Home to Wickham Falls, page 6
“How much work did you put into this house?” It was safer to broach a generic topic than to think about wanting to make love to Jessica. She was the first woman in a very long time to whom he had found himself physically attracted on sight and that made him slightly off balance when around Jessica.
* * *
Jessica didn’t want to believe she was sitting across the table in her kitchen talking to a man who made her feel incredibly comfortable in his presence. She found herself physically attracted to Sawyer and that, in and of itself, shocked her, because it had been a long time since she felt desire that palpable. Sawyer was so quintessentially masculine it radiated off him in waves. There were times she detected something in his eyes that she believed meant he could read her thoughts but she dismissed it as mere curiosity. It would stand to reason that he was curious about his sister’s best friend and his nephews’ former teacher.
“An engineer deemed the house structurally sound, and that meant I only had to concentrate on the interior. The contractor removed walls for an open floor plan, installed new windows with built-in mini-blinds and replaced the siding and roof. He updated the downstairs half-bath, gutted the kitchen and put in French doors leading to the back porch, so I have light here from sunrise to sunset.”
“How many bathrooms do you have upstairs?”
“Two.”
Sawyer sipped the hot liquid. “Who decorated your home?”
“I did. The smoker belonged to my great-grandfather, who’d earned the reputation of being Pittsburgh’s best grill master when it came to smoking brisket and ribs.”
His expression brightened. “So, you’re from Steel City.”
Guilty as charged. “Steelers, Pirates, Penguins and anything black-and-gold.”
“You’re really that into sports?”
“Only if the home teams are playing.”
Sawyer took another swallow of coffee. “Have you been to the Wolf Den to watch your teams?”
“No.”
“Would you like to go there with me?”
Jessica smiled. “Are you asking me out?”
“Yes.”
She paused. She hadn’t dated in two years and now her best friend’s brother wanted her to go out with him. Jessica liked Sawyer—a lot.
“Okay,” she said after a noticeable pause.
His eyebrows lifted. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded. “It is a yes.”
Sawyer smiled and exhaled an audible breath. “What made you leave Pittsburgh for West Virginia?”
She knew she had to choose her words carefully or disclose the actual reason that had forced her to leave the city of her birth and never look back.
“College.” It was a half-truth. Jessica told Sawyer that she attended Howard University in DC, and after graduating had taught in a local elementary school while earning a graduate degree. “I went online and discovered Johnson County public schools in West Virginia were looking for teachers. I submitted my résumé and after a couple of interviews they hired me. Relocating wasn’t a problem because I was renting.”
“That’s when you moved to Beckley.”
“Yes. I rented a studio apartment that was so small I felt claustrophobic. And I didn’t like the idea of cooking and sleeping in the same space.”
“I would’ve prayed for a studio just to have some personal space, because it has to be better than sharing a one-bedroom apartment with three dudes.”
Propping an elbow on the table, Jessica rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “When did you do that?”
Sawyer set his mug on the table. “I’d enrolled in NYU as a grad student and finding an apartment I could afford without having to sell a kidney was virtually impossible, so I hooked up with four guys to share a one-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood known as Alphabet City. It meant three weeks out of the month it was either sleeping on the convertible sofa or on the floor in a sleeping bag. Most times I opted for my sleeping bag.”
“That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
“No shit! Sorry about that,” he apologized quickly.
Jessica giggled like her students whenever they found something laughable. “Your New York is showing.”
Sawyer sobered. “What do you know about New York?”
She wanted to tell him there was no need to sound so defensive about his adopted city. Her Howard University roommate grew up in New York. “The proliferation of colorful language. And I know enough not to play chicken with New York City cabbies, or close my eyes when riding the subway.”
“Whoa! Why are you dissing my city?”
“I’m not dissing your city, Sawyer. I’m just being truthful. The same could be said for Philly, LA or even DC.”
He flashed a saccharine smile. “Is Pittsburgh included in that mix?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Could be.” Jessica loved her city of birth because her familial roots were ingrained in the city’s steel industry. She had planned to spend all of her life in Pittsburgh, but an incident at college had forced her to leave. After witnessing the rape of her roommate by a popular football player, the backlash she encountered from her fiancé and fellow students after she reported the incident to campus officials devastated her and resulted in her transferring to another college out of state. Not only had Gregory ended their engagement, he had also sided with those at their college who supported the college’s quarterback, who’d claimed the sex was consensual.
“Why did you become a teacher?”
“Teaching is a family tradition. My parents recently retired as college professors, and I told you about my grandmother. I want to thank you for getting the men to clean up,” she segued smoothly, shifting the focus from herself to Sawyer. Whenever she invited her friends over it was the women who assumed the task of clearing away dishes and leftovers.
Sawyer slid off the seat, walked to the sink, rinsed the mug and placed it in the dishwasher. “If you cooked, the least we could do was clean up. Thanks for the coffee.” Reaching for her hand, he laced their fingers together. “Walk with me to the door.”
Jessica detected calluses on his palm that indicated Sawyer was no stranger to manual labor. His roughened hand was totally incongruent with someone who earned his living sitting at a desk.
“Are you alert enough to make it back home okay?”
He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m good. Thank you again for your wonderful hospitality.” He shocked her completely when he released her hand and angled his head to brush a kiss over her mouth. She went completely still for several seconds and then relaxed as her lips parted. The touch of his mouth on hers was a reminder for Jessica that it had been much too long since a man had kissed her. “Once the school year ends I’ll call you about going to the Wolf Den. Good night, Jessica.”
Although the kiss could be measured in fractions of seconds, the taste of coffee from his lips lingered on hers. “Good night, Sawyer.” Jessica stood on the steps with Bootsy as Sawyer started up the Jeep and reversed. When she had offered him a cup of coffee, she never expected that he would ask her out or that she would accept. He waved through the open driver’s-side window and she returned it, smiling. Bootsy growled softly. “I know, boy. I’ll take you for your last walk before I lock up.”
Forty minutes later she stepped out of the shower, toweled dry her body and slipped a nightgown over her head. She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Hours later a dream jolted her into wakefulness as her heart pounded a runaway rhythm. Sitting up, Jessica peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was after three in the morning. She had dreamed of her brother.
Marine helicopter pilot Captain Elliot Calhoun loved red roses and he confided to her he always recited a psalm before lifting off; the ritual ended when his copter was shot down by a rocket-propelled grenade during a rescue mission.
It was after four when she fell asleep again, and when she woke hours later the sun was high in the sky. Bootsy lay on the rug beside her bed, muzzle resting between his paws, waiting for her to get up and let him out.
Chapter Six
“Put your arms around my neck, Dad. That way it will be easier for me to lift you.”
Henry shook his head. “Let me get down by myself. I’m too heavy for you to carry.”
Sawyer closed his eyes for several seconds. “I’m not going to let you get down by yourself. If you fall you’ll be back in the hospital. What’s it going to be, Dad?”
Henry grunted. “Okay. But just this one time.”
Much too stubborn to acknowledge when he had been bested, Henry looped both arms around his son’s neck and Sawyer easily carried him from the car, into the house and to the family room, where Mara had converted the sofa into a bed. He set his father down on a leather recliner, elevating the footrest and then smoothed graying wisps off Henry’s cool forehead. He’d driven his father to rehab earlier that morning, but the therapist canceled the session when Henry complained of feeling light-headed.
Henry pointed to the wall-mounted flat screen. “Son, can you please turn on the TV? I like watching the cooking channels.”
Reaching for the remote, Sawyer turned on the television, surfing until he found one of the many channels devoted to food. “I’m going to bring in the walker and leave it close to your chair in case you need to use the bathroom.”
“I don’t need the walker,” Henry countered. “I’ve been using the cane.”
“I’ll leave it here if you decide you do need it.”
“I said I don’t need it!” Henry shouted.
Sawyer returned to the porch to get the walker. Henry gave Sawyer what he interpreted as a death stare when he returned and placed the walker next to the recliner and then picked up the quad cane and put it out of the older man’s reach. In the past he would have verbally come back at his father. But, given Henry’s medical condition, Sawyer decided action outweighed words.
Mara entered the room carrying a lap tray. “Why did you bring in the walker?”
Sawyer met his father’s eyes. “Your husband has been complaining that he feels light-headed, so the walker is better for him right now than the cane.”
“I’m better now,” Henry said, frowning. “And I don’t enjoy being treated like a child.” He pointed at Sawyer. “That was the first and last time I’m going to let you carry me.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Sawyer gave him a direct stare. “Would you prefer if I had to pick you off the floor?”
Mara placed the tray on a low table in front of the love seat. “Please don’t start up with him, Sawyer. And stop complaining, Henry, and eat your lunch. I made broiled chicken, steamed carrots and sliced avocado.”
Henry gave her a tender smile. “Thank you. It looks delicious. I’d prefer fried chicken but I suppose this will have to do.”
Mara wagged her finger. “No more fried food until you get your cholesterol under control.”
“Are you going to eat with me, hon?”
“Do you want me to?” Mara asked.
“Yes, please.”
Sawyer shared a glance with Mara. She’d told him Henry had changed, and except for the protestations when he attempted to assist his father from the Jeep and Henry’s reluctance to use the walker rather than the cane, Sawyer realized she was right. Henry rarely referred to him as son and hardly ever said please or thank-you.
“Are you going to eat with us, Sawyer?” Henry questioned.
“No, Dad. I have to go to Grand’s Hardware to buy some paint and tape.”
“You did a nice job fixing the porch. But then, you were always good with your hands.”
Sawyer had removed the shutters and replaced the sagging floor boards on the porch. “That’s because I learned from the best.” Sawyer executed a snappy salute. “I’ll see you later.”
He knew he’d shocked his father with the compliment. Whenever Henry came home on an extended shore leave he would spend the time making repairs around the house, and once Sawyer was old enough, Henry recruited him as his assistant. By the time he turned sixteen, Sawyer was able to repair a car’s engine and measure and cut wood with enough precision to fit floor joists. His father was a hard taskmaster and most times he bit his tongue rather than argue with the older man, but as he got older he’d felt compelled to challenge his father.
Sawyer knew their roles had changed to where he hoped they would be able to relate to each other as adult men. He respected Henry because he was his father, yet knew it would take time to respect him as a man.
He had asked his mother what color she wanted him to paint the shutters and porch floor to contrast with the house’s white vinyl siding. Mara had suggested blue, and after he’d picked up a number of paint swatches in varying shades of blue from the local hardware store, she finally settled on Wedgewood blue.
* * *
Sawyer slowed to less than ten miles an hour when he entered the business district. Long-time residents were programmed not to drive above the unofficial twenty miles an hour in fear of the escalating exorbitant traffic fines imposed by the members of the town council.
Wickham’s Main Street appeared to have been stuck in time, with the exception of new black-and-white-striped awnings shading mom-and-pop-owned stores. Cars, parked diagonally, maximized the limited space along the narrow streets. Shop Local signs were visible on every plate-glass window. Many of the stores had been owned by generations of the same family, and most residents of Wickham didn’t have to leave their town for clothes, banking, medical assistance or eating establishments.
Sawyer maneuvered into a parking space behind the hardware store. A cowbell over the rear screen door clanged loudly as he walked in. He picked up a roll of yellow tape, his thoughts dwelling on Jessica as he waited for the salesclerk to mix the colors for his paint selection. He had deliberately kept busy making repairs on the house so he would not think about her.
Not only was she an incredible cook but she was the consummate hostess, and in a moment of madness Sawyer fantasized being married to Jessica and hosting get-togethers for their friends and family. As soon as the notion entered his head he dismissed it. He wasn’t ready for marriage and he did not want to spend the rest of his life living in a small town.
“Do you need brushes, turpentine or drop cloths, Sawyer?”
He stared at Johnnie Lee Grand.
“No thank you, Mr. Grand. I just need the paint and the tape.”
Johnnie rang up Sawyer’s purchases. “I heard about your father. How’s he doing?”
“Much better, thank you. He’s going to have to take it easy for a while.”
“Give him my best.”
“I will.”
Sawyer left the store and drove home. He became a sightseer in his home state, his gaze taking in the forest-covered mountains in the distance. Wickham Falls lay in a region where coal mining and drilling for natural gas provided many of the residents with employment.
Sawyer arrived home and decided to paint the shutters first. He spread out three oversized drop cloths on the grass under the shade of two towering oak trees, filled a paint gun and began the task of covering eighteen pairs of shutters with high-gloss, quick-drying blue paint.
* * *
Jessica stood at the desk in her silent classroom. The school year had ended at noon and she could finally exhale. No more regimented days for laundry, ironing or cooking. She gave her students gift bags filled with grade-appropriate chapter books, colorful bookmarks, find-the-word puzzle workbooks and a journal for them to record their summer adventures. The faculty had their own end-of-the-year luncheon celebration when they ordered foot-long meat-and-veggie-stuffed heroes and salads from Ruthie’s.
She took one last glance around and picked up her tote. A week before she had received official notification that she would teach fifth grade for the first time.
Fifth grade was middle school, which meant she would be teaching the same students she had taught three years before, and that meant the Phelan twins would become her students again.
* * *
Jessica parked on the street in front of the Middleton house. She had spent the afternoon weeding her garden and harvesting romaine lettuce, radicchio, scallions, green cabbage, tomatoes, cucumbers and red, yellow and green sweet peppers. It would be several more weeks before the melons ripened enough for her to pick them. The prior owners had sold their yield, while Jessica opted to give away all she wasn’t able to consume or can. Two of her neighbors and the Middletons had become the recipients of her bounty.
Reaching for the shopping bag on the passenger seat, she alighted from the SUV. The glossy blue paint on the porch caught her immediate attention before her gaze shifted to the matching shutters. The color was a perfect match for the blue and white cushions on white wicker porch furniture. The inner wooden door, also painted the same hue and bearing a new brass knocker and doorknob, was open. Jessica peered through the screen door while Sawyer stood on the other side staring at her. His now-familiar masculine cologne wafted to her nostrils as he opened the door.
“Hey,” he crooned.
“Hey, yourself,” she countered. “I came over to bring some veggies from my garden.” Jessica handed him the shopping bag.
He reached for her hand, dropping a kiss on her fingers. “Don’t leave,” he said softly when she turned to retrace her steps. “Have you had dinner?” He smiled and attractive lines fanned out around his luminous eyes.
“No.”
Sawyer leaned in closer, his moist breath feathering over her ear. “It’s taco night at the Middletons’, and I might sound a little biased, but my mother makes the best tacos and nachos I’ve ever eaten. Besides, my dad will be glad to see you.” He pulled her gently inside the house.
