Chapter 14
“Get the door, Lesley,” John snapped as he and Seth prepared to lift her aunt’s old dresser.
“Yes, master.” She fought the urge to curtsy. Ever since they’d made it back to the manor, his attitude had been the right side of atrocious. She chalked it up to the heat.
“One, two, three, lift,” he demanded as he and his friend picked up the old dresser from her bedroom.
“Holy smokes, this thing is heavy.” Seth grunted while he backed into the hallway.
Sweat glistened on both men’s foreheads. The difference—John looked like a man who was supposed to sweat. Tall. Muscular. A workingman’s build. Seth’s head gleamed, but between his khaki pants and his red button up, he looked out of place.
“Did you lift with your legs?” John cursed, his breath heavy.
“Yeah, I did.” His friend slowed to turn a corner. “But this thing is massive. Where are we going with it?”
“Over here.” She raised her hand in the air and stood in the center of the floor, watching as their faces contorted with the strain of the weight.
After lunch, she’d changed into a pair of cutoffs and a tank top, and while she was thankful she did the waving instead of the heavy lifting, sweat still dripped into crevices where sweat should not be.
“Almost.” She wiped her forehead off with the back of her hand and sidestepped out of the way. “There. Drop it.”
The men positioned the piece of furniture beside the oak chest. A loud thud followed by a crunch vibrated through the room—two of the dresser legs hit the tile flooring in front of the fireplace harder than the stone below could handle. Cracks around the feet of the bureau spread along the stone like spider veins on an old woman’s leg.
“I’m sorry about that.” Seth bent to touch the damaged tiles.
“It’s okay.” She knelt beside him and inspected for injury on the dresser. “We’re eventually going to have to replace that tile anyway.” She patted the furniture. “And the legs here still look good.”
He glanced at her legs then tossed her a carefree smile. “Yes, they do.”
His compliment knocked her off balance. She gripped the floor with her palm, and took in the refreshing scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Spicy and yummy. While John smelt of wood and cotton, this man smelled of things exotic and exciting. Her ex wore similar cologne, and her mind began to swim with uncertainty.
She shot up and put a few steps of space between them.
“You okay?” John cut her a curious glance.
“I’m fine.” She nodded and stared at the floor. “Just hot is all.”
“Yeah. Well…” He shrugged then chugged his water bottle. “Come on, buddy. We have about ten more pieces just like that.”
Seth rose from his crouch, rounding his spine. “Ow,” he yelped and grabbed his back.
“What? What’s wrong?” She reached for his shoulder and placed her other hand on his where he held his back. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t think so,” Seth stuttered out around a grimace.
John leaned on the doorframe with one arm and crossed his feet at the ankles, his white shirt covered in brown rings of sweat stains, the water bottle empty in his clutch. “What’s wrong? Back spasm?”
By John’s pitch, she almost thought he was excited his friend was in pain.
“Yeah,” Seth ground between his teeth.
“Here. Come over here.” She helped him hobble to the old couch then glared at her contractor as he stood still, watching.
Seth eased down, the coil springs of the couch threatening to bust through the thin fabric. Lesley formed her hand into a fist and helped massage his sore muscles, his cologne doing nothing to help her fuzzy brain. She wanted to lean closer, breathe him in yet run at the exact same time.
A crunching sound reverberated through the room as John crushed the plastic bottle in his hand. “Here, let me.” He hurried over and pushed her out of the way.
Her behind slid down the side of the sofa. She grabbed the armrest and caught herself before she hit the floor. “Excuse you.”
He ignored her and dug his elbow into his friend’s back. “That better?”
Seth’s face contorted in new ways. “Easy man.”
“You’re dehydrated.” John turned toward her. “Go grab Seth a drink out of the ice chest, will you?”
“You could say please,” she mumbled as she stomped toward the kitchen.
The ice chest sat in the corner by a 1950s robin-egg-blue refrigerator. She nodded to Bea and Leo sitting at the kitchen table before opening the lid and plunging her hand into the cold cubes. A slow burn ricocheted up her arm. She retrieved the bottle, and water dripped down her hand, tempting her to shove her whole head in the ice like she bobbed for frozen apples.
She’d found hell on earth. Bakersville, Georgia.
At the kitchen table, Bea wafted herself with a cardboard fan. Leo sat across from his wife, scraping a stone with his rusty pocketknife, each stroke just barely missing his hand. Sweat dripped from his forehead and pooled on the cheap linoleum covered table. The sight clenched her heart. Between the heat and the renovations, the two of them couldn’t stay there. She’d have to find other arrangements for them until Rosalyn was finished.
She ambled back to the living room and tossed John the bottle. “Here.”
He twisted off the cap and thrust the beverage to Seth. “Drink up, man.”
His friend took a big swig then licked his lips. “Thanks, Lesley.” His smile was a little too big for the gesture.
“No problem.” She met his gaze, keeping a safe distance. Reality prickled her mind now that she stood several feet away from him. Seth reminded her way too much of her ex. Not just his cologne, but his manners, too. Cocky, handsome, even his too-big smile came across too much like Peter.
She gazed over the top of his head at the piles of papers still needing to be hauled away, the furniture stacked in the hallway ready to be moved to the living room, and the mound of junk in the kitchen she hadn’t bothered to touch.
As nice as Seth seemed, warning signs fired off in her head like a flare in the middle of the ocean: big and bright. If her suspicions were right, and he truly was like Peter, she wouldn’t put herself through that again. He had to go, and the heat was just as good as any excuse to kick him out.
She threw up her hands. “That’s it. We’re done for the day. It’s too hot.”
Seth took another sip. “Just let me rest a minute. I can keep going.”
John stood and moved next to her. His familiar cotton smell covered her like a warm blanket. Blankets were safe.
“Lesley’s right. You’re done man. You good to drive home?”
“Yeah.” He got to his feet and straightened slowly. “Lesley, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“It’s okay.” Her heart gave a leap, proud of herself for realizing a mistake before she made it. Seth would be a mistake. He was nice, but not for her. “I’ll walk you out.”
Dead grass crunched under her feet as she walked him to his car. She glanced back at the house. John stayed inside. His attitude had taken on a new level today. After the birthday party and friendly night they shared doing laundry, she’d thought they made progress at getting along better. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“Thanks for coming to help,” she said when they made it to his red sports car. “And I’m sorry about your back.”
He leaned against the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was glad to.” His blue eyes twinkled. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?”
Flattered, the urge to say yes tugged at her like a child pulling his mother’s leg, but he reminded her so much of Peter. Dating Seth would be bad…at least for her heart.
“Seth—”
The screened door banged against the old frame. They both turned.
“I’m going to stick around a bit and load up some more of those piles in the guest rooms.” John pointed back to the house with his thumb.
“Okay.” She waved to him, thankful for the distraction.
He stared a bit longer. His shoulders slumped a little before he turned and headed inside.
Seth’s gaze moved from the front porch back to her. “You know what, don’t answer my question.”
“What? Why?”
He placed a kiss on her cheek, his cologne making her all fuzzy again.
“Because I think someone has already spoken for you.”
That cleared her head. “Spoken for me? What are you talking about?”
Seth hooked a thumb to the porch. “I knew he seemed a little tense when I asked him if something was going on between you two.”
“John?” She glanced back at the house. “There is nothing going on between me and John. I’m not even sure he likes me today.”
“Oh, he likes you. Trust me.” He laughed and slid on his sunglasses before he opened the door to his car. “Give him time. He’s been through a lot.”
“But, what if I don’t want John?”
Or a ready-made family? She didn’t think being a mother was in her cards.
“You’d be a fool not to.” He pulled his keys out of his back pocket. “See you around, Lesley.”
She watched as Seth zoomed down the drive before she looked back at the manor. John stood in front of the kitchen window, opening a jar for Leo. She glanced at the rotten boards on the steps, the porch swing barely hanging from the rafters, and the sagging roof. The whole place looked hopeless, yet there was John, hefting heavy boxes and opening pickle jars for her employees, or in reality, her friends.
John? Could she really see herself as a part of his family?
She stepped lightly on the porch as the boards creaked under her feet. He stood with his back toward her, his tool belt wrapped around his waist, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He turned and greeted her with a smile. When she didn’t return it, a concerned look flashed in his eyes.
He bent and hefted a box off the floor. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“You and Seth…are you guys going out on—”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Oh…okay.” His shoulders relaxed. “Good, because I love Seth like a brother, but he…sometimes he—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. Really. Seth and I won’t be dating.”
“Well, okay then.” He nodded, his tone softer than earlier. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking about? You seem distracted.”
Seth’s words rolled around in her head. Already spoken for.
John’s dark hair was covered in dust. He had a small freckle on his left cheek that she had never noticed before, and he bore absolutely no resemblance to her ex-husband.
None.
He was her blanket, her safe haven in this new land where nothing made sense or seemed right. Yet, John seemed right.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking at me kind of weird.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” She shook her head to clear her mind. “I’m great, really.”
She strolled over to the mantel and grabbed her aunt’s Bible, then stepped to the left and ran her hand over the oak chest where the book had previously sat. Myrtle never had a family. She’d lived alone in this great big house with her hired help.
Could I really live that same life?
These walls needed life and love.
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you take me to where this oak tree used to be.”
His brow quirked. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
****
The ride to the back of the land wasn’t long, but the silence was more than John could handle. Lesley stared out the window, clutching the large book in her hands from the moment they got in the truck.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She opened the Bible and ran her fingers over the pages. “I’m fine. Just thinking about my aunt. What her life must have been like out here.”
“Did you ever read any more of the entries?”
“No, not yet.” She shifted her gaze to the pages.
He parked the truck by the old tree stump, right where Leo had instructed it would be with the train tracks visible in the distance. “Well…” He stared at her, but her focus was still on the pages. “You want to read one now?”
“Yeah. I think I do.” She nodded and flipped the thin sheets between her fingers to find one. “Let’s sit outside.”
He opened his door, stepped out, and ran around his truck to open hers, a gesture that caught her completely off guard by her wide-eyed stare. “Don’t act so surprised. I can be a gentleman sometimes.”
“It suits you,” she teased.
He held out his hand, and she laid her smooth palm flat in his. His heart walloped in his chest as he helped her get to her feet. “I’ve got a blanket in the back of the truck. You want to sit on the ground?”
“Sure. By the stump.” She pointed to the old log.
Covering the ground with the tattered quilt, he waited for her to take a seat then sat down next to her, his back against the stump.
What am I doing?
He didn’t sit on blankets outside with women. Ever. But somehow, this clumsy, vexing woman had worked her way into his soul. He turned his head and studied her as she sat and stared at the skyline.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
He followed her gaze to the sun as it dipped low, beginning its descent over the horizon. A pink and yellow glow illuminated the sky, and his heart walloped again as he stared back at her, watching her, as the wind blew softly through her hair. “It is,” he agreed, though he stared at something much better than any ordinary sunset.