"Your life is hardly miserable, Tom."
Without confirming or denying, he continued. "Look, my dad has a guy that does a lot of work on his place. I'll have him come over and fix the water heater."
"What about planting five acres?"
"Nah. The cost of the labor, seed and fertilizer, and then what if something happens and we lose it all? Just not worth the risk."
"Our neighbors don't think so. Everyone around us grows something. Even Ian and Sarah are growing ten acres of wheat this year."
He shook his head, ending the conversation. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he turned for the door.
"I'll be back tomorrow sometime."
"Don't you need your gun?"
"Huh?"
"For hunting. That's where you said you were going."
"Oh, yeah." He went to the safe, turned the combination and grabbed his shotgun. As he passed her, the waif of cologne was overwhelming.
"Isn't cologne on a hunting trip a bad idea? The deer will smell you for miles."
He turned from the door, his hand still on the knob, giving her a hard, impatient look; she wanted to ask him right then and there. Are you having an affair? But she couldn't bring her lips to form the words. His look said, don’t ask. Her heart couldn't bear to anyway. She stood silently as his truck roared to life and he sped away. How long she stood there, she didn't know. When the baby began to stir and fuss, she turned mechanically and picked him up, showering him with love and kisses.
Chapter 3
Katie sat with her notebook, looking over the list of things that needed to be done in the house, yard and fields. Most of them were things that Tom needed to take care of, but she found a few that she could tackle. Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she began peeling the decades old wallpaper from the living room. Under it she found green paint and wrinkled her nose. As she peeled, picked and scraped, she envisioned eggshell white walls, possibly with complementing embossed wallpaper on the lower half, and a pretty but simple chair rail.
Something simple but elegant to entertain guests. Her smile faded as she realized she no longer had many friends to entertain.
All of them had tried to warn her against marrying Tom right out of high school and like her family, she told them all to go to hell; determined as she was to marry the love of her life. Or so she thought he was at the time. Now, what few friends she did keep in touch with were sporadic in their phone calls and letters. And they never came around. Probably better, she thought, ripping angrily at the tattered walls. I wouldn't want their pity anyway. She gave an indignant huff. Fair-weather friends, that’s what they are. Who needs them?
"I do," she answered herself sadly, quickly losing the energy boost to get the job at hand done. She was so lonely it hurt and she craved someone to talk to. Someone to sew and do crafts with, share baby stories and husband troubles...women friends. Any friends. Before tears could spill over, she began violently stuffing garbage bags with the piles of torn wallpaper. Setting them by the door she turned to look at her green living room. It was hideous. So much worse than before.
"Well, now I'm committed," she said aloud. There was no way she could let the living room stay in this condition, guests or no guests. She turned on the radio and took to the last small flecks of stubborn wallpaper with a spackling tool, careful not to scrape the plaster walls beneath. Standing back to admire her work, her face mingled a smile and a grimace. One more job completed off the to-do list, but the walls left in the hideous green would never do. Slipping on her shoes, she realized she hadn't even dressed for the day and here it was nearly noon! Throwing on an older dress she wore to clean and do chores, she went out to the garage and flipped on the light. It flickered as she made her way to the back where old paint cans and matted brushes sat on a shelf under a thick layer of dust.
She yelped as a spider swung in front of her from a long web and cursed Tom under her breath for not fixing the wiring in the old garage. It was a wonder it hadn't burned down yet.
She found two cans of white paint, ancient by the looks of the rusty cans, and a roller with a usable pad. On her way out, she spotted an old cast iron fireplace set. She heaved it up in her free hand and carried it all inside.
Before she had a chance to do any more, Jacob began to whimper in his bassinette. She whispered and sang, smiling down on him as he nursed. She couldn't help but feel, as Jacob wrapped his tiny hand around her finger, that Tom was missing out on so much with his son. Missing the chance to enjoy his family. So soft and small, she cradled him close, hoping he would stay this sweet and innocent forever.
He nursed vigorously, quickly getting his fill, his big brown eyes growing sleepy and the nipple fell out of his small, rosebud mouth. His head relaxed in the crook of her arm and he slept deeply. She couldn't help but grin at him and wished she could reach such a state of restful bliss.
As she rose carefully to return him to the bassinette, someone knocked hard on the door. Arranging Jacob carefully on his side and rolling a receiving blanket against his back, she hurried to the door, buttoning up the front of her dress as she went.
"Coming!" she yelled. Throwing open the door, she hoped it wasn't a salesman. But she was childishly excited to talk to anyone.
The man that stood on her porch took her breath away and she couldn't find her voice for a moment. Tall and lean, he was beautifully made. He smiled and nodded. A dark curl fell across his forehead which he quickly brushed away.
"Hello, Ma'am. I'm here to look at the hot water heater."
Feeling stupid and clumsy, she stepped aside and let him in. She stared at his wide shoulders as he passed with one eyebrow cocked in appreciation.
She was still trying to find her voice as she led him to the closet where the water heater was housed. Her mind scrambled to find small talk.
"This is a great old house," he said, saving her from coming up with anything. Glancing around the pea green living room, he nodded. "It'll look even better when you're done renovating it."
"Well, it's been a lot of work. More work than we bargained for, I think." She sighed.
"Looks like you've made decent headway on the living room."
"Thanks. Here's the water heater." She opened the door and stood by, not sure what to do with her hands. She stared down on his neck where small dark curls met smooth tanned skin as he bent to open the small door and peer inside.
"Well, the pilot light’s on. Just barely though." He looked up at her and she cringed. She knew she looked a mess and it bothered her. "Let me run out to my truck and get my tools. I'm going to have to look deeper."
She nodded as he walked away and then flew to the bathroom and ripped a brush through her hair. It was frizzy and full and she quickly laid a braid down the back. Looking over herself, she groaned. Her stained yellow dress had seen much better days and she tore it over her head, slipping on a white summer dress with small red flowers. Slapping her cheeks for color, she caught her reflection in the mirror and stopped cold.
"What the hell are you doing, Katie Johnson?" The blank face stared back but didn't answer. "You're a married woman. How dare you rush to make pretty for a perfect stranger?"
Feeling ignorant and foolish, she left the bathroom just as he came through the door again carrying a large toolbox.
Smiling politely as he passed, she smelled his clean but musky scent and felt dizzy.
Pouring a cup of coffee she sat at the table with her to-do list, looking over it but not reading. Banging and clanging echoed down the hall but the baby slept soundly.
Feeling the need to do something, she filled a pail with soapy water and dug a scrub brush out from under the sink. Kneeling in front of the hearth, she began to scrub away years of soot and grime from the bricks. She was happy to do anything that would take her mind off the attractive man in the next room and why she suddenly felt like an irrational school girl.
"Better watch out, you'll get your dress dirty."
She swung around, still on her
knees. "Oh," she said, looking down.
"Might want to change. I'd just hate to see you ruin it is all. Me, personally, I never clean in dresses."
She laughed quick and hard.
"I'm William Anderson, by the way." He bent over and extended his hand. "Everyone calls me Will."
"Katie Emery...I mean Johnson. Katie Johnson." Her small hand disappeared in his.
"Nice to meet you, Katie. I'm familiar with your in-laws; I do a lot of work for old man Johnson. But I never knew Tom was married."
"You must be new in town." Everyone knew Katie married Tom and the talk that flew around the small town was either mocking laughter or unwanted pity.
"I moved here recently. Bought the old Miller place." The old Miller place was nothing more than a long abandoned fifty year old cabin, a few small outbuildings and busted fences surrounding 15 acres. "I'm a handyman, so to speak. I ran into the senior Mr. Johnson when I was in town and I overheard he was looking for someone to repair his roof. It was harvest and everyone was too busy to help, so I offered. I'd moved in too late to plant, so I fixed his roof and he's been calling me for jobs ever since. Helps supplement while I'm getting the farm off the ground."
There was a heavy silence after he finished speaking. She was entranced with the simple act of conversation and didn't want him to stop. Her mind scrambled for something to say.
"Where did you live before here?"
"Back east. After my parents died I wandered around for a while and then bought that little patch of dirt with the leaky cabin."
She smiled. "How adventurous."
"I like challenges." He smiled again and his blue eyes dazzled. "But look at me rambling on about myself. Mr. Johnson's not paying me to stand here and talk."
I wish he would, she thought to herself.
"I'm afraid you're going to need a new water heater. I tried to fix it but the burner element is rusted through. I turned off the gas to it." He glanced around the old house. "Good thing this place is drafty. I found pipe leading to the pilot light leaking. Could have been deadly if this place were sealed up tight."
Her eyes flew open and she raced past him into the bedroom. She put a hand on her baby and closed her eyes with relief that he was breathing, slow and steady. She rocked the little bundle gently. He squirmed, his face scrunching up in protest, let out a small cry and then drifted off again. Satisfied, she left the room.
"Sorry, I had to check on my baby."
"I'm surprised all that racket I made didn't wake him up. Or her up."
"Him. Jacob. He's three months old."
"Ah."
"Well, thank you for looking at the heater. I'll tell Tom to go buy a new one. I told him that from the start, but..."
"He should have listened to you. That leak could have been dangerous."
Katie smiled and gave a little shrug. "I'm glad you found it."
"And your husband doesn't have to bother. I'll run into town this afternoon and pick one up. I can't be back till tomorrow to install it. Will you be okay until then without hot water?"
"Oh, we'll be fine."
He smiled then and made his way to the door. "You'll be home tomorrow?"
She wanted to laugh maniacally. When the hell wasn't she stuck at home?
"I will be," she said, stifling the venom she felt.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow."
She nodded with a nervous smile and closed the door behind him.
"My, my, Katie Johnson," she whispered to herself, peeking past the curtain and watching him go. "If that's not the most beautiful thing you've seen in years..." She sighed long and slow.
Suddenly the darkness seemed to creep up out of nowhere, finding her, engulfing her and she had to clasp her hands together to keep from slapping her own face.
"You're a married woman. You have no business being so excited to see Will again tomorrow."
But she was. And she couldn't help it.
"Besides. After he fixes the water heater, you'll never see him again." That reality seemed to strip her of the excitement she had felt and she went back to her work scrubbing the hearth bricks, listening to the music echoing from the kitchen.
Chapter 4
Along with stopping to feed and change the baby, the hearth cleaning took the better part of the afternoon. The living room filled with the red glow of sunset and Katie's stomach growled. She realized she hadn't eaten all day. Determined to finish the job, she scooped the last of the ashes into a bag and wiped down the cast iron fireplace set. Standing back to admire the hearth, she smiled and began hauling out the bags of soot and torn wallpaper to the garage. She'd ask Tom to take it to the dump...and he would...eventually.
Large heavy clouds lined the sky opposite the sinking sun. She shivered though it wasn't cold, and decided to haul in some firewood, just in case. It had been an unusually warm spring, but those sudden storms could send the temperature plummeting and losing heat and electricity was a common thing in Cedar Hollow.
Heaving the bags took all her energy; she sat on the porch for a moment to watch the roiling black clouds in the distance and catch her breath. Terrifying and beautiful at the same time, she sat in awe and watched bright streaks light up the center of the storm.
"Hope Tom doesn't get too wet out there hunting," she said aloud. Though something told her he'd remain warm and dry all night. She pushed away the thought. It was too painful to deal with. As painful as him being here, ignoring you? A voice inside asked.
"Well, since you put it that way," she answered herself. Thunder boomed and shook the house. All traces of the lovely orange red sunset were gone. She hurried to her feet and gathered an arm load of wood.
Warming up some left over dinner, she ate alone on the couch reading a book on child development. Jacob was at a stage of tremendous growth that caused him to spend most of the day sleeping. She resented it a little. He had just learned to smile, could find her face and focus on it, and now he slept most of the day away.
The storm was fully raging over her head and she found that two shutters on the front of the house were loose and banged repeatedly against the siding. She sighed, put down her book and added that to the to-do list.
Getting a good look out the kitchen window she could see the full strength of the storm and thought it would be wise to put on a large kettle of water for tea and start a fire now, before it got too cold.
The baby began crying suddenly, sharp shrill cries that sent her running to the bedroom.
"Oh, baby, shhhhhh," she whispered. His desperate cries reminded her of the nightmares she had on occasion. Those started just after they moved into the old house, when Tom started acting so cold toward her. She wouldn't allow herself to even think about those dreams, terrifying as they were. He settled into her neck, smelling his way to safety and took a deep, shuddering breath. She thought he might be hungry and sat on the side of the bed, putting him to her breast. He wasn't interested, however and simply clutched a fistful of her shirt and fell back asleep. She dragged the cradle with one hand into the living room and placed it by the couch, so they could ride out the storm together.
Making a strong cup of tea, she chose another book from her small shelf. A novel this time; a racy romance that she'd read before. It was about the only romance she could get her hands on these days. Flipping through it to find the place she left off, she walked blindly back to the couch. The teacup and book flew out of her hands as she went sprawling across the floor, her head an inch from the red brick hearth, having tripped over a warped floorboard. She cursed Tom for the fifth time that day and rolled to a sitting position, trying not to cry. Her knee was badly scraped and she pulled out a thick, jagged splinter, groaning through gritted teeth. Blood flowed down her shin and she hobbled to the bathroom to clean up. It probably could use a stitch, she thought, lifting the washcloth and peeking at the gash. But there was no way she was going out in this storm. She made herself content to stop the bleeding and bandage it as best she could.
Cleaning up the tea and shattered glass, she threw a hateful glare at the swollen and discolored floorboard. She'd sand it down if she had to use a stack of sand paper and do it with her own two hands, she promised herself.
Jacob slept in his cradle, completely unaware of what had happened.
Refill the tea, watch your step, sit down safely, and find your place in the book. She walked herself through the steps and snuggled under a plush throw and began to read.
Just as Blake was about to take Rachel in the most depraved and delicious way, Jacob woke with a start and began crying from hunger.
Groaning as she lay her book down, but smiling as she scooped him up, she settled him in the crook of her arm and reached for her book again. It slipped off the arm of the sofa and as she leaned over trying to reach it, something inside the fireplace caught her eye. An unruly brick, jutting out and slightly crooked. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She stared at it as Jacob nursed and wondered if she could figure out how to make mortar to fix it. A low howl swept past, shaking the house and the lights flickered. Deciding not to wait, she rose carefully and found candles in the back of the linen closet. Lining the mantle of the hearth, she lit them, one handed, congratulating herself on her multitasking ability. The baby continued to nurse eagerly, kneading his mother’s breast with his little fist.
She stood back to admire the fireplace. If she could squint hard and block out the pea green walls, the fireplace was beautiful. All clean and fresh, begging to be enjoyed. She couldn't wait to start a fire. Candles cast a relaxing glow across the rich red hearth and wall above it. It was picturesque and perfect. All except for that one crooked brick. And the fact that she had no one to enjoy it with.
After Jacob had his fill and fell back into a deep sleep, Katie settled him in his cradle and tucked a blanket around him. The lights cut out suddenly and she gasped, even though she wasn't scared. The candles helped her see her way to the hearth and she knelt to start a fire. Striking a match and holding it inside to the kindling, she eyed the brick. They'd never had the fireplace inspected and she had second thoughts as to whether it was safe. So long as that brick holds, she thought and tested it with a wiggle. The mortar around it crumbled away and the brick slid out and crashed onto the fire grate.
Reclaiming Katie Page 2
