Canyon Weddings

by Julie Jarnagin

  Will picked up an underinflated football from a metal shelf and spun it around in his hands. “So you and Laura aren’t dating?”

  Shock coursed through Connor, and the nails dropped out of his mouth. He leaned up from the sawhorse. “Of course not. Thomas just ended their engagement.”

  Will tossed the ball toward the ceiling and said, “Okay,” but his face said, “Yeah right.”

  Connor held his hands out, still wielding the hammer. “Will!”

  Will gave him a crooked grin. “Connor, I’m not stupid. You’ve been so distracted lately. If you weren’t dating her, you wanted to be.”

  Connor kicked the toe of his boot into the dusty concrete. “She pretty much despises me.”

  Will’s eyebrows rose. “Man, what did you do to this girl?”

  Connor shook his head. “Can we drop it already?”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Will slapped the football. “But what are you going to do about it? Hide out in your garage for the rest of your life?”

  Maybe just until Laura left town. He couldn’t stand the way she looked at him, like he was the enemy.

  Next door, a lawn mower started with a roar. “You used to never back down from a conflict,” Will said. “It normally drives me crazy that you think you have to work out everyone else’s scuffles, but it’s better than this.”

  Connor turned the knob of the radio off and stared at his brother. “Better than what?”

  “Better than sulking,” Will said.

  Connor didn’t spend a Saturday in his garage so he could talk about his feelings. He picked up a piece of plywood and leaned it against the opposite wall. “I don’t sulk.”

  Will turned and examined the lawn tools hanging from the pegboard. “Moping, pouting, whatever you want to call it.” Will picked up a pair of hedge shears. “Hey, aren’t these mine?”

  Connor ran his hand through his hair. “What do you want me to do? Camp out on her front porch? Break into her house so I can fix it up?”

  “I don’t know, but you better figure out something and quick,” Will said. “With the mood you’re in, you’ll probably buy out the lumberyard.”

  Chapter 10

  Laura pushed the yellowed curtain in the living room aside and looked down the dirt road. Had Herschel already changed his mind?

  She dropped the curtain and stretched her arms behind her. Her sleep had been fitful last night. She’d grown accustomed to the steady groan of traffic and the sounds of city life below her apartment window in Florida, but the creaks of the big old house unnerved her.

  A motor rumbled outside, and Laura looked out the dusty glass in the front door to see a van with WYATT BEND RETIREMENT VILLAGE emblazoned across the side bounce up the driveway.

  The stress throbbed behind Laura’s eyes. He didn’t even drive, and she expected him to rescue her from this disaster of a house?

  She left the front door open behind her, rehearsing in her mind how she would tell an old man to get back on the bus and go home without hurting his feelings.

  She waited as a man with a bald head and a broad smile ducked out of the van. He gripped the handle of a worn plastic toolbox and stuck his free hand out to her. “Hiya, I’m Herschel.”

  She took his hand. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Laura.”

  His large hand covered hers. She looked up at him. Beyond the wrinkled skin, Herschel’s warm eyes glowed.

  She had pictured a small man with stooped shoulders, but this man was tall and looked stronger than any man in his eighties she had ever met.

  “You don’t have a car?”

  He waved at the woman driving the van. “I’m managing fine without one. My kids took my keys after my last appointment with the eye doctor. I’m still fighting to get them back.”

  The driver leaned her head out the van window. “I’ll be back after I take Mrs. Bailey to the hair salon.”

  Herschel nodded at her and turned back to Laura. “Shall I take a tour around the house?”

  He seemed like such a sweet man. She didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Besides, she didn’t have the luxury of being picky right now. She could at least hear what he had to say. “Of course.” Laura led him toward the front porch.

  Herschel set his toolbox on the porch and slipped his black orthopedic shoes off at the door.

  She appreciated the gesture, but the idea that Herschel would get the horrible shag carpet dirty was absurd.

  He stepped in the door and let out a long whistle. “It has been a long time since I’ve been inside this house. This brings back a lot of memories.”

  Laura looked around at the leaning staircase railing and the cracking plaster. “Really? What do you remember?”

  Herschel poked his head in the dining room. “The Christmas parties here were something else. Mrs. McCormick was a whiz in the kitchen.”

  Everyone kept talking about the Christmas parties. They must have rivaled Martha Stewart’s. “I’m looking to fix the house up enough to put it on the market. I want to flip it as quickly and affordably as possible.”

  Herschel looked at her, his eyes full of concern. “You won’t be staying in Wyatt Bend?”

  There was nothing in Wyatt Bend to keep her there. “No, I’ll be moving back to Florida soon.”

  Herschel shook the wobbly staircase railing. “That’s where you’re from?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, there’s nothing like going home.”

  Laura wasn’t sure where home was anymore. After her dad lost his job, her parents had downsized to a tiny house, and there was no room for her anymore.

  She led Herschel to the kitchen, the room that needed the most work. He struggled to open a stuck drawer and then inspected the inside of a cabinet door. “It’s a shame these cabinets haven’t been cared for properly. I bet there is some quality wood underneath those layers.”

  “Are they worth saving?” Laura asked looking up at him.

  “Of course they are. Something this beautiful is always worth the effort. It’s going to take a lot of time, stripping, and staining.”

  Laura’s heart wasn’t in it. She’d rather slap another coat of paint on top of the many layers there and be done with it, but she didn’t say anything to Herschel. She had asked for his help and would listen to what he had to say. “Let’s take a look at the bathroom.”

  She led him into the little room beside the main bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window. She loved the claw-foot tub and tiny cream tiles on the floor.

  She took him on a tour of the rest of the house. He used a lot of terms she pretended to understand. At least he sounded like he knew what he talked about.

  By the time they finished, she had almost forgotten this man towering over her lived in a retirement home and had an artificial hip.

  They stood on the back porch, smaller than the front, but with a beautiful view of the tree line behind the house.

  “As much as I would love to get my hands on this house, I’m not sure I’m the best man for the job,” Herschel said.

  Laura’s heart sank to her stomach. Obviously he wasn’t the best man for the job, but at this point he was the only man available for the job. Laura wasn’t in the mood to beg him to help her. “Why do you say that? Is the job too extensive?”

  Herschel ran a large hand across the top of his smooth head. “I’ve worked on some big projects in my day, but these days I’m not sure how long it would take me, and I don’t know how my kids would feel about it.”

  Laura leaned against the rough porch railing. “I’m going to be honest with you, Herschel. I don’t have a lot of other options right now. I’m in a tight spot, and I need help getting this place sold. Bonnie thought you could help me.”

  A big grin spread across his face. “God bless the lovely Bonnie for suggesting me.”

  It was incredibly sweet how Herschel turned to mush every time she mentioned Bonnie’s name.

  Herschel walked down the steps and looked back toward the house.
“I think I’ll be able to refer someone who could whip this place into shape. He’s a wonderful young man, a hard worker, too.”

  Laura cringed. She didn’t even have to hear his name to know exactly who Herschel was recommending.

  “Connor Overman is the best in the county. You should definitely give ole Connor a call,” Herschel said.

  Laura dropped her head and looked at her shoes. “I appreciate the recommendation, but I can’t call Connor. I already told him I didn’t want his help.”

  “Why in the world would you go and do something like that?”

  Laura looked out to the trees, thinking about all the things that had gone wrong between her and Connor. “He’s a close friend of my ex-fiancé.” A double rejection—one by Thomas and another by Connor—was almost too much to bear. What was wrong with her?

  Herschel tucked his chin in. “Oh. Romance troubles,” he said, his voice an even deeper bass than usual.

  A bird squawked overhead. “You could say that. I just need to separate myself from that part of my life and move on.”

  Herschel nodded solemnly. “Moving on is important.”

  “So can you help me?”

  His scrunched face sent his wrinkles even deeper into his skin. “I reckon I’ll do the best I can.”

  Connor sat back in his desk chair and closed his eyes. The fluorescent light buzzing overhead gave him a headache. He had planned to spend a rare morning in the office answering e-mails and taking care of dreaded paperwork, but instead he had scrolled through the list of contacts on his phone and called every roofer, contractor, plumber, and electrician he could think of that Laura might try to hire. If she wouldn’t let him help her, at least he could try to use some of his strong relationships with these guys to get her better prices. She didn’t even have to know about it.

  He ran through the list in his head again. Wasn’t Herschel Long living in a retirement community now? Surely he wouldn’t have agreed to a job that large.

  The fact that none of the trades had heard from Laura could have meant she had gone back to Florida, a thought that made his jaw clench with frustration.

  His chair groaned as he leaned forward. One glance at the clock on the wall told him he needed to go through the stack of messages Lillian had set on his desk and then leave to meet the electrician at a job site. He shuffled through the pink slips of paper—mostly salesmen trying to hawk the latest building products.

  He lifted one message up to eye level. Did he know a Rachel? The number had an unfamiliar area code, and the box underneath read, Regarding Laura.

  Connor grabbed his cell phone and punched in the numbers as quickly as his fingers would let him. He picked up the note again to see that she had called the office yesterday.

  “Hello?” said a breathy voice.

  Connor stood from his chair and walked across the room. “Hi. This is Connor Overman. You left me a message?”

  He pushed the office door, and it closed with a click.

  “Thanks for calling me back. We didn’t get a chance to meet when I was in town. I’m Laura’s friend.” Rachel spoke like an announcer giving the disclaimer at the end of a commercial, fitting in twice as many words in a single breath than he thought possible.

  Connor paced across the small room. “No problem. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I hope this isn’t awkward. I know you and Thomas are friends, and Laura told me that you’re helping her with the house.”

  Connor opened his mouth to explain that was no longer the case, but she didn’t slow down enough to give him a chance to speak.

  “And well, I’m just looking out for my best friend and feeling pretty helpless from a thousand miles away.”

  Connor’s pulse quickened at the possibility that Laura may have decided to stay in Wyatt Bend. He took a foam basketball and tossed it into the hoop hanging from the back of his office door.

  “I wanted to ask you not to tell Laura about what’s going on,” Rachel said. “You haven’t already, have you? I mean, Thomas has the right to date whoever he wants now, but it seems pretty fishy. I don’t think Laura would take it very well.” The words flew through the phone so quickly Connor fought to keep up.

  “Excuse me,” he said, cutting her off. “Could you back up a little? Thomas is dating someone else?”

  The other end of the line went silent. “Well, yeah.”

  Heat rose up Connor’s back. It made perfect sense. The unexpected end to the engagement. The quick return to Florida.

  Rachel drew in a razor-sharp breath. “You didn’t know. I mean, Thomas said you knew why he’d called off the wedding. I assumed he had told you.”

  Connor squeezed the phone so tight he thought it might crack. Thomas had caused him so much strife and guilt over their breakup. It wasn’t about Connor. It was about Thomas’s selfish ways. “So was he dating this woman before he and Laura broke up?”

  A brief moment of silence made Connor lower himself back in his seat.

  “Well, I don’t know anything for sure.” Her voice stumbled as she backtracked out of the conversation. “Maybe they met after he got back from Oklahoma. I probably had it all wrong. She could just be a friend.”

  Connor struggled to get a grip on the anger building in his body. “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyway, like I said, Laura doesn’t need to know anything. She’s already confused and upset. It would only make things worse.”

  Connor rubbed his throbbing temples. “You’re her friend. Why wouldn’t you tell her if you thought something was going on?”

  A loud sigh came from the other end of the phone. “Look. She’s still talking about staying there in that awful house all by herself.”

  Connor disliked Laura living in that house as much as her friend did, but it didn’t seem like a sufficient reason to keep a secret like this one.

  “She needs to come home,” Rachel said. “I told her she doesn’t belong there. If she finds out about Thomas, I’ll never convince her to come back here. Besides, nobody knows for sure if he cheated on her or anything.”

  Everything inside Connor said that Laura did belong in Wyatt Bend. “Thanks for caring about Laura,” Connor said, “but I hope you’ll rethink keeping secrets like that from your friend.”

  Rachel laughed nervously. “Like I said, please keep this between us.”

  When he hung up the phone, Connor let out a long, slow breath in a feeble attempt to regain his composure. He dialed Thomas’s number. He would find out the truth from the source. If he confirmed what Rachel had told him, he’d do everything he could to force Thomas to tell Laura what was going on himself.

  With every ring Connor grew more frustrated with his friend. Finally Thomas’s voice-mail message came through the phone.

  After the beep, he said, “It’s Connor. Call me.”

  Connor shoved the phone in his pocket. The chance of Thomas calling him back after their argument hovered around zero.

  Connor grabbed his truck keys. He would go straight to Laura and tell her everything Rachel had said. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for keeping another secret from Laura.

  With his hand on the doorknob, he froze. Laura hated him. She didn’t even want to see him, and she definitely wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say about Thomas. Coming from Connor now, the truth would only look like a desperate attempt for Connor to find a way back into her life, especially without any proof about what Thomas had done.

  Connor had to find a way to rebuild Laura’s trust. It was the only way he could protect her from getting hurt again.

  Chapter 11

  The yellow sticky note with directions to the Wyatt Bend Retirement Home fluttered on the dashboard of the truck. Laura pulled up to a complex with manicured flower beds, winding sidewalks, and old-fashioned light posts. The residences looked more like high-end duplexes than a retirement home.

  She parked in front of a light-colored brick building. Herschel walked down the curved sidewalk toward her.
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  Today a brown plaid page boy cap covered Herschel’s bald head. He placed his toolbox in the bed of the truck and opened the door.

  “Good morning, Herschel. This place is pretty fancy.”

  Herschel hung on to the roof of the vehicle as he lowered himself onto the ripped bench seat. “We’re lucky to have a place like this in such a small town. We have the Overmans to thank for that.”

  She clutched the steering wheel with a death grip. Even at the retirement home, she couldn’t escape Connor and his do-good ways.

  She backed out of the parking place and headed for the lumber store where she had purchased some of her painting supplies for the mural. It was nothing like the super-sized home-improvement stores near her condo in Florida, but it had the things she needed.

  Laura craved progress on the house. There had been enough talk. She needed to see some sign that she’d get to put this whole situation behind her. Once she started seeing changes in the house, she’d look for a good real estate agent. Hopefully she could find one in Wyatt Bend who wasn’t related to the Overmans. “What are we working on today?”

  Herschel had rolled down his window and let his elbow hang out the side of the truck. He waved as they passed a man driving a huge red tractor crawling down the street with its blinkers flashing. “I thought we’d get started stripping your kitchen cabinets.”

  Laura resisted groaning. What was it with men and those stupid cabinets? “I think we could just paint them. They already have ten layers of paint. One more isn’t going to hurt them.”

  Herschel tapped his hand against the outside of the door. “If you want to sell this house, we need to do it right.”

  He sounded too much like Connor, but Herschel was working for an amount that fit into Laura’s limited budget. She didn’t want to run him off on the first day, so she nodded and pulled into a parking space.