Restorations
by
Bonnie Blythe
© 2010 Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
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Cover by Magyar Design
Photo © Elena Elisseeva
Chapter One
Sara Andersen swiped at her wet cheek with the back of her hand, wishing for a hanky. A quick search of the glove box yielded an ice scraper and other useless odds and ends. In her own car, she could’ve counted on one of the many fast food bags to contain at least a napkin or two. Sara gripped the steering wheel and sniffed.
She sat at one of the two traffic lights in the tiny downtown section of Buell Creek, Oregon, mildly surprised at the amount of cars on the road. Sara remembered the town as a sleepy hamlet nestled in the Cascade Mountains. Lately, it had become a Mecca for rock climbing enthusiasts. The subsequent tourism, along with steady population growth to the Pacific Northwest, helped bring much needed revitalization to the area.
The new storefronts and renovated buildings, however, didn’t interest her at the moment. The loss of her grandfather, Eli Andersen, lay heavy upon her heart, along with the guilt in knowing she hadn’t visited him often enough in the last year. Somehow, Sara assumed he’d always be there, praying for her and encouraging her in her dreams.
Sara sniffed as a tear dripped down the side of her nose. The light turned green. She went through the motions of driving her aunt’s old Toyota Corolla. Shove it in gear, let off the clutch, step on the gas, and drive a few yards to the second stop light.
Through the blur of moisture, Sara glanced out the left window. She caught sight of a blue pickup passing by on the opposite side. Something about the driver riveted her attention. She craned her neck to get a better look.
Her heart did a somersault. It couldn’t be...
Blaring horns startled her back to the traffic. Sara slammed on the brakes. She let out a gasp, realizing she went straight through the second light.
A red one.
Cars on either side squealed to a stop, missing her by inches. Sara intercepted several angry glares as she inched across the intersection. Giving an apologetic wave, she punched the gas and scooted out of town like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Leaving the downtown area behind, Sara thought of what flustered her enough to run a red light. Or whom. The split-second glimpse of the blue pickup driver reminded her of someone from her not too distant past. She compressed her lips as the memories flooded to the fore.
Brian Farris— beast, womanizer, wolf in sheep’s clothing.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He acted more like a wolf that never bothered with sheep’s clothing. That’s what made him so dangerous— dangerous to a stupid girl who should’ve known better.
The traffic infraction reminded Sara of how close she’d come to running a moral red light with Brian. For every insult leaping to mind, her responsibility for her own downfall pained her deeply. She gripped the steering wheel, pretending it was Brian’s throat.
Thank goodness he’d never be caught dead in a town like Buell Creek. Brian preferred the fast life of southern California. Fast waves, cars, and women. The only fast thing here was the corn growing in the fields. Sara gave a delicate shudder, not daring to believe she saw Brian Farris in the flesh.
A few minutes later, she pulled into a dusty driveway and came to a stop near her aunt Hattie’s single-wide mobile home. Emerging from the car, she entered the trailer through the screen door and set the grocery bag on the Formica-topped dining room table. Sniffing the yeasty aroma of rising bread, her gaze roamed the familiar space.
Green shag carpet, a faux leather couch, hanging macramé plant baskets, and beaded lampshades adorned the living room. The kitchen boasted dark walnut cabinets, avocado appliances, and orange counter tops. Crocheted hot pads and a green ceramic frog sat near the stainless steel sink. Although the decor was hopelessly out of date, the familiarity gave Sara a real sense of comfort. She peeked out the back door.
“I’m back!”
Sara watched Hattie Andersen brush her hands on the apron worn over polyester pants, and wipe the soles of her Keds on the mat. As she came through the door, Sara experienced a rush of affection for her aunt. She understood why people mistook Hattie for her mother. A late and unexpected addition to the Andersen family, Hattie was technically a great-aunt, though only in her early fifties. She wore her dark hair neatly swept up in a beehive and her blue eyes sparkled with warmth. Sara appreciated her even more after the loss of her grandfather.
“Were you able to find the cookies I wanted?” Hattie asked, giving her usual welcoming smile.
Sara rummaged in the paper sack and held up a box of imported English tea biscuits. “Last one on the shelf.”
“I made iced tea and now we’ll have a nice after-dinner snack before I go into work tonight.”
Sara arranged cookies on a pretty CorningWare plate, while Hattie pulled flower-print glasses out of the cupboard. Settling at the table and reaching for a cookie, Sara listened with half an ear while her aunt prattled about the lush growth of her vegetable garden and her plan to take fresh vegetables to some of the patients on her rounds. Sara smiled absently. Her aunt, who worked as a home health nurse besides working three night shifts a week at the community hospital, undoubtedly blessed everyone she came in contact with.
Sara’s thoughts returned to the driver of the truck who nearly caused her accident.
“Hattie, something odd happened on the way here.”
“Oh? Tell me about it, dear.”
Sara felt heat creep into her face and lowered her eyes before her aunt’s keen gaze. “On the way home from the grocery store, I saw a man who looked a lot like Brian Farris.”
The glass slipped from Hattie’s hand, hit the tabletop, and tipped, spilling an ocean of iced-tea. They jumped up to avoid getting doused. Sara grabbed a nearby towel to mop up the mess.
“So silly of me!” Hattie said on her way to the kitchen. She returned to the table after rinsing out the glass.
Sara dabbed at a wet spot on her jeans, feeling rather rattled by the sudden turn of events.
“Do try a biscuit, dear. They complement this tea quite nicely,” Hattie said, waving her toward the chair.
When seated, Sara took an obligatory bite of her cookie and returned to the matter uppermost in her mind. “Um, like I was saying, I thought I saw Brian Farris. But I can’t imagine he’d come to a small farm town like this.”
Hattie gave a little cough. “I suppose one never really knows.”
“He’d have no reason to be here. There are no beach bunnies in Buell Creek.” Sara grimaced at the memories, feeling the old resentment take hold. The intensity of her emotions surprised her. It had been two years. Shouldn’t she be past this by now? Sara glanced at her aunt, and seeing the twin spots of color on her softly lined cheeks, shook her head to clear it.
“Enough of that.” Sara noticed Hattie often appeared uncomfortable when talking about romantic issues. She remembered hearing tidbits over the years of a failed relationship, apparently responsible for Hattie’s ongoing unmarried state. Whenever she asked her aunt directly about it, she acted skittish and changed the subject.
Sara decided to take the same course of action. Leaning forward, she took her aunt’s hand and broached the other subject burning in her mind. “I would really like to see the house now.”
“I know you would, dear.” Hattie sighed and looked away. “But you’ve been so sad lately, and I don’t want you to do too much too soon. Going to your Grandpa’s house might be more than you can bear right now.”
“I think I’m ready. It’s been a week since he passed away and my comfort is knowing he’s with the Lord.” Sara blinked away fresh moisture in her eyes. “I only have happy memories of being there, and I think it would be good to go.”
Hattie’s smile seemed strained. “But there’s a tenant in that little cottage at the back of the property. It might be awkward to go while someone’s there.”
Sara frowned. “Why hasn’t he or she moved out yet? Haven’t they heard what happened?”
“Remember when I told you your grandfather had given his permission for, um, the tenant, to stay as long as he wanted?”
“But Grandpa left the house to me in his will. Since it’s now my property now, I have the right to ask this tenant to move.”
“Eli was very fond of this man and housing is scarce in Buell Creek,” Hattie said, crumbling a cookie into a small pile on the table. “Maybe you should wait a few more weeks before going over there. You’re still quite emotional, and I feel you need more time before facing any additional upset.”
Sara stood. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a few weeks. I have to get back to my job. Besides, how upsetting can it be to politely ask someone to find new lodgings? They’re probably expecting my visit!”
“I doubt that.”
Sara looked sharply at her aunt, wondering what the muttered words meant. Before Hattie talked her out of going again, she picked up her purse.
“Thanks for the snack, but I really do need to do this today. I’ve waited long enough.” Sara bent down and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You baby me too much, you know. I’m nearly twenty-five and old enough to handle this.”
Hattie stared at her for a long moment. She jumped up from her chair.
“I’m going with you.”
***
Sara noticed her aunt fidgeting in the passenger seat during the drive to her grandfather’s house. She shrugged inwardly, her mind drifting back to Brian. Seeing someone who reminded her so strongly of him knocked her for a loop.
Sara thought back to the time when they were in college together. She remembered the butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her with his lazy smile and sea green eyes, the way the wind ruffled his dark blond hair the first time he asked her out. And the way her principles about dating a non-Christian evaporated when she breathed a ‘yes’.
Sara had been flattered by his attention, bowled over, and utterly stupid. Sure, he said he went to church. But even after he exhibited characteristics to the contrary, she found it unbearable to be apart from him.
Sara thought she loved him. Now she doubted she knew the meaning of the word. Her feelings for Brian manifested itself like an illness. She’d thought about him constantly and wasn’t content unless they were touching. Looking back, she wondered if she’d been more obsessed than in love.
She managed to recover; though at the time, she doubted the possibility. And she’d been far more careful these last two years. Sara had no intention of repeating such a painful episode. As the old farmhouse appeared around the bend in the road, Sara closed her mind to memories of her failed love life.
She turned the car into the gravel driveway and parked in front of the house. She emerged and shaded her eyes from the rapidly setting sun. Squinting up at the dilapidated structure, she fought down a feeling of dismay. It appeared more run-down than she remembered, although it probably always was rough around the edges. Now, she looked at it with a skeptical eye and thought more about liabilities than memories.
The house had a gambrel shaped roofline, giving it a barn-like appearance, made more so by its behemoth size against the backdrop of fir and pine trees. Sara saw bare patches along the roof, evidence of missing shingles. A section of gutter hung down at a crazy angle. The slanted sunlight revealed cracked panes in the mullioned windows, and the front porch appeared to be subsiding into the front yard. Chipped paint exposed bare wood in patches on the siding, adding to the overall air of neglect.
Was it always like this?
Sara glanced at Hattie, and saw her emerging from the car. Tucking her aunt’s odd nervousness into the back of her mind, Sara walked up the drive toward the cottage situated several yards behind the main house. Both buildings shared the driveway. She saw a vehicle parked next to the tiny structure.
“Hey, the tenant is here. I’m going to introduce myself,” she said, turning to make sure her aunt heard her. She saw Hattie clasp her hands together as if in prayer. Shrugging, Sara headed for the cottage.
The structure appeared to be in immaculate condition. The roof looked new, the paint, fresh and the windows sparkled in the early evening sun. She was relieved the tenant obviously didn’t plan to trash the place.
Reaching the door, Sara took a deep breath before raising her hand to knock. She didn’t come to have a confrontation. She planned to simply introduce herself as the first step in a friendly eviction process. Baring her teeth in an attempt at a social smile, Sara knocked on the door.
A bird wheeled overhead. Somewhere, a dog barked. Sara’s smile faltered. A quick look at the blue truck in the driveway verified someone was here. She did a double take. Why did that truck seem so familiar? Suddenly, Sara heard sounds from inside the cottage. Her gaze swiveled back to the door.
Resisting the urge to peer in the windows, she squared her shoulders and waited with a feeling of expectation. Somebody groaned loudly, and she heard several bumps and thumps. And then the door swung open.
Sara stared at the figure in the doorway. Brian Farris stared right back.
Chapter Two
Sara clenched her fists into tight little balls, going hot and cold by turns. She opened her mouth to speak, but before a sound came out, Brian lurched toward her and grabbed her arms. She tried to fight back, but he apparently leaned on her for support. Then his knees buckled. Sara lost her balance under his weight. They ended up in an undignified heap in the middle of the driveway.
Too stunned to move, Sara remained motionless as Brian staggered to his feet. He held out a hand to her. She slapped it away and scrambled upright, glaring at him in mounting fury. Brian bent over and put his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths. He glanced up and grinned.
“Sorry about that. I was a little dizzy.”
Before Sara could respond, Hattie rushed up behind her.
“Oh, poor Mr. Farris! How could you, Sara?”
Panting from shock and exertion, with a painful throbbing on her backside from where she fell, Sara resisted the urge to scream. “Good grief, Hattie, I didn’t say a word. He said he was...dizzy!” She raked her gaze over Brian, unable to believe her eyes. “Was that you I saw in town earlier?”
He nodded, and for the first time, Sara noticed his haggard appearance. Distinct shadows circled his eyes and his hair spiked all over his head. Several days beard growth dusted his chin. He was either a rock star wannabe or just plain ill.
“I was at the drug store getting some medicine.”
Hattie put her hand on Brian’s arm. “You don’t look so good. You need to get into bed.”
Hattie led him back into the cottage. Sara watched them go. Brian. Here in Buell Creek. Could it be possible? Her heart wrenched at the sight of him. She swallowed, struggling to rein in her confused emotions. After a moment, she took a tentative step into the cottage to find out what ailed him.
Hattie met her in the kitchen. “Sara, go get my medical bag from the car, please. Mr. Farris is not well.”
Sara hurried to the Corolla, too dazed to do anything other than obey, and grabbed the bag. Back inside the cottage, she tripped over a chair leg in her haste and shoved the bag to Hattie. Releasing an unsteady breath, she willed herself to calm down and followed her aunt into the bedroom. Brian lay stretched out on top of the blankets.
She watched her aunt smile and begin to ply him with all manner of health-related questions. Sara only half heard his replies, wondering why her aunt seemed unsurprised at his appearance in her grandfather’s cottage.
Hattie rummaged through her medical bag, bringing out her stethoscope and a thermometer. She spent several minutes taking his temperature and listening to his lungs. If Brian was aware of Sara’s presence, he gave no indication of it.
Hattie pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “Well, young man, your lungs are clear and your heartbeat is strong although you do have a high fever. The flu’s been going around like wildfire and you look to be the latest victim.” She packed her things away. “But the fact that you almost fainted concerns me.”
“Just a bit lightheaded,” Brian corrected sleepily. “I stood up too fast to answer the door, that’s all.”
Hattie smiled. “You need to eat some simple foods to keep up your strength, and you must drink lots of fluids. You’re somewhat dehydrated, and I’m wondering if you’d be better off in the hospital.”
Brian struggled to sit up, sputtering in protest.
She held up a hand. “If you can promise me you’ll drink lots of water and juice over the next several hours, I might feel more comfortable about leaving you here.”
“I promise,” he said solemnly.
Sara, still inwardly fuming, caught a significant look from her aunt.
“Dear, can I speak to you outside for a moment?”
Sara avoided eye contact with Brian and followed Hattie outside, closing the door firmly behind her. She stomped to a stop in front of her aunt.
“Out with it, Hattie!”
“Well, I—”
“You knew all along who was living here, and that’s why you tried to keep me away! Not to mention the fact that you also seem to be on awfully good terms with Brian Farris. Hattie, how could you?”
“We’re just acquaintances, really.”
“Answer the question!”
Hattie shifted from foot to foot. “I, um, knew how much it would upset you, and while you’re still dealing with the death of your grandfather, I felt I should wait to tell you.”
Sara regarded her aunt steadily while rubbing the sore spot on her posterior.
“Do you blame me?” Hattie continued. “If poor Mr. Farris was well, you would’ve certainly given him a piece of your mind. When he went down like that I thought...”
Sara gave her aunt a lowering look. “I have yet to fell a man with my words, Hattie. But you still haven’t answered me as to why that person is here!”
“Were you injured, dear?”
Sara yanked her hand back around and shoved it into the front pocket of her dress. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
“I need to ask you something,” Hattie said, blatantly ignoring her request. “I would feel better if Mr. Farris had someone to keep an eye on him this evening, and you know I need to go in tonight to work.” She glanced at her watch, “It’s nearly time for me to leave. Do me a favor and sit with Brian for the night.”
Sara shook her head baffled shock. What was Hattie thinking? Her first impulse told her to refuse outright. But a part of her, a very small part, worried about Brian’s health. She also had to admit to a morbid desire to speak to him. She’d mentally rehearsed telling him off so many times, she knew the speech by heart.
Hattie’s voice pulled Sara back to the present. “I wouldn’t ask this of you unless I was really concerned, and I assure you, he’s quite ill. If he takes a turn for the worse, someone should be there to make sure he gets prompt medical attention.”
The pleading expression on her aunt’s face swayed her. That speech burned on her lips. Sara frowned, wishing she’d heeded her aunt’s advice and stayed away from the farmhouse. But now, maybe she could give Brian Farris a piece of her mind. “Okay, I’ll stay,” she said, unable to keep her displeasure from her voice.
“I know it’s asking an awful lot, what with your history with him and all.”
Sara stifled a hysterical laugh. Her aunt didn’t know the half of it. “I’ll manage.”
Hattie checked her watch again. “I’ll run to the store and pick up a few things for
Mr. Farris and be back in a trice.”
Sara slowly released a pent-up breath after Hattie bustled to the car and drove away. A doozey of a headache formed at the base of her skull, whether from the jarring fall or her predicament, she wasn’t sure. Before her thoughts and feelings became more complicated, she decided to concentrate on how to care for the patient. Patient was a good word. Keep it impersonal.
Back inside Brian’s bedroom, Sara relaxed incrementally when she found him asleep. Heart pounding hard, she leaned over his form to make sure he was breathing. Then she went into the tiny bathroom and located a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. Shaking out a few pills into her hand and filling a glass with water, she went back to the side of his bed.
Sara looked down at him and tried to sort out her thoughts. Her angst drained away at the sight of his vulnerable state. With a trembling hand, she brushed back his sweat-soaked hair, noting the dark flush on his cheeks. His skin burned against her fingers.
A suffocating feeling of discontent washed over her. The last two years seemed to melt away and all the old attraction mixed with anguish came rushing back. Oh, Brian, what are you doing here?
Chastising herself for such mawkish thoughts, she briskly shook his shoulder until his eyes cracked open. “Sit up, Brian. You need to take some medicine and drink water.”
Miraculously, he obeyed, easing onto one elbow to take the glass of water. After swallowing the pills, he lay heavily back against the pillows. Sara flinched when a spasm of coughing gripped him. She reached out and awkwardly patted him on the back.
Without warning, Brian grabbed her wrist in a hot grip.
“Are you here to bathe the fevered brow, Sara?”
She froze, surprised at his strength. The moment he relaxed his fingers, Sara snatched her hand away. Rubbing her wrist, she decided to wait until he was better before giving him a piece of her mind. Until then, she’d show him unmerited mercy.
Keeping her gaze lowered, Sara tried to think of what to do next. His words gave her an idea. She went back into the bathroom and found clean washcloths. After soaking one in cool water and wringing it out, she sat down by his side and attempted to lay it on his forehead. The washcloth slipped from her nerveless fingers and landed in his face. Mumbling a mortified apology, she plucked it off and carefully placed it correctly on his head.
Sara felt her face flaming as she chanced a look full at Brian. He was awake. His eyes glittered feverishly in the low light of the room, but he appeared to be otherwise cognizant.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
Brian watched her with an unblinking stare. “I live here.”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse!”
“I’m sick, remember?” He yawned. “But now my worries are over.”
Sara narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“I prayed for help and now you’re here.”
A stinging remark rose to her lips. She stifled it despite the fact that Brian and prayer did not belong in the same sentence. “Well, since I’m here, I’ll do what I can to help you recover.”
Brian smiled drowsily. “So you do still care for me.”
Ouch. Sara decided that the jabbing pain in her chest must be due to a touch of indigestion. She firmed her lips. “Actually, the sooner you improve, the sooner you move out.”
Another spasm of coughing took hold of him, but this time she hardened her resolve against him.
He heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes. Sara watched him warily, sure any moment he’d open his eyes and make a teasing comment. But he remained still, apparently asleep from exhaustion.
When sure he rested peacefully, Sara stood up and paced around the room. Now that the shock had worn off, she questioned how she landed in this mess. She wrapped her arms around her waist, wondering what could possibly be taking Hattie so long. Sara jumped at the sound of a creak before realizing it came from the wood floor she walked on. She cast her gaze toward the bed. Even in repose, Brian’s personality seemed to reach out to her, seeking a weakness to exploit.
Or was it just her imagination? He was only a man after all, and right now, weak as a kitten. What could Brian Farris do to her? Nothing, she determined grimly. Nothing at all.
A few minutes later, her aunt arrived and emptied a sack of canned soups, frozen juice, and other over-the-counter medicinal items.
“I didn’t know what he’d have on hand.”
“Thanks, Hattie,” Sara said, glad she was no longer alone with her disturbing thoughts.
Smiling in her comforting way, Hattie went into the bedroom. Sara followed, feeling ill at ease about strolling around in Brian’s living quarters. “I gave him some Tylenol to bring down the fever.”
“Good, good. Sounds like you have everything under control then.”
Sara smiled wryly. “That’s an understatement, and you know it.”
Hattie took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner. I really was trying to figure out the best way.”
Sara shrugged, her gaze darting toward the bed. “But why is he here? Why in Grandpa’s cottage in this town?”
Hattie tucked a strand of hair back into place. “About all I know is that Eli ran into Brian, who showed up here looking for work. Brian is a construction contractor, you may remember. Anyway, Eli had several projects around the house and so he hired him. Apparently, Mr. Farris had no place to stay so Eli rented out the cottage to him as well.” She smiled. “He and your grandfather became very good friends, you know.”
And you did, too. Sara passed her hand wearily in front of her eyes, ignoring the feeling of betrayal rippling through her at the thought. “Well, he’s here and now I’m here. My goal is to get him better so he can get out as soon as possible. Whatever he had planned with my grandfather is nothing to me. And if Brian causes any fuss, I’ll have him legally evicted.”
Hattie clucked her tongue. “Just listen to yourself. You’re still shocked. You don’t know what you’re saying.” She gently pushed Sara down into the chair next to the bed. “Get as much rest as you can, and call me if you need anything.”
Sara offered a wan smile. “Thanks, Aunt Hattie.”
After bussing her on the cheek, Hattie went out the door. When Sara heard her drive away, she looked at her patient with all the reluctance of coming face to face with a lethal snake.
After a moment, she decided she might as well get comfortable. Seeing several blankets shoved down at the end of the bed, Sara gently pulled one off and draped it loosely over herself. Settling onto a hard wooden chair, she noticed the subtle hint of Brian’s cologne on the fabric. It was the same he wore when...
Quickly averting her mind from the following thought, Sara squirmed in the chair. She closed her eyes, then realized she wasn’t sleepy. She checked her watch. Barely eight. Too early for sleep. Sara clambered of out the chair, fighting a sensation of claustrophobia.
She prowled around the room for something to get her mind off the current situation and, for the first time, really perceived her surroundings. Sara decided the cottage appeared fairly tidy for a bachelor. At least she assumed Brian was unmarried. He wore no ring and so far no concerned female materialized except herself. Not concerned, just dutiful, she thought harshly.
Outside the bedroom door was the combined kitchen-living area. The bathroom made up the third room of the cottage. On the table in the kitchen she saw a notebook computer next to a stack of paperwork.
Sara resisted the urge to start snooping. The less she became involved in this unlucky situation, the better. In the bedroom, however, she took in every detail. A bookshelf across the room housed a small TV, piled high with building magazines. A loaded tool belt hung from the back of another chair. As her gaze came full circle around the room, she saw a small picture frame on the nightstand near the bed next to the chair. Sara picked up the frame.
The photo showed Brian with a beautiful young lady by his side. He appeared to be much younger and stood next to an upright surfboard. He had his arm slung around the girl’s shoulders. The girl had waist long blonde hair and wore a halter top with shorts. For some reason she seemed vaguely familiar.
Probably one of his many girlfriends, Sara thought, biting her lip. Just another one of the many he dated on the sly when we were together. Of course, she didn’t find out about that side of him until much later. The couple stood hip to hip in front of the ocean, probably someplace in Southern California.
Fighting down an odd sentiment of bleakness, Sara replaced the frame with a click. From the bookcase, she picked up one of the building magazines. Plunking back in the chair, she read a thoroughly boring article comparing different brands of saw blades.
***
Sara forced her eyes open at the sound of a low groan. The magazine slid to the floor when she sat up. She lurched to Brian’s side, finding him asleep, but restless. His bed looked like a site of a wrestling match and the sheets felt damp. Sara experienced a frisson of fear as worry replaced latent anger.
Not sure what to do, she gently straightened his blankets, praying he wouldn’t succumb to whatever ailed him. She pulled the chair closer to the bed and took his hand. His skin felt almost too hot to touch. Sara patted his hand and in a low voice, spoke nonsense until he stilled. When his breathing became deep and even, she watched the rise and fall of his chest until her eyes grew heavy.
The sound of violent coughing jarred her awake. Sara glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed since the first time he awakened her. It felt like two minutes. Disentangling from the blanket, and leaning on the side of the bed for support, Sara blearily checked on her patient. When Brian’s coughing subsided, she felt his forehead with the back of her hand and noted it was still hot.
“You should really use your lips for that. They’re more sensitive to temperature.”
Now fully awake, Sara frowned as she pulled her hand away. “What are you talking
about?”
“Your lips can sense a fever better than your hand,” he said in a froggy voice.
“I think you’re delirious.” From the pitcher on the nightstand, she poured a glass of water, spilling a little, and coaxed him to sit up and take a sip.
After he took a deep drink, she helped him settle back against the pillows. Sara could sense him surveying her through half-closed lids. She did her best to ignore his scrutiny while she straightened his blankets. Sara stifled a yawn, noticing the bedside clock showed the time. Eleven-thirty. Wincing at the pain of her cramped muscles, she resumed her seat and closed her eyes.
“Sara?”
She suppressed a groan and sank lower in the chair. “You really should rest.”
Several minutes of silence passed. Assuming he’d drifted off to sleep, she closed her eyes.
“I dreamt about the first time I saw you.”
Sara flinched at the sound of his voice.
“It was in that poetry class we had together at the university. I remember thinking how appropriate that you quoted Robbie Burns.” He paused as if still reminiscing. “With your coal black hair, silvery eyes, and cheeks like damask roses, you looked so much like a Highland beauty I was surprised to hear you speak without a Scottish burr in your voice.”
Definitely delirious, Sara thought breathlessly, thankful for the dimness of the room. Her so-called damask cheeks were in full bloom now. She held her breath, wondering if he would say more. When she heard a faint snore, she went limp with relief. Sara had no desire to hear the ravings of an ill man. At the same time, she found it hard to ignore the treacherous little glow spreading within her.
Silvery eyes indeed.
Sara thought back to that day in her poetry class. She’d recited the Robert Burns poem Ye Flowery Banks in front of a group of bored students. Sara whispered the last stanza from memory.
‘Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree,
And my fause luver staw my rose,
But left the thorn wi’ me.’
She glanced at Brian’s sleeping form and had a sudden urge to kick him. In the class, he sat with several male friends who let it be known they only signed up to ogle the girls. Sara recalled being in the emotional throes of the poem when she noticed one of the students give her a slow wink. Brian. She’d stumbled over the rest of the words as a result, longing for something to throw at his smug expression.
Besides being embarrassed, Sara had no patience with students who didn’t take their studies seriously. She was there on scholarship and needed to make every grade count. Besides, she knew Brian wasn’t interested in her as a person. He undoubtedly saw her as another female to toy with.
When he started waiting for her after class to walk with her, Sara maintained an icy demeanor, hoping he would go pick on some more willing victim. Most likely the buxom cheerleader type she suspected he preferred. Soon, however, his charm melted her disdain. A girl could sustain only so much onslaught.
She came to believe he was interested in her. That’s what hurt so much. Brian made her care for him, and she resented him for it.
Hot tears pricked her eyelids. Sara angrily blinked them away. She’d cried enough over this man. He didn’t deserve her tears.
Looking around for something to take her mind off the past, Sara saw a shine of light on the dark TV screen. Quietly, she turned it on and set the volume low. With six channels to choose from, she finally settled on an old rerun of Perry Mason.
Chapter Three
Sara slowly awakened, becoming cognizant of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bit back a cry of pain when she tried to sit up. Her back and leg muscles were in knots after her vigil in the chair. Glancing over at Brian’s bed, Sara saw only a tangle of blankets. She jerked to her feet, ignoring the burst of pain.
“Brian?”
The patient poked his head through the bedroom door. “I wondered when you’d wake up.” He smiled disarmingly.
Sara stared at him, unable to believe anyone could look so disgustingly healthy after such an obvious illness. Although he appeared scruffy from his ordeal, his green eyes glowed clear and his face held good color.
“My fever broke sometime in the night. I’m starved and just about to eat. Want anything?”
Sara shook her head and watched dumbly as he went back to the stove. She considered ordering him back to bed, knowing he shouldn’t be up and about, but decided against it. Brian Farris long ago proved he did things his way, regardless of whom he hurt in the process.
Retreating to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her mind. Why should she be surprised Brian saw nothing odd about her presence in his bedroom? Maybe he considered waking up alone the more peculiar circumstance.
Sara squeezed her eyes shut against the pain clenching her heart. Leaning her forehead against the medicine cabinet mirror over the sink, she took a deep breath. Don’t think about it. Remembering his manipulation and infidelity served no purpose whatsoever.
When the worst of the angst passed, Sara brushed her hair using a comb from her purse. The cold water lent some color to her otherwise pale skin, but as she regarded herself in the mirror, she swallowed a lump in her throat. What on earth would she say to Brian? How should she act? Was this whole episode a kind of surreal dream?
Sara made her way into the living area, attempting to smooth the wrinkles out of her pink rayon dress. To make sure there would be no repeat of this awkward situation, she needed to be certain Brian recovered completely. He must rest.
She found him stirring something in a saucepan on the stove, wearing only a blue T-shirt and shorts. Her memory of him was obviously altered by time and anger. She forgot how his sheer physical presence affected her. Her gaze traveled along the length of his well-muscled frame. Willing her gaze to the ceiling, Sara noisily cleared her throat.
Brian turned at the sound. Sara crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a stare at him. His smile faded.
“Sit down,” she said. “You shouldn’t be up so soon.”
“But I feel so much better.”
He sat carefully at the kitchen table and coughed several times, belying his words.
Sara searched through the cupboards and located the dishes. She filled a glass with apple juice from a pitcher on the counter, and placed it on the table before him. “Drink this first or Hattie will hear about it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sara bit back a smile and turned around. Although she knew his cowed expression was contrived, she wasn’t immune to it. A feeling of giddiness assailed her as her emotions seesawed from one extreme to the other.
She put a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table and ordered him to eat. Not wanting to sit with him and attempt small talk, Sara went back into his room and stripped the bed. She found clean sheets and blankets and soon had the bed neatly made. After filling a pitcher with fresh water for the nightstand, she made sure nothing of hers remained behind.
Sara went back into the kitchen and found Brian helping himself to a second bowl of soup. She pleated the folds of her skirt with her fingers. “Don’t you think you should be back in bed by now?”
“After I eat, I’ll stay down for the rest of the day, okay?”
She shrugged, not wanting to appear overly concerned. “You should have everything you need. Please rest as much as possible or you could have some kind of relapse.”
Brian looked up at her, apparently bemused. “You want me well so I’ll leave.”
“That’s right.”
“What if I told you I have no intention of leaving?”
She gripped the back of the chair next to him. “Where you live is no concern of mine, as long as it’s not in this particular cottage.”
“Your grandfather told me I could stay here as long as I wished.”
“Do you have that in writing?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
Brian started to stand but Sara held up her hand. She took a deep breath. “Regardless of any arrangement you and my grandfather may have had, I’m sure under the circumstances, you won’t want to, um, press the issue.”
“What can I say, Sara? I like it here. It fits my needs and you have guaranteed income on this property.”
“Only until it sells.”
Brian paled. “You plan to sell the house?”
“Of course! I don’t have the time or inclination to do anything with it. My life is back in northern California.”
He took a deep breath. “Were you aware of the plans Eli had for this place?”
“No. But if those plans were so important, I don’t know why he’d leave the house to me, knowing full well I wouldn’t be interested in such an undertaking. Maybe you’re aware of some codicil? Or perhaps you’d like to contest the will for possession?”
“Sara,” Brian growled. “That’s unfair and you know it.”
“My experience has been that any dealings with you are unfair.”
He shot up from the chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He gave an owlish blink before sinking back onto the chair with a bump. “Head rush,” he muttered.
Pressing a hand to her head, Sara avoided his eyes. What came over her? What was it about him that always put her in such a state? She took a calming breath and reminded herself he was still recuperating. “I meant what I said, Brian. I plan on selling this place, and I need you to be out.”
Without waiting for a response, Sara grabbed her purse and strode past him to the door. She felt Brian’s hand on her arm, and it took all her self-control not to recoil from his touch.
“Thank you for being here with me. It really means a lot.”
The gentleness of his words unnerved her. To her horror, Sara felt tears well up in her eyes. She quickly looked away and tugged her arm free, all but bursting out the door. Once outside, she inhaled the crisp morning air and battled to bring her emotions under control. Her arm still burned with the imprint of his hand. The way her heart still burned from the impact of his faithlessness.
Sara stopped abruptly at the thought. Had Brian ever really loved her? Or had he just used the words he knew would melt away her reservations? She put a hand to her forehead. Her thoughts refused to clear. She blamed it on a lack of sleep.
Straightening her shoulders, Sara marched down the driveway. She got all the way to the road before she realized she didn’t have a car to go to.
Turning slowly, Sara looked at the farmhouse. She had no key and didn’t want to attempt a break-in. There was only one option. Gazing out at the rolling farmland and further out to the haze of mountains in the distance, Sara waited for her heart rate to decelerate. When she felt more composed, she walked back to the cottage.
Brian nipped away from the window when he saw Sara coming back up the drive. The action caused his head to spin, and he grabbed the kitchen chair for support until the dizziness passed.
He wasn’t as recovered as he let on. Dealing with the formidable Sara Andersen required him to marshal all his resources for the morning confrontation. He experienced a stab of regret, knowing her grievous state, but they needed to talk, and he had to grasp any opportunity.
Brian heard her steps crunching on the gravel as she approached the cottage. He knew she didn’t have a car with her, and Hattie wouldn’t know when to come without a phone call. He also guessed Sara didn’t have a cell phone. She was notoriously stubborn when it came to submitting to the age of technology. When she knocked on the door, Brian smiled, knowing he’d guessed correctly.
He composed his features before turning the knob. Step lightly, he told himself, opening the door. “Why, Sara, what a pleasant surprise.”
She pinned him with a steely gaze. “As you may have noticed, I don’t have a car. Can I use your phone to call my aunt?”
“Of course.”
She stepped past him, pointedly avoiding any contact. Brian leaned against the doorframe and motioned to the phone on the kitchen wall. He watched her curl a lock of hair around her ear before she dialed. When she bit her lower lip, he knew Hattie wasn’t answering. Brian tried not to let the triumph show in his eyes.
Sara finally hung up the phone and slowly turned around. “My aunt isn’t home, and I don’t know where she’s at the moment.” A line appeared between her brows. “Hattie knew I’d need a ride home this morning.”
“Do you think she’s on her way here?”
“I don’t know what time she gets off work or when she’d come to pick me up.” Sara clutched her purse against her chest like a shield. “What am I going to do?” she said more to herself than to him.
“Well, you’re welcome to wait here until you get a hold of her. Or I could give you a ride home.”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t think you’re up to driving just yet.”
Brian shrugged and watched with tender amusement as a variety of emotions flitted across her face. Obviously, her desire to leave his presence warred with supposed danger of exposing herself to his driving abilities.
She glanced up at him and quickly looked away. Brian saw a flash of distrust in her eyes. He suspected it went way beyond the operation of a vehicle. He felt a tide of heat rush into his face. Perhaps he deserved such a look, but it still pained him. Brian knew she considered him an ogre and more than anything he wanted to change that opinion.
He lowered himself onto a chair. “Since you aren’t willing to risk being in the truck with me, maybe I could show you some of the improvements at the farmhouse.”
Sara quirked a brow.
“If you’re still concerned about my health, don’t worry, it won’t be anything too strenuous,” he added.
“I, um, don’t have a key yet.”
“But I do.” To prove his point, he stood, and reached over to a key rack on the side of the cupboard. Brian held up the key for her inspection.
Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll go alone. I don’t want any repeat of yesterday.”
“If I feel even a hint of dizziness, I promise to fall neatly into your arms. You’ve already proven yourself in that area.”
Sara turned away, but not before he caught her look of scorn. Despite this, he sensed her curiosity prevented her from refusing. He slipped on a pair of running shoes.
“Ready?” he said, ignoring the pounding in his temples.
She shrugged. Brian smiled encouragingly and led her out the door. As they approached the farmhouse, he reminded himself to treat her gently. His first inclination made him want to tease her. Sara proved so easy to tease in the past. Brian conceded this wasn’t the time or the place.
He considered it a big step she agreed to spend any time with him at all, even if she really had no other choice. His illness might be called providential in that respect. Brian glanced up at the blue sky as if for confirmation. Well, Lord? Think Sara will ever come around?
A glance at his old girlfriend and her stiff posture sent a twinge of uncertainty through him. Of course, he knew he couldn’t just waltz back into her life and resume their tumultuous romance. First things first. He settled on a goal of getting Sara to smile at him that day. Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask.
Brian unlocked the dilapidated back door and stepped aside, allowing Sara to precede him. He watched as she entered and looked around. He knew this would be emotional, and he regretted not having the right to comfort her the way he wished.
Sara entered the kitchen and noted it looked as dark and poky as ever. She also noticed construction work had apparently been started. A few of the cabinets were torn out and one part of a wall demolished, exposing the framing beneath.
Past the kitchen, the living room and dining room combined into a large open area. The house boasted a bedroom downstairs with a small bathroom and four spacious bedrooms upstairs, with a half bath. She knew her grandfather had occupied the lower bedroom to avoid using the stairs.
Pretty much everything appeared the same, only darker and dingier than she remembered. Dusty sheers lined the windows and cobwebs hung low from every corner, undoubtedly contributing to the musty smell. Sara realized Eli must’ve been too weak to do much upkeep. She felt guilty not coming to help more often. Her guilt deepened at the profound feeling of emptiness in the house. Her grandpa was truly gone. Tears clouded her vision, and she wondered if Hattie had been right after all. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.
Keenly aware of Brian’s presence, Sara wended her way through the rooms. He shadowed her steps but said nothing and for that she was grateful. In the first floor bedroom, she saw her grandfather’s effects. The room was fairly neat and ordered, with a small TV in one corner and potted plants lining the windowsills.
His roll top desk sat in the sunlight, stacked high with books and papers, looking as if he’d momentarily stepped away from his work.
She turned to Brian. “I thought you said you had done some repair work. I haven’t seen much that looks improved.”
“Actually, I’ve done extensive structural repairs including dry rot work under the house. I had just started on the kitchen when...”
Sara wrapped her arms around herself and took several steps away from him. “I understand,” she said faintly.
“You know, your grandfather had big plans for this place,” Brian said after a moment.
“He’s lived here for the last twenty-five years. Why didn’t he do anything before now?”
“Because he was a dreamer, like you.”
Sara spun around to face him. “It seems you knew him very well,” she snapped, failing to suppress the sarcasm from her voice. “Just how long have you been in Buell Creek anyway?”
“A few months.”
She looked at him steadily. “I can’t imagine why.”
“I think you can.”
The words hung in the air. Sara’s gaze wavered. She finally looked away. “I didn’t see you at the funeral.”
“That’s something I deeply regret, Sara. I was out of town visiting my sister. I didn’t leave anyone a forwarding number. I got back the day after.”
Sara detected the genuine sorrow in his eyes. She lifted her chin. “Tell me about the plans you and he discussed.”
Brian walked across the bedroom and looked out the window toward the cottage. “He originally just wanted to bring the house back to good condition. But with the growth of the town, he thought about turning it into a bed and breakfast.”
“It’s certainly big enough,” she said, her gaze roaming about, looking for some merit to the idea. But the task seemed too daunting to consider. Not to mention the expense.
“He told me he’d been thinking about starting renovations a long time ago,” Brian said. “But he couldn’t tear himself away from his writing to give the plan the attention it would demand.”
Sara curved her lips into a smile. Her grandfather’s passion for poetry and literature inspired her own interest in that direction. She remembered him as rather private about his work and looked forward to reading what he left behind.
Brian saw her misty smile and acknowledged he met his immediate goal. Of course, he would’ve preferred the smile be directed at him. But it was a start. “Seen enough?”
Sara nodded. “For now. I’ll be back soon to get it cleaned up.” She sighed. “I’m going to have to ask for another leave of absence from work.”
“What do you do?” As if he didn’t know. He’d pumped Eli for as much information as he could get. And Eli proved quite cooperative.
“I work for the Crescent City library as a Librarian Assistant.”
“Sounds interesting.”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
Brian wracked his tired brain for something else to say, but noticed Sara beginning to look strained. “Do you want to try calling your aunt again?”
She seemed relieved at the suggestion. “Yes.”
They walked into the kitchen in silence. She used the phone there and this time got a hold of her aunt. After hanging up, she turned to Brian. “She’s on her way.”
“Do you want to wait here in the dining room?”
“Okay.”
Brian sat down at the dining room table and Sara followed suit. She kept her eyes averted and fiddled with the clasp on her purse. Brian allowed himself the simple pleasure of looking at her unhindered. Two years was a long time to go without the sight of her in person, and he delighted in this opportunity.
She appeared little changed. Her shoulder-length hair was cut shorter, and he liked the way it curled up slightly at the ends. Her countenance has changed, he thought wryly. She used to have a more dreamy expression. He remembered her shy smile and the way her eyes glowed like silver when she talked about something especially important to her. They used to glow that way for him. If he did things right, he hoped they might again.
Brian heard the sound of a motor in the driveway. Too soon. Sara jumped up and headed for the door. She muttered a goodbye and disappeared. He went to the window and saw Hattie emerge from the car. Evidently ignoring Sara’s hurry, Hattie entered the house, took one look at him and shook her head.
“Back in bed.”
His headache growing in vehemence, Brian didn’t argue. He tacked his way back to the cottage, with Hattie at his heels, and crawled back into bed, sighing as he settled onto the fresh sheets. A coughing fit gripped him. He gratefully poured a glass of water from the replenished pitcher.
Hattie fussed about him with her stethoscope and thermometer until she seemed satisfied he was on the mend. She motioned toward the pitcher of water. “Stay where you are until that is empty. Do you understand?”
Brian nodded meekly and thanked her. When she left, he made himself more comfortable and thought about his encounter with Sara. Surely she retained some feelings for him. He remembered her prickly attitude. Brian made a face. He was after positive feelings.
He tried to come up with a plan to get back into her good graces. But any tactical strategies he thought of became muddled with the strength of his feelings. Brian decided he needed to put things into perspective. He bowed his head and prayed.
Chapter Four
Sara kept silent on the road home. She knew her aunt must be curious about what transpired with Brian. But her thoughts raged in such an exhausted whirl, she only wanted to go home and sleep.
When they arrived home and exited the car, Sara turned to her aunt. “Would you mind if I took a nap?”
Hattie put an arm around her shoulder as they walked through the door. “Taking care of a patient is very fatiguing. You rest as long as you want. I’ll be lying down as well, so you’ll have some peace and quiet. If you get hungry, there’s plenty to eat in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Hattie.” Sara hugged her aunt and went into the spare bedroom. At the foot of the bed, she dropped her purse and fell face-first onto the hand-crocheted bedspread.
The main theme of her thoughts stemmed from Brian’s cryptic comment. I think you know why. His enigmatic response of left her mystified. Sara completely rejected the idea he might be hoping to rekindle an old flame. Her break with him two years ago had been decisive and succinct. With his rugged good looks, doubtless he experienced no lack of feminine interest from others. Brian didn’t need to reanimate her affections for him.
Then what did he mean? Her brain ached from the effort of wondering. Did he worm his way into relationships with Eli and Hattie for some nefarious plot of revenge? Sara rolled over and stared at the ceiling. The thought struck her as ludicrous. Brian had many faults, but spitefulness wasn’t one of them. Besides, a plan of revenge implied pain on his part. His half-hearted attempt to contact her after she left disabused her of that notion.
Sara reminded herself she’d made a lucky escape. After witnessing the string of philanderers her mother had shacked up with in an assortment of towns through the years, Sara should’ve recognized one of their ilk in Brian.
She reached for the pendant at her throat, twisting it back and forth. Thoughts of her mother, as usual, made her uncomfortable. Tanya Andersen spent her existence as a brittle, flirtatious woman, striving to live the life of a partying teenager forever. Pregnant at seventeen and unsure of whom the father was, she’d been ill equipped to care for a child.
Sara’s life would’ve been unbearable if not for her sweet soulful grandfather and dear dithering aunt. They cared for her as a baby and as she grew, she spent the summers with them. But just when her battered soul began to heal, fall arrived, along with her mother who came to take her to yet another ‘home’. The round of dissipation began anew, along with Sara’s headaches and retreats into books and studying at the expense of all else.
Reluctantly, Sara allowed her mind to go back to the past when she and Brian were a couple. She was a junior; and he, older than her by five years, a senior who started college after working in construction for a time.
Everything seemed so right, just like the sappy words from a seventies love song. Sara had been so confident his love for her was real, not like the tawdry sham she’d seen growing up. Brian even attended church with her and kept the early part of their courtship chaste. He acted considerate and kind, an absolute gentleman. The cynical side of her insisted this was a plot to get her to lower her defenses. Maybe.
Their relationship progressed, along with the desire for intimacy. Sara closed her eyes, feeling a fresh wave of humiliation wash over her. Even with her warped upbringing, Sara allowed herself to be lulled into thinking her situation with Brian was different and special. Of course she knew of limits for a single Christian girl. But a voice inside her head cautioned her if she acted too prudish, she might lose Brian. Another still, small voice, she ignored altogether in the tumult of burgeoning romance.