The House that Love Built

by Beth Wiseman

  “Two streets up, turn left. Then you go down for about six blocks, over the railroad tracks.”

  Hunter stared out the passenger window and wondered what Owen was going to think when he pulled up to their run-down house with an old oven on the front porch, a busted rocker, and several days’ worth of piled-up black bags full of trash. The trash people had stopped coming since they hadn’t paid the bills. Then the neighbor’s dog had gotten into the bags. It was a real mess, and Hunter was going to have to clean it up. Should have cleaned it up before now.

  “Hope you had a good time,” Owen said as he pulled up to Hunter’s house.

  But Hunter didn’t face Owen, didn’t see his reaction to Hunter’s house or hear anything else the man said. All Hunter saw was the beat-up red Chevy pickup in the driveway. His heart sank, and he suddenly felt like he might vomit.

  Hunter walked in the front door and into a cloud of smoke. It wasn’t even close to dark, but he had to blink his eyes a few times to adjust to the dim lighting and see his parents sitting there.

  “Hey, Hunter. I hear you been out partying with the rich folk. Good for you.” Hunter’s mother was dressed in the last outfit he’d seen her in when they left for the rehab facility—jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of red spike heels. She’d put on some weight, though. He didn’t remember her stomach hanging over her jeans like that. Her blond hair had really dark roots for several inches down the sides of her head.

  “Hey, Mom.” Is that pot I smell? He waved his hand in front of his face, then focused on his father. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, boy. Good to see you.” His father stood up and walked toward Hunter with his hand outstretched. Hunter shook his father’s hand and wondered if his parents were home for good.

  Mom crossed her legs and grinned. “So, Momma tells us that you got yourself a real good job.”

  Hunter nodded. Grandma was propped up on pillows on the couch, still in her pink robe. His parents were in the recliners. No other place to sit. “Yeah, painting and stuff.”

  “I hope you’re taking care of things around here, like keeping the electricity on and food on the table.” Mom lit a cigarette, although Hunter was now sure that wasn’t all they’d been smoking. The sweet smell still lingered in the air. His chest tightened up, and it felt like someone had their hands around his throat.

  His father chimed in, “After we leave, I don’t want to hear you ain’t been using that money to take care of your grandma.”

  Music to his ears. They were leaving. When?

  “We got us a weekend pass,” Mom said before chuckling. “For good behavior.”

  Hunter struggled to breathe—from the smoke and what he now knew to be an anxiety attack.

  “You having another one of them attacks?” Grandma edged herself up on the couch until she was almost sitting. She looked at his mother. “I told him to take some of my Xanax, but he just chooses to be miserable instead. Hope you’re not having those on the job, Hunter.”

  He shook his head, which made him feel like the room was spinning.

  “Good grief. What in the world do you have to feel anxious about?” His mother actually laughed, and Hunter wished she’d have this feeling—just once—to know what it feels like to think you’re going to die. Then maybe she wouldn’t be laughing.

  “Go on in your room, Hunter.” Grandma walked toward him and put an arm around him, which almost made the anxiety attack worth it. “Lay down and take some deep breaths. You know it will go away.” They were almost in his room when she whispered, “Remember, you’re not going to die. Everything is all right.”

  Hunter nodded, thankful for his grandmother. In spite of everything, she really did love him.

  After she closed his bedroom door, he lay down on the bed and tried to think about the day. About Owen, the baseball game, the great meal. But the sound of his parents laughing in the next room was making that nearly impossible. At least he only had to make it through the weekend.

  He turned his face away from the sounds in the living room but then sat up quickly, knocked himself in the forehead with his palm, and held his breath. His dresser drawer was open a little. He hurried across the small room and pulled the drawer all the way open. He reached to the back and felt around for the envelope with one hand while he clicked his lamp on with the other.

  Tears built up in his eyes.

  Gone. All the money he’d made this past week, less what he’d given his grandma. Twenty dollars in his pocket was all that was left.

  He burst out of his bedroom door, head throbbing, heart racing, palms sweating. His father stood up before Hunter could even say anything. Dad puffed out his chest as Hunter walked toward him. “You got a problem, Hunter?”

  Something about the way Dad said his name made Hunter real sure that he’d take him out back and beat the snot out of him if he accused anyone in the room of stealing his money. Grandma didn’t allow no beatings in the house, and a few times she’d even cried and begged Hunter’s father to stop hitting him.

  He walked out the front door and slammed it behind him.

  Fifteen

  Brooke was sitting at the counter early Saturday afternoon when Owen walked in. Juliet was in the back entertaining Meghan and Spencer, and Big Daddy was stocking shelves nearby.

  “I see you’re busy painting today.” Brooke eyed the dark-colored splotches on Owen’s hands. “Interesting color.”

  Owen looked down at his hands. “Actually, it’s stain. I’m staining the inside of my closet. And myself, I guess.” He smiled. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

  Brooke’s eyes widened. “Uh . . .”

  “Not like pizza at my house or hanging out on your couch. A real dinner.”

  Brooke frowned. “I thought my cooking was a real dinner.”

  Owen laughed. “I know, I know. I just meant like at a restaurant. Somewhere here in Smithville.”

  Wow. Sounded almost like a date. “Okay. I guess so.” She paused, wondering about Meghan and Spencer.

  “Can the girl who works in the back keep your kids? Or maybe your mom could watch them?” He held up a hand. “Not that I don’t like your children. Meghan and Spencer are great. But . . . you know.”

  Yikes. This is a date. A bubble of excitement rose in her stomach, along with a little guilt and some surprise.

  “Juliet can probably keep them.” She pressed her lips together, struggling not to smile.

  “Can you go ask her?”

  “Uh, now?” She raised her eyebrows, still stifling a smile. He was almost being pushy, and that was strangely flattering. It felt good to know he wanted to be alone with her.

  “Yeah.” Owen nodded. “Then we can set a time.”

  Brooke shrugged. “Okay.” As she turned and walked toward the back, the smile did indeed fill her face. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, but the prospect of going on a real first date with Owen felt better than she’d expected.

  They were friends. Was he wanting it to be more? She recalled the time they’d spent together, how good he was with her children. Hmm.

  Juliet could barely contain her excitement when Brooke pulled her out into the hallway and asked her to babysit. “Are you going to wear that outfit I loaned you awhile back?”

  Brooke tried not to cringe. No way she was wearing that. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.” She pointed back to the office. “And don’t mention this to Spencer or Meghan yet. I’ll talk to them tonight. I’m not sure how Spence will feel.”

  “Just go!” Juliet was practically dancing. She pointed to the front of the store where Owen still waited. “Tell him yes!”

  Brooke returned to the counter, hiding the smile she felt trying to resurface. She’d been asked out plenty of times since Travis died. This was the first time she’d accepted.

  “Juliet can babysit.”

  Owen clapped his hands together. “Great. Where should we go? It needs to be somewhere really popular around here. Where do all the l
ocals go? I want everyone to see us together.”

  Brooke pulled her eyes from his, blushing. “I guess either Pocket’s Grill or the Back Door Café. Why . . .” She paused, unsure how to ask what she was thinking.

  “I’ve been to both. Which one do you think more people will frequent on a Saturday night?”

  She finally asked, “Why does it matter?”

  Owen put his palms on the counter and leaned a little closer to her on the other side. “Do you know someone named Tallie Goodry?”

  “Yes.” Brooke folded her arms across her chest. “Why?”

  “She came to my house this morning unannounced.” He squinted one eye, frowning. “She practically asked me out. I had to do some major sidestepping, but she bullied my phone number out of me.” He paused. “Anyway, I’ve told you how I feel. I’ve got some major issues to work through, and I’m not ready to date anyone. If everyone thinks you and I are a couple, it will keep people like her at bay.” He shook his head. “She called me around lunchtime . . . after she’d already been by this morning.”

  Brooke felt her face flame and her heart raced. “So you want me to give up any opportunities that anyone might ask me out by pretending to be your girlfriend. Is that correct?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to date anyone. I thought you weren’t ready.” Owen stuck his paint-covered hands into the pockets of his silly overalls.

  “Maybe I just haven’t met the right person to even consider it.”

  Owen grinned. “I think you were considering it the other night when you came on to me.”

  Brooke tipped back the edge of her baseball cap and stared into his eyes. “Go find yourself someone else to keep away all the hundreds of women who will surely be banging down your door to date you!” She turned and walked toward the back.

  “Brooke. Wait!” He followed her, and when she didn’t slow down, he grabbed her arm. “Stop.”

  “You’re mighty arrogant, Mr. Saunders.” Brooke glared up at him, feeling ridiculous, angry, and embarrassed.

  He let go of her and looked away, then met her eyes again. “See why I’m undateable? I’m a jerk.” He held up one finger. “But in my defense . . . I just assumed that every guy around here has already made a play for you. I didn’t think I’d be messing up your social life. I thought you made it pretty clear you weren’t ready to move on.”

  Brooke shifted her weight and tapped one foot. “I guess that’s a decent apology.”

  “I tell you what. Forget all that about being seen together. Tallie Goodry will most likely figure out what a jerk I am anyway on her own. Why don’t we just go out tonight? You have a babysitter. We can just sit and talk and have a good meal. I don’t care where.”

  As much as a night out sounded good, Brooke hesitated. For a few moments, she’d actually looked forward to a real date with Owen, and that was concerning. Did she really want to put her heart out there like that?

  “Please.” He leaned down and tried to woo her with his blue eyes and charming smile. When he started batting his eyes, she smiled.

  “A grown-up dinner out would be nice.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.” He winked, then turned to leave.

  Brooke stood there for a few moments, trying to figure out what had just happened.

  It was six o’clock when Owen wrapped up his work for the day, pleased with how his closet had turned out. He eyed the clothes on the floor and decided that was a tomorrow project. He needed to shower so he could pick up Brooke at seven.

  What a mess that whole scene in the hardware store had been. Women. He was never going to figure them out.

  Based on her previous actions, Owen decided that Brooke was teetering on the edge, unsure if she wanted to start dating or not. So he made a mental note not to do anything to lead her on. His heart wasn’t up for grabs, but he certainly didn’t want to do anything to hurt her.

  He showed up at seven, and when she opened the door, Owen had to question the pep talk he’d given himself. She wore a green-and-white sleeveless dress, flat sandals, very little makeup, and her hair was long and flowing loose past her shoulders. She was stunning, and for a few moments, he was speechless.

  “I already took Meghan and Spencer to Juliet’s, so I’ll just grab my purse.” She left the door open and walked to her couch to pick up the bag. As she turned the key in the front door, then turned and smiled at him, Owen felt like he’d just moved into dangerous territory. Nothing could be more irresponsible than to lead her on, but Owen was going to have a hard time keeping himself in check. What had he been thinking?

  “You look great,” he said as he opened the car door. She blushed right away.

  “Thanks.” Grinning, she added, “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  Owen went around the front of the BMW, glancing down at his yellow short-sleeved shirt, then climbed into the driver’s seat. They were at Pocket’s Grill in less than two minutes. It was a casual place, but roomy. Smithville had been the locale for quite a few movies, and film memorabilia lined the walls of the restaurant. He and Brooke were led through a crowd of patrons to a seat at the back.

  “Well, the place is packed. Lucky you,” Brooke said as she opened a menu the waitress had just handed them. Her words held an edge, but she was smiling.

  “I told you to forget about that plan. We’re just two friends enjoying a night out.”

  “Your plan wouldn’t have worked anyway. My friend Judy already asked if there was something going on between you and me, and I told her no.” Brooke peered at him above her menu. “And she mentioned Tallie, so I’m not surprised you heard from her.”

  Owen closed his menu and rubbed his forehead. “Not my type. At all.”

  Brooke slowly put her menu on the table. “Do you really think we all have a type, or do we just see things in people that we find attractive in a lot of different ways?”

  Owen thought about how completely opposite Virginia and Brooke were, yet he couldn’t deny he was attracted to Brooke on several levels. And the things he found appealing were qualities Virginia lacked. Brooke was a good mother, and Owen found that very attractive. She also didn’t go out of her way to make herself something she wasn’t. He thought about all the appointments Virginia kept every week—nails, hair, facials, massages, and most recently a plastic surgeon for what she’d called some “minor work.”

  “I don’t know. I guess maybe you’re right. We can find attractive qualities about people who are nothing alike.” Owen smiled. “But Tallie is still not my type.”

  “Because you are damaged goods.” Brooke didn’t smile, and her gaze was sympathetic. “Why do you say that anyway?”

  This was starting to get heavier than Owen was up for, but he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her feelings again. “My ex-wife ruined me.”

  Brooke waited. Owen should have known that answer wouldn’t satisfy her.

  “After what she did, I just don’t think I can trust anyone again. We’d been married for seven years when she started sleeping with Gary.” Owen paused, thinking. “And I didn’t suspect a thing until I walked in on them. Virginia made a full confession and said it had been going on for a year. A year!” He shrugged. “And the sad thing is . . . I still love her. But I hate her too, so that makes me a pretty messed-up guy.”

  After the waitress returned, they both ordered, then Brooke leaned back in her chair and stared at him.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Owen laid his napkin in his lap as he locked eyes with her.

  “I’m just thinking.”

  Now Owen waited.

  Brooke sat a little taller and folded her hands on the table. “We can’t stop loving someone overnight, no matter what they’ve done. And I can see where you’d have trust issues.” She paused. “But I think maybe presenting yourself as damaged goods might not be accurate. I’m thinking it would just take a long time to get over something like that.”

  “It’s so ironic.” Owen took a sip of iced tea
. “I wanted a child so badly, and Virginia was dead set against it.” He shook his head. “And now she is having a baby. I can’t help but wonder if she just didn’t want to have a child with me.” He tried to picture Virginia pregnant. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug knowing how much she’d hate being fat. How she would have to forfeit all the big plans she’d had for her life, plans that didn’t include having a baby. “I guess I’m just bitter about all of it. I mean, what kind of guy buys a house just to bother his ex-wife? What does that say about me?”

  The waitresses brought them their burgers and fries, and Brooke cut hers in half. “When Travis died, I don’t think I was bitter, but I was just incredibly sad. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever gone through—just total devastation. If it hadn’t been for Meghan and Spencer, I think I would have stayed in bed the rest of my life.” She took a bite, and when she was done, added, “But they needed me, and they were having a hard time, so I didn’t have a choice but to pick myself up and keep going.”

  “I can’t imagine losing a spouse. As much as I despise Virginia, it would be awful if she died.”

  “You just don’t think it will happen to you, you know?” Brooke pushed her fries around with her fork. “You get up and kiss your spouse good-bye, then go to work—with no way of knowing that you’ll . . . never see him again.” She picked up a fry and poked it absently in her mouth, her face bleak.

  It’s not fair that You took her husband like that! Owen startled himself with his first spontaneous prayer in a long time. Brooke didn’t deserve that. Nor did her children.

  He kept his eyes on Brooke. “Is it hard for you to talk about this?”

  “Sometimes. But it gets easier.” She paused, another fry in hand. “That’s not to say that some days I don’t want to just lie in bed and cry. That still happens. Maybe it always will.”

  Owen took a bite of his burger, thinking about his own situation. “I probably cut off my nose to spite my face by buying this house. Virginia has gone on with her life, and I’m all by myself, redoing a house that’s big enough for an army of people. Sometimes, especially at night, I wonder if maybe a smaller place would have been better. Maybe the loneliness wouldn’t settle all over me so much.”