by Ina Williams
“That’s pretty soon for the amount of work you want done, it’s almost June now.”
“Too soon for the town’s fastest contractor? Not according to what I’ve heard,” she offered a healthy challenge with a big side of compliment.
Molly grew up with a father and two brothers, she knew her way around the male ego.
“Well, we’ll do our best to meet your deadline.” Ah the old stretch the deadline trick. She knew that one too, they had been forced to live through their fair share of renovations back in Atlanta thanks to her mother’s spontaneous nature. Molly believed it was her mother’s way of appeasing her nomadic spirit once she and her father put down roots.
The trick was to stay firm, “I’m not worried. I know you’ll meet it.” Molly declared boldly. “So when can you start?” Elijah looked up from his pad and measuring tape and met her eyes for only the second time all afternoon.
“Don’t look so surprised. You had the job as soon as I found out you were Elsa’s favorite person.”
She could tell he wanted to smile, but didn’t. So mean! Oh well, he wasn’t there for pleasant conversation he was there to fix the house and this poor place needed all the help he could give.
CHAPTER 9
The Storm
This jerk is impossible! There is obviously something wrong with the people of this town, if he is the most highly recommended contractor here. He is rude and mean and everything out of his mouth sounds so smug. “I just need you to let me do my job ma’am.” He has exactly one more time to say something smart to me before I lunge at him with his own drill.
Her father had always said Molly had a bad habit of waiting too long to say what was on her mind. She smiled through pain like a Stepford wife, but when the pain became too much she unloaded like an AK47. Bullet after bullet pierced her target until there was nothing left of her unsuspecting victims. This man…this builder, was one more “ma’am” away from his last breath.
Her mother once asked her where all of that fire lived when she needed it most. She had wondered that herself, many times. Why did it take her so long to say no to other people and yes to herself?
Take the house itself, Molly had been working as a programming consultant for youth organizations in Atlanta for the past five years. She lived in a studio apartment just outside the city that was no bigger than the living room of her current house. She could afford to live in a house three times that size, but for her it didn’t matter. There was just enough space for the life she had.
“Is this how big you want your life to be forever,” her mother asked over dinner one night in the tiny apartment. “You’ve been saving up for years now. How long are you going to wait before you pull the trigger?”
Mothers have this way of asking questions that pierce and Molly began to dream of the life she could have if she were only brave enough to go after it. She shopped for her home for almost a year before she found the cottage. Her parents were bewildered when she showed them the picture of the house she intended to purchase. They couldn’t understand why she would pass up newer properties right in town for a money pit in the middle of nowhere.
“It’s not about the best house, it’s about the right house. And that one is mine.”
Her parents shared a knowing smile realizing that they had taught her this conviction. We only have ourselves to blame, they reveled to themselves triumphantly.
Late spring was always fairly busy at Willie’s, but it seemed that everyone had heard about the renovation work Elijah was doing at Molly’s. Word had spread about the amount of work that was being done on the little cottage and the rumor was that Molly was practically going to have a new home by the time Elijah and his crew were finished. The truth was that the house needed every bit of the attention.
The cottage was built in the late 40’s as little more than a fishing lodge for a wealthy man who lived in the town. In the 60’s a family turned the place into a quaint summer cottage, but when their children went off to start families of their own, the husband and wife put in on the market. With the popularity of timeshares and weekend rentals in the 80’s and 90’s, a businessman quickly snatched it up. When the housing market crashed, rentals slowed and the property fell into disuse, becoming an eyesore. The businessman was a motivated seller by the time Molly found the property online. Despite its dilapidation, the house was solid.
“The bones are there,” her father commented when he stopped by to check the place out.
The kitchen was dated and the floors in the living room were starting to buckle. Molly also hated the way the wall in the kitchen seemed to cut the living room short so she wanted to remove one of the walls to create an open floor plan. Knowing she would never ask, her parents offered to help her with the renovation if she decided to buy the house.
Even Elijah had to admit the ideas were innovative, if not ambitious, and suddenly he was getting requests from people in the town who wanted similar work done to their own homes.
Elijah was nervous, he hadn’t done this much work on a house since Jim was alive. It had taken a great deal of coaxing from both his family and his staff for him to agree to take on the project. He was reluctant to take on something this big without his mentor. He worried it would feel empty without Jim.
Elijah and Jim had worked on two houses together. The first had been a major restoration, essentially a rebuild, for the town’s historical society. Elijah had reveled in learning the history of the house and the old furniture that had been abandoned inside the property.
The second house they had built from the ground up. It had been a labor of love for Eloise’s niece, Cara. She inherited the land from her mother, Eloise’s sister, after she passed. Cara and her husband moved back to the south from California to be closer to Eloise and her brother. Eloise asked Jim to build them a home. Elijah remembered having the whole family rallied around them, like they were cheering them on. And when Jim passed those same family members helped him finish what he and Jim had started.
Now that he had agreed to take on this project he realized that his main concern should have been this woman who was clearly competing for the most bubbly employer award. She laid out muffins and coffee every morning, she even memorized who drank decaf and how people took their coffee. His crew enjoyed the attention and he was sure that most people would have found this endearing and sweet, but Elijah was annoyed. Who is she trying to impress? Doesn’t she understand that her morning chats with my crew are only slowing things down? She is the one who set the deadline that is going to take a miracle to meet.
She also seemed incapable of making one solid decision. He asked about the cabinets and she’d made up some excuse about needing a little more time to think about the color of the tile. What does the color of the tile have to do with cabinets, he wanted to bellow at her. And she was always trying to make conversation, as if that were what she was paying him for. He was only a moment away from telling her this very thing when the announcer on the radio gave a warning about the storm. A severe thunderstorm was headed their way and would be in the area by nightfall. Elijah excused himself from her presence, almost politely, and gathered the crew to revisit the schedule for the day. He wanted to make sure that everyone could leave by four o’clock in order to beat the storm, but that meant working through lunch.
The goals were revised and assignments made. Confident that all was well, Molly went to the room she had deemed her office in order to get some work done. In all honesty it was somewhat unrealistic to think one would find any peace in a house that was being renovated. Unlike when she lived in the city, there wasn’t a trendy coffee shop on every corner where she could escape. There was Janie’s, a little diner on Third Street, but if she were really honest, Molly was never the kind of person who frequented coffee houses anyway. For her, if there was any place she felt more at peace than her home, then something was truly wrong. Present cacophony aside, that was usually
the case with her new haven. There wasn’t much furniture, but there was something much better in the way of comfort. Ever the optimist, she put in her earbuds, blasted her favorite melodies, and got started on some reports for work.
The music must have done its job all too well because Molly didn’t even think about the time until the first flash of lightning stole her attention from the computer screen. She pulled her eyes away from the computer for the first time in what must have been a very long time because the room seemed much dimmer. Something about a dim room and silence after hearing constant noise for hours is eerie. When she went back out into the living room she was almost relieved to see that Elijah was still there packing up his tools. As annoying as he was, he was still a welcome distraction from the looming storm.
“It looks like it’s going to get bad out there,” she said steadying her voice after the ominous thunder.
“Yeah, I sent the guys home already. We got pretty close to the goal for the day and we can make up the time next week,” Elijah said without looking up from his task.
“Alright,” she said.
“We tried to push all of the unfinished projects out of your way so you should be good to go until Monday.” He looked up in time to catch her jump at another loud crack of thunder. He snickered to himself but she was too shaken to notice.
“I take it this is your first Georgia summer storm,” he jabbed.
“In this rickety half-built house it is,” she snapped, annoyed at being patronized.
He smiled again, content with himself for annoying her, “Well, just stay away from the windows and you should be fine.”
He was a little too amused for her taste. “Thanks,” she mumbled as she rolled her eyes.
He grabbed the last of his tools and headed towards the door. He took one last look around the house on his way out the door and left without a goodbye. Once again Molly was alone with her very noisy, very empty house.
Despite her anxiousness, Molly was a veteran of Georgia thunderstorms but that didn’t make her any less jumpy. She blamed her nerves on the condition of the house even though she knew that she had always been this way. Something about the unpredictability of a summer storm had always unnerved her. You never seem to know if the storm is coming or going, no matter how many childhood superstitions you employ.
A summer storm is restless. It’s hot and full and feels like it is pacing across the sky, furious and wild, ready to explode at anyone who stands in its way. Molly figured that was why her grandmother would always make them sit still in a storm. In fact, that was how she spent many summer nights when she was a child. She could still remember sitting in the dark with her cousin, Jocelyn, and her brothers, snickering and trying unsuccessfully to keep still. She needed the memory to keep her calm at the moment. She unplugged almost every electrical appliance, grabbed a candle from her bedroom, and sat in the middle of her living room floor. Somewhere between the stillness of the room, the low rumble of the thunder, and the flicker of the candle, Molly found a warm peace that wrapped her like a blanket and lulled her to sleep.
The angry thunder woke her and she didn’t know how long she had been out. She was glancing at her hand, which instinctively covered her heart to keep it from leaping out of her chest, when she realized that it hadn’t just been thunder she heard. Her eyes searched the room greedily for light as they adjusted to the darkness. She heard it again, but this time it was different, sharper. She noticed the large shadow through the glass in her front door. Inside, she was her thirteen-year old self again, rocking with fear, outside, she steadied herself with a deep breath. She heard the thunder again, only it wasn’t thunder, it was a knock. She almost exhaled until she realized she didn’t know anyone in this town well enough for them to check on her in a storm.
She inched closer to the door and lowered her voice to make it sound calm, “Who is it?”
“Elijah, your contractor,” the shadow grumbled.
She didn’t mean to roll her eyes before opening the door. It was a reflex. How could one man take her, in record time, from complete fear to absolute anger? It was a superpower really, the power of a reckless villain.
“It’s crazy out there,” he said welcoming himself back into the house without being asked. “I had to walk a mile back down here. There’s a tree down and the road is blocked.” He walked to the back porch where there was a pile of equipment and supplies the crew left behind and began to dry himself with a clean rag.
“Do you need to use the phone to call someone,” Molly asked, with a voice full of hope. There had to be some kind police officer or tow truck driver who could drive him home. She didn’t know why, but the thought of being alone with him for any extended period of time made her uncomfortable or wary, she wasn’t sure which.
“Is your phone out too or just the lights,” he asked.
She hadn’t even remembered that they were in the dark. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness which seemed oddly familiar and bright now. “Oh the power isn’t out. I just unplugged everything because of the storm.”
A smug smile stretched out across his face as he lowered his eyes.
Is he kidding! I open my home to this soaking wet jerk of a man and this is the thanks a get? Arrogance! He’s got to get out of here. She ranted to herself but all she let out was “What?” with crossed arms and narrow eyes.
He seemed amused by her defiant stance and his smile grew wider. “So, you’re sitting in the dark by choice?”
“Let me get you that phone,” she offered hastily to avoid her actual response. Oh he has to go...now.
Molly walked into the kitchen to grab the cordless phone, plugging it in before returning to the living room only to be unexpectedly struck blind by sudden brightness. She squinted to focus her eyes on the tall figure across the room. Her eyes focused in just enough time to see Elijah draw his hand back from under a lamp shade.
“What are you doing?” she exploded unable to contain herself a moment longer.
“The storm is passing, so I think it’s safe to plug in at least one light,” he took the phone, barely making eye contact with her.
Something about the way he took the phone from her hand, she couldn’t say what exactly but something, set her off. The AK47 her father had warned her about was loaded and Molly squeezed the trigger, letting bullets fly.
“Are you crazy? Or do you have so few friends that you don’t understand what it means to be a guest in someone’s home? You storm in here, drip half of the rainwater in this county on my floors, laugh at me in my own home, make snide comments about what I do with my lights, and now you have the nerve to welcome yourself to my phone—no, snatch my phone—without so much as a thank you!”
In the final moments of her speech Elijah could almost see the steam coming out of her ears, but he was unfazed. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. The sooner I make this call the sooner I can get out of here.”
He started to dial the number but paused. He meant for that to be the last thing he said, after all she was a client. However, there was something he simply couldn’t ignore about her self-righteous tone and the way she delivered her little speech, like he was an idiot, like he’d chosen to get stuck in a storm and end up in the one place he was dying to leave every day.
He glared at her and unloaded a few bullets himself, “And what kind of lunatic sits alone in the dark?”
He dialed the last few digits of the number, pressed the phone to his ear, and glared at her before turning to face the back window.
She almost lunged at him. She was prepared for things to end badly for them both, him in a hospital and her in jail. But the storm had other plans—like a parent stepping between feuding children—there was another bolt of lightning and on the second ring of his call the power went out.
Molly discarded her father’s advice to be a gracious winner and chose instead
to revel in her victory as she lit the way to the fuse box in the garage. She had only made one comment after the power went out and she hadn’t spoken since.
But does she have to say nothing so loudly? Elijah thought to himself. He could feel her triumphant smile even in the darkness.
They made their way to the fuse box in silence. Elijah popped the panel open while Molly stood behind him halfheartedly stretching the candle toward the panel for light.
“Do you mind?” he asked annoyed but aware he was already 0 for 2. She moved closer, but still not close enough for him to see the labels on the switches.
“Look, I can’t see what’s going on unless you get closer and I can’t fix what I can’t see,” Elijah reasoned.
She knew he was right, the sooner the power was back on the sooner this handy man could go on his not-so-merry way. She stood next to him on the other side of the panel and held the candle as close as she could get it.
“Thank you,” he huffed. She replied with a tight-lipped fake smile then drew her eyes to the other side of the room.
He began to flick the switches on and off but nothing seemed to be changing. Molly turned again to take a closer look at what he was doing, after a moment she found herself completely engrossed, hoping that a new switch would yield a different result. She didn’t even realize that her attention had shifted until she saw him jerk away from her. Even then she wasn’t sure what happened. He was grabbing his arm. Had there been a spark? She hadn’t seen one. Then there was more thunder, loud and angry. Only it wasn’t the thunder, it was him. He was yelling at her, but why? The candle. He was still writhing, still yelling. Why was he still yelling at her?
“I’m sorry, I…” was all she could muster. She could see it clearly now—he was the storm, restless and angry. She needed to get away from him, she had to get somewhere she could be as still and quiet as possible until the tempest was done.
