“Jack, I’m so sorry.” Her hand rested on his forearm, calling the fine hairs to attention despite the afternoon warmth. When their eyes met, he saw sincere sympathy. She somehow excited and calmed him at the same time.
Several moments passed before Livy stood and took a few steps into the front yard, hands on her hips. “This yard is going to need a lot of attention, too. Better add landscaping to the list.”
Was she feeling uneasy? There was a lot they didn’t know about each other. For instance, Jack not only enjoyed the hands-on work, but did it as a hobby, flipping two houses so far in Laurel Cove in his spare time. Some guys sat at the bar after a hard day, but as long as Jack had a hammer in his hand, all was right in the world. But he still harbored some resentment over the topic. His ex-wife had never understood his interest in building for fun, and her incessant nagging had sucked a lot of the joy out of the experience. He had no intention of bringing up anything negative today.
From the porch, Jack followed Livy’s steps along the edge of the front yard. She leaned over every now and then to inspect a flower. Her interest to be part of restoring the house was admirable. Hiring someone to do it for her would certainly be easier. Claire, on the other hand, never had interest in Jack’s houses. He’d tried to get her to join him on several of the easier projects, like painting or landscaping, but she refused. Jasper, Owen, and Greg had suggested Jack find a house to work on after the divorce, but he couldn’t find the motivation to begin—much less finish—another one. Until Livy came back into his life.
He rose from the porch steps and faced the old house that held dear memories for them both. The run down place offered a new sense of purpose, of hope. He longed to see the house brought back to its full potential. Maybe Jack wanted that for his life, too. To discover what was possible in life after so much change and heartache. To feel the joy he’d felt as young boy playing with Livy that summer long ago.
***
“Well, you ready to go inside?”
To Livy’s surprise, Jack jumped as she spoke right behind him on the porch. Maybe he had been lost in thought—that was easy to do. Her short walk around the yard and back had allowed her mind to fill with thoughts of the day and the months that had led her here.
“Guess there’s no use putting it off. Can’t be any worse than what we’ve seen out here, right?” He stood and brushed off the back of his jeans.
“You’ve got that right!” They shared a laugh as they approached the wooden front door. Upon close examination, the simple semi-circle stained-glass window at the top of the door was still intact. The colors were muted with layers of dirt and dust, but it was otherwise fine.
Jack unlocked and opened the door with ease. “Well, what do you know.” They were met with a musty, damp odor.
“It reminds me of the inside of my father’s work shed on the farm and mildewed bath towels.” The sound of their chuckles echoed in the lonely space. A small but strong ray of sunlight shone across the otherwise dark room from a gap in the plywood that covered one of the windows. Specks of dust danced in its path. Jack switched on his heavy-duty flashlight and panned the room.
“The living room is there.” Livy pointed to the right of the entry.
Thick, dark drapes heavy with dust flanked the boarded window that looked out over the porch. The only furniture left in the room was a thrift-store couch with its cushions askew, a floor lamp, and a small coffee table that still held beer bottles and a full ashtray. Turning away, Livy moved through a doorway to the kitchen. An old white iron stove anchored the room.
“Gram’s stove.” Livy ran a hand over the metal edge. Her gaze followed her steps past the stove to a deep porcelain sink, full of dirty and broken dishes. A rogue vine had taken root inside the sink and trailed to the floor.
“It reminds me of a fairytale my mother told me as a young boy about the jungle taking over a cottage in the woods.” Jack spoke in a hushed voice as they surveyed the room. Livy looked over her shoulder at him and grinned. What a sweet memory to share with her.
Across from the stove and sink sat a card table in front of double windows that were boarded-up like the living room window. Two of the three chairs, high-backed and upholstered in a 70s, mustard-yellow vinyl, were overturned and lying on the floor. Jack reached to set them on their feet.
“She loved this kitchen.” Livy pointed to where the table used to be. “She’d sit right there and sip on a cold glass of iced tea after she’d come in from gardening. The bed in front of these windows held her pansies and other small flowers. She had pink, white, purple, yellow—you name it. She asked me once if I could see their faces.” Livy looked back at Jack, who leaned against the stove listening. “If you look at a pansy, the dark centers do look like little faces. I was six or seven when she told me that, and I remember thinking she grew magical flowers with eyes and smiles. She said that’s why she talked to them when she watered them. She was waiting for them to talk back.”
“That’s a great story,” Jack said. “I remember her garden was prettier than any I’d ever seen.” He paused, and the room fell silent again.
“My dad used to say she could get a rock to grow.” Livy could almost hear her father’s words in her head. She turned away from the window and pulled herself back into the moment.
At the opposite end of the small kitchen was a door she remembered that led to a mudroom. It proved more stubborn than the front door, not giving at all when Jack pulled at it. The original iron knob had once been painted black but was now chipping so badly that when Jack tried turning it with more force, paint broke into his hands in large pieces.
“I think it’s locked.” He grunted as he pulled harder.
“Looks like the same knob that was here when I was a kid,” Livy said. “Gram had a master skeleton key that went to all the doors.” She looked around the room. The front door was the only one whose lock had been replaced with a modern set.
“Oh, wait!” Livy darted out of the kitchen. Jack followed her out of the house and over to the truck. “The realtor gave me a packet of information earlier this morning when I stopped by to pick up the final paperwork.”
Jack took the notebook she handed to him. She opened the passenger door and reached on her tiptoes for the packet. “Yes!” She faced Jack, holding up an old skeleton key. “I think this is the key to the pantry door!” She handed it to Jack, and he turned it over in his hand.
“It’s in great shape. Not rusted at all.” His eyes were wide, eyebrows arched.
Livy placed her hand over the key in his, squeezed, and looked up with excitement. His warm fingers closed around hers. He held her gaze, returning a warm smile. For a lingering moment, Livy got lost in his eyes.
“You coming?” She pulled her hand away, took the key, and walked back to the house. What am I doing? What was it about Jack that suddenly made her heart flutter? She had to keep her head clear.
“Yeah, right behind you.” Jack lingered several moments at the truck before joining her.
Had she spooked him getting so caught up in the moment? Had he even noticed? It was so nice to have her hand in his. But she hadn’t moved to Laurel Cove to find another boyfriend.
Back in the kitchen, Livy brushed away some cobwebs and fitted the key inside the lock. She turned it and heard the mechanism give way. Pausing, she shot Jack a hopeful look then turned the knob and pulled. The key had done its job, but the door itself stuck. “Well, what now?”
Jack stepped forward and examined the doorframe. “Looks to me like the door may have warped a little, swelling from moisture inside the house. We’ll likely have to shave it down a bit or replace the whole door.” He gave the knob a hard pull, then another. On the third try, it gave way and flew open, almost knocking Jack to the floor. He caught himself against the side of the sink.
Livy laughed under her breath. “Graceful, you are not.”
“Oh, don’t let my lack of moves fool you,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m full of g
race.” He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and wrinkled his nose. “The sludge on this sink is disgusting.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to draw straws to see who gets that project.” Hopefully, he’d keep helping past today.
“I didn’t know we were already divvying up chores,” Jack joked with ease, swatting at her arm with the back of his hand. “In that case, I’ll do the sink if you deal with the rats.” He pointed down to the floor past Livy, making her think one of the vermin was right out in the open.
“What?” She screamed and flew toward Jack, her hands around his waist as if ready to shove him toward the rat as an offering to save herself. There was nothing she hated more than rats. He gave a big belly laugh and tried to pull her from behind him. But she kept her face planted against his back, fingers digging into his sides. If she’d actually seen the rat, she may have climbed into his arms.
“Livy, it’s okay.” He no longer laughed and spoke in whispered tones. “It was just a joke. I didn’t see a rat. I promise.”
Her head shook with uncertainty.
He turned to face her, her head now resting on his chest and her arms hugging his middle. For a minute, he held her. Oh, how she missed the feel of a man holding her. The strength, the security, the invitation to linger. She took a few deep breaths before looking up.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Livy stammered as she backed away a few steps and rubbed her flushed cheeks, which were hot to the touch. What was she doing? “You must think I’m such a silly girl, afraid of rats. The small mice on Dad’s farm didn’t bother me growing up. But rats in New York City are like small, untamed cats.” She headed out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the larger of the two bedrooms at the back of the house. She’d seen enough of the kitchen, rats or not. Jack’s heavy footsteps followed a few steps behind.
“The first night I was in the city I stayed in a cheap hotel.” Livy stood at the window, looking out at the overgrown backyard as Jack came up beside her. “I woke up to scratching sounds, turned on the light and found a huge rat gnawing on my toothbrush. I packed up my stuff that minute, minus my toothbrush of course, and left. Ever since, me and rats just don’t mix.”
“I’m sorry, Livy.” Jack spoke with a soft sensitivity that was foreign to her. Sam rarely showed this type of kindness, so it had become second nature to not share such things with him. Yet, talking and laughing with Jack came so easily. It pricked her heart with a pinpoint of hope, illuminating for a brief moment the possibility of being both vulnerable and safe with a man. What a strange realization. She had love and trust with men her whole life before Sam. A wonderful father, grandfather, friends. Then Sam came along and single-handedly erected an invisible but strong-as-steel cage around her heart. It was tempting to doubt a budding affection for Jack was possible, but even more tempting to believe in a miracle that freed her.
“Please don’t apologize. It’s really okay.” With her acceptance of his apology, a smile returned to his face.
During the next hour or so, Jack and Livy finished inspecting the house, adding to Livy’s long to-do list. The two bedrooms needed only major cleaning and fresh paint; the bathroom, however, needed fixture upgrades, a new floor from water damage, and a new door to the linen closet that had cracked up the middle.
Outside, they walked across the overgrown backyard, bending under the double clothesline that still stood, and made their way through a few thorny brambles to Gram’s large shed. Without a doubt, it had suffered most from the years of neglect.
“I don’t know how this is still standing, Livy. One intense storm and it might not survive.” Jack tugged at the slatted wall of the shed. It broke off into his hand without a fight. Livy leaned her entire body weight against the barn-style door to coax it open.
“Let me—there may be rats,” Jack offered with a teasing smile.
“Be my guest.” Her hands went up in surrender.
Before he could get it more than halfway open, the rusty handle broke off in his hand.
“Well, add that to the list, too.” Jack tossed aside the handle and pushed the creaking door until it would open no further. He propped it with an old cinderblock. With his flashlight, he panned the space.
Just as Livy had suspected, it was set up for a garage with a rickety wooden bench for tools on one side, rusty discarded car parts in a pile on the other, pictures of old cars tacked to a wall, and a bunch of junk in the back.
“Gram had that baby-blue Oldsmobile, remember?” They used to take trips into town with the windows rolled down, Gram’s hair blowing in the wind, their skin sticking to the hot vinyl upholstery.
“Yeah, I do. No one else in town had one that color. It was easy to spot her coming.” Jack kicked at the pile of parts, creating a racket that hopefully scared away any nearby rodents.
“I think it’s safe,” he said over his shoulder. He swatted at a string hanging from a simple overhead light in the middle of the shed.
“I’ll come over, but first scurry I hear, I’ll leave you to fend for yourself!” Livy joined him at the back near the pile of junk. “Some of this looks familiar,” she said, pointing to an old wood-handled rake. “Pretty sure I used that to help out as a kid.” A rusty roll of gardening wire for vegetables and a few weathered boxes looked old enough to have belonged to her Gram.
Jack moved around a few larger pieces. “I love old stuff like this.”
“I didn’t think I did, but now that I’m here, it is pretty amazing to see some of this.” Livy walked to the other side of Jack as they followed the trail of his flashlight with their eyes. Then she saw it: the outline of an old washer tub.
“Well, look at that!” She bent and rubbed her fingers over its iron ridges. “I would come out here in the early morning when Gram liked to wash the laundry so it could be on the line to dry when the sun was hottest. My favorite job was to sit on the side and turn the crank as she fed the clothes through to wring them out.” Livy narrated the memory just as much for herself as to tell Jack. It had been so long since she’d recalled the sweet times.
“It’s funny how things come back to you in layers.” Jack sifted through odd tools and cast-off machine parts sitting in the tub.
Uncovering the layers of her memories as she and Jack stripped dirt and dust and paint off the charming old house might just be enjoyable. The work, and maybe even the company, would be good for her.
***
Late that afternoon, Jack turned his truck onto the paved lane in front of Livy’s grandmother’s house. They left with a long list of jobs to be done to restore the old home. For Jack, it had been a day full of both excitement and uncertainty.
“What was I thinking, Jack? I can’t do this.” Livy set the notebook down in the space between them on the seat of the truck, the end of it hitting Jack’s seatbelt buckle.
“What do you mean? Sure you can.” He hoped his voice sounded energetic and full of optimism. He knew the day had overwhelmed her. “Plus, like I said earlier, you won’t have to do it all alone. I’m around to help if you’d like. For the bigger projects, I can even bring my brother and a few friends along.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Livy objected with a firm shake of her head. “We’re not just talking about helping a friend paint a dining room. You saw it.”
“Didn’t I mention my lengthy résumé? Designer? Contractor? I can envision it and build it.” Jack flashed her a playful smile while steering them onto the main road to town.
“Yes, you did mention all that. And I suppose it would be crazy not to take your help, but”—she paused, pointing a finger at him—“I insist on paying you and paying full price on any supplies from your store. No special favors.”
“Now, Livy, don’t be stubborn. I’ll agree to no discounts at the store, but there’s no way I’ll accept money for helping a friend.”
Livy’s lips turned up as her eyes softened. “We are friends, aren’t we?”
It took real effort to return his focus to the road
. “I’d like to think twenty years later we can still pass as friends.” Was his casual manner convincing? She was alarmingly charming. “And I don’t know about you, but I sure could use a friend these days.”
“Me, too, Jack.” Her soft and simple reply brought an easy smile.
The ride back to town took little to no time. Before Jack knew it, they were pulling into the back lot of Bowdon’s Supplies. He promised to look over the list that evening and make notes about the supplies Livy needed to get started on the first few projects.
“Want to meet for breakfast at Brewed around seven? We can go over the list, then you can start shopping as soon as I open the store.” Jack held his breath. Was he pushing it, asking to spend more time with her so soon?
“That sounds perfect.” Livy threw her bag over her shoulder and put a hand as a visor over her eyes. “Thanks so much for today, Jack. I don’t know what I would have done without you, and that’s before we’re even really getting started.”
She took a small step toward him. Was she going to hug him? Instead, she rocked back on her heels and hugged her arms to herself. Jack let breath return to his lungs as the anticipation of holding her close again evaporated.
“No need to thank me, just remember a home-cooked meal goes a long way for us small-town mountain men.” Jack winked, looking down at Livy. She was so pretty, her green eyes gleaming against her dark hair in the late-day sun. He cleared his throat. “After we get this house back up and running, just save me a seat across from that old stove.”
“You got it, but I can’t promise cooking like my gram’s. I’m sure we won’t find that in the rubble.” The two shared a laugh, followed by a long pause. “See you in the morning.” Livy turned on her feet with a wave.
“Have a good night, Livy.” Jack walked toward the store, turning to catch another glimpse of her making her way up the inn’s sidewalk. Its windows were just beginning to glow in the dusky sky. It was Jack’s favorite time, when the sky couldn’t seem to make up its mind between day and night. Already a deep, enveloping dark blue to the east, Jack tracked the sky up and westward, watching the blues brighten into purples and pinks, then brilliant oranges and yellows. His eyes settled due west and gazed through the silhouetted, leaf-bare branches to the now-black rolling hills of the mountains he called home. The sun was setting on another day in Laurel Cove, though he couldn’t help but wonder what was coming on the horizon.
Someplace Familiar (Laurel Cove Romance Book 1) Page 5
