Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Julia took a moment to regroup, knowing that Tara was waiting for an explanation. Her sandwich no longer held any appeal as her heart sank further into her stomach. Finally, she spoke, her words stilted and odd sounding to her ears. “Do you know what encephalitis is?”

  Tara paused from adjusting her plate and looked up. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Watching her new friend carefully, Julia continued. “It’s an infection of the brain. I had it. And now I’m different.”

  Blinking in confusion, Tara seemed to struggle to appear calm and intelligent. “I—I’m sorry...”

  Julia waved her off, amazed that the floor hadn’t opened up and swallowed her whole. Until yesterday, she’d never told anyone about her illness, fearing that somehow, they would be afraid of her, or judge her, or... she wasn’t sure what she’d thought they would do.

  Tara shifted in her chair, her mind working. “How long were you sick?”

  Still feeling her way through the conversation, Julia glanced up, seeing only concern in Tara’s gaze.

  “I was unconscious for months. And it took a long time afterwards to really understand much of what had happened.”

  Her face contorted into horror, Tara blurted, “But—that must have left you so weak and you must have—I don’t even know what all that would mean.”

  Julia watched Tara struggle with her response. The conversation had at some point become surreal, as if she had removed herself and they were discussing a different person altogether. She hadn’t been able to face what had happened to her because the pain had been so intense. The idea of waking up unable to speak, paralyzed, and alone, even though she remembered parts of it, was still hazy and felt oddly gruesome.

  “Yeah, I had to relearn a lot of things...” Suddenly Julia realized that in the long tedious, lonely months of recovery that had followed her coma, she had learned to disassociate herself from that sick person. She’d had only enough strength to face one moment at a time, one battle at a time. Not until this instant had she been strong enough to piece the whole event together into a long line and look at it as a whole. She’d been well, gotten sick, laid in a coma, awoken, then spent almost a year trying to recover.

  When Chad had asked her about her illness, she hadn’t been able to answer. Just segments of her past that were swathed in overbearing pain would come to the surface – like pinpoint pricks of horror. She hadn’t been able to tap into that part of her mind that could lay the events in order without layering on the pain as well.

  Or maybe she had felt as if Chad were off limits. Like she couldn’t have him, love him or need him, get close to him, because of her illness, and that had made her angry and unwilling to communicate.

  Whatever the reason, she was amazed that just a day later she was able to speak of what had happened without falling to pieces. Now she just felt numb.

  Tara shook her head and cleared her throat, then collecting her thoughts, she gazed hard at Julia. “I don’t know what to say. That must have been horrible for you. You are full of surprises.” She squinted down at her cabbage roll for a long moment and then back up. “We have so many things to talk about. I’d like to know more about what happened.” She let out a long breath. “Seems we both have a past that we fight. But for now, this minute, let’s just relax and eat our lunch. Sound good?”

  Seeing no derision in Tara’s comment or her body language, Julia relaxed. She felt like a rag doll or maybe a deflated pool toy. But Tara was right. There was no way to change anything that had happened, and it had actually felt almost good to get a few things off her chest. Breathing long slow breaths to assure herself all was well, she finally nodded.

  Chapter Ten

  Hand over hand, Chad pulled another long piece of lumber from his truck and tossed it on the growing pile. Pausing to wipe the back of his wrist across his forehead and adjust his leather glove, he scowled across the yard between the inn and the construction site where his friend Justin was building a spa.

  “You look ornery as hell,” Justin said as he bent to heft three, long, two by sixes to his shoulder. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing,” Chad grumbled, grabbing two more boards and heaving them toward the pile.

  Both men turned to watch Tara’s old pickup truck bump up the driveway toward the house, a cloud of dust billowing behind it. Justin continued to carry his boards toward the open pit of the finished foundation, and Chad pulled out two more pieces of lumber before Tara’s truck rolled to a stop next to his.

  “Hi Chad,” she called as she climbed from the pickup. “I didn’t know they were ready to start framing yet.”

  He slid two more boards from the truck and tossed them onto the pile with a clatter. “The lumber was ready, and Justin said to go ahead and bring it out, so I did.”

  “Okay,” she replied, her head cocked at an angle. Justin joined them, pulling Tara to him for a quick kiss.

  Leaning into the kiss, Tara smiled as she admired Justin’s good looks. “What’s got him all puffed up?” she asked, pointing her elbow toward Chad. “He looks like a thundercloud.”

  Justin shrugged. “He told me it was nothing, but my bet is that nothing has blond curls.”

  Two more boards clattered to the pile. “That’s fine, talk about me like I’m not here.” Chad grumbled.

  “I just had lunch with Julia,” Tara offered, watching Chad for a response.

  “Oh yeah?” Chad growled as another piece of lumber was hurled to the pile.

  “Holy crap, don’t take out your problems on my lumber,” Justin laughed.

  Chad stopped and stared at his boot, then looked up, squinting into the afternoon sun. “Okay then, how is Julia today?”

  Tara’s face fell, diverted from teasing Chad to thinking about Julia. “Actually, we had a strange conversation. Has she told you much about her past or why she came here?”

  Chad yanked off his gloves and cocked one hip against the back of the truck, his brow furrowed in thought. “The woman talks in riddles.”

  “I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard she’s a sweet little thing,” Justin offered.

  Tara nodded. “She is, but evidently she’s been through a really hard time.”

  His head swinging to Tara, Chad blurted. “What did she tell you?”

  Taken aback, Tara paused. “Why? What has she told you?”

  Wondering if Tara knew about their kisses and their stilted relationship, Chad was unsure what to say. “You tell me first.”

  “Oh, for heaven sakes,” Justin scoffed. “Would you two just spill it? What happened at lunch, and what is going on with you two?”

  Chad stared toward the construction site and Tara toward the house, both silent.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you then.” Justin prompted as he pointed at Chad. “You have the hots for Julia and don’t know why, because she’s not your type.” He turned to Tara. “And she finally opened up to you about something, and you’re not sure if you should tell Chad because you know she likes him.”

  Neither Tara nor Chad offered any disagreement. As a matter of fact, neither said a word or could meet the other’s eye.

  “Do I have to carry the whole conversation here?” Justin responded in frustration.

  Chad shrugged a shoulder. “You’re right, you’re right. She’s on my mind, and yeah, she’s not my type.”

  Tara laughed. “Or maybe she is exactly your type and you just didn’t know it.”

  “What does that mean?” Chad snapped defensively.

  “I’ve known you since we were kids,” Tara said. “And since you came home, I’ve never understood why you only chased the flashy girls.”

  Justin laughed, his voice ringing across the yard and past the barn. “Honey, isn’t that obvious?” he said, siding with his friend.

  Exasperated, Tara continued. “You’re horrible.” She shoved at Justin’s shoulder, then turned back to Chad. “No, I mean, you have a heart of gold, yet you never offered it to anyone,” she lamented. “Is that
because of what happened to William? You don’t want to be close to anyone?”

  Obviously uncomfortable, Chad shuffled from one boot to the other, then finally glared at Tara. “Don’t—Don’t go there.” he warned, his voice cracking.

  Her hands raised as if she were innocent, Tara backed up a step.

  Staring at his boots, Chad cleared his throat and struggled to regroup.

  Tara’s head tilted to one side. “You feel different about Julia, don’t you?” she prodded, not one to let it go.

  Chad turned away to gaze across the property.

  “Ah-oh,” Justin muttered, rubbing his hand across the top of his head.

  His fingers massaging his jaw in thought, Chad put one boot on the bumper of the truck.

  “What has she told you?” Tara asked gently, maneuvering to Chad’s side.

  His eyes desolate, Chad sighed and turned to Tara. He paused, glancing over Tara’s shoulder to Justin, who nodded for him to continue. His foot dropped from the back of the truck, and he twisted his gloves in his hands. “She said she doesn’t want to get involved with me or anybody, and somehow, it has to do with her being sick before she came here.”

  Tara nodded. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?” Justin asked, turning to Chad. “I’m confused. I thought you and Julia had a thing going. You told me she was a good kisser.”

  Tara’s head pivoted to Justin and then back to Chad. “Really? She didn’t tell me that!”

  Chad grimaced and Justin hooted.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Tara stammered. “I know you’re a good kisser, I just meant—”

  “Oh really?” Justin teased, nudging Tara with his elbow in mock horror.

  Bumping the butt of her hand on her forehead, Tara moaned.

  “Okay, look,” Chad blurted, “I made a move because I thought she was interested, but she said she wasn’t. I swear to God, she seems interested.” He turned to stare back across the yard. “I don’t know...”

  “What did she tell you about being sick?” Tara asked, shrugging off Justin and placing her hand on Chad’s arm.

  He scowled in thought before he answered. “She said she had a high fever and was unconscious for months.”

  Tara nodded. “She told me she had encephalitis.”

  “What is that?” Chad asked, his eyes bright with concern. “What else did she tell you?”

  “Not much, but I Googled it on the way home.”

  Justin threw his hands in the air. “You told me you don’t get online when you drive anymore.”

  “I pulled over,” Tara retorted with a condescending grimace.

  “Never mind that,” Chad interrupted, “What is it? What did it say?”

  Tara turned back to Chad. “An infection of the brain. It hits fast and can leave people brain damaged or even kill them. There are several types.”

  “Well, her bastard of a husband divorced her at some point,” Chad growled. “Of all the nerve. What ever happened to ‘in sickness and in health’?”

  “She was married?!” Tara gasped. “Oh, my gosh.”

  Justin stood looking helpless, wanting to offer support to both Tara and Chad but having no grounds to comment. “She must be traumatized.” he finally offered.

  “She told me she lost her job too,” Chad said, rubbing the back of his wrist across his forehead.

  “Poor girl,” Tara muttered.

  “What are you going to do now?” Justin asked Chad.

  He shrugged.

  “You can’t just give up,” Tara insisted, her voice cracking with emotion.

  Both men turned to her. “Who in this town decided that men have to pursue impossible relationships?” Justin mumbled. Chad glowered at him.

  Tara’s eyes flitted between the two men. “Well, you’re happy enough, aren’t you?” she asked Justin, challenging him to disagree.

  He snorted. “I’m fine now, but...”

  “Fine? Fine?” she inquired in a huff.

  “Could we get back on topic here, please?” Chad interrupted.

  Both turned back to Chad -- Justin eager to change the subject, and Tara still ruffled.

  “I don’t even know what to say to her,” Chad continued sadly, looking to his friends for some type of solution.

  “Don’t treat her any different,” Tara assured him. “She’s worried about how different she is, she thinks she’s a pariah. She probably doesn’t tell people because they treat her weird.”

  “Am I just supposed to ignore what she’s been through?” Chad asked. “That seems pretty cold and unfeeling. She obviously isn’t okay with things the way things are now.”

  “I’m no psychiatrist,” Justin interjected, “But it seems to me that you like her the way she is now. Isn’t that the point?”

  Chad stared at Justin. Through him. Finally, he shook his head in confusion. “What are you going to do, Tara?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll read everything I can about it and move forward with our friendship. I’ll try to be sensitive, but—”

  “Right, see?” Chad interjected. “I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. Hell, all I did was ask what happened and she threw me out of her house...”

  “I’d like to have seen that,” Justin muttered under his breath. Both Tara and Chad scowled at him.

  Justin raised his hands in surrender and took a step back.

  Tara frowned. “Just promise me you won’t give up on her. Please?”

  Chad shrugged and tugged his gloves on, then reached for another board.

  * * *

  Julia turned from the dish drainer to glance down at George. He’d been in and out of the mudroom all afternoon, pacing and meowing. “What’s up, little man?” she asked, crouching to scratch between his ears. The cat uncharacteristically moved away and headed back to the mudroom. Julia shrugged and washed her hands.

  Dishtowel in hand, she contemplated the wall of her kitchen. Tara had helped her tack the power strips to the underside of the top cabinets on the hutches. She’d placed her mother’s china, as well as the mismatched pieces she’d bought at the boutique, in the upper shelves behind the wavy glass doors, where they sparkled in the evening sun. What she really needed, she decided, was a set of antique canisters on the countertop of the hutches and maybe a colander full of leafy greens.

  Tilting her head to one side, she envisioned a curtain along the bottom of the sink to hide the pipes -- one that matched a lace valance. The magazine picture that had been her inspiration showed a wood shelf across the center of the window, piled with colored glass. She’d have to stop at the boutique in the next few days to look for treasures that would complete the room.

  George once again emerged from the mudroom, yowling and fussing. Julia glanced at him from time to time as she finished the dishes, unsure what he wanted. When the last plate was set in the wood drying rack on the sloped draining board of the sink, she wandered to her room in search of a good book.

  Bending, she creaked open the trunk at the foot of the bed and surveyed the contents. A stack of dog-eared notebooks, as well as gardening books, took up one end of the trunk but she shuffled through the books on the other end. The second one from the top was the flower shop book she’d bought on her first trip to the Uniontown bookstore. Pausing in contemplation, she stared at the cover with Tara’s words replaying in her mind.

  She lifted the book from the chest to brush at the dust jacket, longingly smiling at the picture of the shop on the cover and its rows of flowerpots and buckets of cut flowers in front of the plate-glass windows.

  She tucked the book under her arm and closed the chest. The front porch was her favorite reading spot, and it was the perfect evening to curl up in the big wicker chair with a book.

  She padded through the living room with the book tucked under her arm and opened the door for Ringo, but he hung back. Julia shrugged and wandered onto the porch. Tucking her feet under her in the wicker chair, Julia took a moment to gaze across the yard and admire her flow
ers. The mums and pansies under the tree bloomed in riotous reds and yellows, mirroring the day lilies across the yard. The new hastas were planted along the side of the driveway, nearly hiding the ancient, chain-link fence. The roses along the porch bloomed in soft reds and pinks and mild yellow tones, their scent wafting toward her on the breeze.

  Opening the book, she flipped slowly through the pages of pictures, reading the captions. Could she really do the flowers for Tara’s wedding? What had Tara said – bunches of flowers for the dining room, living areas, and guestrooms? She hadn’t even been inside the inn. Maybe tomorrow she would drive up to visit Tara and see what it was like inside.

  Ringo barked in the living room, the noise echoing through the nearly empty room. “Come out here, boy,” Julia called distractedly as she turned pages. More insistent barking drew her attention away from the book, and she stood, placing the book on her chair. Drifting across the porch, she paused in front of the screen door. “What is it, dog?” she asked.

  The little dog sat in the center of the room, staring into the den. At the sound of Julia’s voice, he ran to the screen and barked twice, then trotted back toward the den. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Julia and whined.

  “Geez Lassie,” she muttered as she creaked open the door and drifted across the empty room. “You act like little Timmy fell in the well.” Following Ringo to the den, she ambled to the end of her bed, her arms spread wide and looked down at the frantic dog. “What is in here, huh? What has you all freaked out?”

  Ringo trotted to his bed where to Julia’s surprise, George lay panting. “George, get out of Ringo’s bed, you bad kitty,” she exclaimed, shooing at the cat.

  Meowing loudly, more like a long, drawn-out growl, George stared up at her, then his eyes closed to slits as he panted heavily. A fissure of concern crept along Julia’s scalp. Whatever was bothering the poor cat, he wasn’t acting normal.

  Her bedsprings creaked as she dropped to sit on the edge, her hands twisted in her lap, her gaze on George. “What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked, as Ringo paced in front of his bed. The cat yowled again and stretched one leg, his little body shaking.