by Cate Masters
When he was ready to open his heart again, he would open it to her. Sheree. No one else.
The sign in the window caught her eye. A handyman or two, indeed. The man in black was exactly right. Jocelyn Gibson had to go.
* * * *
Standing in the foyer, Joss surveyed the expansive front parlor. The inn needed renovations. Now. She wasn’t about to let a little thing like demons stop her.
Her mother had always said every house had its own personality, and just needed the right touch to bring it out. This place held such promise. When the realtor had called the rambling Second Empire-style Victorian a gem in the rough, Joss had agreed. She loved its woodwork details, not fussy like the gingerbread of other Victorians. No one else seemed to share her clear vision of the inn standing out on the hill like a shining jewel. Instead of its cracked gray-green paint, Joss pictured a magnificent Painted Lady of violet and lavender hues.
It would take a lot more than visions to make it happen. First things first. After dragging the step stool to the window, Joss unfastened the heavy drapes. Their faded burgundy accented the hues of the worn Chinese carpet, but that musty old thing was going too.
Overcast as the day was, light filled the room as the curtains dropped atop a plastic bag. Stepping back, her excitement grew. The three floor-to-ceiling windows provided a wonderful view of the field leading to the road. “What a huge difference.” The next curtains would be sheer to let in the sunshine.
Behind her, Aunt Lydia said, “Oh, my, yes.”
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“You know me. I never sleep well. Too sensitive to atmospheric disturbances.” Her slippers scuffed across the rug to the tufted sofa where Lydia draped herself. “Except for the stale odor, this is rather comfy.”
“Isn’t it? I’m having it cleaned and reupholstered.” When her grandmother entered, fully dressed, Joss went to her. “Morning. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”
Gram hugged her. “Jocelyn, you had an eventful evening.”
To say the least. Gathering the votive candles, she spoke as if distracted by her work. “More guests than I expected.”
Standing slowly, Lydia’s blood-red nails clenched the air as if pulling herself up. “I’ve never seen so many fae invade a home at once.”
Neither had Joss. When she was a girl, swarms of glowing beings would flicker in the blades of grass, or leaves of trees. Sometimes flit to her window. But come inside? Only on occasions of rare importance, according to Gram. “Aunt Lydia—”
Her aunt came toward her. “The sign was very clear.”
Evading the interrogation, Joss wrestled a wing-back chair to the center of the carpet. “I can’t let myself believe in bad luck.” Safer to make her own luck through hard work than rely on luck bestowed by mythological creatures.
Gram stepped closer. “They’ve come back, Jocelyn. I’m not surprised you found their favor again, given our family history.”
Lydia added, “You must treat them with respect.”
How could she admit she’d hoped they’d return? That in planting a field of lavender in the spring, she’d hoped to encourage them to stay? Nor could she admit last night’s dream to her aunt. Like the fae lights, it had happened before. She had the same fantasy every night.
Long after saying goodnight to Gram and Lydia, Joss had stood at her bedroom window and had imagined a field of purple waltzing with the breeze beneath the stars. The image stayed with her as she settled into bed, coaxing her to sleep. Rather than fading, the dream had grown more vivid with the lights out.
The evening star shone more brightly than usual and led her to the stone bridge connecting the yard to the field. The silhouette of a man beckoned from beyond it. She crossed the bridge into the lavender, and its blooms caressed her legs as she walked. Instead of its scented oils soothing her skin, it stimulated her. The thought of meeting him excited her too. Dusk deepened quickly, and even though she stood in front of him, she couldn’t see his face. He leaned down to kiss her. Pressing against him, her body fit snugly against his curves. He took her down into the lavender, then filled her, body and soul. The stars glimmered so bright and low, they mingled with the violet blooms. He was so tender, yet strong. His caresses so loving, he brought her to heights she never imagined, and only after she was fulfilled did he allow himself release. Afterward, he rolled onto his back and pulled her close, his skin warm against hers. His voice rumbled through his chest. “Who needs fireworks with so many fireflies?” Her fingers trembled with the reverberations and she closed her eyes to listen to him breathing.
She’d awakened in a luscious afterglow, yet bothered because she had no clue who he was or when she’d find him. Or what he’d meant about fireworks. In the dream, she’d understood his words clearly, but in the light of day, the meaning evaded her.
A knock at the door provided a welcome distraction. Joss crossed the foyer to open it. “Should be Mr. Fulton. I’ve hired him to help with restoration work. You might want to get dressed, Aunt Lydia.” Providing Charlie with a paycheck gave her the warm and fuzzies, but she’d have to be careful with her limited funds.
Lydia finger-combed her hair. “Oh, I don’t know. He might be a fellow in need of some womanly charms.”
Clucking her tongue, Joss couldn’t hold back a smile. She waited for Gram to lead her aunt through the dining room before opening the door. “Good morning.”
Mr. Fulton’s greeting faded away as his gaze followed Lydia, who threw an inviting glance over her shoulder and sashayed into the kitchen. He snapped shut his mouth. “Mrs. Gibson. Hello.”
“Please call me Joss. Ready to get to work?”
Stepping inside, he scanned the foyer. “Call me Charlie. And just tell me where to start.”
“Good question. Probably stripping the wallpaper, don’t you think?”
With a nervous shrug, he chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
Poor man, so anxious to make an impression. Or maybe he wasn’t used to owners pitching in to help. Time was of the essence. She needed the work done quickly.
Outside, Annie’s car pulled alongside Charlie’s truck.
To Charlie, Joss said, “I’ll whip up the wallpaper removing solution and be back in a second. Would you move the rest of the furniture away from the walls?”
“Sure,” he said. “I brought some tarps along too.”
“Great. Be back in a minute.”
She entered the kitchen as Annie plunked her purse on the counter. “Morning, everyone. I’m not late, am I?”
“Right on time.”
After sipping the last of her coffee, Lydia washed the cup. “I should get out of your way.” She sidestepped Joss, waiting with the bucket.
“Will you be staying today?” Joss directed the question at both Gram and Lydia.
Lydia tightened the belt of her robe. “I have an appointment this afternoon. I need to get dressed and vamoose.” She sauntered into the dining room.
Mouth agape, Annie watched. “She’s a wonder.”
Gram sighed. “Exactly. We won’t define what sort.”
Joss gave a wry smile and filled the bucket with hot water mixed with dishwashing detergent.
Pouring coffee, Annie chuckled. “It’s a shame she couldn’t stay to help.”
“She’s better at existential projects. But I appreciate you coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Annie grabbed the three sponges off the counter. “I’ll go say hi to Charlie.”
Joss carried the bucket to the front room where Charlie finished tugging the last tarp along the floor, the clustered furniture in the center already covered. They set to work in easy camaraderie.
When Lydia and Gram said their farewells, Joss took a short break to see them outside. On the porch, Taz barked once when Lydia tooted the horn.
By noon, a pile of shredded wallpaper sat atop the tarps. Joss ran her hand along the wall. “Some parts are still tacky.
Diluted fabric softener should take care of it.”
Charlie stood back to assess their handiwork. “In a way, you’re lucky the paper was so old. Newer types can be tough to remove.”
Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Annie brightened. “I’m starving.”
Joss’s stomach grumbled in reply. “Yes, let’s eat.”
Annie drew her to the kitchen and unpacked the cooler. The chicken salad pita pockets lined with lettuce revived them, and they worked past six.
Before leaving, Charlie hesitated at the door. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” An uneasy vibe emanated from him and Joss suspected the trouble. “I forgot to ask earlier. Would you like to be paid at the end? Or every week?”
His face relaxed. “Weekly would be a big help.”
She gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll have a check ready for you Friday.”
Charlie nodded. “I appreciate it. See you in the morning.” With a wave, he left.
Joss ran her hand across the smooth bare wall. “I’m so glad we found Charlie to help.”
“I know. I’m pooped. I’m going home too.”
Stripping the wallpaper sapped Joss’s strength for the day. Gratefully, she crawled into bed after showering. “It’s going to be great once it’s done, Taz.”
The dog leapt up and nestled against her legs with a sigh, and Joss fell into a deep sleep.
* * * *
The next morning, freezing rain pelted the windows. Her muscles aching, Joss pulled the covers over her head. No, she reminded herself. Today I want to finish priming the front room. And Annie and Charlie would be arriving soon.
Forcing herself out of bed was no easy task, especially when Taz burrowed deeper into the covers. “Traitor.” Grinning, she tousled his fur.
Shaking off the early November chill, she told herself the work ahead would make her forget the bad weather. After a quick shower, she threw on old sweats and sneakers and clipped back her hair on both sides. Fortified with fresh coffee, she began.
She had already primed one wall when Charlie arrived, and Annie soon after. About mid-morning, she caught the movement of a vehicle down the driveway. “Who’s here?”
A quick glance hardly interrupted Charlie’s roller stroke. “Looks like Doc Hendricks.”
The name sent a buzz through her.
The dark blue SUV stopped outside the stable, and the vet jogged to its doors, hunched against the elements.
“The barn must be cold.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
“Invite him in.” Annie nudged her.
“No, he’s busy.” But it’s such a raw day. He could use a hot drink.
He needed something all right, but nothing she could give him. An internal battle raged within the veterinarian. Their initial brief encounter left her reeling for days, unable to negotiate the tsunami of emotion beneath his hard exterior.
Taz finally lumbered down the hall, sat down and yawned.
“Good morning, sleepy head. Do you need to go outside?”
The dog sneezed and looked disdainfully toward the wet window. At times, Taz’s other half—Labrador—seemed to take over his brain. Joss joked he had the brain of a lab and the nervous system of a border collie. Still, when grief snuck up on her—and it still did—he’d snuggle against her and gaze up at her with soulful eyes. She treasured Taz because John had given him to her. To keep her company when he was no longer there, he’d said. To guide her. It had struck her as odd, since he’d been so opposed to any talk of magic or the fae.
The memory stung her grief to life. To quell the raw ache, she did what she always did—spun into motion. “Come on. A little rain won’t hurt you.” Pulling open the door, her heart leapt to her throat, and Taz rose, barking.
The vet stood on the threshold. “I was about to knock.”
His strong presence overwhelmed her. She could only stand there, bracing herself.
* * * *
The sight of her mesmerized him. Eric purposely ignored the inn, changing his jogging route to avoid passing. To avoid seeing her. Like a school boy, he dreamed of her at night. During the day, she popped into his mind unbidden.
Dr. Avery, the large-animal vet, had asked Eric to fill in during his vacation. Unfortunately, one of the horses needed immediate attention, according to the owner. He couldn’t put an animal’s welfare above his own comfort. Or lack thereof.
No less luminous than the last time he’d seen her, Joss stood before him, her lips slightly parted, blinking in surprise.
The dog’s tail wagged even though he still barked.
“Morning.” Idiot, saying good morning to the dog in front of them. A hazard of the veterinary profession, one he normally didn’t allow others to view.
Taz’s wagging tail swept the floor.
With a downward thrust of her hand, she commanded, “Go outside, boy.”
In passing, the dog nudged Eric’s hand, so he patted his head.
Straightening, she stared after Taz in surprise. “Can I help you?”
His throat dried and his voice withered like a November leaf. “My cell’s dead. Any chance I could use your phone?”
She stepped back. “Sure, come on in.”
Apologetically, he glanced at his wet coat. “I’m soaked. I could go around to the kitchen.”
His humility might have touched a soft spot because she inclined her head toward the desk. “No, you can use this phone.”
After wiping his feet, he sloughed water off his coat and stepped inside.
Tension subsided when Annie and Charlie both said, “Hi.”
Before Joss could close the door, the dog ran in and shook, droplets flying from his fur.
“Wait, Taz. Sit and don’t move.” Joss hurried to the hallway closet and returned with an old towel. “Everything all right?” She knelt to rub down the dog.
Work, he had no trouble talking about. He relaxed. “No, actually. I have to speak with Tom.” He strode to the desk. “He was supposed to apply ointment every day to Triple Power’s eye. It’s still swollen, so I suspect he’s missed a few applications. Have you noticed, by any chance, if he’s been out here?” He lifted the receiver from the charger.
“Two nights ago, yes. We’ve been so busy these past few days…he may have slipped in unnoticed.”
After pressing the numbers, he scanned the rooms. “You did this much work in a few days?”
Pride lit her face as she stood, admiring their handiwork. “Yes. We have a lot more to do though.”
With a wince, he held the phone to his ear. “More?” He couldn’t imagine where she got the energy. Glancing around, he noted that with the curtains down and the faded wallpaper gone, the rooms appeared much more inviting.
She smirked. “I may keep the stair railing as it is.”
He stifled a smile. Touché. He held her gaze as the call rang through. Even the small connection charged the air between them.
A man picked up. Eric tilted the receiver to his mouth. “Hello, Tom? This is Doc Hendricks. I’m out at the old bed and breakfast on Yellow Breeches Road.”
The old bed and breakfast. Probably shouldn’t have called it that either.
Joss drifted into the front room with ethereal grace. She’d have fit easily into the home’s setting in the nineteenth century. The house must have been magnificent when its original owners built it in the late 1800s. Even as he argued with Tom about the horse’s proper care, Eric envisioned her in a lacy gown. Imagined the two of them riding in a horse-drawn wooden sleigh, its runners gliding across snow-covered roads.
The stable manager denied ignoring the horse’s needs. Eric knew better. Hanging up, he muttered, “Incompetent ass.”
Joss turned. “Will the horse be all right?”
Eric trudged to the hallway. “No thanks to Larsen. I’d like to take a crop to him.”
Annie frowned. “Shouldn’t the owners have looked after their horse?”
<
br /> “Yes. Unfortunately they lavish their attentions on their prize Saddlebred, who brings home the pretty blue ribbons. And put too much trust in Tom to follow through with his responsibilities as stable manager.” He stared at the face of the grandfather clock when it chimed eleven. “Is that the correct time?”
Joss set the paint roller in the pan. “Sorry, it’s never right.”
Glancing at her watch, Annie frowned. “It is now.”
With a breathy laugh, Joss’s body went rigid. “What?”
“Eleven o’clock.” Confusion crossed Annie’s face.
“It can’t be.” From Joss’s reaction she might have said a bomb was about to explode.
“Why not?” Had he missed something?
Blinking hard, Joss glanced at the old clock, then at him. “This clock never tells…the right time.” Her voice faded as she spoke the last words. Her narrowed gaze swept over him, leaving a trail of heated pinpricks.
Blood coursed like gasoline through his veins, cold but ready to ignite. Every sense snapped to attention, focused on her. Something very odd was going on. Their conversation seemed to be on two levels; the words they spoke corresponded to a deeper meaning, and he had no clue what it meant. Only Joss understood, and Annie, who looked on in surprise. Charlie, however, kept painting.
Unsure how to respond, Eric flashed a tight grin. “Well. Glad it’s working again. Thanks.” He pulled up his collar and opened the door.
Joss called, “You’re welcome.”
Something in her voice halted him. A husky tone caught in his throat as he croaked a goodbye. He blinked hard and turned away without another word.
The wind drove the freezing rain into his face. Glad for its cleansing chill, he tilted his head up and strode to his truck, hoping it would clear the fog from his brain. Being around her gave him a dizzy sensation, as if she were a whirlwind enveloping him. Paralyzing him. Turned him into a mute, and deaf to anyone except her. He’d never experienced anything quite like it. Fumbling the keys into the ignition, his hands shook, though the cold temperature didn’t register.
Edging the truck down the driveway, he couldn’t stop searching for her. One last look. Stalling rewarded him with a glimpse. Joss glided past the window, then edged back, half-hidden. She was looking for him too. Impulsively, he jammed his foot against the accelerator and the tires kicked up gravel behind him.
