Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Tara gulped air into her starved lungs. She clutched her chest, still unable to understand fully what was happening. “Are they mad?” she finally managed to sob.

  Winnie looked shocked. “Lands no, honey! They love you.”

  Tara shook her head, tears still streaming unnoticed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand— why they—”

  Winnie interrupted. “Honey, they are family, and family comes when you need help. They always have.”

  “Family? I don’t have any family.”

  Winnie sniffed and batted Tara’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you a fine one! Girl, those people love you! They have since you were a little baby. This whole town has watched over you.”

  Tara wiped at the tears dripping off her chin. “I know that but…”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  Winnie stood, leveling her shoulders. “Tara, they care about you because you belong to all of us. You are a loving, tender, giving soul, even after all you’ve been through. That’s why they love you.”

  Frozen with astonishment and disbelief, Tara couldn’t reply.

  Winnie sniffed and straightened her stained apron, then tottered across the porch to pull a roller from the box. She turned and shook it toward Tara. “You sit here for a minute and catch your breath, then you get in there and help your family paint.”

  Becky patted Tara’s hand and followed Winnie into the house.

  Laughter, chatter, and the clatter of ladders and paint pans rang out through the windows of the old house. Babies screeched in delight and voices called above the din, issuing instruction to the crowd.

  Tara rubbed one shoulder across her face, then the other. Realizing Winnie’s hanky was bunched in her fist, she smoothed it across her lap, then blew her nose. Standing on shaking legs, she moved toward the door and paused at the threshold, her eyes widening at the scene in the house.

  As she staggered from room to room, a shout of greeting rose, and encouragement and excitement about the paint and the resort reached her ears. As she walked through the second floor, some of the voices pierced her consciousness, and a weak smile began to tremble on her lips. Wonder filled her eyes at the paint buckets open and poured into pans and rollers dripping with color covering the walls.

  Back in the kitchen, she leaned against the counter to watch Becky fill plastic cups with water from an orange tap-cooler. Soon she was drawn into a group of ladies who patted her shoulder and smiled happily.

  * * *

  With the crew back to work in the barn, Justin supervised the new painting crew, putting an adult he knew and trusted in charge of each room. He was pleased and surprised at the warmth people showed him, listening to his instruction as if he were a trusted member of the community.

  Everyone was happy, singing and gabbing as they worked. Rooms quickly began to turn multiple shades of the rainbow.

  At noon, a horn honking outside alerted everyone that lunch had arrived. Tara walked to the door and saw three stooped old ladies from Winnie’s quilting club waving the group toward sandwiches and paper cups filled with lemonade, lining the tailgates of two ancient station wagons.

  By evening, the trim was being hand painted by the folks who didn’t need to rush home to families. As friends and neighbors left, one or two at a time, they paused to speak to Tara, to reassure her how much fun they’d had. Some even recalled moments from her youth, all sharing a smile and most tackling her with a hug.

  A smudge of paint passed from each person to Tara, making a rainbow of muted browns, blues, and mint-greens across her clothes, arms, and face. She had hardly been able to help with the work, she’d been so busy talking with everyone and answering their excited questions about the resort.

  When the last person left, tossing his roller and pan with a clang into the dumpster by the porch, Tara turned to see Justin leaning against the kitchen counter. He regarded her solemnly, his eyes shining.

  Chapter Thirty

  Justin motioned for Tara to come to him.

  Still numb with astonishment and incredulity, and exhausted from stress and lack of sleep, Tara willed her feet to move her forward. She trudged into the kitchen where Justin was now collecting paper cups and napkins from the counters and stuffing them into a bulging black trash bag. She added three from the counter nearest her and stood waiting while he lifted and shook the bag, and tied the yellow drawstring handles in a knot.

  Placing the bag near the entry to the living room, he straightened and glanced across the kitchen into the formal dining room and out toward the half-finished decks. “I love the cabinets you salvaged for this room. They look original to the house.”

  A shy smile touched her lips. “Well, some of them are, thanks to you.”

  He shrugged. “I’m glad you talked some sense into me. If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t be able to tell which ones Steve built to match.”

  She moved to the cupboards and ran her hand along the countertop. “I didn’t know if you’d be ready for these soapstone countertops when they arrived.”

  He shook his head. “Me either, to be honest. But I’d never seen anything like them, and I was curious enough to make it a priority. Besides, I know you planned to start staging tomorrow.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of you managing it, but here you are.” He waved his hand toward the freshly painted living room. “Looks like you’ll be able to pull up with truckloads of furniture tomorrow after all.”

  Tara sighed happily. “It’s like a miracle in a movie, or something.”

  He scrubbed his hands across his head. “Sure caught me by surprise.”

  She headed into the living room, carefully testing the paint near the floor to see if it was dry. Satisfied that it was, she checked the trim. “Still a little tacky, but we should be able to pull up the cardboard and see the floors with the walls. You game?”

  He laughed. “You never stop, do you? A twelve-hour day and you’re still going strong.”

  She shrugged and yanked at the cardboard, careful not to ding the wall.

  Justin followed her lead, grabbing the cardboard on the far side of the room and pulling it up to expose the shining hardwood floor beneath.

  Tara raced to get her side of the room pulled up first, and they spent several frenzied moments pulling and tossing cardboard sheets.

  Backing up to the pile of debris in the center of the room, they breathed heavily and surveyed their work. The floors reflected pink and gold from the setting sun through the front windows, muting the soft green of the walls. The effect was exactly what Tara had hoped for.

  Justin tilted his head. “Looks amazing already, doesn’t it?”

  Tara nodded. “It really does.” She wiped her shoulder across her forehead. “What a day…”

  He turned to survey the room behind them. “You’ve worked hard. You’re a tough lady.”

  She turned to face him. “Hard work doesn’t scare me. But today… all that stuff?” She let out a long breath. “That derails me. I’m not used to all the hugging and I’ve actually been working on being more— what’s the word— approachable?” She snorted. “I even got stupid and tried being sexy the other night.” She glanced at him through her lashes. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry?”

  She shrugged. “I looked like a fool and made you mad.”

  “What are you talking about? I was mad because you were so damn sexy, I couldn’t breathe. I had to grab you.”

  Thoughtful, her brow creased in thought. “I know that your feelings for me changed once you knew about my dad. It’s okay, I understand. I’m used to it, but the people here have always known I’m different and where I came from -- you thought I was— normal at first.”

  His mouth fell open and he shook his head. “I don’t know what you think normal is but I never thought less of you; how could you believe I’d be like that? I felt horrible when I heard about your dad. I wanted to hunt him down and kill him!
”

  He turned away to pace, then turned back to face her. “Tara, I— I didn’t know how to act after I found out. You were so withdrawn, and I felt like it was my fault -- like I’d pushed you too hard, and I just didn’t want to hurt you even more. I knew I was coming on too strong and I had no right - but I wanted you so much - so much that I’d get all crazy and yell and grab you.” With his expression grim, he continued. “I felt like I was all wrong for you, like I was— too demanding.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, and I like it.”

  He stared at her in surprise. “I’m too rough with you.”

  Her eyes darted from the floor to the walls, and finally back to him. “You weren’t at first. You were sweet and wonderful. That felt so odd to me. I got all…” She wagged her hand vaguely in front of her face. “When I feel soft it makes me want to run. I don’t know why.”

  He stood silent. He didn’t know why either, but he now had better insight into her odd responses. With his voice low and his gaze steady, he took a step toward her. “I only know I haven’t been able to keep my hands off you. I’d try to stay away, but it built up and up and I wanted to shake you till your teeth rattled, then… throw you down and jump on you.”

  She gazed up at him with a shy light in her eyes, then a smile teased the corner of her lips. “Well that’s good, because no man has ever put up with me long enough to jump on me. You don’t panic when I get bossy, and that day at the warehouse,” she sobered, “you didn’t scare me, it was just so intense. When I’m overwhelmed, I run. I can work on that.”

  Her admissions rolled around in the back of his mind. He didn’t frighten her after all. His fear of hurting or scaring her had forced him to avoid her for weeks, and all that time she thought he didn’t want her because of her past. He’d botched that all up, but if she wasn’t scared, and she wanted him after all, then what stood in their way? He reached for her.

  Tara watched as realization spread across Justin’s face. Happiness bubbled in her chest, and anticipation warred with mild panic in her mind as joyful sparks shot from her eyes. She laughed, twisting to miss his hands, and bent to collect as many sheets of cardboard as she could carry, then headed for the front door.

  “Hey, get back here,” he called, then bent to scoop up cardboard and followed her with the remaining sheets from the pile. Tara stretched to push the cardboard into the dumpster, but a few pieces slid and fell as she pushed the awkward trash over her head.

  He tossed his pieces high into the bin and reached between her and the dumpster to grab the sheets she had lost before they hit the ground. Together, they pushed the cardboard up into the bin, hip to hip, hand over hand. They laughed, bumping hips, each trying to get the best grip and get the last push.

  The cardboard flopped into the dumpster, and they continued to push at each other playfully as the last rays of golden sun glimmered behind the barn.

  Tara pushed at Justin’s shirt. “You have paint all over your clothes.”

  He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, pulling her close, and touched her cheek. “You have paint on your face.”

  The moment grew long and quiet between them, their eyes shining, hearts pounding.

  His fingers slid from her check, along her jaw, and into her disheveled hair. “You’re a filthy mess, you know that?”

  She scoffed. “And you were filthy all along.”

  His mouth fell open in false shock.

  She grinned and leaned into him, her head tilted back and her eyes drifting closed.

  His lips touched hers so gently, she wasn’t sure if he’d kissed her, or if she’d imagined it. Her eyes fluttered open to find his gaze searching her face. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her lashes falling back to her cheeks.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue searching for hers, and his hands sliding to her lower back to press her hips to his.

  Tara moaned into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair to grasp his head. He pushed her back against the dumpster, and she wound her legs around his hips. They kissed passionately, their bodies pressed together, tongues intertwined, fingers grasping, hips grinding.

  Justin came up for air, and Tara’s eyes fluttered open. He tugged a wisp of damp hair from the corner of her mouth and wiped at the brown paint on her cheek. A wicked grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “This is dirty.”

  Tara giggled. “This is not how I pictured things going down.”

  “Oh really? Just what have you pictured?”

  “I’ve imagined us together a few hundred ways, but none of them included a dumpster.”

  He laughed and moved back, lowering her to the ground. “What do you say we tear up the rest of that cardboard and call it a day. I’m exhausted.”

  She agreed.

  He took her hand and led her through the darkness, back up the steps to the house. An hour later, all the trash was removed from the house, and they stood by her truck.

  Justin kissed her lightly, a hand on each of her shoulders. He pulled back and looked intently into her eyes. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to take you home and make love to you, but as usual, our timing sucks.”

  She blushed.

  His hands dropped to grasp her cold fingers. “Are you okay to drive home? You’re dead on your feet.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay then, drive careful, and I’ll see you at the warehouse at dawn to load furniture.”

  She smiled weakly. “Right. See you then.”

  He watched as she climbed into her truck and turned to head down the driveway. Raising his hand in a wave as she drove away, he frowned and lowered his hand to rub across his scalp.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Dodging the puddles that filled low-lying areas of the road, Tara battled exhaustion and elation to get home. The entire day had been a blur of impossible miracles. Not only had the entire town come to help her, they apparently loved her. She shook her head in amazement; the whole notion still seemed surreal.

  And Justin, he’d blown her socks off. All she’d had to do was open up to him a little bit, and he’d practically thrown her down right there in the front yard.

  A wrinkle marred her forehead. Even though they had talked about her dad, she’d spent her entire life feeling different because of her past. She couldn’t easily believe Justin wasn’t influenced by the things Winnie had told him. She bit her bottom lip as concern swelled in her chest. Maybe he’d just decided that if the town accepted her, he would too…

  She turned onto the highway, her mind spinning ahead to the next day. They would start loading the furniture for the interiors at first light. Everything was organized and ready. She’d put the extra time to good use, but she always worried that the vision in her mind wouldn’t translate into the reality of the space.

  She rubbed one eye and parked behind the old house. Winnie’s bedroom light was still on. A smile warmed Tara’s heart. She knew the old woman would be propped up in bed snoring – with her book open in her lap.

  Tara staggered up the stairs and tapped on Winnie’s door. Not waiting for a reply, she entered and tiptoed toward the bed. In her sleep, Winnie looked old and fragile. Gently, Tara took the book and set it on the nightstand, removed a few of the back pillows, and pulled the blanket up to Winnie’s shoulders.

  Pausing, she leaned and pressed a kiss to the papery cheek, then turned out the light and headed back down the hall.

  Once in her room, she pulled her shirt over her head, noting the multiple paint splotches, then tossed it in the hamper with a high-handed basketball shot. As her hands lowered, her fingers touched her shoulders where Justin’s hands had been.

  Slowly, she trailed her fingertips down her chest, over her breasts, and onto her stomach. With her eyes dreamy, she remembered his big hands cupping her bottom as he cradled her against him. A blush crept up her skin and her pulse point flickered. Hazily, she wondered what would happen next. Her eyes cleared and her room came back into focus.

  She swallowed t
he lump that sprang to her throat. Tomorrow night, after they started the staging of the house, Justin would want to take her home. Her hands dropped to her sides. He’d lay her in his bed and take off her clothes and touch her all over.

  Sweat beaded on her upper lip and her mouth hung slack. She knew what would happen next. A grimace twisted her lips. She’d have to remember to stay relaxed – that seemed to be key to pleasing a man. Her stomach churned. She wanted so much to be close to him, to kiss him, and touch him – to make him happy. She’d figure it out somehow. She had to.

  Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she finished undressing and dropped onto the bed wearing only her panties. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, knowing full well Winnie would be angry about her smearing dirt and grime on the sheets.

  She pushed her thoughts forward, to the resort. Becky had explained that many of the same people who had helped that day would return tomorrow to lift and carry furniture, help Justin build the deck, and aid the landscaper.

  Tara closed her eyes, imagining people milling through the house, talking about the crowd that had come to save her. They’d smile and pat her shoulder and expect her to respond like a normal person. She was thankful and very happy to have the painting done, but the thought of them all pressing in on her sent chills down her spine. She had no idea what she was supposed to say or to do now or how everyone would respond to her awkwardness.

  They would help her carry in dressers and couches and set them every which way in the living room, art work would be tossed into trucks, and cushions and pillows would fall on the dusty floor. She clamped her eyes shut tight and shoved her fists against them. She would rather carry every piece herself than have her work get lost, scratched, or damaged. She was such a control freak.

  But worse than all that was everyone watching her. They’d ask her questions about the house and the furniture and wait for her to answer them -- their eyes searching, analyzing her face, her gestures. They would laugh and talk among themselves and wonder what was wrong with her.