by Toni Shiloh
Mr. Joseph said he’d leave the house key under the plant on the front porch. Now if only Evan would show up, they could get this show on the road. The sound of a vehicle broke into her thoughts. Jo glanced to her left as Mr. Carter’s van came to a stop.
“Oh,” she whispered to herself. How could she have forgotten Evan couldn’t drive? Of course he needed a ride.
I should have offered.
She shook her head. As much as she wanted to help him, being stuck in the car with him was a whole different matter. No one would ever accuse her of being reckless and she wasn’t about to start just because he tugged at some nurturing instinct in her.
Evan’s dad grabbed the wheelchair from the back of his van.
She got out of her truck. “Good afternoon, Mr. Carter.”
“Hello there, Jo. Evan’s excited to see the house. Apparently someone bought Mrs. Nelson’s place. Do you think his chair is going to fit?”
“I guess we’ll see.”
She leaned against her truck as she waited. What must it be like to have every single thing altered by a wheelchair? She really hoped she could give him the type of home he needed. The ADA requirements were pretty straight forward. He just needed everything within reach...from a wheelchair.
She watched as Senior helped Evan into his chair. Funny, even though the chair made him appear shorter than her, Jo still saw him as he used to be. The varsity basketball star who had made the high school girls swoon and the boys puff out their chests with pride that he was their friend. Only she seemed to have experienced his darker side.
Her eyes squeezed shut at the memories. He can’t affect you anymore. You’re not the same girl. Jo looked up as Senior pushed Evan toward her.
“How did you hear about this place?” Evan stared at her expectantly.
Shaking off the uneasy feeling developing in the pit of her stomach, Jo marched forward.
“Nana told me that Mr. Joseph was moving to the senior community. He said I could show you the place. I think you’ll love it. The driveway can be widened if necessary to give you more room if you ever get a wheelchair-accessible vehicle. It will also allow for visitor parking. I can level the staggered sidewalk for you as well.”
Jo pointed to the front porch with the steps leading up to it. “I can also change those steps to a ramp.”
“Fantastic, but how is that going to help me today?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his snarkiness. It was a good thing Senior was there. His presence would remind her to keep her manners in check. “Go through the garage.”
She pointed to the garage doors. “His garage floor is level with the inside, so you don’t have to worry about navigating a step. That’s probably the only thing I won’t have to change.”
Jo retrieved the key from under the plant and unlocked the front door. As she made her way to the garage, Jo slowly realized she had been silently repeating please like it, please like it, please like it.
EVAN WAITED PATIENTLY as the garage door slowly made its way up. It was in obvious need of updating. It was slower than a sloth reaching for a noonday snack. He stiffened in irritation when Jo entered the garage from the house.
He could tell he had angered her earlier, but he didn’t care. Maybe you should apologize for being rude. He snorted. Not likely.
Ignoring his conscience, he rolled into the garage, finally taking control of the chair from his dad. If he was going to live on his own he needed to show he could be independent despite his missing leg.
Surprisingly, the two-car garage had plenty of room even with the workbench that took up the whole right side.
“Can that come out?”
Jo walked over to the bench and examined it. “It’s a beauty, but yes it can come out. Is the space adequate for your current or future needs, do you think?”
He wanted to smirk at her business tone but refrained. Like it or not, he needed her expertise. “It looks fine. But I know I’ll never need the work bench.” He watched as she ran a hand over it one more time. She looked at him and then turned toward a door.
“This leads to the utility closet and that one to the house.”
He followed her as she walked through the last door. “It opens right into the laundry room.” It was a tight squeeze but Evan managed to maneuver into the room.
“Of course, I’d widen the door from the garage into here. Also, we can enlarge the laundry room if necessary. On the other side is the dining area. We could probably take a couple of feet from it to make this space more functional.”
“That sounds great, don’t you think?” his dad asked him.
At his nod Jo proceeded to show them the rest of the house. Evan was amazed that the place was a one-story. It seemed like most of the homes that had a view of Freedom Lake were two stories. He asked Jo about that.
“Well, you’re right, those homes are two stories, but Mr. Joseph’s place actually falls into the woodlands category.”
“Learn something new every day,” Evan replied.
“So what do you think of the place?”
His brow wrinkled as he thought. He took a calming breath to smooth it out and to help him concentrate. “Well there seems to be quite a few things you’ll need to alter. Wouldn’t it be better to just build a new place?” Why couldn’t he let the thought of land go?
“Sure, building a home from scratch would be easy as far as it having every specification you’d desire. However it also takes the longest and you would have to find land. You know as well as I do that Freedom Lake is not an up-and-coming town. This place has a history and with that comes older homes and a lack of land.”
Evan watched as she folded her arms across her chest. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Jo was always so defensive. “There’s got to be some unoccupied land left.”
“How? This place was prime real estate in the forties. Every black person who could afford a vacation home bought one. Now you have nothing but their descendants, and people looking for a small town to live in, taking up residence. There is no land, so get over it.”
Her gaze flashed to his father. “Sorry, Senior.”
“No problem. I agree with your advice.” Evan felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder. “Son, this is probably your best option.”
Fine. Intellectually, he knew that but he had enjoyed needling Jo. She became passionate when she fought. Her cat-eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed pink. Watching her eyes spit fire and her lips purse with indignation was the most fun he’d had in a while.
She’s stunning when she’s angry.
He gave a shake of his head. What was wrong with him? Considering their history, he should steer clear of her and keep his mouth shut.
Or open it and apologize. He grimaced inwardly.
She continued on, “Look, I get your desire for something brand-new, but I can take this house and turn it into your dream home. The doors can be widened; kitchen counters can be torn down and replaced with customized counters. You name it, I can do it. The catch is working with the original framework of the home. This home is 1,800 square feet. It’s not huge, but it’s not so small you’ll be bumping into the walls in your chair. I’ve also done an in-depth walkthrough. Mr. Joseph was good to his home and has done a lot of upkeep. I don’t suspect any unknown water damage, or structural damage. This is a good, sound home.”
“I’d like to think it over before making a commitment.”
A flash of irritation lit her eyes so fast he thought he was mistaken.
“Understandable. I’m sure if you have any questions, Mike can help you. Plus, Mr. Joseph could give you the history of his home.”
He nodded. “I appreciate you taking the time to show us the place.”
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he hid a smile. It seemed his kindness had unnerved her.
“No problem. If you make an offer and it gets accepted, let me know and I’ll start working on plans.”
“Thanks, Jo.”
She tossed a nod
in acknowledgment and walked away. He had no clue what she was thinking but, for a brief moment, he thought he imagined her shiver at his kindness.
Maybe I should do that more often.
Chapter Seven
Bare.
Jo studied the contents of the fridge and bit back a sigh. At least there was a carton of eggs and some vegetables. Hopefully, it would sate the beast.
“Guess it’s time to hit the store,” she muttered aloud as she pulled out eggs, green onions, and mushrooms.
An omelet would have to do until she hit the market. Her mother acted like it was beneath her to shop for groceries. As she whipped the eggs, the woman in question walked into the kitchen. Jo quickly looked down, watching the omelet set in the skillet.
Please, don’t say anything. Please, don’t say anything.
“Good morning, Jo Ellen.” The high-cultured tone laced with ice made her wince. That tone meant her mother was itching for a fight.
“Good morning, Mother.” She gave her a smile hoping to keep the storm at bay. “I made an omelet. Would you like one?”
Please say no, please say no...please!
“No, thank you. I’m meeting the bridge club for brunch. Besides, I think it’s time for a run to the market. There’s nothing edible in that fridge.”
Thank goodness she was leaving the house. “If you make a list, I’ll make a run.” That should make her happy.
Jo’s mother slapped down a piece of paper on the marble countertops.
“I wrote the brand names down so you don’t bring home some inferior product.” Her mother gave a delicate shudder. “I detest the store brands.”
Can’t have Victoria Baker seen eating inferior products. She stifled the eye roll begging to make its entrance.
Jo took a good look at her mother. She looked perfect in her linen pantsuit. The top half of her hair had turned gray, with the bottom clinging to the black strands of her youth. Her perfectly coiffed hair accentuated her square face, softening the edges. Of course her makeup was flawless, emphasizing her brown eyes and covering the few wrinkles that had begun to make an appearance. Her mother was aging gracefully...no surprise there. Did her mother ever tire of looking perfect? “Yes, Mother. I’ll make sure I get only what’s written.”
Once, Jo had made the mistake of getting store brand items, thinking she would save her money. The fit her mother had thrown could rival a toddler’s. She had walked on eggshells the rest of the week.
Move out!
“See that you do. I put some items on there that I’ll need for a dinner party. Please make sure to get everything exactly as written. If you have a question, call my cell.” Her mother stared at her, perfectly shaped eyebrows arched in expectation.
“All right.” She picked up the list and scanned it, inhaling sharply. There was enough food on there to feed an army. “Can you write me a check to cover this?”
“Really, Jo Ellen? You can’t take care of this for your mother?”
She closed her eyes. If this line of questioning continued, heads would roll. But despite the fact that her mother was warning her by speaking in third person, there was no way she could afford all these groceries on her budget. The money she had in her account was going to cover a job. She had already dipped into her savings to fix Nana’s deck.
“I’m more than happy to assist you by picking up the groceries, but Mother, I can’t afford to pay for all of this.”
Her mother waved the comment away. “Please, Jo Ellen, just take it from your business account.”
“This isn’t a business transaction.”
“If your father was here, he’d take care of it.”
I’m not Dad! “Mother, you can’t simply ask me to dip into my business funds for your food. Your food, you buy it.” She slapped the list on the counter and began washing her dishes.
“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady. I am your mother, and this is my house. You will respect me.”
“I understand. I really do.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “But you need to understand this is my business and my funds go toward business transactions, not a market run for my mother.”
“You ungrateful...”
“Don’t lose your cool, Mother. What would your friends think?”
Her mother squinted her eyes. Victoria Baker hated to be unladylike and Jo would remind her of that fact whenever necessary. Besides, she didn’t want to fight; she just didn’t want to have to pay for the groceries.
“Get out of my house.”
“Fine. How about I move out permanently?” She folded her arms and stared her down. For once, she was thankful for the height her dad had blessed her with.
“Ex-cuse me?”
Jo tensed at the hostility laced through her mother’s tone. She widened her stance, bracing herself for whatever tantrum her mother would kick up. Truth was, Jo had finally reached her limit. There was no need to continue living here. Her mother no longer suffered from intense grief. She was barely ever home.
But the look on her mother’s face showed she was taken aback at Jo’s suggestion. Her perfectly arched eyebrow disappeared under her bangs. The look would seem haggard on anyone else, but they wouldn’t dare appear unseemly on Victoria Baker.
“What did you say?”
“How about I move out?” Each word was spoken slowly, clearly.
“I see. Well, if you no longer feel the need to take care of your dear mother in her time of need, I suppose moving out is what you must do. I do wonder what my friends will think knowing my daughter will no longer fulfill her family obligations.”
Her teeth clamped down, causing a shooting pain to go up her jaw, but she refused to give voice to the thoughts raging in her mind. Her mother had a PhD in the art of guilt trips.
“Mom, it’s been a year.”
“Do you think there’s a time limit on grief?” The shrill tone of her voice rang in Jo’s ears. “Besides, how do you think you’ll manage on that measly salary, Jo Ellen?” Her mother stared at her expectantly, a French manicured nail tapping on the counter.
“Maybe I’ll share a place with someone.”
“Who?” her mother scoffed. “I pray it’s not Chloe, that child is too...” Her mother gestured as if searching for the perfect word. “...too bohemian. Michelle would be a much better choice. Now there’s good breeding. She’d improve your status in Freedom Lake as well as your style of dress.”
Her mother ended the last comment with a slow perusal of Jo’s clothing. Suddenly, her white shirt and jeans seemed lacking. A jolt of anger, mixed with hurt, stiffened her spine.
“You do realize I cannot wear Dolce & Gabbana while working on people’s homes. You’d die if a stain ended up on something so expensive.”
“Well, if you got a real job instead of playing carpenter,” she said venomously, “then perhaps you would have the opportunity to wear Dolce, Gucci, or even Versace.”
“How can you say that? This was Dad’s business. No, more than that, it was his heart and soul. The least I can do is give it my best in tribute.”
“Oh Jo Ellen, spare me the hysterics.” Her mother’s eyes darkened, making them appear lifeless. “Your father’s business was barely surviving. It’s a wonder he had anything to leave you. The only reason you’re hired for any job is out of pity and lack of competition.”
“Glad to know I have your support.” What did she expect? Her mother would never approve of anything that meant something to Jo.
“Oh my dear, you do. Anytime you decide you want to find a suitable husband and quit this ridiculous hobby of yours, then yes you have my full support. In the meantime, don’t look to me to applaud your miniscule efforts.”
“Well, thank God I won’t be living here anymore.”
“Do not take His name in vain. He has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it as a curse. I’m genuinely thankful I don’t have to live here with you anymore.”
She passed her mother
, thankful that tears were nonexistent. It never paid to show weakness in front of Victoria Baker.
EVAN LOOKED OUT THE kitchen window. His father stood outside, unloading groceries from the van. He looked down at the empty pants leg. He was utterly useless around here.
God, I don’t want to be useless anymore. What do I do?
His phone rang, interrupting his plea. The caller id showed the picture of his high school friend, Guy. He hadn’t talked to him since the accident. The phone rang again. He had made it a point to avoid his old friends, but he knew Guy had it worse.
His wife had died three years ago, leaving him to raise their newborn twins by himself.
Evan answered the call, holding it to his ear.
“Evan?”
The sound of his friend’s slight Haitian accent brought back memories. “Hey, G, long time no talk.
“I know man,” his friend said on a sigh. “Sorry about that.
“No worries. What have you been up to?”
“I’m moving back to town next month.”
“What?” Would his friend gawk at his leg? “That’s great, man. I moved back home as well. What made you decide to move back?” He prayed his friend couldn’t hear the false cheer. Silence greeted him. “Guy, you still there, man?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just wondering how to answer that. To put it simply, I can’t raise the girls alone anymore, man. I need help.”
Evan sighed. He had no idea how Guy had managed this long. He knew his mother had moved to Virginia to help Guy raise Rachel and Rebekah, but she had returned to Freedom Lake a few months ago. Without Guy or the girls.
“How are the girls?”
“They’re trouble,” he responded with a chuckle. “My mom is no longer willing to help out with them, and preschool is too expensive here in Virginia. So, I accepted the sheriff’s position in Freedom Lake and bought a house.”
“Wow. Judging from our last phone call, I thought you were going to make the FBI a career.”
“I wanted to, but plans change. I can’t be gone all hours and raise the girls by myself. The Sherriff’s position should enable me to do what I love to do, but not take any time away from the girls.”
