In a small Oregon community, Sara Andersen finds herself in possession of an old farmhouse in desperate need of renovations. Brian Farris is a builder who is new in town, but intimately acquainted with Sara. His purpose is not to restore only the house, but his relationship with her. The only problem is that Sara doesn't believe Brian has undergone any soulful renovations of his own.
Restorations
by
Bonnie Blythe
A Christian romance novel
ISBN 978-1458009012
© 2010 Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved
Cover by Magyar Design
Photo © Robert Keenan
For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works,
which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.
Ephesians 2:10
Chapter One
Sara Andersen swiped at her wet cheek with the back of her hand, wishing for a hanky. A quick search of the glove box yielded an ice scraper and other useless odds and ends. In her own car, she could’ve counted on one of the many fast food bags to contain at least a napkin or two. Sara gripped the steering wheel and sniffed.
She sat at one of the two traffic lights in the tiny downtown section of Buell Creek, Oregon, mildly surprised at the amount of cars on the road. Sara remembered the town as a sleepy hamlet nestled in the Cascade Mountains. Lately, it had become a Mecca for rock climbing enthusiasts. The subsequent tourism, along with steady population growth to the Pacific Northwest, helped to bring much needed revitalization to the area.
The new storefronts and renovated buildings, however, didn’t interest her at the moment. The loss of her grandfather, Eli Andersen, lay heavy upon her heart, along with the guilt in knowing she hadn’t visited him often enough in the last year. She assumed he’d always be there, praying for her and encouraging her in her dreams.
Sara sniffed as a tear dripped down the side of her nose. The light turned green. She went through the motions of driving her aunt’s old Toyota Corolla. Shove it in gear, let off the clutch, step on the gas, and drive a few yards to the second stop light.
Through the blur of moisture, she glanced out the left window and caught sight of a blue pickup passing by on the opposite side. Something about the driver riveted her attention. She craned her neck to get a better look.
Her heart did a somersault. It couldn’t be...
Blaring horns startled her back to the traffic. Sara slammed on the brakes. She let out a gasp, realizing she'd gone straight through the second light.
A red one.
Cars on either side squealed to a stop, missing her by inches. Sara intercepted several angry glares as she inched across the intersection. Giving an apologetic wave, she punched the gas and scooted out of town like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Leaving the downtown area behind, Sara thought of what flustered her enough to run a red light. Or whom. The split-second glimpse of the blue pickup driver reminded her of someone from her not too distant past. She compressed her lips as the memories flooded to the fore.
Brian Farris—beast, womanizer, wolf in sheep’s clothing.
He'd been more like a wolf that never bothered with sheep’s clothing. That’s what made him so dangerous—dangerous to a stupid girl who should’ve known better.
The traffic infraction reminded Sara of how close she’d come to running a moral red light with Brian. For every insult leaping to mind, her responsibility for her own downfall pained her deeply. She gripped the steering wheel, pretending it was Brian’s throat.
Thank goodness he’d never be caught dead in a town like Buell Creek. Brian preferred the fast life of southern California. Fast waves, cars, and women. The only fast thing here was the corn growing in the fields. Sara shuddered, not daring to believe she saw Brian Farris in the flesh.
A few minutes later, she pulled into a dusty driveway and came to a stop near her aunt Hattie’s single-wide mobile home. She entered the trailer through the screen door and set her grocery bag on the Formica-topped dining room table. Smelling the yeasty aroma of rising bread, her gaze roamed the familiar space.
Green shag carpet, a faux leather couch, hanging macramé plant baskets, and beaded lampshades adorned the living room. The kitchen boasted dark walnut cabinets, avocado appliances, and orange countertops. Crocheted hot pads and a green ceramic frog sat near the stainless steel sink. Although the decor was hopelessly out of date, the familiarity gave her a real sense of comfort. She peeked out the back door. “I’m back!”
Sara watched Hattie Andersen brush her hands on the apron worn over polyester pants, and wipe the soles of her Keds on the mat. As she came through the door, Sara experienced a rush of affection for her aunt. She understood why people mistook Hattie for her mother. A late and unexpected addition to the Andersen family, Hattie was technically a great-aunt, though only in her early fifties. She wore her dark hair neatly swept up in a beehive and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth. Sara appreciated her even more after the loss of her grandfather.
“Were you able to find the cookies I wanted?” Hattie asked, giving her usual welcoming smile.
Sara rummaged in the paper sack and held up a box of imported English tea biscuits. “Last one on the shelf.”
“I made iced tea and now we’ll have a nice after-dinner snack before I go into work tonight.”
Sara arranged cookies on a pretty CorningWare plate while Hattie pulled flower-print glasses out of the cupboard. Settling at the table and reaching for a cookie, Sara listened with half an ear while her aunt prattled about the lush growth of her vegetable garden and her plan to take fresh vegetables to some of the patients on her rounds. She smiled absently. Her aunt, who worked as a home health nurse besides working three night shifts a week at the community hospital, undoubtedly blessed everyone she came in contact with.
Her thoughts returned to the driver of the truck who nearly caused her accident. “Hattie, something odd happened on the way here.”
“Oh? Tell me about it, dear.”
Sara felt heat creep into her face and lowered her eyes before her aunt’s keen gaze. “On the way home from the grocery store, I saw a man who looked a lot like Brian Farris.”
The glass slipped from Hattie’s hand, hit the tabletop, and tipped, spilling an ocean of iced-tea. They jumped up to avoid getting doused. Sara grabbed a nearby towel to mop up the mess.
“So silly of me!” Hattie said on her way to the kitchen. She returned to the table after rinsing out the glass.
Sara dabbed at a wet spot on her jeans, feeling rather rattled by the sudden turn of events.
“Do try a biscuit, dear. They complement this tea quite nicely,” Hattie said, waving her toward the chair.
When seated, Sara took an obligatory bite of her cookie and returned to the matter uppermost in her mind. “Um, like I was saying, I thought I saw Brian Farris. But I can’t imagine he’d come to a small farm town like this.”
Hattie gave a little cough. “I suppose one never really knows.”
“He’d have no reason to be here. There are no beach bunnies in Buell Creek.” Sara grimaced at the memories, feeling the old resentment take hold. The intensity of her emotions surprised her. It had been two years. Shouldn’t she be over him by now? She glanced at her aunt, and seeing the twin spots of color on her softly lined cheeks, shook her head to clear it. “Enough of that.”
Hattie often appeared uncomfortable when talking about romantic issues. Sara remembered hearing tidbits about a failed relationship over the years, apparently responsible for Hattie’s ongoing unmarried state. Whenever she asked her aunt directly about it, she acted skittish and chan
ged the subject.
Sara decided to take the same course of action. Leaning forward, she took her aunt’s hand and broached the other subject burning in her mind. “I would really like to see the house now.”
“I know you would, dear. But you’ve been so sad lately, and I don’t want you to do too much too soon. Going to your grandpa’s house might be more than you can bear right now.”
“I think I’m ready. It’s been a week since he passed away and my comfort is knowing he’s with the Lord.” She blinked away fresh moisture in her eyes. “I only have happy memories of being there, and I think it would be good to go.”
Hattie’s smile seemed strained. “But there’s a tenant in that little cottage at the back of the property. It might be awkward to go while someone’s there.”
Sara frowned. “Why hasn’t he or she moved out yet? Haven’t they heard what happened?”
“Remember when I told you your grandfather had given his permission for, um, the tenant to stay as long as he wanted?”
“But Grandpa left the house to me in his Will. Since it’s now my property now, I have the right to ask this tenant to move.”
“Eli was very fond of this man and housing is scarce in Buell Creek,” Hattie said, crumbling a cookie into a small pile on the table. “Maybe you should wait a few more weeks before going over there. You’re still quite emotional, and I feel you need more time before facing any additional upset.”
Sara stood. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a few weeks. I have to get back to my job. Besides, how upsetting can it be to politely ask someone to find new lodgings? They’re probably expecting my visit!”
“I doubt that.”
She looked sharply at her aunt, wondering what the muttered words meant. Before Hattie talked her out of going again, she picked up her purse.
“Thanks for the snack, but I really do need to do this today. I’ve waited long enough.” Sara bent down and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You baby me too much, you know. I’m nearly twenty-five and old enough to handle this.”
Hattie stared at her for a long moment. She jumped up from her chair. “I’m going with you.”
***
Sara noticed her aunt fidgeting in the passenger seat during the drive to her grandfather’s house. She shrugged inwardly, her mind drifting back to Brian. Seeing someone who reminded her so strongly of him knocked her for a loop.
She thought back to the time when they were in college together. She remembered the butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her with his lazy smile and sea green eyes, the way the wind ruffled his dark blond hair the first time he asked her out. And the way her principles about dating a non-Christian evaporated when she breathed a ‘yes’.
Sara had been flattered by his attention, bowled over, and utterly stupid. Sure, he said he went to church. But even after he exhibited characteristics to the contrary, she found it unbearable to be apart from him.
She thought she'd loved him. Now she doubted she knew the meaning of the word. Her feelings for Brian had felt like an illness. Looking back, she wondered if she’d been more obsessed than in love.
Sara had managed to recover—though at the time, she doubted the possibility. And she’d been far more careful these last two years. She had no intention of repeating such a painful episode.
As the old farmhouse appeared around the bend in the road, Sara closed her mind to memories of her failed love life.
She turned the car into the gravel driveway and parked in front of the house. Sara emerged and shaded her eyes from the rapidly setting sun. Squinting up at the dilapidated structure, she fought down a feeling of dismay. It appeared more run-down than she remembered, although it probably always was rough around the edges. Now, she looked at it with a skeptical eye and thought more about liabilities than memories.
The house had a gambrel shaped roof line, giving it a barn-like appearance, made more so by its behemoth size against the backdrop of fir and pine trees. There were bare patches along the roof— evidence of missing shingles. A section of gutter hung down at a crazy angle. The slanted sunlight revealed cracked panes in the mullioned windows, and the front porch appeared to be subsiding into the front yard. Chipped paint exposed bare wood on the siding, adding to the overall air of neglect.
Was it always like this?
She glanced at Hattie and saw her finally emerge from the car. Tucking her aunt’s odd nervousness into the back of her mind, Sara walked up the drive toward the cottage situated several yards behind the main house. Both buildings shared the driveway. Sara saw a vehicle parked next to the tiny structure.
“Hey, the tenant is here. I’m going to introduce myself,” she said, turning to make sure her aunt heard her. She saw Hattie clasp her hands together as if in prayer. Shrugging, Sara headed for the cottage.
The structure appeared to be in immaculate condition. The roof looked new, the paint, fresh and the windows sparkled in the early evening sun. She was relieved the tenant obviously didn’t plan to trash the place.
Reaching the door, Sara took a deep breath before raising her hand to knock. She didn’t come to have a confrontation. She planned to simply introduce herself as the first step in a friendly eviction process. Baring her teeth in an attempt at a social smile, she knocked on the door.
A bird wheeled overhead. Somewhere, a dog barked. Sara’s smile faltered. A quick look at the blue truck in the driveway verified someone was here. She did a double take. Why did that truck seem so familiar? She heard sounds from inside the cottage. Her gaze swiveled back to the door.
Resisting the urge to peer in the windows, she squared her shoulders and waited with a feeling of expectation. Somebody groaned loudly, and she heard several bumps and thumps. And then the door swung open.
Sara stared at the figure in the doorway. Brian Farris stared right back.
Chapter Two
Sara clenched her fists into tight little balls, going hot and cold by turns. She opened her mouth to speak, but before a sound came out, Brian lurched toward her and grabbed her arms. Shocked, she tried to fight back, but then his knees buckled. Sara lost her balance under his weight. They ended up in an undignified heap in the middle of the driveway.
Too stunned to move, Sara remained motionless as Brian clambered to his feet. He held out a hand to her. She slapped it away and scrambled upright, glaring at him in mounting fury. “What are you doing here?”
Brian bent over and put his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths. He glanced up and grinned. “Sorry about that. I was a little dizzy.”
Before Sara could respond, Hattie rushed up behind her.
“Oh, poor Mr. Farris! How could you, Sara?”
Panting from shock and exertion, with a painful throbbing on her backside from where she fell, Sara resisted the urge to scream. “Good grief, Hattie, I didn’t say a word. He said he was...dizzy!” She raked her gaze over Brian, unable to believe her eyes. “Was that you I saw in town earlier?”
He nodded, and for the first time, Sara noticed his haggard appearance. Distinct shadows circled his eyes and his hair spiked all over his head. Several days beard growth dusted his chin. He was either a rock star wannabe or just plain ill.
“I was at the drug store getting some medicine.”
Hattie put her hand on his arm. “You don’t look so good. You need to get into bed.”
Her aunt led him back into the cottage. Sara watched them go. Brian. Here in Buell Creek. Could it be possible? Her heart wrenched at the sight of him. She swallowed, struggling to rein in her confused emotions. After a moment, she entered the cottage.
Hattie met her in the kitchen. “Sara, go get my medical bag from the car, please. Mr. Farris is not well.”
Too dazed to do anything other than obey, she hurried to the Corolla and grabbed the bag. Back inside the cottage, she tripped over a chair leg in her haste and shoved the bag at Hattie. Releasing an unsteady breath, she willed herself to calm down and followed her aunt into the bedroom. Brian lay stretched ou
t on top of the blankets.
She watched her aunt smile and begin to ply him with all manner of health-related questions. Sara only half heard his replies, wondering why her aunt seemed unsurprised at his appearance in her grandfather’s cottage.
Hattie rummaged through her medical bag, bringing out her stethoscope and a thermometer. She spent several minutes taking his temperature and listening to his lungs. If Brian was aware of Sara’s presence, he gave no indication of it.
Her aunt pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “Well, young man, your lungs are clear and your heartbeat is strong although you do have a high fever. The flu’s been going around like wildfire and you look to be the latest victim.” She packed her things away. “But the fact that you almost fainted concerns me.”
“Just a bit lightheaded,” Brian corrected sleepily. “I stood up too fast to answer the door, that’s all.”
Hattie smiled. “You need to eat some simple foods to keep up your strength, and you must drink lots of fluids. You’re somewhat dehydrated, and I’m wondering if you’d be better off in the hospital.”
He struggled to sit up, sputtering in protest.
She held up a hand. “If you can promise me you’ll drink lots of water and juice over the next several hours, I might feel more comfortable about leaving you here.”
“I promise,” he said solemnly.
Sara, still inwardly fuming, caught a significant look from her aunt.
“Dear, can I speak to you outside for a moment?”
Avoiding eye contact with Brian, she followed the woman outside, closing the door firmly behind her. She stomped to a stop in front of her aunt. “Out with it, Hattie!”
“Well, I—”
“You knew all along who was living here, and that’s why you tried to keep me away! Not to mention the fact that you also seem to be on awfully good terms with him. Hattie, how could you?”
Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) Page 1
