Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love)

by Bonnie Blythe

  Brian tapped at the back door but received no response. He knew Sara must be somewhere in the house because he saw the Ford in the driveway. This was the fourth day they’d inhabited the same property, and he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her for another minute. Over the last few days, he'd given her space. Now he needed to at least say hello.

  He finally turned the knob and went in. Lights shone everywhere and the dining room was filled with boxes. Amazed at the progress she'd made in such a short amount of time, Brian noticed every surface appeared ruthlessly scrubbed clean. It seemed like a different house inside.

  “Sara?”

  Only the ticking of the old stove clock sounded in his ears. Brian walked through the main rooms, but she was nowhere in sight. Next, he checked Eli’s bedroom. There, he found her sitting on the side of the bed, clutching her head in her hands.

  A spasm of alarm hit him in the solar plexus. He kneeled down next to her and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Sara looked up at him with a flushed face and glittering eyes. “You!” she grated. “You made me sick!”

  It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Suddenly, Brian sensed the heat under his hand. She had a fever! He felt his face grow hot, knowing an apology wouldn’t suffice. He put an arm around her shoulders and led her from the room, glad her weakness prevented her from protesting the contact.

  “I’m taking you home, and I don’t want any argument, understand?”

  Sara nodded, and then appeared to regret the movement, her hand pressing against her forehead. As he guided her outside and into his truck, she began to shiver. In the cab, she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Brian drove slowly to avoid turning too sharply. He darted concerned glances at her during the drive, noticing the ghostly white pallor beneath the feverish flush mantling her cheeks.

  Once he arrived at Hattie’s place, he helped Sara out of the truck and into the house, ignoring Hattie’s squawk of surprise as they went through the living room. The older woman followed, demanding explanations while motioning him into Sara’s bedroom.

  “I’m guessing she has the flu,” he said.

  “I’ll be right back with something to help.” She turned and rushed from the room.

  Sara groaned when he eased her down onto the bed. She pulled a pillow over her face and said something, her words muffled by the pillow.

  Brian tugged on her arm. “What did you say?”

  Sara yanked the pillow away and glared at him. “I said I’ll get you for this!”

  He grinned. “Now, now, you shouldn’t become agitated. You need lots of rest and must drink lots of fluids.”

  Hattie returned with some medicine and proceeded to fuss about her niece. Brian stepped out of the way.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” he asked them both.

  “I have everything I need here,” Hattie said.

  “Sara?”

  She coughed before answering. “There are two books on Eli’s desk. If you could...” Her sentence fizzled in another weak volley of coughs.

  “Say no more.” Brian scooted out of the room before she blamed him for anything else.

  He drove back to the farmhouse and found the books she wanted, along with her purse. After locking up the house, he stopped by a florist’s shop before returning to Hattie’s. Brian found Sara’s aunt in the garden, and she told him Sara was sleep. Hattie oohed appreciatively over the flowers and sent him inside for a vase.

  Brian went into the kitchen and found one under the kitchen sink. He filled it up with water, jammed the bouquet into the vase, and took it to Sara’s room. Her door stood ajar. He knocked to alert her of his presence. Hearing only the sound of her breathing, he tiptoed in and placed the flowers on the nightstand next to the bed.

  Sara lay curled up under a cotton blanket, with her fist tucked under her chin. She appeared child-like and vulnerable. Unlike her usual bossy manner, he thought with a smile. Her dark lashes fanned out over her cheeks and the blue veins visible under her skin near her temple lent an air of fragility.

  On impulse, Brian leaned over her and lightly pressed his lips against her forehead. He felt her eyelashes tickle his chin as she came awake. Sara feebly tried to push him away.

  “What are you doing?” she croaked.

  “Checking your temperature. My guess is about one hundred and three.”

  “There’s a digital thermometer on the nightstand!”

  He regarded her with an impish grin. “Settle down, Sara, or I’ll kiss you on the lips next.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because...because you’d get my germs.”

  “You forget, I’m immune to them now.”

  She expelled a breath laden with obvious exhaustion, “Oh, go away, Brian.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, instantly contrite. “I shouldn’t bug you when you’re sick. Here, I brought the books you asked for.”

  He set them next to her on the bed. Sara muttered a word of thanks and closed her eyes. Brian left the room, berating himself for teasing her so. He knew it would only irk her. And it might set him back in his plan. The thought of having an opportunity to taste those pink lips once again motivated him to be on his best behavior.

  ***

  In a way, Sara was glad for the illness that kept her confined to her room for the remainder of the week. It helped keep Hattie’s questions at bay, and she didn’t run the risk of bumping into Brian at the farmhouse.

  Aside from his first visit, he hadn’t returned to plague her. She gazed at the vase of heavily fragrant, pale pink roses and baby’s breath, now in full bloom. Their beauty forced her to acknowledge his thoughtfulness. Drat the man!

  Sara wearied of her vacillation between angst and resignation in reaction to Brian’s presence in her life. There must be a way to make him see reason about the house and encourage him to go somewhere else. Once the house sold and she went back to her job, she didn’t care what he did with himself.

  She saw the journals on the nightstand and reached out for the top one. Feeling so miserable with the flu in the last few days had drained her energy too much to read them. After leafing through the one containing poetry, Sara’s heart lifted. Her grandfather was wont to describe nature and flowers and such, and she even found a few poems about love. Not exactly Keats, but she thought them very sweet and treasured the glimpse into his heart.

  Sara picked up the second book and opened it to the first page. Any reservations about looking into someone’s personal life melted away as she became engrossed in the words within. The journal covered the last few months of his life, with his entries coming about once or twice a week. Some of what he wrote covered the mundane aspects of life, but much expressed the thoughts and feelings of what he experienced at the time.

  Sara was surprised to find that she was on his heart and mind more than anything else. He wrote of his deep disappointment over the choices his daughter made and how he had wanted to make things right for his granddaughter, to somehow atone for his failure with Tanya.

  Sara read of his plan to have his home restored properly so she could live with him without the worry of monthly payments. He later wrote about his new idea of using the property to generate income, to take the entire burden of making a living from Sara’s shoulders.

  And about meeting Brian, being impressed by him, and even hoping for a reconciliation for his granddaughter.

  By the time she finished reading the journal, tears streamed down her face. After a lifetime growing up in near-poverty with her mother, Sara understood his concern about her financial situation. She knew he worried about her school debts and low-paying job. And of the fact that she never really had any place to call home. For now, she'd ignore his worries about her love-life. Sara closed the book in her lap and stared out the window.

  The reasoning behind her grandfather’s plans packed an emotional wallop. It now seemed blatantly dis
respectful to proceed with her intentions to sell the house. Sara thought of her job and hopes of advancement. And of the apartment she just finished repainting and decorating inside.

  All these things seemed superfluous in light of this new knowledge. Sara closed her eyes. Hattie had asked her to pray. Before the words formed on her lips, she had a pretty good idea her life was about to take a different turn.

  ***

  Sara gave a stunned look at the phone receiver in her hand before absently hanging it up. Well, if I wanted confirmation...

  She sank onto the couch and glanced across the room at her aunt. Hattie sat in the opposite chair, crocheting a baby afghan for an upcoming shower at her church.

  “Um, I just lost my job.”

  Hattie put down her project. “Oh, dear, I’m so very sorry. Why did they let you go?”

  Sara slumped against the cushion. “The temp in my place turned out to be more experienced than me. Taking two weeks off with no vacation time after having the job for only a few months didn’t help either.” She slapped the couch pillow with her hand.

  “Well, perhaps it’s for the best. You know they say when God closes a door, He opens a window.”

  Sara wrinkled her nose. She'd just seen that adage cross-stitched in a frame on the wall in her bedroom. The phrase was trite and pat and she resented the notion it might also be true. Could Buell Creek really be the window? Because it felt a whole lot more like a pothole.

  Yesterday, while reading the journal, things seemed clear. Today, doubts beset her and she felt weak with the realization of the logistics involved. She needed to go back to Crescent City, clean out her desk, pack up her apartment, and rent a moving trailer. Bringing the farmhouse up to Eli’s wishes could take weeks or even months to accomplish.

  There remained the thorny matter of her tenant. How would she ever get rid of him? She refused to accept the idea he had any part of the new ‘window’ thing. God knew the mess she made of her life when she became involved with Brian. Following this line of reasoning, the man must soon be gone from the picture.

  Cross-stitch that.

  Chapter Six

  When Brian heard of Sara’s plan to move to Buell Creek for good, he praised the Lord. Circumstances were working together more smoothly than he'd hoped. The only bump in the road was Sara herself.

  Hattie informed him Sara planned to attempt the move on her own, but Brian had other ideas. He couldn’t insinuate himself into her plans too obviously. He needed to be stealthy and discreet.

  Fortunately, Hattie worried about her niece doing everything by herself and supplied him with all the necessary information about her schedule and airline plans. As he made his way through the hundreds of travelers at Portland International Airport, he hoped his excuse wouldn’t be too flimsy.

  Brian scanned the crowds, looking for the dark-haired beauty who made his heart go pitter pat.

  “Sara!” he said when he saw her at the end of a line to check her baggage. He quickly eeled his way through the press, arriving at her side slightly out of breath. “Imagine us meeting here like this.”

  Sara’s gray eyes widened to their fullest. Her dismayed expression quickly changed to one of suspicion.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Brian offered his most charming smile. “I’m going to see my sister in California.”

  Sara frowned. “I thought you were just down there.”

  “We’re, uh, close. I’m actually hoping to convince her to move up here.”

  “I see.” It was obvious from her tone she didn’t. She shifted her bag to her other shoulder. “How long are you going to be down there?”

  Brian’s smile cracked. He planned to ask her that question. He really meant to visit his sister, but needed to find out from Sara when she planned to drive the moving trailer back to Buell Creek. He intended to come back with her.

  “A few days,” he hedged.

  Sara searched his face for several seconds. Then with an infinitesimal shrug, she turned away and moved forward in line.

  Sara thought furiously, hardly able to believe Brian stood next to her at the airport. Without a doubt, Hattie was behind this. Her aunt had expressed concern at her plans to relocate alone. Compressing her lips, Sara turned her attention to the back of the woman in front of her, not willing to admit the tiny measure of relief she experienced at Brian’s sudden presence.

  Then again, she reminded herself sternly, the thought of enduring his company undiluted was too much to bear. Sara had to figure out a way to dodge him and proceed with her plans unhindered. What is up with my aunt and her harebrained ideas?

  When they boarded the plane, Sara almost expected Brian to have a seat next to her. Instead, he sat on the opposite side, several rows ahead. This, of course, suited her just fine. A quick glance to her left revealed a thirty-something man as her seat mate. Sara responded to his greeting with a tight smile and fixed her gaze on the tops of the passengers’ heads in front of her.

  After the plane taxied and lifted into the air, she stole a look up the row to where Brian sat. She couldn’t help but admire his expressive face as he spoke with a blonde flight attendant—an attractive blonde flight attendant. She narrowed her gaze as she watched him flirt with her. At least that’s what he appeared to be doing. He smiled at the flight attendant. She smiled back. Flirting, pure and simple. Infuriating man.

  “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sara turned to her seat mate with a puzzled look. He was a dark, crudely handsome man with brown eyes lit by a roguish twinkle. He introduced himself with a name belying his Italian origins. She gave a limp shake to his proffered hand.

  “I’ve been watching you,” he said. “You can’t keep your eyes off the guy in forty-four-A.”

  Sara sent him a fulminating look, feeling heat creep into her face. “Excuse me?”

  “My point is this. While you’re hankering for someone who is obviously not hankering for you, you might as well enjoy the one you’re with.” He stabbed his chest with his thumb. “That would be me.”

  Stifling a sharp rejoinder, Sara took a book out of her purse and pretended to read. Even Brian’s company was preferable to the masher next to her.

  By the time the flight ended and the passengers disgorged from the plane, Sara fought a monster headache. She heard the Don Juan wannabe mumble moodily about the misfortune of sitting next to such an ice queen.

  Ignoring him, Sara met up with Brian in the airport baggage claim. His lopsided smile shone like a beacon amid so many strangers. She didn’t take exception when he carried her bags. Her fatigue seemed to burgeon with her every step, making her wonder if the effects of the flu continued to plague her.

  Brian’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I, uh, thought perhaps we could drive to Crescent City together. I could drop you off there, visit my sister who lives further down the coast and meet you back in a few days to help you move the big stuff into the trailer.”

  Sara pressed a hand to her pounding temple. “Fine,” she said, only half-aware of what she agreed to.

  Once ensconced in a rental car, she realized Brian had taken care of all the details. Admittedly, she felt grateful for his presence and didn’t know how she could’ve managed without him. She thanked him, but reminded herself to keep him at arm’s length in case he tried to inveigle his way into her good graces. Then, remembering the blonde flight attendant, Sara acknowledged Brian hardly needed to go to such effort to capture a female’s attention.

  Her headache worsened.

  Soon they arrived in Sara’s neighborhood, located in a poorer section of town. Sara stiffly climbed from the car and looked around. She tried to imagine how things might appear as seen through Brian’s eyes. The struggling neighborhood contained run-down houses amid newly renovated ones. Cars on blocks occupied weed filled yards and some young men hung around in a group.

  Despite her tight resources, Sara could’ve afforded a place in a sl
ightly better area, but she preferred older buildings full of history and character. Her building, once a sprawling Victorian mansion, was now carved up into five separate apartments.

  She usually ignored the peeling paint, but sensed Brian’s disapproval as she led him to the entry. The door boasted a large sheet of wavy glass bordered by small squares of stained glass, although she didn’t remember seeing so many cracked or missing panes before.

  Inside the foyer her landlady, at one time, had penciled the word ‘manager’ on the wall next to another door. Sara led Brian down the hall and up a flight of creaking stairs flanked by an often-painted balustrade.

  “Glad to see you don’t live on the first floor at least,” she heard him mumble.

  Sara bristled but refrained from responding. She opened the door of her apartment and ushered him in. Compared to the outside, the inside presented an oasis of sun-filled rooms with brightly painted walls, antique furniture, and colorful pillows, rugs and pictures. The stained glass, which graced most of the windows, created harlequinade patterns on the oak floor and bathed the room in pastel hues.

  Sara tossed her keys onto a nearby oak table and turned to Brian. “Well, thanks again for all your help. I’ll see you in what, three days?”

  Brian glanced around the room and then walked over to the main window, gazing out onto the street below. He turned back to Sara with his arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t leave you here alone. It’s too dangerous.”

  Sara sputtered.

  He held up a hand. “Hattie charged me with your safety and it would be unconscionable to leave you here in a neighborhood filled with guys who’d as soon slit your throat as say howdy.”

  Sara went to the window, and just to annoy Brian, waved to the boys below. They waved back.

  “Get away from the window!”

  Planting her hands on her hips, she turned to him. “Let me inform you that I’ve lived here for almost six months with no problems and furthermore, you are leaving to go visit your sister!”