A House Divided

by Sydell Voeller

  “Fine then. I’ll let both the folks at the Freemont Properties and the Chamber of Commerce know.”

  Silently, she studied his face, feature by handsome feature, and fought against fresh awareness of him. No! Don’t lose your head at a crucial time such as this! Besides, you’re still in love with August . . . no one else will ever take his place . . .

  He stood to leave.

  “Oh, please! Don’t go! I’m not done yet. I still have a question.”

  He sat down again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to appear rude.” He paused. “So what is it?”

  “Will you allow us . . . my daughter and me . . . to get a dog? I’m sure a dog will help her adjust to her new surroundings better, and I’m prepared to pay you whatever pet deposit you might want to charge.”

  He stared down at a spot on the hardwood floors for a long moment before answering. “None of my former tenants owned pets, but then, I can always make an exception, I suppose. I have a dog, too—his name’s Bandit—so I understand what good friends dogs can be.”

  “So that means yes?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled in a sudden smile. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Thank you!” She wanted to throw her arms around him in a big hug.

  “Any particular breed in mind?”

  “No, not really. Something small, I think. A dog that’s gentle, good with kids, but at the same time, a dependable watch dog.”

  “I’ll write it into the rental agreement,” he said with a nod. “And no, I won’t charge you a pet deposit. You seem very responsible, and besides, you won’t be here that long anyway.”

  His last comment made her cringe, but she managed to continue smiling confidently at him.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She drew in a breath. “I’d like to buy this house from you.”

  “You what?” His jaw dropped. His gaze registered shock.

  Evenly she repeated what she’d just said, then added. “I’m prepared to make you an offer. One hundred thousand dollars down—that is, after I get a few details ironed out first.”

  “Uh . . . I don’t think you understand, Rebecca. I’ve plans here.”

  “Oh? You mean, then, there’s no chance I can change your mind?”

  He shook his head. “That’s right.”

  She swallowed back her disappointment. “I see.” But she didn’t. She didn’t see at all, and right now she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “Answer a question for me,” he said, leaning forward as he steepled his hands together. “That is, if it’s not too personal.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll tell you if it is.”

  “You just mentioned you have a first-hand interest in this house. You even know the name of the production company that filmed here, which is one up on me, since I didn’t even live here back then.” He paused, holding her gaze steadily. “Do you mind my asking what puts you on the inside track?”

  “I had a very minor part in the movie.” She told him about working at the Chamber of Commerce that first year after high school and how the role had practically dropped out of the sky into her lap. “So it was more a matter of being at the right place at the right time,” she continued. “A few months later after the filming was finished, I moved to L.A., leaving my parents and sister—my only sibling—behind. Missey never left town. She still lives here with her husband, Ross, and their daughter, Jodie. Our parents were killed in a car accident not long after I moved away.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She pursed her lips. “Thanks. It was a difficult time for me, knowing they were gone and I was so far away from home.” After an awkward pause, she told him more about Winter Rose—the last-minute rehearsals, the cast parties, and the folks from the community who’d stopped to gawk during the actual shoot. Townies, the crew had called them, she’d added with a quick laugh, pointing out that she was actually a townie herself. Still, she said nothing about her marriage to August Lorenzo. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Mark was right—some things were much too personal—and better left unsaid.

  His face remained impassive.

  “That was the best year of my life, practically a dream come true,” she continued. “And now that my little girl and I are back in Freemont—for good, I hope—it’s important for me to live in this house. Not as a tenant. The owner.”

  “I still don’t get it.” He shrugged. “I mean, I can understand how special the filming must have been to you. But that was a long time ago . . . and . . . well, a house is just a house, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Maybe it is for you, but not for me.” If only I could tell you. If only you could understand how living here, owning this place, would fill this terrible aching void, make me feel so much closer again to August. She squeezed her hands together for a brief moment. “Believe me, I have a good reason for wanting to buy the house, a personal reason. Then, too, there’s a sequel in the works.”

  “Oh?”

  “Uh-huh. Winter Rose 2 has been planned for some time now, and Galaxy Productions hired me to secure the property for the location shoot. The company is also prepared to pay you five thousand dollars—they estimate the project will take about two weeks, much less time than the original shoot.”

  He studied her face with an intensity that both frightened and fascinated her, but he didn’t answer. At last he said, “Well. That certainly sheds an interesting light on things.”

  “Yes. Filming the sequel here would be a plus for our local economy. I’m sure you realize, too, that this town is practically dying on the vine—” She stopped mid-sentence as the movers trudged by, carting Wendy’s bed. “In the bedroom with the window seat,” she told them, “against the opposite wall.” She looked back at Mark and apologized for the distraction.

  “So when do they plan to start?” he asked. “As I said, while I can’t sell you the house, I still might be able to work with you.”

  She tamped down her growing disappointment. “In January, at the height of the stormy season. The movie will be based on another Gothic theme, of course.”

  “I’m afraid that time frame won’t work for me. While I’d like very much to help you, I can’t. Not unless it would be possible to bump up the date to sometime in July or August.”

  “Galaxy Productions will be involved in another project in Montana starting next month, one that centers on a ranch setting. Besides, there just wouldn’t be enough stormy weather to count on in summer.”

  “Looks like our timing just doesn’t jibe then.”

  “Guess not.” She pasted on a smile she wasn’t feeling inside. “So you’re planning to move in here yourself, maybe, after my three months are up?”

  “No.” He stared down at the back of his hand for a long moment. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my plans in any detail yet, but I’m hoping they’ll shape up soon. A lot depends on a grant I’ve written and the money I hope to receive from Free Will Ministries.”

  “Oh! A big project in the works then.”

  “A project I believe God is calling me to finish.”

  Her back stiffened. Obviously the man must be a religious do-gooder—and a handsome one to boot! Well, as for herself, she’d given up on God nearly one full year ago. Where had God been when her precious August had been gunned down? And where was He when she’d sat next to August’s hospital bed that long night through, watching and praying . . . only to have him die anyway? Rebecca rose to her feet. “Well, I guess for now, there’s nothing more to talk about. Good night, Mark.” She blinked rapidly in an effort to hold back the tears.

  “‘Night, Rebecca.” He stood, too. “Get back to me when you’re ready to start the tours, okay?”

  “I will.”

  He reached in his hip pocket and handed her a business card. “My home and cell phone numbers are both right there,” he said, apparently still unfazed by her sudden dismissal.

  As she reached out to take it, her hand brushed against his. Again, a disturbing sensation
spiraled through her. With considerable effort, she pushed it aside, then led the way to the front door. They exchanged another terse good night and he left.

  Listening to his fading footsteps as he retreated down the stairs, Rebecca slumped against the door and swiped back the tears she could no longer suppress.

  So much for her first day back in Freemont.

  * * *

  So his new tenant had been involved in the filming of Winter Rose, Mark thought as he drove through the dark streets. And now she was back in town again and she wanted to buy the house, of all things. Why was that so earth-shatteringly important to her? Was it merely because of the movie sequel and her concerns for the town’s economy—or could there be more? Somehow he sensed there was.

  Maybe Rebecca Lorenzo was overly sentimental, he decided, as he fought against the temptation to compare her to his ex-fiancée, Marcella, who always fell apart at the slightest provocation. Yes, Marcella had been an enigma. But it was even more baffling, he thought with growing chagrin, how he, a psychiatrist, had failed to know how to understand her. And the truth was, their break-up was mostly his fault. There had been too many long hours at the hospital and office, too many weekends on-call, too much burnout. No doubt about it, he would have made a sorry excuse for a husband. Good thing he’d come to his senses and called off their engagement before he ruined both their lives.

  A deep ache settled into his gut as his thoughts swung back to Rebecca. Now that he’d had the chance to talk with his new tenant face to face, his first impressions about her were quickly proving true. There was no mistaking the haunted look in her lovely close-set green eyes, the tensing of her graceful jaw line, the small frown lines between her delicately arched brows.

  Raising a child alone was undoubtedly stressful. He’d heard that repeatedly from many of his patients during his counseling sessions. Deep inside, he was thankful he’d never had to experience that on a personal level. And for Rebecca, moving back to town under what appeared unusual circumstances had to have been doubly tough. Maybe that’s why he’d been willing to take a chance on her and allowed her to move in, despite the fact she’d indicated she didn’t have a job.

  He rounded the next bend and gripped the steering wheel a little harder, still deep in thought. Maybe he should just go ahead and sell her the house, then look for another one. But no. He was already too far into the process with the county to change things now. Property that fitted all the right parameters was scarce here in Freemont, and there were no other options. When he’d purchased the old Glasgow place from the previous owner, he’d gotten it for a steal. Trying to find another home would just be too impractical. Besides, he was already faced with more than enough time constraints.

  Two miles later, he turned into the driveway for the Meriweather Estates and followed the driveway past clusters of two-storied buildings. His condo, a rustic building with a high-pitched cedar shake roof and dark cedar siding, stood at the very end. He cut the engine, and for an immeasurable time, sat there staring off into the shadowy hedge that bordered the parking area.

  A white cat scampered across the lot. From off in the distance, a car door slammed shut. Rubbing his hand over his chin, he sighed again, then opened the car door. It was time to hit the rack and get some sleep. That is, if he could sleep.

  * * *

  “Mama! Mama!” The sound of Wendy’s cries awoke Rebecca. “Mama! Hurry!”

  Throwing on her bathrobe, padding barefoot across the chilly floor, Rebecca raced across the hallway and into her daughter’s room. “Wendy! What is it?”

  She was sitting up in her bed, sobbing. “Oh . . . Mama . . . ! I . . . I had another one . . . of those . . . those awful dreams . . . those nightmares again . . .”

  Rebecca scooped her daughter into her arms. “Sweetie, I’m here. Everything’s okay.” She brushed back a moist strand of hair from her daughter’s tear-streaked forehead. “It was all just a bad dream and you’re awake now, and there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

  Wendy rested her head on Rebecca’s shoulder, still crying softly. “I dreamed about Papa. I . . . I . . . I dreamed he was still . . . still with us. But there was this crazy woman breaking into our house. And she was coming up the stairs . . . And she told me she was going to—” She convulsed into more sobs, unable to finish.

  “Shhh. It’s all right now.” Rebecca squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, biting back her own tears. “You’re not alone, sweetie. I’m here with my arms wrapped around you and you’re safe. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.”

  “But Pa . . . papa’s not here. I . . . I want my papa.”

  “I know that.” Oh, how I want him, too! If you only knew how much, my darling daughter. Rebecca swallowed against the knot expanding in her throat. “Papa . . . well, Papa’s safe now too; he’s safe with God in heaven.” More than life itself, she yearned to believe the very words she’d just uttered, yet disbelief swamped her. Still, it was the right thing to say to try to reassure her little daughter. Even if she herself could no longer trust in God, she mustn’t let Wendy realize that. The child needed all the encouragement Rebecca could possibly muster up.

  “Mama?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Are you gonna like living here?”

  “I love it already.” She paused, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering . . .”

  “And how about you? How do you feel about living here?”

  “I like it just fine, Mama. But . . . but I’m sort of scared to start a brand new school. And I still miss Papa so much.”

  “I know you do. But tomorrow afternoon we’ll get together with Auntie Missey and Jodie. I promise. That’s what her phone call was all about. And I think you probably heard her say that your cousin is really excited to see you again.”

  Fisting away the last of her tears, Wendy nodded and bit on her lower lip. “Uh-huh. I heard. Jodie and I are gonna be best friends now, too, aren’t we Mama?”

  “You got it, sweetie. The very best. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Your Aunt Missey also told me something special a couple of weeks ago when I called her about our plans to move here. She told me there’s only one third grade class in your school.”

  “How come? It wasn’t that way in my old school.”

  “That’s true, but things are different here than in L.A. A lot different. Many of the parents have had to move to other places to find jobs, and the number of kids in your new school is getting smaller. Anyway, that means since you and Jodie are both eight, you’ll be in the same classroom and have the same teacher. I’m sure that’ll be such fun for both of you!”

  “But what about Papa?”

  “What do you mean?” Rebecca sighed. Back to square one. Apparently when it came to her father, Wendy was inconsolable.

  “How can you say we’ll have fun when Papa’s not here anymore?”

  “I miss him, too. More than you can imagine. But living here in the house where your papa and I were married makes me feel so much closer to him, and I . . . I hope in some kind of crazy way, that might make you feel better, also.”

  Wendy pulled away, straightening. “Sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”

  Rebecca blinked rapidly, staving off tears. “Oh, Wendy. You don’t make me feel sad. It’s just the opposite. You’re the sunshine of my life, sweetie. I’ll always be happy as long as I have you.”

  Wendy threw her small arms around Rebecca’s neck, and Rebecca hugged her back, harder now. A long silence followed.

  “Where are we gonna go when we have to leave this house?” Wendy finally broke the stillness.

  “Uh . . . I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

  “I heard that man back at the real estate office say we can only live here three months. That’s not very long, huh, Mama?”

  “You’re right. But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. I’m sure there are plenty of very nice ho
uses all around town.” And meanwhile, Rebecca promised herself, she would not give up. Maybe, somehow, some way there was still a chance she could convince Mark to sell the place to her, immovable as he’d seemed about holding on to it.

  “So I can still go to the same school no matter where we live?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Like an icy cold wave, guilt flooded over Rebecca. Was it fair to put her daughter through still more changes? And dare she even mention the possibility of getting a dog? Should she tell Wendy that she’d asked Mark about it? No, her better judgment told her. It would be prudent to wait until they were more settled, just as she’d explained to Mark.

  “So even when we have to move somewhere else, Jodie will still be my cousin and my best friend?” Wendy’s voice cut through Rebecca’s musing.

  “I promise.” She kissed Wendy’s flushed cheek.

  “Thanks, Mama.”

  Rebecca swallowed hard. “Let’s just take one day at a time, okay? Everything will work out fine. Trust me.”

  As she drew the blankets back up around her daughter’s neck, she kissed her again and tiptoed out the door.

  Now if I could only believe my own reassurances.

  * * *

  Dearest Rebecca,

  How are my two favorite girls tonight? I think of both of you constantly and count the minutes until we can all be back together again. I know we just talked on the phone a few minutes ago, but I felt compelled to write again as well. I miss you terribly! I feel only half a man whenever we’re apart. As you know, my darling, I love the work I’m doing, but the reality is, I’ll never love having to be away from you . . .

  I’ll never love having to be away from you.

  Rebecca reread the last sentence and blinked back the tears. Oh, August, she thought. Back then, we didn’t even have an inkling, did we, dearest?

  It was late, past midnight, and sleep had eluded her. Somehow, amidst the boxes and crates and menagerie of clutter, she’d managed to locate the greeting-paper-wrapped shoebox that contained August’s old love letters. He’d written to her faithfully almost daily whenever he’d been away on a film shoot and she and Wendy had had to remain behind. Their daughter’s welfare had come first, of course, and she and August had agreed that above all else, Wendy should stay in school and contact with her friends and classmates. Although private tutors had always been an option, they’d thought best she lead as “normal” a life as possible.