Even Heroes Cry
Hildie McQueen
Pink Door Publishing, Augusta, Georgia 2013
Fords of Nashville Series
Even Heroes Cry
Amazon Bestselling Author
Hildie McQueen
Pink Door Publishing
Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
Editor: Tina Winograd
Copyright Hildie McQueen 2014
ISBN: 978-1-939356-22-2
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
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This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.
If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Other Works by Hildie McQueen
(In reading order)
Fords of Nashville
Even Heroes Cry
The Last Hero
Her Hero*
Nobody's Hero*
Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Taming Lisa
Along Came You
Only You
Until You
New Year with You
Heading West Series, Western Historical
Where the Four Winds Collide
Westbound Awakening
Where The River Flows
Historical Western, Shades of Blue Series
Big Sky Blue
A Different Shade of Blue
The Darkest Blue
Every Blue Moon
Blue Horizon
Montana Blue
Midnight Blue
Moriag Series, Highland Historical Novellas
Beauty and the Highlander
The Lass and the Laird
Lady and the Scot
The Laird's Daughter
* Not published as of this publication
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the service men and women who fought and are still fighting over in Iraq and Afghanistan. May you find a reason to move on when you come home. God bless you and keep you safe.
Chapter One
In spite of its sagging porch and missing column, the used-to-be-white, three-story Victorian at the end of a curving tree-lined street stood proud. With its peeling paint and lopsided shutters, which were missing more slats than not, the house would be her best friend, the shoulder to cry on and the healing solace for Tesha Washington's shattered soul.
"It's definitely a fixer-upper." Her companion, Cleve, leaned back on the side of his new silver Camaro and shielded his eyes with his hand. "I don't know what in the hell you're thinking, Tesh. It’s too much work."
Tesha stood in front of the house and faced him, her arms held wide until getting his full attention. "Look at me and then to the house. Really look at it. When I look in the mirror that is what I see. A barely held together exterior and a total wreck on the inside."
Somehow Tesha had to get it through his hard head this was exactly where she had to be. "Please understand how much I need this house, Cleve. This is where I belong right now."
Lovely, Tennessee. A town she'd found when searching for foreclosed Victorian houses. She'd never heard of it, but once she researched it on the Internet, it called to her. She'd driven nonstop from Atlanta and had instantly fallen in love with the sweeping hills, old stately tree-lined streets, and small friendly downtown area. Now if she could get Cleve to comprehend.
The sadness in Cleve's eyes almost stopped her from trying to get him to understand. There was no way in hell her friend was going to leave her there alone if he thought she'd finally lost her ever-loving mind.
Cleve had once been her boyfriend, but after a few months of awkward attempts at being lovers, they'd respected each other enough to realize they were better suited for friendship. Tall, dark, and handsome, Cleve wore jeans and a dress shirt that she knew cost a pretty penny. Tesha always thought Cleve could walk onto any magazine shoot and fit right in. His coffee colored skin glistened under the sun when he rolled the sleeves of the pale yellow shirt up his forearms. "I worry that you're in over your head. That you'll sink your money into this..." He stepped around her and kicked at a hole in one of the front stairs. His tan Gucci loafer broke through the rotting wood. "See that. It's a money pit, Tesh."
She winced at the scratches on the expensive shoe. The hole in the stair was an easy fix. Once the interior was completed to her liking, she'd tackle the outside. A tingle of excitement at getting started sent a shiver through her.
"I love this house already." She reached for his hand and held it up to her face. Her lips curved when he let out a conceding sigh. Yet, his dark eyes remained hard under the angry slashes of his brows. "I'm going to have to drive to this rinky dink town regularly just to check on you."
Once again she studied the front façade of the once extravagant entryway. "The house and I have many things in common. With every stroke of a brush and every pound of a hammer, I will bring her back and one day she will be perfect." She met his gaze with intent. "And I will be closer to being whole again. Don't you believe in my abilities as a designer?"
"I do." He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked to the surrounding homes. "Nice houses on this street. Too country for my tastes, but the architecture here is beautiful. I wouldn't be surprised if your neighbors bring pies and cookies over before the end of the week."
"The real estate agent gave me the low down on some of the neighbors." Tesha pointed to the house on the right side of her property line. A proud brick house with four tall columns sat away from the street behind high black iron fencing and elaborate gates. "The Walkers are an old southern family. The couple who lives there now are in their fifties and very active in the town council." Tesha peered toward the home’s front lawn. "Looks like they own a horse."
Cleve went to the fence then began to laugh. "It's a Great Dane. God, Tesh, you're definitely not ready for country life if you think that dog is a horse."
Tesha rolled her eyes and swept her hand to the house on the other side of her property. A red Queen Anne style home sat in pristine condition. A three-story hexagonal tower stood out on the front façade echoed by a rounded porch on the opposite side. It was an inspiration to what she would achieve. "A war veteran lives there. The agent said he rarely ventures to town, just to go to the grocery or the hardware store."
"An old guy?"
Tesha nodded. "That's the impression I get."
The Walker's automatic iron gates opened and a large blue GMC truck pulled through. The woman in the passenger seat rolled down her window and waved. "Welcome, new neighbors." A blond woman with perfect make up and a bright pink tank top smiled at them. "I'm Jo-Lynn Walker. I'll be by later this week to introduce myself properly." A man Tesha assumed was her husband gave them a nod from the driver’s side.
"Hello, I'm Tesha." Tesha smiled brightly, happy to make her first acquaintance. "This is my friend, Cleve."
Tesha placed her hands on her hips and watched the truck disappear. "I think small town living will grow on me."
"We agree on that. This is defini
tely a small town. Not one single Starbucks." Cleve shook his head. "I don't think I'd like it here."
"You're a spoiled snob, Cleve." Tesha slipped her arm around his and leaned into him. "Look at the surroundings. Really look. The richness of the landscape, the quaint buildings and huge horse farms are beautiful. It’s the cozy feeling I get in my chest when I take it all in that made me decide this is where I should live right now."
Finally his eyes softened and he pulled her closer against his side. They stood hip-to-hip for several minutes. "All right. I'm still going to worry about you a bit. But I understand. You need to do something. Staying in Atlanta surrounded by all the familiar things and the memories made it too hard to move on."
"I couldn't stay there any longer. David's parents are put out with me. They think I'm crazy for renting out our home and moving so far. But after two long years of trying to get past his death, and continue with my life without success, something had to give. They're not speaking to me now. That's not fair."
"They'll come around."
"Maybe. I sent them a couple boxes of his things with a note to keep it for me until I'm settled in. I wonder if I'll ever get any of it back." Sadness crept into the edges of her smile and Tesha blinked away the mistiness in her eyes. "They are hurting, and I can understand that. Everyone grieves differently. In a way, I am a reminder of their son and it's probably for the best that I put space between us."
"Take your time, make the most out of this, but don't let pride keep you here if you need to come home to Atlanta." Cleve kissed her forehead. "If you change your mind at any time, call me. I'll be here within hours and help you pack up."
"What if I decide to stay?" She smiled up at him. "What will you do then?"
Cleve lifted and lowered his shoulders. "Then I suppose I'll be coming to Tennessee on a regular basis. Maybe even open a Starbucks."
"Don't do that." Tesha moved away from him and pointed to the U-Haul she'd driven. "Come on, let's unhitch my vehicle and unload. I'll treat you to dinner in town. I hear the diner has a great pot pie."
"Seriously? Can you please not make me eat that?" Cleve groaned in mock angst. "I have to drive back and don't want to burp the entire way."
"Stop picking on my new town." Tesha laughed and punched his shoulder.
She scanned the front of the home and visualized it pristine and open to friends and family. "Do you still agree with my idea of opening a Bed and Breakfast away from the hustle and bustle of a large city? It will be a place of relaxation and renovation. I’ve considering certain weekends exclusively for war widows and give them a place to get away and spend time alone. It’s what I feel I need to do right now."
Cleve nodded. "I know, Tesh. I just hope it’s what you should be doing and it does help you heal."
Days later, Tesha climbed the wide stairs to the red front door of the veteran’s house next door. She let out a breath, swept the long bangs of her pixie cut hair behind her ear and pressed the doorbell button.
Like the rest of the house, it was framed with an ornate wooden cutout painted ash green to match the trim on the windows and doors. The low dongs of the chime sounded and she resisted the urge to cup her hands around her eyes and peek in one of the glass panes.
After a few moments without an answer, she placed her finger on the doorbell, contemplating if she should press it again. She’d caught sight of her reclusive neighbor’s large black truck as it drove past her house to the back of his drive a couple hours earlier, so she knew he was home.
Perhaps he was not just a loner, but didn’t care for company and would not open the door. If after the second ring the door didn’t open, she’d write him a note and leave it somewhere he'd find it.
But where? She studied the door and wall beside it. There was no mail slot. The mailbox was on the street, and it was illegal to place anything inside it. She pressed the button and once again the two-toned ring echoed inside the house.
If the man was in the bathroom or otherwise occupied, it was best for her to return and figure out where to leave a note. It was disappointing. She really wanted to start plotting her garden. It might be silly to focus on gardening with all the work that needed to be done inside, but it was a priority. Especially now before the weather became too unbearable to spend hours outdoors. It was already late spring and the days were becoming hotter. One of the reasons she’d purchased the property was the large area to the left side between their homes.
Her hands in the dirt always gave her a sense of purpose. She'd only begun gardening a few months before leaving Atlanta and her garden there had thrived. Now she looked forward to it again. A place of beauty to rest and read, spend hours maintaining it and being responsible for beauty and fragrance. It would not only be her solace but also force her to spend time outdoors. Once the garden was finished and flourishing, from both her living room and kitchen windows, she’d be able to look out and enjoy it all year long. The only thing stopping her from sketching a complete diagram was she didn't know exactly where the property line was.
She’d looked at the plat drawings her realtor had given her, but when she walked the area she'd had a hard time figuring it out. Besides, she’d rather not plant trees or shrubbery without at least speaking to the guy next door to make sure he would not have an issue with it.
Standing in the shaded area, Tesha felt the cool breeze that caused the one fern hanging on a hook, to sway between arches. The front porch was pristine, as was the rest of the house. The only thing missing was a nice set of wicker chairs and some additional greenery to make the space inviting.
She studied the shutters that flanked the large front window. They looked to be newly made, but at the same time the cut of the wood and the paint fit the Victorian perfectly. Since no one answered, she took the liberty of inspecting the workmanship on the porch railing. Amazing how well he matched the shape of the new posts to the old. Whoever did the work was definitely an expert woodcrafter. Tesha looked to the door with a frown. If only he’d open it. Along with her first issue of finding out the parameters of her property, now she needed to know who did the woodwork. She’d love to get the same person to do some work at her house.
Just as she pressed her finger onto the doorbell one last time, the door opened and Tesha lost her breath. Her sharp inhale the only sound for a few seconds.
In the doorway stood the most stunning man she’d ever laid eyes on. Never again would she roll her eyes at the mention of the word "breathtaking." His penetrating blue gaze took her in. Didn't just look at her eyes, but dove into them.
He stood about six foot three, but it was not his height alone that made him impressive. It was the massive expanse of his shoulders, the broad muscular chest, thick-corded neck and square jawline. It took a moment to realize they both stood staring at one another without speaking.
He didn’t seem discomfited at her silence, but stood like a statue. If not for the barely noticeable lifting and lowering of his chest she’d think him not real. Long lashed grey blue eyes met hers. They darkened to a deeper blue and his nostrils flared just enough to let her know he was attracted. Tesha flushed under the intense scrutiny, and the raw attraction she felt instantly. The haze in her mind somewhat lifted and she held her right hand out to him. “Hello. I’m Tesha Washington. Your new neighbor.”
The eyes moved slowly from her face down to her chest and finally to her outstretched hand. His much larger hand swallowed hers.
“Adam Ford.” At the touch, her lips parted, but she recovered enough not to gasp again like a Jane Austen character, and shake his hand. When he did not release it, she pulled free of his loose grip.
Once again she remained standing, her brain failing to engage and remember what she’d come over for. Maybe later it would seem odd that she’d not felt any compulsion to escape, to put distance between them like she’d done with every man who looked at her with even remote interest. Since David's death, any man's attention caused her guilt or awkward discomfort. The main reason t
hings didn't work out with Cleve. But not this man. He made her want to move closer to touch him.
A wonderful aroma of oregano, tomato, and garlic tickled her nose and Tesha sniffed the air. “Something smells amazing.”
Adam looked over his shoulder into the house. It was then she noticed a kitchen towel draped across it. “I’m cooking.” His eyes slanted to the floor and then up to her. Surely it was not meant as flirtation, but the sweep of his lashes made her stomach flip. He cooked? His throat moved when he swallowed and cleared it. Each one of the handsome man’s movements sensual, without meaning to be. Tesha could barely drag her eyes from his throat to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing. I can come back another time.”
Once again he remained silent, his face stoic except for what she translated as interest when his gaze roamed from her eyes to her lips. He took an awkward step back. “Please, come in.”
When he turned to walk, her eyes popped wide at his perfectly formed behind. Now that was what she called booty. Her mouth practically watered wondering what it would feel like to have that taut area of his body under her palms. He wore loose sweatpants that hung low on his narrow hips, the worn fabric leaving very little to the imagination. When her mind went there, Tesha secretly thanked God he could not see her reaction to his tush. Ashamed at her thoughts, she rubbed a hand over her cheeks and dragged her eyes away to take in the interior of the house.
And...that was all it was, an interior. Not one stick of furniture in the entryway, the living room also completely empty, the gleaming hardwood floors bare of any rugs. The walls were equally as undecorated without any type of pictures, portraits, or even drapes around the windows. Two round columns separated the living room and what could possibly be a dining area. Hard to tell since, like the other rooms, it was bare of any articles. The columns were carved with an intricate ivy pattern that swirled from the floor to the top. Tesha stopped to admire them. “Beautiful.”
Even Heroes Cry, Fords of Nashville, Book 1 Page 1
