Owen said goodbye as another customer came in asking for a rare size lightbulb. For the rest of the day, business picked up, keeping Jack busy for several hours—though not quite busy enough to forget about Livy and her first day of work on the house.
***
Gravel crunched under her tires as Livy reached the top of the steep driveway. She pulled herself forward, staring over the steering wheel at the huge task in front of her.
“Well, Gram, I’m counting on you to be with me through this, okay?” A strange tingling of excitement and fear surged through her body. It was kind of like the feeling she’d had right before hitting big rapids on that wild river in West Virginia with her college sorority. The last time she’d experienced the sensation was when she moved away from home to New York as a young adult. Here, alone in front of the old house, came the same seesaw of emotions. Excitement won. She smiled, removed the key from the ignition, and stepped out of the car.
The handle of the passenger door felt hot in her hand despite the cool spring morning air. She reached in for the old coveralls she used to wear when she painted. They were perfect for today, as the house was her blank canvas. An ugly, dirty, covered-in-junk canvas.
Livy tugged the coveralls over her jeans, stretched her arms into the sleeves, and zipped them. Thankfully, they still allowed plenty of room for her thick sweater underneath. Knowing it wouldn’t warm up until around lunchtime, she had dressed in layers. She slid on the new pair of work gloves she’d bought at Bowdon’s and began unloading her supplies onto the front porch.
She walked the front yard, picking up discarded cans, a sun-faded pizza box, and the shredded remnants of a plastic grocery bag snagged on a low tree branch, and tossing them in a trashcan. The two she’d bought would fill fast today. Jack had suggested they open the packaged items back at the store to avoid having to do it at the house. He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.
She then moved inside to spend the cooler hours indoors working on de-cluttering as much junk as she could. The living room went fast. In less than an hour, only a large couch and an empty, but still heavy, old Army trunk remained. She’d need help to move those. Sweeping the floors stirred up clouds of dust and grit that sent Livy outside for a break. She used that time to remove the boards from several windows that were not broken, leaving the damaged ones for fear of rain. Inside again, she smiled at the huge difference some sunlight made to the small space. Even though it illuminated everything that needed fixing, she could also better see glimpses of the charming house she remembered.
Livy leaned against the wall at the edge of the entryway, her eyes set on the yellowed sheet covering the couch on the far side of the living room. On a rainy day one summer, she and Gram had built forts with old sheets in this very room. The storm had come out of the blue, as storms tended to do in the mountains, right when they were going to plant new flowers. The first fat drops fell from the swelling sky onto Livy’s skin before they ran breathless from the garden to the house. She closed her eyes.
“Oh my gracious, no warning as usual.” Setting the wicker laundry basket just inside the back porch door of the kitchen, the old woman giggled and patted at her damp white hair.
“What are we going to do now, Gram?” Young Livy pouted as she stared at the steady streams of water falling outside the kitchen window. The ping of rain on the metal awnings reminded Livy of the faint sounds of her father working on his tractor back home on the farm.
“Whatever our imaginations tell us, dear. What is your imagination telling you today?”
“Dunno. My imagination isn’t talking. I wanted to plant those flowers.”
“I know you did, honey. But it wasn’t in God’s plans, I suppose.” Gram sat down next to Livy, her weathered hands smoothing the checkered tablecloth.
“Why didn’t God want me to plant flowers? I’ve been waiting all week.” Livy turned from the window and wiggled closer to Gram, nestling under the soft pillow of the woman’s tanned arm.
“The way I see it, we shouldn’t ask God why not?” Even at six years old, Livy could hear the wisdom in her elder’s voice. She peered into the woman’s gentle eyes. “Instead, let’s ask what now? The rain may keep us from planting those flowers, but the time inside is a gift as well, if we let it be. When life doesn’t turn out quite as you hoped, take a deep breath and ask Him what now?” Gram gave Livy a tight squeeze under her arm and kissed the top of her head.
Livy looked through the open door to the basket of sheets on the front porch. “We could make a fort! Dad showed me how, and I can show you!”
“What a wonderful idea, Olivia. I’ve always wanted to learn how to build a fort.” Gram nuzzled Livy’s nose with hers.
Gram attached the corners of sheets to the back of chairs and other furniture with clothespins. The two spent the rest of the afternoon in their fort. They read fairytales in funny voices, colored with crayons in coloring books, and munched on homemade oatmeal cookies.
When thunder struck with an unexpected rumble and the room darkened as another wave of ominous clouds rolled across the land, Livy scooted closer to Gram.
“Don’t be afraid, my dear. Do you remember what thunder is?” Gram’s quiet voice calmed Livy, covering her worries like the fresh sheets over their heads as they sat together against the heavy couch.
“The angels are bowling in heaven.”
“That’s right!” Gram laughed, shaking Livy’s head in her lap. The old woman stroked her hair. As was usual, Gram began singing lines of old hymns, almost to herself but just loud enough for Livy to hear over the heavy rain. In that moment, like many others spent with her grandmother, Livy wanted for nothing. She fell asleep, safe and sound under the shadows of the sheet fort. On waking, she was welcomed by late-afternoon sunlight, the color of amber, and the smell of fried chicken on the stove.
Standing in the doorway of the same living room, some twenty years later, the memory gave Livy the same warm feeling. She missed her grandmother a great deal, yet also felt safe and at peace. There was a quiet protection in that old house from the still-clearing storm that had clouded her life. The advice she’d received as a child about weathering the storms of life hit home in a whole new way today.
Livy spent the rest of the day hauling what she could from the house into piles in the yard: one for trash, one for donations, and one for items she might be able to refurbish and use again. By four o’clock, she was tired, dirty, and ready to call it a day.
She stood under the open hatch, loading the last few tools into the trunk, when the sound of crunching gravel down the long driveway made her turn. An old man, maybe eighty-five years old, made his way toward her at a slow but steady clip. Although his frame bent slightly, the simple cane he balanced on seemed more preventative than necessary. Once he was about halfway up, she walked to meet him.
“Hi there.” Livy pulled off the gloves and reached a bare hand out to her guest. “How are you, sir?”
His chuckle sounded like a hen’s cluck, high-pitched and quick. “Sir? Ha, thanks for that, young lady.” He eyed her, resting both hands on his cane’s curved top, and broke into a friendly grin. “Thought I’d wander over and see what’s going on. Have you bought the place?”
“I sure have.” Livy brushed at her dusty coveralls, wishing she had already changed out of them. “My name is Olivia Johnson. Livy for short.”
As he searched her through squinted eyes, his smile faded. “Johnson, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any kin to the Johnsons who built the place?”
Livy kept forgetting how connected people were here. Still, her interest was certainly piqued. “Audria Johnson was my grandmother. My grandfather, Tobias Johnson, died before I had the chance to meet him.”
The old man let out a high, long whistle, the kind that carried through the woods like a hunter calling for his retriever. “I’ll declare. Her granddaughter. Mind if I ask what brings you here now?”
Excitement surge
d through her like electricity. “You knew my grandmother?”
“Sure did. Name’s Pete Wilson. The little stone house down the way with the drive over the creek is my place. Your grandmother and I knew each other for over fifty years.”
Livy stepped forward and grasped one of his arms. “My goodness! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilson. I just happened, quite by accident, to see her home was for sale after all these years, and decided on a whim to buy it and fix it up the way Gram would have wanted.”
“No such thing, dear.” Pete shook his head with purpose.
“Beg your pardon?”
His intense stare fixated on Livy. “No such thing as quite by accident.”
A warmth spread over her. “No, sir. I guess not. I am beginning to believe I’m right where I need to be.”
“Well, I’m right down the way with nothing to do.” He started back down the driveway. “I imagine you’ll be up here a lot. If you need anything or just want a break, stop on by. And fair warning, our mail gets crossed a lot. Bert’s been delivering here for twenty years and still can’t keep it straight.” With a wave of his hand over his shoulder, the old man turned toward his little stone house.
“Goodbye, Mr. Wilson!” Livy called out.
As she pulled out of the drive just a few minutes later, she still smiled over the encounter with her neighbor. Her neighbor. That had a nice ring to it. For the first time Livy thought of this place as her new home as much as Gram’s old one. Fixing it up was therapy. A distraction. A welcome break. She hadn’t planned the future for certain, but so far Laurel Cove had a great deal going for it. A great deal, indeed.
Whatever the future held, Livy knew one thing for sure: a hot shower and some wings sounded just about perfect.
CHAPTER
Eight
T he Garage was busier than usual for a Tuesday night. From where Jack sat, it looked like all but a few tables were full. Thankfully, Owen and Jen had arrived early enough to snag two tables together. The owner often booked local musicians, mostly on Fridays and Saturdays. Tonight was a rare midweek night with live music to keep the crowd hanging around. Jack tapped the toe of his boot to the beat of a popular country song playing on the small stage.
“The food is still going to be a while. Kitchen’s backed up.” Owen approached the table with a pitcher of tea. “But they gave me this instead of having to wait for the waitress to get to refills.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m starving.” A shrill, dramatic whine sounded from the end of the table. Lane, without a doubt Jack’s most opinionated friend, shifted in her seat, swollen feet propped on another chair. “Don’t they know it’s seriously risky keeping a seven-month pregnant woman who’s taught rowdy kids all day waiting?”
Jack’s chest shook beneath his folded arms. Lane’s spunk had become one of her most endearing qualities.
“Let me go grab some peanuts, babe.” Hank, Lane’s husband, rubbed her back as he stood. He was like a palm tree—tall, lanky, and always swaying easily through life. He was the perfect match for Lane, which was part of what made them one of Jack’s favorite couples.
“Thank you.” Looking back at her husband, Lane’s scowl faded to a tender smile. Jack and all his friends knew her soft spot for Hank was as deep and wide as the French Broad River.
Out of nowhere, Greg let out a loud belly laugh from the other end of the table.
“What’s so funny?” Meredith linked her arm through her husband’s, resting her chin on his shoulder. Couples sweet on each other surrounded Jack.
“Oh, just thinking of good ol’ Barney Fife. He stopped by this morning on his rounds. Parked the squad car with a wheel up on the curb again. He went on and on for twenty minutes about some new donut flavor he saw on a cooking show.”
“The man sure loves his donuts. Oh, a donut sounds good right about now.” Lane shook her head. The table erupted in laughter.
Livy walked through the door, and Jack stopped listening to the conversation at the table.
He’d purposely chosen a chair facing the door so he could wave Livy over if she decided to join them. After the first hour passed, he’d figured she was spent from the long day of work at the house and had decided not to come out. Now, through the full house of patrons and waiters and musicians, Jack saw only her—and she took his breath away.
She paused a moment just inside the doorway to remove her jean jacket and yellow scarf. A loose, almost messy braid fell across one shoulder. Even from across the room, her emerald eyes popped from behind long, dark eyelashes. In her light blue, button-up shirt, fitted jeans, and tall brown boots, she looked casual and effortless. Stunning.
“Oh, there’s Livy! Go get her, Jack.” Meredith snapped him back to the moment. He stood and walked toward her, waving to get her attention. She spotted him and waved back with a smile that made him feel like the only other person in the place. He was a goner.
He made his way to her, the chilly wind brushing past him as another couple left. “You, uh, look amazing.” It came out barely a whisper.
She leaned in close, gripping his elbow. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.” She smelled of lavender. Good grief. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. “Oh, I just figured you had turned in already, but so glad you made it out.”
“Oh, thanks, Jack. Had the hot water not eventually run out in the shower, I’d probably still be standing there.” She mesmerized him with those green eyes. “Are your friends still here?” She looked past his shoulder.
“Oh, yeah. Everyone is still here.” He stepped aside, motioning for her to go ahead of him through the crowd. Get it together, man. He took a deep breath to focus.
“Livy! You made it!” Meredith jumped up, and the women exchanged a big hug. Greg nodded with a tip of his glass and smiled in her direction. Jack offered Livy the chair between Meredith and himself and introduced the rest of his friends.
“Jack told us you moved all the way from New York City, right? Us country bumpkins can’t imagine what that was like.” Lane gave a friendly wink in Livy’s direction as she popped a few nuts in her mouth.
“It is pretty different from here, that’s for sure,” Livy replied. Jack felt her knee brush up against his under the table as she shifted in her seat. He made an effort not to turn and stare at her beautiful profile. Instead, he found Owen watching him from a few seats down with a big grin. He returned a quick smile and lowered his gaze to his drink.
“There are a lot of wonderful things about New York. The museums and art are unparalleled. The theater shows are great, if you can find a good deal. I didn’t even mind the subways, though you do have to get used to the busy pace of all the people.”
Hank chimed in. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to that. I feel cramped when the pew at church is full.” The group erupted in laughter.
“I did have one trick for unplugging, though,” Livy continued. “About once a week, I’d wander down to Central Park. It took me a while to find it, but there’s a spot off of one trail where big rocks shelter you from the view of the tall city buildings.”
Jack tried to imagine her anywhere except here, but failed. She looked around the table from friend to friend, landing on Jack’s gaze last.
“If I closed my eyes,” she said, “I could picture myself back in North Carolina. On nice days, I could spend hours sitting there with a book, no need to talk to anyone or push my way through layers of people on the street. I’d even lie down sometimes and watch the clouds pass overhead. Funny how the sky looks the same everywhere, when you take the time to notice.”
Her voice had a sweetness to it that Jack found intoxicating. Though she’d been gone from the South for some time, she had a drawl that seemed more pronounced now than just a few days before when they’d met. His look must have given him away, because just past Livy, Jen’s eyebrows raised, and she smiled at him knowingly.
The table had grown quiet listening to her. Jen spoke up, “That’s the first time anyone has made New York sound
like a place worth visiting.”
“Yeah,” Lane chimed in, “and I don’t like it.” Again, laughter bellowed through the group.
Jack shook his head slightly at Jen’s persistent grin. If she saw right through him, did everyone else? Did Livy?
“What’s the church scene like up there?” Owen spoke up, redirecting his wife’s attention. Whew.
Livy shifted in her seat and wrung her hands on the tabletop. “Well, honestly, I never became a regular member of any church up there. I guess you could say I was distracted for a while.”
“Just what we suspected!” Greg blurted out. “All heathens up there past the Bible belt.”
“Greg!” Meredith swatted at her husband.
“I’m just kidding. Anyone with one good eye can see she’s about the farthest thing from a heathen.” He winked in Livy’s direction.
Livy perked up at his compliment. “You all sure do a lot of slick winking around here,” she retorted.
The group once again joined in a round of laughter.
“Looks to me like she can hold her own, Jack.” Greg shrugged his shoulders in mock defeat as he sipped on his beer.
“That, she can.” Jack relaxed in his chair, grateful for the way his friends were doing their best to welcome Livy into their circle.
The attention turned to Lane as she updated the group on her doctor’s appointment that morning. But the band’s up-tempo song drowned out her voice.
Jack leaned in close to Livy. “I’m going to check on our order. Would you like something to drink other than tea?”
Someplace Familiar (Laurel Cove Romance Book 1) Page 8
