by Cora Davies
Fear ruled Eli's life. Fear of his heart breaking. Fear of Ben popping up and taking away everything he worked so hard for. He needed to tell her about Ben. Eli had resided in this happy little bubble for weeks, pretending like the outside world was not there waiting to rip them apart.
"I need to talk to you about something," Eli said.
"Me first." Claire pulled away. "I need to push pause on this."
"You don't want to be together?" Eli asked.
"That's not it. I just need to figure stuff out." Claire shook her head. "What did you want to talk about?"
"It's not important if you're done with me. If you don't want to be with me," Eli said. He was nauseous and needed to leave.
"It doesn't matter what I want. What matters is giving my children stability," Claire said. "I need to clear my head."
"Is this about Bridget?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know. No. Ugh! I didn't want other people... I need to make sure I can do this."
"What do you mean, can?" Eli squinted. Maybe he had fallen, but Claire stood still, unmoved. "Forget can or should. What do you want?"
"What do you want, Eli?" Claire asked, her voice rising. "Because you act all hot and like you can't get enough of me when we're alone, but the minute anyone is around, I might as well just be one of your buddies. If I'm even that lucky."
"I know what I want." His hands grabbed Claire's hips and backed her against the refrigerator, pressing his body against her. His hand went to her hair, pulling her face close to his, he leaned in, kissing her. He felt the possessiveness in his kiss, the danger. She trembled, and he broke away. "I want you, Claire. I'm falling in love with you."
Claire stared at him with large unblinking eyes.
"Mommy!" Ella yelled.
"You'd better go, okay? I'll see you Thursday."
"See you Thursday." But Eli spoke to thin air; Claire was already gone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Claire stood in the middle of her kitchen in steel-toed boots, ratty old jeans and a threadbare t-shirt. After dropping the kids off at school, Claire came home to a happy realization; she had a full day, free from responsibilities until three o'clock.
She would spend the day finishing the kitchen demo. Eli offered to tear it down for her the weekend before, but they barely left the bedroom for days.
She spent the morning dragging old cabinets outside and dropping them in her driveway. Then she went to work disconnecting the cabinets and countertops still attached. Most of them came down easier than she expected, worn and waterlogged. She would have to call in a professional to look at the water stains on the wall before she hung the new cabinets.
Others were not as easy to remove, but she got to use the sledgehammer. Ripping the kitchen to shreds relieved a surprising amount of stress from her shoulders.
Now, she stood in middle of it all, dust and dirt, splinters and nails, to be swept away.
"See? You don't need a man," Claire said, addressing her reflection in the window. "You can want one, and you can have one, but you can't need one. Got it?"
She pointed the sledgehammer at the window, waiting for an answer. She nodded once. "Good."
She grabbed the broom. "You won't reach the point where you need a man, and he leaves. You won't go back there."
I needed someone, and I was all alone.
The morning had been too overwhelming. Her real life had smashed into her fantasy one. Then, worst of all, he said he was falling for her, and the scary truth hit Claire; she was falling too.
Claire emptied the dustpan into the trash. She did not want to fall; tired not having control; sideswiped with the information that Bridget cheated on Eli with Robert. Bridget was beautiful and had the whole town to pick from, why did she have to pick Eli and Robert?
She leaned the broom against the refrigerator, grabbed the sledgehammer, and walked out to the driveway.
The scraps sat scattered outside, and she set the sledgehammer down, pulling her work gloves out of her pocket. She collected the smaller pieces, tossing them into a pile. She made her way to the larger pieces, smashing them with the sledgehammer until she could toss them on the pile. The kids would enjoy the bonfire that evening. She would invite Rachel over for dinner, too. It had been a few weeks since she had spent any time with her sister.
It felt good to tear it all down, breaking it into a million pieces. Maybe she should work in demolition instead of becoming a preschool teacher.
Claire walked back inside, looking around, impressed with herself. All the countertops - gone. The old, musty kitchen pieces sat in her driveway.
She had accomplished it all by herself.
"I'm bad ass," she said. The stove, sink and refrigerator were the only reminders of the kitchen that had once stood.
She glanced at her bedroom door. A bedroom she only slept in when her children were at Robert's house, because she could not hear them from her room at night. "Who puts a master-bedroom off the kitchen? Seriously..."
Stepping through the swinging door, Claire came to a halt. She had an idea.
She always wanted an open floor plan. Why not make one? She could hear the children from her bed at night if it was not for the wall separating the two halves of the house. The only thing to worry about was electricity, right?
The cabin was built without power; her grandfather and his brother added electricity to the house years later. The lines ran along the outside of the walls, held on by clips and layers of paint. She searched both sides of the wall. No lines. Perfect.
She trotted back to her sledgehammer, and hoisting it over her shoulder. She felt strong as hell. She would add accomplished renovator to her list of titles today.
Claire pried the old picture-frames from the wall, then grabbed sheets from the linen closet, tossing them over furniture.
She flipped on the radio, and classic rock flooded the house as she cranked the volume all the way up. A Motorhead song ended and Led Zeppelin started as she lifted the sledgehammer again.
Hefting with all of her might, she threw the tool into the middle of the wall. Dead center. She created a dent. "I can do better than that."
Slamming against the ancient plaster again, this time the wall shook and split. One more whack and the sledgehammer went straight through. She pulled it back and peered into the hole. The wall was thinner than she realized. It was one of those times, she wondered if she should not just tear the whole house down and start from scratch. "Maybe next year."
Whack!
She pulled a large chunk of wall down.
"Woman, you need me!" belted from the speaker, and Claire snorted.
"I think I got it."
Claire beat the offending wall to smithereens. Soon, the only things left were wooden beams, looking like they had seen better days. Much better days. Claire gathered up the larger pieces of the wall from the floor and carried them through the living room to the front door. The living room a cloud of dust. She smirked. She really did look like Pigpen now.
By the time she finished dragging all the fragments out, she glanced at the clock. She had an hour until she had to get Robbie and Ella from school. Plenty of time to tear out the beams.
She told Robert when they moved in she wanted to make the living area an open space. He said he would have to hire a contractor to remove the wall. If they could. If. But she had taken it out just fine.
She hoisted the sledgehammer again. Only two beams left standing. Last thing would be the door.
Whack!
One post left. She picked up the hammer, slamming it into the wood. She swung again, her body tiring, her muscles not working as hard.
She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes until she had to pick up the kids. She wanted to finish before she left and have something to show them when they got home.
Whack.
Sweet victory flooded through her as the beam fell. "Ha!"
Claire heard a creaking sound, looking up just as the ceiling tumbled on
to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Heading straight to City Hall after leaving Claire's, Eli sat in the parking lot. Adrenaline surging through him, he was unable to concentrate on anything else but the front doors of the building, waiting for Ben.
He sat for almost an hour before he called Jack's brother-in-law, Ken. He could not afford to mess this up; Eli needed to talk to a lawyer, come clean about everything, and find his next step. He had to do right by Claire.
Now, almost three hours since he left Claire's house, Eli drummed his fingers on the waiting room chair's arm. If Ben did not come out soon, Eli would bypass the secretary and push his way into the office. He pushed his flannel sleeves up and crossed his arms.
Tina, Ben's secretary, peered at him from over her computer screen. He plastered a strained smile on his face, and she shifted in her seat, typing.
When the office phone rang Tina quickly lifted it and murmured. "Yes, he's still here. No, he didn't say. Just that he needs to talk to you." She looked at Eli as though she was concentrating, studying his face. "No, I don't think so, but it's hard to tell. Okay."
She replaced the phone and addressed Eli. "Mr. Tomlin will see you now."
Eli nodded, standing and peering down at her. "What's hard to tell?"
She fidgeted with a few pens on her desk. "If you have a weapon."
Eli laughed, then noticed the serious expression on Tina's face. "There're metal detectors at the front door."
Tina ignored him, and Eli shook his head, walking into Ben's office.
Ben sat behind a large wooden desk covered with papers and a closed laptop. He leaned on his desk, his chin resting in his hand. Eli took the seat across from him. Ben leaned back and folded his hands.
"Come to apologize?" Ben asked.
"Why the hell would I apologize?" Eli asked.
"For attacking me, at your place of business. I should have gotten the police involved. But I have such a kind heart."
Eli snorted.
"Right," Ben said. "Why are you here?"
Eli took a deep breath. Ken told him they needed to handle all of this in court, but when it became evident that Eli would not leave until he talked to Ben, Ken told him what to say to Ben while his cell phone recorded the conversation.
If nothing else, he would make sure Ben paid for everything he had done, even if Eli had to pay too. "I want all ties between us severed. I do not want you coming at me one day with a piece of information to bite me in the ass."
"What gives you the impression that I would blackmail you? I'm a businessman, just like you, Eli."
"One. We both know that's not true. Two. You went after Jones. You threatened his family and forced him to contribute to your campaign."
"I do not threaten; I simply complimented him on having a beautiful family. If he took it to mean something else, well..." Ben said. "Not that it's any of your business, but he owed me money. More than he paid, and I was kind enough to forget the rest." Ben sighed. "I'm a nice person, Eli."
Eli folded his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his skin. If he squeezed any harder, he would draw blood. If he relaxed his hands, he would strangle Ben.
What had Ken told him to say? The anger filled him, erasing all of his thoughts. His temper would be the end of him.
Ben leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "Do you think I'd come after you all these years later?"
Eli did not answer. They both knew the answer.
"Eli, I'm running for mayor. If anyone's holding cards here, it's you." Ben drummed his fingers on the desk. "We're both to blame."
They both carried blame, which was true, but for different reasons.
"Why are you coming to me now? The brewery? If I wanted part of your business, I'd have it already."
"I told you before," Eli kept a stone-face, "I only work there."
"You might've tried to bury the paperwork, but you're an amateur." Ben squinted. "No, that's not it, is it? Oh." Ben smiled. "It's the woman. Claire?"
Rage pulled Eli to his feet. Ben raised his hands in surrender, but smiled. Ben had the upper-hand, they both knew it. He always had.
Eli leaned over the desk, his hands fisted, forgetting about the cell phone recording their conversation. "Ben, I swear to God, if you threaten her-"
Ben stood. "You're not afraid I'll hurt her, are you? You're afraid she'll find out what you did."
"It wasn't my fault," Eli said, louder than he meant. Not sure who he needed to convince; he gave up on convincing himself a long time ago.
"If you could push the blame onto anyone, it would be your father. He was the one who dragged your family's business through the mud, not me," Ben said.
"I wasn't even there when-"
"Eli." Ben stood and walked towards office door. He held the doorknob, turning to face Eli. "The most important thing to remember here is, if you ever were to tell anyone... if you thought you wanted to go to the authorities all these years later, simply to clear your conscience... remember who is a respected lawyer in this town, and soon to be the mayor. Remember who you are, a grease monkey who sleeps over a bar."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Claire's eyes shot open as if pulled by a string. She was uncomfortable; her back sore and her shoulders burning. Where was she? A metal bed frame, beeping sounds, an old box television mounted on the wall. She rolled over and the searing pain from her shoulders ran down her back.
Rachel stood in the doorway, chatting with a nurse. A hospital? How? She remembered the kitchen. The wall. The ceiling. Shit. Claire cleared her throat.
"Claire!" Rachel rushed to Claire's bedside, her eyeliner blurred and smudged by her eyes. "Oh, Claire!"
Rachel wrapped her arms around Claire. Pain beat at her shoulders as she twisted to return her sister's hug. "Ouch."
Rachel pulled away. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Where are the kids?" Claire asked, blinking as the nurse shined a light in her eyes.
"At Mom's." Rachel pulled a chair to the side of Claire's bed. "The schools called me when you didn't show up. The nun at the preschool, by the way, is a lot nicer than Ella's principal."
"Thank you," Claire said, her eyes misting, thinking about her children waiting for her.
An older man with gray hair entered the room. "Claire? I'm Doctor Johnson. How're you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess, just sore," Claire said. Doctor Johnson took her wrist, his eyes on the wall-clock. "Did the roof cave in on me?"
"The ceiling." Rachel said. "One of the EMT guys said you took out a load-bearing wall, you idiot."
"What?" She remembered the term load-bearing from a home remodeling show, but somehow she had not thought the term applied to her old home. "They fall down that fast?"
"I don't know. But there was a lot of water damage in the attic. I guess Grandpa wasn’t the amazing architect we thought?" Rachel snorted.
"Ugh, the cabinets." Claire moaned. "They looked weird in the back, like they were water logged. I should have known something was wrong."
"How were you supposed to know?"
"Oh my, God," Claire moaned. "My kids. I let my kids live in a house that was falling apart."
"They're fine," Rachel said. "It's you, ding-dong. You're the one who got hurt. You're lucky you didn't break anything."
"I broke my house!" Claire swallowed back the lump in her throat.
"Okay. So what? You're lucky to be alive."
Doctor Johnson cleared his throat. "I need to ask you a few questions."
Claire sat, patient and only a little annoyed as she answered his questions during his poking and prodding session. When he seemed satisfied, he promised Claire she could be released - after a night of monitoring.
Claire let out a sob as soon as the doctor left, and Rachel wrapped an arm around her.
"Where are we going to live?"
"Doug said you can borrow his hunting trailer until you figure something out." Rachel picked at the frayed edge of Claire's blan
ket.
"Doug? Doug the bait and tackle guy?" Claire asked, confused. "How does he even know about this?"
"Um, because I had to call and tell him I wouldn't be able to go out tonight?" Rachel's voice grew higher with each word.
"You're going out with bait shop Doug?"
"We're just friends. But, we've been hanging out." Rachel's cheeks turned pink. "And don't call him bait shop Doug; it makes him sound like a worm, and he isn't. He's crazy hot."
"Yeah, he is." Claire laughed, glad for the distraction. "But even if you guys are dating, I can't just... borrow his trailer. I'll stay with mom or something."
"Ew," Rachel said, screwing up her face. "You can stay at my place."
"Thanks, but me, you and the kids? It would be super cramped; you'd lose your mind." Claire shifted, pain coursing through her shoulders again. "Ow."
"Yeah, you are messed up." Rachel tugged on a strand of Claire's hair. "What were you thinking?"
"Ugh, I was thinking I wanted a kitchen," Claire said. "Then Whole Lotta Love came on the radio."
"Oh, no. That Led Zeppelin song? Woman, you need me," Rachel sang. Claire laughed. "Yeah, I do stupid shit when I hear that line, but more like, take too many shots stupid. Not tear down my house stupid."
"Ow. Ow. Don't make me laugh!" Claire wiped a tear from her cheek.
Rachel stayed an hour before she left to let Claire rest. Claire needed sleep, but no matter how long she lay with her eyes closed, sleep did not come. Her mind ran at full speed; too busy and too worried.
What would they do for a home? She would not borrow Doug's trailer, but they could not stay in their house with part of the attic in the living room. The only real solution would be to stay at her mother's house.
Claire's relationship with her mother was strained. Her mother had always felt more like a cranky older sister than a mother during her childhood, and when Rachel was born, Claire might as well have become a six-year-old mother. The girls stayed home by themselves by time Claire was eight, Rachel two. And when Claire got married and left for the Air Force at twenty-one, she felt guilty leaving her fifteen-year-old sister alone. But Robert convinced her it was the best thing for everyone. Her mother would have to grow up and accept responsibility. But she never did.
