by Kim Amos
She stretched, wondering why in the world she’d needed to sleep so long. That is, until she caught sight of her injured wrists. The angry marks reminded her acutely of everything that had happened Friday night. She suddenly wondered if she needed to sleep even more.
But no. She wanted to get up, but was unsure suddenly what to do once she was standing. Should she go out into the kitchen wearing nothing except Burk’s robe? Or should she dress fully and then head back to her own place as if nothing happened?
Her pulse raced as she recalled the way he’d touched her yesterday—so tenderly and affectionately, as if she meant so very much to him. She closed her eyes, suddenly wanting very badly for that affection to be true.
Oh, if there could be another chance for them, she’d take it. Not so long ago, she’d believed all hope for them had washed away, like the sandy edges of the Birch River when the snow melted. Yet maybe it hadn’t. Maybe there was an island of opportunity left for them. A little place the raging waters of the past hadn’t touched, where the ways they’d hurt each other wouldn’t override the ways they could love each other in the future.
She stared at her wounded wrists, touched the bandage on her face. She had no doubt that Lance would have hurt her if she hadn’t escaped. Her insides quaked with the realization of how close she’d come to harm.
Life was so short, so tenuous. She hugged her knees to her chest, aching with a feeling she couldn’t place. It was part fear perhaps. But also part exhilaration. You never knew how much time you had, or how things could change in a split second.
It made her want to live with abandon, full of life and love for the people around her. She was determined to live with her heart and her mind and her soul accessible to those she knew she could trust. Audrey. Betty. Stephanie. Anna. And Burk, too. That is, if he’d meant what he said yesterday. If it hadn’t all been a heat-of-the-moment thing.
Willa chewed the inside of her lip. It had been a difficult day. And people were prone to hyperbole when they were stressed.
Perhaps Burk had spoken out of turn. Maybe he was just being effusive out of concern.
Willa took a breath and pushed the covers back.
She supposed it was time to find out.
* * *
Willa padded into the kitchen to find warm coffee waiting, but no Burk. He was gone, but he’d left a note: Had to run out. Call me when you get up. I am close by. Thinking about you.
Willa sighed. There was so much to talk about, and yet he wasn’t here. Where could he have gone?
She closed her eyes briefly, realizing how much they needed to sort out. How long would she stay here? What would they do about the house?
She wondered if he was letting her stay out of sympathy. Because he felt sorry for what she’d been through. Yet Willa desperately wanted there to be some part of him that was caring for her not out of compassion but out of—affection. Love, even.
She found her cell phone in her purse and dialed his number. He answered on the first ring. “You’re up,” he said, sounding pleased to hear from her. The tenor of his voice sent chills along her body. She longed for him to be next to her, for his words to be breath in her ear instead of wavelengths over a phone line.
“I got your note,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“I wondered if you could meet me at the Oak Street house,” he said. She could hear the smile on his lips. “I have something to show you.”
“Now?”
“As soon as you can. I had one of the crew members drop off your Volvo, and the keys are there on the kitchen table. I know it might be hard to see the place again, but I think what I have for you will help.”
Willa shivered, thinking of Lance, of the shattered hot dish on the porch. “I don’t suppose you’d ask me if it wasn’t important.”
“It’s important. But good important, not bad important.”
A mixture of excitement and dread churned inside her. She was being asked to go back to the place where Lance had attacked her. It was frightening to be sure, but she’d survived him. She’d fought him off and won. And now Burk was inside her home, too. Somehow, between her strength and his, it felt like nothing could hurt her.
Willa smiled. “All right. I’ll be there in a few.”
She hung up the phone, and raced to get ready, wondering at what Burk could have in store for her.
* * *
As Willa pulled up to the house, she noticed right away that it was ablaze with light. It was hard to miss, even in the morning sun, considering how it poured out of every window, reflecting like glitter on the damp streets.
The second thing she noticed was that the light was warm. It wasn’t the cold, fluorescent beams from the cheap bulbs that she’d thrown into a few of the house’s lamps. Instead, these were deep, golden rays from the kinds of lights she had dreamed about in the space. Chandeliers and Tiffany lamps, for example.
She got out of the car, gaping at the golden hues. Walking up the front porch, she could see two of the new lights already, glinting from either side of the front door. They were Arts-and-Crafts-style porch lights—exact replicas of the lights she’d picked out and pasted into one of her collages. But how—
Before she could fully form the question, the front door opened. There stood Burk, paint flecks on his forearms, Spackle in his hair, and dust in every line of his skin. “You made it,” he said, his eyes dancing with something that looked like pure joy.
“I made it,” she said, staring at the state of his person. She’d never seen him gritty before. For a contractor, he was normally meticulous. That, plus all the new lights, had her mind reeling.
Before she could ask what was going on, he leaned down to brush her lips gently with his own. A steady hum vibrated through her. The delicious tingle of it had her nearly collapsing on the spot. Before she could deepen the kiss, Burk pulled away. The playful light in his eyes was even brighter.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, pulling her inside. “We’ve been working all day to get it done. Not everything is finished, but there’s one room ready. I had to show you—”
“Is that my paint color on the walls?” she interrupted, peering around. “And are those the recessed lights we talked about?” She heard her voice shaking but she was unable to keep the tremor at bay.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We—”
“The fireplace mantle has been refinished,” she said, pushing past him, “and some of these windows are new.” She whipped around, disbelieving the transformation. She wanted to pinch herself. “When did this happen?”
Burk reached out to steady her. She was grateful for his hand, since she suddenly felt dizzy.
“The past twenty-four hours, while you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been able to get the crews in here to get some of the work done. I wanted you to step foot into your dream. Into what you deserve. I wanted this place transformed so you’d never think about—about the past when you came back here. It’s not all done, of course, but it’s a start.”
“But why do all this when you want the house, too?” Willa asked. “Why not wait to see if my loan fails and see if you can just—take it over?”
With a dusty finger, Burk tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want this house,” he said quietly, “if you’re not in it. In fact, I don’t want this life if you’re not in it.”
Willa could only stare at him, speechless. Her heart filled and pressed against her ribs. She felt a poignant ache in every part of her body.
He smiled tenderly. “Come on, come see what we’ve done.”
He pulled her from the living room into the dining room. The wrought iron and crystal light fixture she’d wanted for over the table had been purchased and installed. The trim had been fixed and painted a clean white in contrast to the rich honey color of the walls. The space was still bare—Burk hadn’t ordered furniture for any room, of course, not knowing what she’d repurpose or order new—but many of the structural plans they’d
worked out together, he’d executed to perfection.
Next to her, he shifted, seeming suddenly nervous, and Willa realized it’s because she hadn’t really said anything yet. Tears sprang into her eyes, and the refinished space around her blurred. She swiped at the wetness with her palms.
“Are you all right?” Burk asked gently. “Is this okay?”
“I don’t have words,” Willa said, her chest tight. “It’s so beautiful. But it only means something if—”
“She’s here!” came a cry from behind them. Willa turned to see Audrey, Betty, Stephanie, and Anna filing in from the back door. They were bundled in coats but had workman’s boots on, not to mention durable, paint-splattered gloves.
“We were helping Burk!” Stephanie said, her freckled face breaking into a wide grin. “We’ve been out in the garage all day prepping your furniture. He told us to sand it and get it all ready so you could paint it and redo it in whatever way you wanted.”
“This was so much fun,” Stephanie said, “just the break I needed from my house. Willa, anytime you need help around here, you call me.”
“Steph’s good with sandpaper,” Anna said, smiling. “I’ll give her that.”
“But we’re forgetting the biggest project,” Audrey said, her brown eyes squinting with delight. “We have a surprise for you.”
“It was Burk’s idea,” Betty said, “so if you hate it, blame him.”
Willa glanced from friend to friend, marveling that they were all here, in her house, helping out. From the sounds of it, they’d been laboring for hours to surprise her. Her eyes filled up all over again, much to her dismay. When in the world had she gotten so lucky to deserve a group like this?
Burk slipped an arm around her, and she leaned into his solidness. “This is too much,” she whispered.
“No,” he said, his dark blue eyes boring into hers, “it’s exactly right.”
“You have to turn around while we carry it in,” Anna said. “And promise not to peek. Swear?”
Willa nodded, finding it hard to talk. “Promise,” she whispered hoarsely.
She turned around while Burk and her friends filed back outside. She heard scuffling and laughing. Then more footsteps as they reentered the house. She couldn’t begin to imagine what they were doing.
“Okay,” she heard Audrey singsong, “you can look now.”
She turned around and her heart dropped immediately into her feet. She could feel it beating in her toes, where it would remain because no way would she ever get over this surprise. Ever. Her whole body trembled at the sight before her.
“Do you like it?” Burk asked.
Willa shook her head. She had no words. She tried to speak, but could only omit a tiny gasp.
“Are you upset?” Audrey asked gently. “I can’t tell.”
Willa shook her head. She was overwhelmed—but with love and affection, not anger or frustration.
“We wanted you to know that Lance can never hurt you again,” Burk said as Willa struggled to regain her composure. “We’ll never let him near you again. Your friends are here for you. All of us.”
Willa took a steadying breath and stared at the blue table in front of her. It was her table—the one she’d started to refinish for her living room—but had cracked into Lance’s face the night he attacked her. Only, her friends had meticulously recovered every piece of wood and put the whole thing back together again. She walked forward unsteadily, running her fingers over the refinished surface. There were cracks and lumps where things hadn’t fit back together exactly right. She could see the places where they’d had to use wood glue and maybe some wood putty. It was flawed, certainly, but it was the most beautiful table she’d ever seen in her life.
“I love it,” she whispered finally. “It’s amazing.”
“You still have to distress it,” Burk said. “All we did was paint it.”
“Oh, I think it’s plenty distressed already,” Betty said. “What are you going to do to it now? Throw it in the Birch River?”
The group chuckled, and Willa thought maybe Betty was on to something. Maybe she’d leave the table just as it was—a reminder of all the imperfections that could exist but still make up something beautiful.
“Thank you,” Willa said after a moment. “I don’t even know what to say. This is the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received.”
“We love you,” Anna said, looking pointedly at Burk. “All of us. We wanted to give you something that would always be a reminder of how strong we are when we stick together. People can try and break us apart, but we’ll just get the wood glue and paint out and put ourselves back together again.”
“Damn straight,” Betty agreed.
Willa was just about to ask if they’d stick around for the rest of the tour, when Audrey looked at her watch. “My goodness, I haven’t been home in hours.”
Anna nodded. “I should really get going. I’ve left Sam with Juniper for far too long.”
“My husband is wrangling the twins and I think he can handle it for a few more hours,” Stephanie said, grinning. “I may just go shopping.”
After a fresh round of hugs, Willa walked her friends to the front door, still feeling dazed and overwhelmed.
“See you this Thursday at the recipe exchange,” Betty said on her way out. It wasn’t a question.
When the door closed behind them, Willa was suddenly very aware that it was down to just her and Burk in the refinished space. He leaned against the new built-in bookshelves, his arms folded and a small smile on his face. “You want to see the rest of the house?” he asked.
Willa began to tremble all over again. “There’s more?”
Burk closed the distance between them in a few strides. “Just one more thing on the second floor you haven’t seen.” He leaned in and placed his lips on the top of Willa’s head. She found her arms encircling his waist, pulling him closer. The smell of sawdust and paint and plaster was all over him.
“I don’t want to get you dirty,” he said, pulling back slightly.
“I don’t care. I think you could be covered in mud right now, and I’d still want you. This is the most amazing gift, Burk. I don’t have words for what you’ve done.”
“I don’t care where I live, as long as you’re with me,” Burk said, his jaw flexing. “Without you, all I have is cement and nails and wood. But with you, the place I live actually means something.”
Willa’s breath was gone again. She could only nod as happiness coursed through her, warming her body from head to toe. “Then you should move in here,” she said. “Maybe we both belong here…together.”
Burk brought his mouth to hers, kissing her as the golden light tumbled around them. Sparks ignited behind her closed eyelids. She’d just opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to enter her in pleasure-filled strokes, when suddenly he groaned and pulled away. Lines creased his forehead, and his eyes flashed darkly.
“What?” Willa asked, still breathless from the kiss. “What’s wrong?”
He cursed, his face flushed with an emotion she couldn’t place.
“It’s not enough,” he growled.
“What’s not enough?”
“Living together.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Dammit, Willa, I love you. And I don’t want to just live with you.” He began pacing the floor. “I want to be with you. Forever. I have never loved another woman like I love you—and I never will.”
Willa gasped as he returned to the space in front of her, and got down on one knee. “I don’t have a ring to give you. Not yet anyway. But I have my heart to give. And it’s yours, if you’ll take it.”
His throat worked as she stared at him. “Willa Masterson, will you marry me?”
Willa’s heart surged. Never in a thousand years could she have expected Burk to propose, but now that he had, she felt a version of happiness she’d never known before. This was where she was meant to be. With Burk Olmstead, in this house. Forever.
“Yes,” she whisp
ered, tears coursing down her cheeks, “of course.”
He stood and crushed her to him, sealing her answer with a kiss that left her weightless. “My love,” he whispered over and over. “My Willa.”
When they were finally able to get their wits about them again, Burk took her hand. “I have to show you the upstairs.”
“Now?” Willa asked, dazed.
“Now,” Burk said, a dark intensity in his expression that she immediately understood.
She was guessing there was still a bed upstairs. Somewhere.
Which, in fact, turned out to be true. Willa’s room had been torn apart and put back together again—with soft, cream-colored walls and warm recessed lights—but the old brass bed was still there. “You needed a place to sleep,” Burk said, motioning to it, “if you were going to stay.”
Willa placed her palms on his broad chest, grinning up at him. “I think you had ulterior motives.”
“I think you’re right,” he said, kissing her lips, her neck, her ears. “But I’m not going to get in this bed with you until I’ve had a shower.”
“Your shower will be lukewarm,” Willa teased. “I hear this place needs a new water heater.”
She followed him into the bathroom. “Let me help you undress.” He groaned softly as she pulled off his pants, then ran her fingers up his bare chest, helping lift off his shirt. As he stood naked in front of her, she found her lungs unable to draw enough air, her throat thick with emotion. He was so handsome.
His thick shaft stood erect with desire, the hair all around it dark and glossy. His muscles were taut as she studied him. The dust clung to the soft down on his forearms, and the white Spackle stood out on his golden skin. His pulse beat visibly in his strong neck. Willa stepped forward to place her fingertips gently on him. “You are so incredible,” she breathed, running her fingers down his chest, to his penis. He hissed in a breath as she played with the tip and the softness underneath.
With her free hand, Willa reached over to the showerhead and turned on the water. “You’re coming in with me, you know,” Burk said, peeling off Willa’s clothes in quick succession. When she was fully naked in front of him, he lowered his head to her breasts, nuzzling the cove between them, and kissing the delicate flesh that pebbled at his touch.
