was unplugged, again. What did Granny have against her? It wasn’t like she asked her to take a message—just leave the machine plugged in. Was that too much to ask?
After returning to the living room, she said, “The machine’s unplugged.”
Granny didn’t look away from the screen. “Fancy that.”
Yeah, fancy that. Patsy found a spot between the crocheted afghans and embroidered pillows and plopped down.
“Come here, Pug Girl.” Pugnacious popped up from where she lay and scrambled onto the couch next to Patsy.
“What you all do last night?” Granny’s chair spun toward Patsy.
“Nothing much.” Patsy sipped her tea. Granny didn’t approve of the roadhouse, and Patsy wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “You remember the Barneses?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“They were one of the mine families. Lived here about five years before moving on. They had a daughter my age and a son a year or so ahead of Dwayne.”
Granny nodded her head in recollection. “They weren’t Baptist, were they?”
They could have been devil-worshipping goat-sacrificers for all Patsy knew. “I don’t know. Anyway, the son, Will, moved back to town. Ruthann and I saw him last night.”
“He a good-looking boy?”
What did that matter? “He’s okay.”
“He get a job round here?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t real clear on what he’s doing. But according to Jessica Perry, he had an Internet business he traded for a wad of cash. She sold him the Barnett place.”
Granny’s chair creaked as she sat up a little straighter. “I heard someone bought that old place. He’s a youngun, you say?”
“Older than Dwayne.”
“Must have money to buy that old house. They was askin’ near $200,000, I hear tell.”
Resting the icy glass on her leg, Patsy combed through the fringe of an afghan.
“He must be planning on staying then.”
“Who?”
“That Barnes boy you was telling me about.”
“I guess, at least till he gets bored with us.”
“There ain’t nothing boring about us. You say he was a friend of Dwayne’s?”
“Not really, he was older.”
Granny’s brown gaze bored into Patsy.
“But Dwayne did ask him to come floating with us tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. It don’t hurt none to be neighborly.”
The theme music for World Wrestling Entertainment blared out of the television, saving Patsy from further discussion. She wasn’t sure what Granny’s sudden fascination with Will Barnes was, but she didn’t want to encourage it. The more time Patsy spent on the computer, the more Granny seemed to plot to keep her in Daisy Creek. Patsy’d never confessed her plans to leave, but Granny seemed to sense Patsy’s motive for learning web design.
If she thought a new man would keep Patsy here, she was dead wrong. Patsy’d made that mistake once before. She wasn’t doing it again. Maybe she should fill Granny in a little more on Will’s past. If she knew he had spent too much time cutting class and hanging out with the Gormans, she might back off. Then again, she might not. When Granny got focused on a cause, there wasn’t much could shake her.
After depositing her empty glass into the kitchen sink and grabbing a Hostess pie to tide her over, Patsy wandered back to her room. It was a tiny space nestled in under the eaves. There was enough room for a daybed, computer table, and not a whole lot more. Patsy hadn’t even added too much in the way of personal décor—a couple of posters of Australia hung on the white walls and family pictures sat atop the computer.
It wasn’t much, but Patsy’d called it home since Granny suffered her first stroke about four years ago. A week later, Patsy’d found herself in need of new housing and moving in with Granny seemed to make sense.
At the time, it had been perfect. She and Granny helped rebuild each other, Granny physically and Patsy emotionally. Lately though, Patsy realized she needed something more, something she wasn’t going to find in Daisy Creek. She’d put her life on hold long enough. It was time to take some risks and meet the world.
While she waited for Windows to come on the computer screen, she walked over to some raw basket materials piled in the corner. Picking up a coil of white oak splits, she ran it through her semi-closed hand. It was smooth and strong. Patsy loved the feel of it against her skin.
Granny taught Patsy basket weaving when she was twelve. It was a special time for just the two of them, and Patsy loved it. But basket weaving wasn’t going to get her anywhere, leastways nowhere outside of Daisy Creek.
No, basket weaving was as country as dirt roads and fried okra. Patsy needed to concentrate on learning a skill with big city market potential. She carefully lowered the coil of oak strips to the floor and walked back to the PC.
o0o
“You know how to run that thing, son?” The deliveryman from Perry Flooring looked at Will with unease.
Of course Will didn’t know how to run a floor sander, but how hard could it be? You plugged it in and held on, simple.
“You best get all those tacks out before you start.” Kenny, according to the patch on his shirt, pointed to the corners of Will’s living room where carpet tacks still marred the wood.
“I will.” Will used his most assured tone. Remove the tacks, that made sense.
“You’re gonna need to putty them holes up after too.”
“Of course.” Did the man think he was an idiot? “What kind of putty do you recommend?”
Switching the wad of Redman tobacco from his left cheek to his right, Kenny studied him. “You mean like a brand?”
“Sure, a brand. What do you recommend?”
“I don’t reckon it likely matters.” The Redman traveled back to the left.
Enough of this. Will thanked Kenny for delivering the sander and showed him to the door.
“You planning on keeping it awhile?”
How long could it take to sand a few floors? “A couple of hours and I should be done.” Will checked his watch. Almost seven. The store was closed now, and tomorrow was Sunday. “You open tomorrow?”
“Yep, we’re open—after church.” Leaning back inside the house, Kenny craned his neck to see past the living room into the parlor, then twisted to look into the turret on his left. “I’ll tell Merle you’ll have it till Monday for sure. You need it longer, just call.”
Will closed the door on Kenny’s heels. The deliveryman obviously underestimated Will. He’d have the sander polished and sitting by the front door ready to return before the choir sang their first hymn.
Time to power up the sander. As Will dragged the machine to the front room, Ralph poked his nose out of the kitchen, and then quickly disappeared back behind the swinging door.
Did no one have faith in him?
Even Jessica’s father, when he learned Will had zero home-improvement experience, had tried to talk him into hiring somebody to do the floors, but Will wanted to do it himself. He’d never seen his dad so much as swing a hammer. Hell, the man didn’t even own a hammer, but other men did their own repairs and so would Will.
He slipped the plug into the wall and flipped the switch on the handle. The sander lurched forward out of his hands. With a heart-stopping crash, it broke through the front window. Three seconds later, a spark flying from the outlet and a dull thud from deep in the house heralded an intense silence. The one lamp Will had unpacked went black, and the vibrating sander stilled. Something was very wrong.
Standing in the growing dimness of the room, he thought, I hope the choir sings an extra chorus or fifty.
o0o
Patsy slipped a Mindy Smith CD into her player and sang along to “Jolene” as she and Ruthann drove down Oak Street.
“What time is it?” Ruthann asked.
“After ten, why?”
“There’s somebody over there.” Ruthann pointed to the Barnett place, Will’s new h
ome.
“It’s probably Will.”
“Outside? In the dark?” Ruthann’s voice quavered.
Patsy slowed the Jeep down to a roll and turned down the music. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the air.
“Did you hear that?” Ruthann squeezed Patsy’s arm.
“Probably kids shooting bottles at the fairgrounds.” Patsy tried to sound confident, but her voice sounded unsure even to her own ears.
“I didn’t hear a gun.”
Patsy wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad. She flipped off her lights.
“What are you doing?” Ruthann squeaked.
“If we’re quiet, we can pull up beside the house and see what’s going on from in here.”
“I don’t want to see what’s going on.” Ruthann rolled up her window and locked her door.
“Shush.” Keeping her window down, Patsy turned into the drive that ran along the Barnett place. The ragged sound of Ruthann heaving for breath sounded like she had a bullhorn stitched to her lips. “Shush.”
“I can’t breathe.”
Damn it all. Patsy slammed the Jeep into park and dug onto the floorboard for a paper bag. “Breathe into this.” She shoved it toward her friend. With the rattling of the bag moving in and out each time Ruthann exhaled, Patsy gave up on stealth and flipped her lights back on. Will’s front porch seemed to leap into view.
“Hell.” Will Barnes teetered on a ladder next to the picture window. Then crashed onto the porch.
Oops. Guess it was Will making the noise.
“You think he’s okay?” Ruthann rasped out.
What was the man doing on his front porch, on a ladder, in the dark? Patsy strode up the steps to the porch, Ruthann scurrying behind her.
“What were you doing?” Patsy was pretty proud of herself for leaving out the “in the hell” part.
“Catching fireflies.” Will replied without a trace of humor.
“It’s best to do that right when it turns dark. Most lightning bugs are gone by now,” Ruthann said.
Patsy resisted the urge to pull the paper bag completely over her friend’s head.
“Why don’t you turn on a light?” she asked the still prone Will.
“Can’t see them with a light on.” Ruthann walked over to examine the metal handle protruding from Will’s front window.
Patsy walked into the house and flipped the light switch—nothing. “Your electricity’s out,” she announced.
“Thanks for the bulletin.” Will had pushed himself up. “Hell.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I just cut myself.”
“Don’t move.” Patsy hopped down the steps and jogged back to the Jeep. Returning with a penlight, she bounced the beam along the porch.
“Thanks, that makes all the difference.”
Patsy pointed the light like a laser, right between Will’s eyes. “You don’t have to be a smart-ass. It’s not like we have to help you.”
“Blasting your high beams on me is helping?” Standing, he grabbed the penlight and flashed it onto his palm. A two-inch piece of glass dissected his love line.
“Let me. You hold the light.” Patsy pulled his hand toward her, resting it against her chest as she attempted to dislodge the glass with her fingernail.
“Hell,” he said as she poked the piece deeper.
“You said that already.” Patsy took a perverse joy in watching him wince as she pushed the sliver of glass out of his palm. “There. Good as new.” She traced the wound with the pad of her index finger. “I think I got it all.”
“Are you sure?” Instead of pulling his hand back, Will seemed to lean forward, inhaling as his face approached hers. The beam from the penlight wavered off his palm, spotlighting a patch of worn gray paint on the porch’s floorboards.
She tilted her face up, inhaling too. He smelled clean and woodsy. Like freshly raked leaves. His wounded hand closed around hers. She couldn’t see him now, but she sensed his warmth, couldn’t stop herself from leaning toward it.
“Thanks.” He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead.
A flash of annoyance skittered through Patsy. A kiss on the forehead? That was it?
“Patsy?” A panicked Ruthann crashed toward them through the shattered glass. “I have something on my hand.” Waving her hand in front of her, she pushed between them. “My hand. There’s something on my hand.”
“Calm down. It’s fine.” Patsy led her friend to the steps and forced her down. “I’ll get a wipe.” After sprinting back to her car, she returned with a packet of wet wipes.
As she wiped Ruthann’s hand, she explained, “She has a thing about getting stuff on her skin, so I keep wipes in the car.”
Will leaned against a pillar. In the dark, Patsy couldn’t make out his expression. “Can I have the light?”
He slipped her the small light. Flashing it onto Ruthann’s hand, she said, “I don’t see anything. It was probably just dew or something.”
“There isn’t dew at night.” Ruthann scrubbed with the wipe.
Patsy could feel Will’s gaze on her back. “She’s sensitive about getting stuff on her skin.” There was no reason to be defensive. He hadn’t criticized Ruthann, but defending her friend was an old habit. “A lot of people are.”
“You had a good idea.”
The change in subject startled her. “What?”
“The headlights. I can use my car’s headlights to see what I’m doing.”
“What are you doing?” Patsy handed Ruthann another wipe and snapped the case shut.
“I had a little accident with a floor sander.”
“Is that what broke the window or blew the fuse?” Patsy asked.
“Both.”
A giggle escaped Patsy’s mouth.
Will widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’m sorry.” Struggling to keep the words from coming out with a snicker, Patsy held her breath. “I could call someone to help you. Dwayne’s probably still sober, or there’s my dad.”
“Thank you. I can take care of it myself.”
The air between them seemed to drop ten degrees. Forgive her for trying to be neighborly. “Well, since you have everything under control, I guess Ruthann and I’ll head on home.” She tugged her friend off the step. “Don’t let the lightning bugs bite,” she called over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know lightning bugs bit,” Ruthann said.
Patsy ignored her and tossed the wipe container into the back.
o0o
What an ass. He’d been an ass. He knew it, but there was nothing he could do about it now, not that he wanted to. He didn’t owe Patsy Lee Clark an apology. Not after she laughed at him. He might have been rude, but he didn’t ask for her help, didn’t invite her onto his property. He had a right to clean up his mess any way he liked.
With his BMW’s headlights illuminating the porch, Will swept the broken glass into a pile and dumped it into a metal trashcan. He didn’t need help. He could fix this.
Leaning on the broom, he stared at the jagged hole. It had to be midnight, and, like his father, he didn’t own a hammer. Time to admit the truth. There was no way he could board up this window tonight.
Hell, he should have taken Patsy’s offer, but after she laughed at him, he couldn’t. “Pride goeth before a fall,” he quoted aloud. Or a plunge in this case.
He rested his forehead on the end of the broom handle. Before that giggle, things had been going well. Promising. Maybe too promising. Patsy’s floral scent had enveloped him, pulling him toward her. He’d come damn close to kissing her. At the last minute he’d pulled out enough restraint to keep it to an innocent buss on her brow, but he still wasn’t sure what would have happened if Ruthann hadn’t created her bizarre scene.
Only in Daisy Creek two days and his plans were already going awry. Tomorrow he was getting back on track. He’d fix the window, fix the electricity, and refinish his floors. Then, fully confident in his ability to
get things done, he’d meet Patsy Lee and friends for the float trip.
Will trudged up the stairs for a pillow and some blankets. This might not be a crime-ridden city, but he couldn’t sleep upstairs with a window missing in the front. Laying the blankets next to the floor sander, he called to Ralph. He had six hours until dawn. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
Chapter 3
Grateful that Granny and her mother weren’t there to see her, Patsy wiggled into denim cutoffs and yanked her favorite “Down Under” T-shirt over her green bikini. They would both bust a seam if they saw her leave the house in shorts with a hole in the crotch.
Like it mattered. She was going to the river, not a tea party, and there wouldn’t be anybody there to impress—unless you counted Randy or Will Barnes. Which Patsy didn’t.
Will Barnes. What was his deal? She was still annoyed that he’d rebuffed her offer for help last night. It certainly wasn’t like he had the situation in hand. She’d be surprised if Bad Boy Barnes knew which end of a hammer to hit with. No way he got that window fixed; probably slept on the porch last night.
He did have a buff body though—at least what she’d seen of it. It was hard to tell for sure in his suburban uniform of khaki shorts and polo shirts.
What was up with that? Who was he trying to fool? Like James Dean imitating the mailman. Talk about a turn-off, or at least not a turn-on. Okay, even in khaki, he was pretty hot. Not that she was lusting, more just noticing.
Lusting was best left to Jessica. It was her area of expertise. This brought to mind another point of annoyance. Ruthann had invited Jessica to go floating today.
Sometimes Patsy’s best friend didn’t think. She was always trying to push Patsy and Jessica together, to get over past problems. The thing was Ruthann didn’t know how big some of those past problems were, at least to Patsy. It wasn’t that Jessica had done anything technically wrong, but she’d crossed a line in their past and she knew it. Worse though, was how her simple action had made Patsy realize how big a fool she was, how close she’d come to giving someone the power to make a complete idiot out of her. She should probably be grateful, but she wasn’t, and she wasn’t ever going to be.
