Fixer-Upper (Spinning Hills Romance 3)

by Ines Saint

  “Hey,” Cassie said, nearly stumbling after him. “Take it easy. Something’s up with her. I can tell.”

  “How can you tell? You don’t even know her.”

  “I know her a little. Enough to know she’s not acting like herself.”

  “Well, she keeps drinking and he won’t stop her. Doesn’t he know she has to get up early for work tomorrow morning? That she’ll have the mother of all headaches? Does he even care?” he hissed.

  Sam came up to them. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

  Johnny stopped pacing and swallowed hard. He was acting like an imbecile. “Nothing. Cassie stepped on my foot, that’s all.”

  “She’s such a klutz.” Sam smiled, even though Johnny knew he didn’t believe a word of it. “Why do you think I sent you to dance with her?”

  But Johnny wasn’t paying attention. He was watching Brian and Marissa say their good-byes to everyone and leave. He felt wretched. Like a miserable, delusional fool.

  Dan joined them. Cassie pretended she had something to do and left the three brothers alone. “Holly sent me,” he said.

  Johnny rolled his eyes. “Holly always sends you.”

  Dan clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I know we promised we’d help you get the girl, little bro, but the last thing we thought was that the girl was already taken.” His voice was so gentle and un-Dan-like, Johnny almost laughed. Almost.

  “Forget it. Today’s not about me. It’s about you. And I’m going to dance with your girl. Remember when you thought I had the hots for her?”

  Dan shook his head. “Don’t remind me. The things I said . . . I was such an idiot.”

  “Don’t feel too bad, so was Sam.”

  “Right. Two idiots. And then there was one.” Rosa walked up to Johnny and gave him a hug.

  “What’s that for?” Johnny asked. Rosa was not usually that tender.

  “You looked like you could use it,” she said.

  Johnny hugged her back. “Always the wrong Medina girl,” he said with a sigh and Rosa laughed.

  “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, but it is even better to see the man behind all the jokes.”

  It was strange, but despite his heartache, the loneliness that had been plaguing him for an age had been disappearing as of late. He wasn’t subconsciously trying to protect everyone all the time, or act like everything was always a hundred percent okay and nobody had to worry about him, and people were beginning to see other sides of him—and it felt good.

  Brian kept trying to deepen their kiss, but Marissa kept pulling back. “Come on, Marissa. It’s been so long. And your parents and sister won’t be home for a while. Let’s go up to your room . . .”

  Marissa replied by throwing up. All over perfect Brian’s perfect shoes and perfect pants.

  The moment Brian left, Marissa threw herself onto the bed and cried, because Brian had been so nice, blaming himself for letting her drink too much. And she was a terrible, terrible person, for not being able to stop thinking about a half-naked Johnny placing a crown of flowers on her head, telling her things she didn’t want to hear. The crown was hanging from her bedpost. If she loved Brian, if she was really committed to their relationship, she’d toss it out the window. And so she would. If her head ever stopped spinning and her stomach ever stopped rolling.

  They never did.

  Marissa got up the next morning feeling like crap. She took forever to get ready and drove ever-so-slowly to school. Every little bump on the road reverberated in her head and woke up the elves who had been jackhammering her skull all night. Acetaminophen and ibuprofen were overrated, and coffee made her stomach churn. Only sunglasses and tiny sips of water helped.

  When she finally rolled up to the school, there was a large crowd gathered on the front steps. Kids, parents, grandparents, neighbors . . . everyone was waiting to hear whether they’d get to present at the Mosaic Fair. Marissa squinted against the glaring light of the digital clock on her dashboard. It was seven thirty-six. She had most likely already been sent the e-mail.

  If they made it, the kids would scream, and she would surely throw up again. Of course, she still hoped they made it . . . but the butterflies the anticipation conjured up also conjured up the breakfast her mother had force-fed her.

  She parked in the staff parking lot. Feeling ninety-nine years old, she ambled her way around the building to the front of the school, where everyone was waiting. The shouting started the moment they saw her. “Did we make it?” “Do we win?” “Do you know?” “Did they write?”

  Marissa did her best to keep from holding her head. The last thing she wanted was the students, coworkers, and community at large knowing the teacher had a roaring hangover. Her first ever. She fished her phone out of her bag and refreshed her e-mail app. Everyone was silent. Emotional tingles began to mingle with the physical muckiness in her stomach, and Marissa used all her available energy to keep her breakfast down.

  Mosaic Marathon. There it was. She held her breath—and the contents of her stomach—and clicked.

  “We made it.” It was more of a relieved whisper, but everyone heard. Before Marissa could move or react, she was being hugged, tugged, lifted, and shouted at. All she could manage was a small smile.

  “Okay, okay,” a laughing voice broke through the crowd. “Let’s give Miss Medina some room. She looks like she’s about to faint from relief.” It was Johnny. And soon he was leading her down the hallway to the teachers’ lounge, but the look he gave her when he left her at the door was not the look she was expecting. He was distant and serious. “I’ll call Marty—he has a great hangover cure—and I’ll have the kids show their parents and neighbors some of the dance sequences until you feel a little better.”

  She knew then that Johnny had pulled away. He’d given up on her. Like she’d wanted him to. Good.

  Melinda visited the school later that day and the kids had a blast learning to do stage makeup. The boys went gaga over her, and at first, the girls stayed away, eyeing her as if she were the enemy. But soon they were all too interested in the techniques Melinda was teaching to care about anything other than transforming themselves.

  Kids who’d walked into the school looking as normal as teenagers could look, broke for lunch made up as vampires, zombies, and demons. Melinda and Johnny even called a truce when he let her make him up like a clown. She even spray-dyed his hair with bright green and orange stripes.

  “It’s semipermanent,” she whispered, giggling, to Marissa. “It’ll take at least ten shampoos to get it out.”

  Marissa managed another small smile. It seemed that was all she was capable of. Something had changed in the way Johnny looked at her, and it left her feeling bereft for no reason she could understand. Maybe she was more vain than she’d thought.

  “You’re smiling that weird smile ’cause you know he won’t mind. I bet he’ll probably try to make it last. That says something about him, doesn’t it?” Melinda asked.

  “It says he’s missing something upstairs. What if we get a visit from the superintendent or something?”

  “Oh, lighten up. You’re starting to sound like Brian.”

  Marissa straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He’s so careful with his precious image,” Melinda mocked.

  “So? So are you.”

  “Exactly. It takes one to know one. I think it’s why I’ve enjoyed being here with these kids and with you and Johnny more than I’ve enjoyed anything else in a long time. My own friends make me miserable. Moping around at home in my pajamas has been way better than listening to their veiled insults and backhanded compliments since I’ve been home.” Melinda looked down and frowned, and Marissa stared at her, surprised.

  But then just as suddenly as she’d frowned, Melinda smiled a dazzling smile. “You know what? Maybe I should go after Johnny. Maybe he’s exactly what I need. Like you’re what Brian needs.”

  Marissa’s breath left her body and she couldn
’t respond. Melinda was worse than the friends she’d been griping about—hammering her with more information than Marissa’s already pounding head could take on.

  The rest of the week was spent rehearsing, polishing rough edges, and fund-raising. Johnny felt it was important for the kids to do some of the work and contribute to the trip, and so they performed for donations and held a few car washes. There wasn’t time for much more, and the donations amounted only to pocket money for the trip in the grand scheme of things, but Johnny could see the difference in attitude it made in most of the kids. There was a sense of ownership over the trip and a deeper gratitude over having the opportunity to travel and showcase their talents and hard work.

  The week ended on a high note, with the kids having a water fight during a car wash. Mrs. Simmons, Harold, and Marissa were caught in the middle. Somehow, Amy and Johnny were able to stay on the sidelines. It was just as well. His hair was still orange and green, and rock-hard, and he didn’t want to add detergent to that mix.

  A hot June turned into a scorching July, and the new month brought new summer classes and new characters. He loved his job more and more each day, and he learned as much from the July classes as he’d learned from the June group, but he also appreciated more fully just how special and worthwhile Amy and Marissa’s musical had been.

  Mrs. Simmons wanted to make it a recurring program. Rarely had she seen kids so eager and engaged, she’d said. They all knew they wouldn’t always make it as far as they had this time around, but there was no doubt every musical would be special.

  The kids still rehearsed twice a week, out in the courtyard, under the shady trees, and they held a few more car washes and performances. Johnny would participate whenever he could. He even brought the puppies along for two visits. But he and Marissa kept an emotional distance, as if by mutual agreement.

  The Cursed Lover no longer looked cursed. New cedar siding was up, and drywall had been hung. Dan would be back from his honeymoon soon, and he and Sam would be over to help Johnny prep the walls for painting.

  But as great as life seemed, Johnny now knew something was missing. No matter how hard and how endlessly he worked on anything he could put his mind to or get his hands on, he couldn’t fill the new hole in his life. The sense of a deeper connection to another soul had felt as if it had been within his grasp, but it never really had been and he had to accept that. It was like grieving, in a way. The toughest part was accepting there was nothing he could do to reverse the loss.

  Chapter 16

  Marissa covered her mouth with one hand. She read the message over, and over, and over again, as if reading it one more time would change the words and stop the nightmare that was slowly engulfing her.

  Her breaths came out in short bursts. Finally, she set her phone down and looked across the dinner table at Brian, who was also reading over his messages. “Brian?” she said in a small voice.

  He looked up.

  “We can’t stay. I can’t stay. We have to leave. Now.” She took her napkin from her lap, placed it on the table, got up, and waited for Brian outside, pacing.

  A few minutes later, Brian joined her. “Babe, what’s wrong? Why’d you leave like that? What happened?” He fired away the questions, concern lining his features.

  “The grant. The eight-thousand-dollar grant we were counting on for the trip. It’s been revoked.” She started pacing again. “I don’t get it. Don said that once they’re approved by the committee, they’re signed off on by the CEO. Always.”

  “Okay. Calm down, Marissa. We’ll figure this out. I thought someone had died or something.”

  Marissa stopped short and turned to face him. “Calm down! Don’t you know what this means? Without that money, we can’t go! The kids can’t go.” Panic began to clutch at her chest, and she did her best to keep it together.

  Brian took a quick look around, as if to make sure no one had heard her outburst, and Marissa began walking away.

  “Marissa, stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was just relieved it wasn’t a real tragedy, that’s all,” Brian said when he caught up to her. He turned her around and hugged her to him. “But of course this is a big deal. I get it. And I’ll help you figure it out.”

  “Just take me home.”

  Brian led her to the valet and Marissa suddenly felt glaringly out of place. It was as if her two realities collided at that moment, and they didn’t fit. It was a great restaurant with great food she truly enjoyed. The chef was an artist, and the music and atmosphere were relaxing. It was a treat—but a treat she’d enjoy more if she ate there less often.

  Most of the time, she’d rather be eating a sandwich at a noisy table, with noisy kids or a meddlesome family nearby. It was a silly thought on the surface, but there was a hint of more profound things she couldn’t deal with at the moment.

  She climbed into the car, placed her face between her knees, and put her mind to work. She’d call local television stations and newspapers first thing tomorrow and try to get them to run the kids’ story and tell of their new plight. Then she’d set up an online funding campaign for the trip and e-mail everyone she’d ever known or met and beg for help. This was her fault. She’d tried to foresee everything . . . but this. This she’d been sure about. How stupid could she be?

  And how callous were the people over at the Marconi and McNeely Foundation! To encourage them so enthusiastically, only to deny them two weeks before the trip! She’d let them know what she thought of their behavior, as soon as she was done trying to pick up the pieces.

  “You’re not going to puke, are you?” Brian reached over to pat her head. His voice was filled with concern and she looked up.

  “No. I’m only thinking.” But she started when she saw they weren’t heading home. “Where are we going? We’re headed to Cincinnati. You need to turn around. I need to go home. I need to call Amy and Johnny and Mrs. Simmons . . .”

  Brian stared at her with wide eyes. “I booked a hotel for us tonight! Don’t you remember? That was the plan. We haven’t been alone together in ages. I’ll help you brainstorm ideas, and you can call everyone from the hotel to help you. You’ll need to relax after all this. Let me spoil you.”

  Marissa swallowed hard and tried to look at it from Brian’s perspective. They hadn’t been together in ages. But she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. She looked over at him, suddenly feeling nauseous over things that had nothing to do with the trip. She knew beyond a doubt he wouldn’t be there for her the way she needed him to be there for her tonight. It wasn’t about them, but at some point, somehow, he’d try to make it about them. It was exactly what she’d always loved about him. He would never let her get lost in other people’s problems and other people’s lives.

  But these kids were part of her life, and Brian hadn’t even met them yet. He wouldn’t get it. He’d try to help, but from the outside looking in, to keep her happy . . . because he needed her to be happy.

  Marissa had never felt so confused and ungenerous in her entire life.

  She started to cry. “I’m sorry, Brian, I really am. I know you want to help, in your own way, but I need to go home.”

  Brian made a sudden right turn at the next exit, and soon they were heading home. Not another word was said between them. It looked as if Brian wanted to say something. It felt as if he was upset. But he drove on in silence.

  Marissa was only able to get ahold of Johnny and Abuela Rosa, but they both agreed to meet her at the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery.

  When she and Brian got there half an hour later, a war council was well under way. Marty, Melinda, Sam and Cassie, and Ruby and Sherry were there, too.

  “We’ve taken your ideas . . . and made them bigger!” Ruby told them the moment they entered.

  Cassie ran up to hug her, pencil and pad in hand. She let go and began rattling off the plan. “Everyone has been assigned a task. Sam will get a permit to hold the musical this Friday here at Star Springs Park, Johnny will call a contact at the
news station—”

  “A girl he used to date,” Melinda interrupted, and smiled flirtatiously at Johnny. A new stab of unpleasantness hit Marissa on top of the anxiety she already was trying to keep under control.

  Cassie smiled, but continued to read off her list. “I’ll set up the online funding campaign. The café will sell early bird tickets, and Ruby, Sherry, and Rosa will man the ticket booth this Friday. And Marty, Sam, and Johnny can work on getting the stage we usually use for the Christmas Eve Festival set up.”

  Johnny walked up to them and shook hands with Brian before looking down at Marissa. His expression was unreadable. “You, Amy, and I will get the hard part tomorrow. We’re going to have to break it to the kids, while keeping them realistically optimistic.”

  “Realistically optimistic?” she repeated.

  Johnny nodded and moved away to join Marty and Sam, to work out a schedule for working on the stage.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Brian asked.

  Marty looked up. “Keep Marissa from draining her bank account to bankroll this herself.”

  Brian gave her an alarmed glance, and Marissa looked away. They’d raised only a little over two thousand dollars so far. They’d need about eight thousand more for the trip. But her own savings didn’t amount to much, because she and Brian had opened a joint account to save for a down payment on a home. A home they hadn’t even been able to agree on. They’d be leasing instead.

  “And all of us can e-mail an invitation to the musical and a link to the online campaign to everyone we know in the region,” Johnny said.

  “Sure thing,” Brian said, before clearing his throat. “I do suggest you keep Marconi and McNeely’s name out of this, though. If denying the grant was within their rights, and they get a bad rap over this, you could endanger future grants to other schools.”

  Marissa scoffed. “We won’t mention them ’cause the creeps would probably see fit to sue us for defamation or something, but I am personally going to give them a big and nasty piece of my mind. They were within their rights, but it was a crummy thing to do!”