by Leah Atwood
Love in A Fix
Modern Conveniences One
Leah Atwood
Copyright © 2016 by Leah Atwood
Cover Design © Covers by Ramona
Cover Image © DepositPhotos.com | PixAchi
Unless otherwise noted, scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Letter from the Author
Other Titles Available from Leah
Excerpt From Come to Me Alive
Chapter One
“No.” Lyndsey Allen drew out the word as she pulled the frozen casserole from the oven with her bare hands, no potholders needed.
She plopped the ceramic dish on the counter then pushed several buttons on the oven. Not that it mattered if she turned off the appliance or not. The uncooked cheese-laden vegetables were testament enough that the appliance wasn’t working. Suspicions had lurked in her mind for several weeks that the oven wasn’t operating properly, but she’d prayed it would hold out until tax season. Goodness only knew she couldn’t afford a repair bill right now, let alone a whole new range if it came to that.
Desperate for a solution that wouldn’t incur an expense she couldn’t pay, she pulled out the range from the wall and unplugged its cord. After thirty seconds she plugged it back in and pushed the appliance back into its spot. She bit down on her bottom lip while she pressed the preheat button and waited a few minutes to see if the oven warmed. It was a long shot, she knew, but if it worked for the wireless router, why not give it a try for the oven?
Holding her breath, she lowered the door. No heat. No orange glow cast from the heating elements.
A loose strand of strawberry blonde hair tickled her face when she exhaled a defeated sigh. Bending at the waist, she opened the drawer that stored various kitchen sundries. She pulled out the aluminum foil and tore off a sheet long enough to cover the casserole. After she pressed and fitted the foil over the dish, she shoved the uncooked food into the fridge.
She closed the door and shrugged—so the dish she’d thrown together wouldn’t make it to the church potluck. At least she and Josh could eat from it as a side dish for the next week. Money was too sparse to waste that amount of food, even if it would become mushy once it was cooked in the microwave.
The thought of money reminded her about the stack of bills on the table. Time for the monthly game of what bills can be delayed without severe consequence—a game in which she only participated out of necessity.
After checking on Josh, her four-year-old son, she sat at the table and flipped through the bills. She opened the envelope from Calding County Electric Co-op. Final Notice stared at her in bold red letters. Experience taught her the power company’s final notice meant final notice. Without an exemption, her power would be disconnected in four days. Since she’d already gotten an extension last month, she knew one wouldn’t be granted again so soon.
She reached for the checkbook and wrote a draft for the past due amount. Hopefully that would be enough to buy her some time. Until when, she didn’t know. Her full-time job as an administrative assistant at a safety technology firm had been cut to part-time last spring, and she’d lost her benefits in the process. To make up a portion of the difference, she’d picked up a second job at the grocery store, but even those shifts had been trimmed to a total of eight hours per week.
With a heavy heart, she continued sorting, forming two piles as she went—pay now and put off until later. She reached the bottom and opened the final bill. The mortgage. If a miracle didn’t occur in the next month, foreclosure proceedings would begin.
Where would she and Josh be then? She pinched her temples, warding off the headache.
Drawing in a long breath, she debated whether to laugh or cry. More than enough tears had traced her cheeks in the past two years, so she opted to laugh. What else could she do? For Josh’s sake, she had to hold it together. He didn’t need to walk in and see her breaking down. Losing his father a few months before he turned two was a heavy enough burden for him to carry without her adding to the load.
Lyndsey caught sight of the digital clock on the stove. Go figure, that component worked just fine, the one she could do without. The potluck began in ten minutes, and now she’d be late, on top of not having anything to bring.
She marched across the kitchen and peeked into the living room. Josh sat in a circle of brightly colored building blocks. In front of him, a towering construction of something—a spaceship, if she had her guess—teetered on a delicate balance. Lifting an arm, Josh placed a blue block on the top, causing the creation to tip over.
Blocks scattered everywhere.
Josh’s bottom lip protruded, turning down at the edges.
Bracing herself, Lyndsey hurried to him. Maybe she could ward off the imminent—
A loud wail pierced her ears.
—Tantrum. Her chest deflated as she finished the interrupted thought with a sigh and knelt beside Josh.
“My rocket ship’s broken,” Josh stuttered between cries.
“It can be fixed.” Supermom powers kicked in, and she reassembled the blocks in seconds. “See, all good again.”
The fit ended as quickly as it had begun. Josh broke out into a wide grin, gripping the rocket ship with two hands—one at the bottom and one at the top. He lifted it and ran around the room, zooming the rocket ship through the air.
Lyndsey stood to her feet, a smile fighting to turn up the corners of her mouth. What difference would a few more minutes make when they were already going to be late? Moments like these kept her going while everything else crashed around her.
Josh’s smile. His fits of giggles. The imagination he’d inherited from his father. Mark was dead, but he lived on through his carrot-topped son. Nothing could ever fill the hole left by Mark’s premature passing, but Josh kept her heart from hollowing.
“Time to leave,” she told him after a few minutes more of play.
“Where are we going?” Stopping mid-zoom, Josh still held the blocks in the air.
“Remember I told you about the potluck at church tonight?”
He shook his head. “What’s a potluck?”
“Everyone brings something to eat and shares with everyone else.”
“Will there be cookies?” A hopeful smile appeared.
Lyndsey chuckled. “I imagine Mrs. Di will bring hers.”
“Yippee.” Cookies trumped toys, at least for today, and Josh discarded the blocks during his sprint to her. “I’m ready.”
Eyebrows raised, she looked at his white socks. “Put away your toys and then put your shoes on. Mommy will tie them for you.”
While Josh ran to his room, ignorin
g the toys, Lyndsey went to her bathroom to perform a quick application of makeup. She dabbed concealer on the dark circles of worry under her lackluster green eyes. Was that really her reflection? Where was her sparkle that Mark had loved so much? Would he be horrified to see his youthful bride was now a haggard mom just barely holding on? The stress from the last several years had aged her so that she looked a decade older than her thirty years.
But even the aged woman who stared back at her appeared too young to be a widow.
Some days she thought the first year after Mark’s death was easier to handle than what she felt now. That first year and into the second, shock and grief had left her numb. For Josh’s sake, she continued on, albeit in automatic motions, but in recent months, she was coming out of that coma and having to face the reality of life without her husband.
Part of coming back to life was feeling again, and the truth was—feelings hurt. More than anyone could imagine unless they’d been there. It was sharp pains that sliced through her at random times, and it was a constant ache that constricted her lungs until she couldn’t breathe.
“Found my shoes, Mommy.” Josh stood at the bathroom door, his dirty shoelaces a tangled mess. “I tried tying them myself.”
“I see that.” She blinked away the sullen thoughts, replacing them with a smile. Kneeling down, she undid the knots and tied Josh’s laces in a proper fashion. Before she stood, she kissed his cheek.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the church parking lot, dismayed to see people milling about. She’d hoped to make a quiet entry, not drawing attention to her empty hands, something she didn’t think would be a problem since they were late.
“Didn’t you say everyone’s s’posed to bring something?” Josh asked as she unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Yes.” She cringed, imagining where the questioning would lead.
“Then what did we bring?” He hopped from his seat then onto the ground.
“Nothing this time, sweetheart.” She bit her bottom lip, praying he wouldn’t launch into twenty questions.
His hand reached for hers, standard parking lot protocol. “Why not?”
“I just didn’t.”
“But you said we’re s’posed to, and you told me to always do things we’re s’posed to do.” Stopping his small stride, he looked at her for an answer.
She couldn’t negate four-year-old logic. “The oven broke, so I couldn’t cook anything and didn’t have time to make anything else. I’ll make two things next time.”
“Okay.” Satisfied, Josh smiled then suddenly jerked away, about to break into a run. “I see Damien.”
Lyndsey lurched out an arm to grab him, but he was too fast. “Joshua Devin Allen, get back here.”
“Whoa there.” Shep Patterson appeared from behind a vehicle and put his hands on Josh’s shoulders to stop the sprint.
Relief flooded through her that Shep had stopped Josh. Even in the church parking lot, people tended to drive too fast or back up without looking. She increased her pace, reaching her son in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you,” she told Shep.
Before she addressed Josh, she took two deep breaths. “You know better than to run off like that. Do you know what could have happened?”
Josh tucked his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“There will be no cookies for you tonight.”
“But I want one.” His eyes scrunched and arms crossed.
“Maybe you’ll remember that next time you run from me in the parking lot.”
“I want a cookie.” To Lyndsey’s embarrassment, Josh raised his foot and slammed it down in an ambitious stomp.
Right onto Shep’s boot.
Heat flood her face. “I’m so sorry.” She brought Josh in front of her, tightly gripping his shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged and flipped a hand. “My nephew’s around Josh’s age. I understand.”
“The tantrums just started a few weeks ago.” Keeping one hand on Josh’s shoulders, she ran the other through her hair until it caught on her ponytail. “Maybe I’m not paying enough attention to him.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing a great job with him.” Shep laid a hand on her shoulder. “Mark would be proud of you.”
“Thanks.” The beginning of a smile formed on Lyndsey’s face. Then she became all too aware of his touch, which made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t understand. She looked around the parking lot. “Guess we should get inside. Looks like everyone else already has.”
Shep lowered his hand to his side. “The parking lot cleared of people fast. They must be hungry.”
Twisting his small frame, Josh looked at Shep. “Mommy didn’t bring anything because the oven broke.”
“Shh,” Lyndsey started to hiss, then stopped. He’d done nothing wrong in telling Shep about her problem, and her own embarrassment didn’t warrant the sharp words.
“Need me to stop by and check it out?” Shep asked as they walked toward the church. “My last appointment for tomorrow cancelled, so I have the time.”
If only Shep hadn’t done all the work on her house since Mark and she bought it, it would be so much easier to find an excuse to say no. “There’s no rush. Maybe next week sometime.” Or next year when there’s more of a chance I can pay you.
“Plan on microwaving meals all week?” Shep raised a brow before offering a brief wink.
“No, it’s just that I hired someone else.” Her pride spit out the lie before she realized what she’d said.
“Oh.” Surprise and hurt registered in Shep’s crystalline blue eyes, but he blinked them away.
They reached the door, and Shep opened it for them.
“Go inside Josh, I’ll be right there.” She released her son’s hand and watched him until she saw Mrs. Tisdale lead him to a table. He’d be in good hands for the next few minutes.
Shep tilted his head, watching her with an unreadable expression, probably wondering why she wasn’t going in yet. Or why she’d hired someone else—which she hadn’t, nor would she. When it came to repairmen and contractors, Shep was the best around, in quality and trustworthiness. Not to mention, he was a good friend. Back in the day—before Mark and Miranda, Shep’s late wife, passed—they’d spent a lot of time together with their respective spouses. Double dates, summer cookouts, even a trip to the shore one year.
If nothing else, she owed him an apology. She glanced around, ensuring there was no one within hearing range. Taking two steps backward, she moved from the door and leaned against the bricks.
“Everything okay?” Shep joined her along the wall.
She crossed her arms, focusing on the field behind the parking lot. If only she’d kept her mouth shut, she wouldn’t be stuck having to admit she lied, thus making the truth more awkward than it already was. The lure to let Shep continue to think she’d hired someone else tugged at her, but she shoved it aside.
“I shouldn’t have told you I’d contracted a new repairman.” There, she’d told him the truth. Kind of.
“It’s fine, really.” He gave her a strained smile. “There’s competition out there and you shouldn’t feel obligated to use my company.”
Great, he’d misunderstood. Next time, Lynds, think before you speak. “No, it’s not that.” She took a deep breath again. This was Shep, she could tell him the truth. “I didn’t hire anyone else, but I can’t afford a repair bill right now.”
Relief flashed in his eyes, followed by concern. “Why didn’t you say so from the start?”
Hunching her shoulders, she shrank into herself. “Do I have to answer that?”
His lips curled up on one side. “Why don’t you let me stop by and have a look at it, no charge? Depending on what’s wrong, I might be able to fix it with spare parts I already have.”
“I can’t take charity.” But the temptation was strong because she was in dire need. She removed her hand from the pocket and fiddled with her shirttails.
; His gaze leveled with her. “If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Mark would have done the same for Miranda?”
“Of course he would.” She peered up at Shep, who stood a solid half foot above her five feet six inches. Victory danced in his pupils, causing a smile to play on Lyndsey’s lips. “You don’t fight fair.”
He chuckled. “Does that mean I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be home after three. Come by any time after that.” She conceded defeat, but not without terms. “And only if you let me make you dinner as payment.”
“Can’t say no to that.” Shep glanced at his watch. “The potluck will be over before we get in.”
“I’m sure Josh is already talking off Mrs. Tisdale’s ear.” Two steps put her back in front of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She ducked inside before either could say another word. Shep was a friend, a dear one, but she’d not made a meal in her home for any man other than her husband. The idea planted all sorts of strange reactions in her, and if she thought about it for too long, she’d back out.
Chapter Two
Shep checked his phone one final time before he left the driveway of his last job for the day. No message from Lyndsey, which meant she hadn’t cancelled.
For the third night in a row.
The first night, he’d been patient and understanding. The second, he’d gritted his teeth and gave a polite, don’t worry about it. No matter that he’d missed the concert with the guys yesterday for no reason. When Lyndsey asked to reschedule the first night’s appointment for the following evening, he’d given Archer Reeves his ticket without a thought. There’d been no reason to think she’d cancel a second time.
But when she did, he caught on, should have seen it the first night. Snippets of conversations he’d had with Mark popped into his memory. His friend had joked many times about his wife’s pride and vacillated between finding it admirable and bemoaning the trait.
Since Mark’s death, Shep had gotten to know Lyndsey better than when their spouses had been alive. They’d had good times together and friendship back then, but he and Mark had stuck together while Miranda and Lyndsey had their own bond, as it should have been.
