by Lyn Cote
The self-conscious boys ducked their heads and grinned.
“This is their substitute for serving detentions,” Pete said dryly, gesturing to the teens to toss their jackets onto a large box.
“Well, I appreciate your help,” she told them.
Eleanor snapped her cell phone shut and approached them.
“Detentions, huh?” Her mouth a thin line, she shook hands with Pete. “Okay, we’ll get the two of them to work. We’re putting up wallboard today. Since you brought them, Beck, do you think they can do a good job?”
“They’re young, and hefting sheets of wallboard into place should give them a good workout.”
“There are some.” Eleanor gestured toward the open area behind her. Sheets of wallboard were stacked there, and near outlets around the room lay cordless drills, charging.
The door opened again and Jake and Dan entered. Snow swirled in around them.
On seeing Jake, Amy’s heart fluttered, and then at the sight of Dan, it slammed shut. I will not continue to react to Jake’s dad like this. It’s childish. She infused her welcoming smile with enthusiasm. “Thanks for coming, Dan.” She hoped she sounded sincere, but after what he’d said the last time, she wasn’t truly happy to see him. Had he come just to make sure she wasn’t “entrapping” his son? She swallowed down the bitterness on her tongue.
Jake’s responding expression dimmed to a shadow of his usual smile. “Hi, Amy,” he murmured, glancing down.
What was troubling Jake? Amy studied what she could see of his face.
“Good day,” Dan said, nodding generally to everyone. His frosty expression negated his cordial words. “What’s today’s agenda?”
Amy stepped back from him.
“Pete Beck and his students are going to be doing the wallboard in here.” Eleanor eyed Pete. “A local contractor was supposed to come today to supervise wallboarding, but he called to say he was delayed. So I guess God sent you to be our supervisor, Beck. Can you help both crews? Or do your students need constant supervision?”
“They can work alone.” Pete turned to Jake, Dan and Amy. “How about you? Any experience drywalling?”
“I’ve done it once before,” Jake said. Dan and Amy shook their heads no.
“I’ll come and help you get started then,” Pete offered. “I can give you a few pointers. Make sure you’re on the right track and if you need help, you can ask me questions.”
“Great,” Amy said with an attempt at confidence.
Eleanor gave Amy a bolstering shoulder squeeze. “I’ll stay here and help the guys.” She gave the teens a don’t-step-out-of-line look. One of them squirmed.
“Amy, you help Jake and Dan,” Eleanor finished. Soon Amy and Dan watched as Jake raised the first sheet in the master bedroom in place and Pete explained how to drill in the wallboard. Amy made sure she kept her eyes on Pete. She hadn’t wanted to make a fuss about being put with Jake and Dan. Maybe she could slip out later to work with Eleanor.
At the edges of her attention she caught a subtle silent battle going on between Jake and his father, evident in their body language. They appeared to be avoiding, yet rebuffing each other. Was she the source of this tension? Or was it something else this time?
Pete drew Amy to the outer wall of the bedroom, leaving Jake and Dan on the other side. Amy watched Pete lift one of the sheets of wallboard. She gripped the cordless drill in her hand and began drilling into the studs as instructed. But she kept track of the other two.
“Dad,” Jake said, “I’ll get the next one.”
Sheets of wallboard were stacked in this room, too. Jake hoisted another sheet and hefted it into place against the studs in the outer wall, bracing it there. His dad had begun setting screws and powering them in.
The sound of electrical drills came from down the hall.
Amy concentrated on her task, grunting a bit as she drilled in another screw. Amy’s unease over the father-son breach ratcheted up. The shrill sound of the whirring drills and the vibration in her hand and arm matched her inner tension.
In the kitchen Eleanor switched the radio on to the local country-and-western station. Hank Williams’s classic “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” warbled amid the drilling. The song made her wonder if Jake and Dan were rubbing each other the wrong way because they just weren’t used to being together. Had they become so accustomed to being apart they didn’t know how to act when together?
Glancing over her shoulder, she knew she couldn’t “connect” a father and a son. She’d been raised in a series of foster homes. Her mother had died in an institution. Her father had vanished from her life. Would she even recognize him on the street? Carrie wouldn’t. She’d never met him. If he was alive, did he ever think about his two daughters?
Hank Williams’s lonesome voice was interrupted. “Folks, our county has just been included in a severe weather watch. We’re expecting temperatures to drop to minus thirty-five tonight. Make sure your pets are brought inside or have a warm, sheltered refuge outside. Dogs and cats can’t survive these types of temperatures without our help. Make sure your gas tanks are filled before you drive tonight. And the state police advise residents to go out only if necessary.”
Amy tensed, letting the drill die in her hand.
“And be sure to check your emergency winter kit in your vehicle. You should carry a shovel, a blanket, a flashlight, flares and food and water. It doesn’t say it here, but I’d advise you to make sure your cell phones are charged up. You don’t want your cell to fail you just when you might need to call for help.” The radio announcer went on with more particulars and repeated advice.
Everyone had stopped to listen. Amy immediately thought of the twins. But they are safe with Ginnie.
“We’ll just work a few hours and then all head home!” Eleanor called out. “We should all be safely inside before dark.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder and her gaze connected with Jake’s. The forlorn expression in his eyes had her wanting to fold him into her arms—just as he had done for her the day they’d rescued the kittens. But I can’t. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
Amy woke up and realized that some time during the night, her girls and the kittens had joined her in bed under her electric blanket. That and the combined body heat had prevented her from waking to the cold. Now she realized her nose was a Popsicle.
She moved the quilt that half covered her head. The icy temperature of the bedroom hit her full in the face. This can’t be good.
She struggled out of the warm nest, shivering instantly as she moved her feet around, seeking her slippers. Then she whipped on her heavy robe and hurried into the hall to the thermostat. It read forty-nine degrees. Her heart beat—no, no, no.
She raced to the kitchen tap and wrenched on the knob. No water spilled out at her touch. Her mind resisted the truth. She twisted the faucet knob off and then on again. No water. That meant only one thing. The pipes under the mobile home had frozen. But why wasn’t the heat on?
She ran down the short hall to the cubbyhole beside the washer and dryer where the furnace huddled. She knelt, peered into the furnace and groaned between her chattering teeth. The pilot light had gone out in the night.
“Dear Lord, of all nights for this to happen.” After rising, she found the long matches, knelt down, and then lit the pilot. Proverbially shutting the barn door after the horse had escaped.
The furnace switched on immediately with a blast of lukewarm air. But by now, Amy was frozen. She sprinted back to her bed and slid back under the covers. She reached for her cell phone, charging by the bed. In spite of the early hour, she dialed her landlord and gave him the bad news.
“I’m so sorry, Sam. I don’t know why the furnace pilot would go out.”
“It’s because that furnace would make a dinosaur look young,” the man replied. “You know I’ve just been waiting for you to move into your Habitat house. Then I planned to junk your trailer, replace it with a new double-wide and get a new tenant at a hi
gher rate.”
His matter-of-fact tone soothed her, but his plans shook her. I’m not ready to move yet! “You’re not going to fix the pipes then?” she asked, hope teetering on the edge.
“Amy, it just isn’t a wise investment. Your mobile home is on its last leg. We both know that. Until you came up with the Habitat answer, I was worried about you. All that’s changed today is that you’re going to have to move out earlier than you thought. I’m sorry.”
She pressed a hand over her mouth so he wouldn’t hear how hard she was taking this news. “I understand.” And she did.
“My insurance will pay a motel room for you until you can find another place. I’ll call my brother who owns the Dew Drop Inn on County K and reserve you and the girls a room. He won’t mind the kittens either. And your breakfast at the motel café is on me.”
“Thanks. Bye,” was all she could say. She hung up.
The twins had awakened. “What’s wrong, Mom?” Rachel asked, peeking out from the nest of blankets.
“We’re going out for breakfast.” Pausing, Amy choked down all her turmoil and “it’s not fair” emotions. No time. Might as well accept what was offered.
She and the girls dressed in record time and packed the kittens into a snug box padded with old hand towels and covered with a doll’s blanket. Grateful she had a full tank of gas and a new battery, Amy started her van and let it warm some before she bundled her girls outside.
She drove to the small cheery café all done in red and white checks. After she gave their orders, she and the girls went to the washroom to freshen up, washing hands and faces.
When the owner of the café-motel, a stocky man with gray hair, came to their booth, they were eating French toast with warm maple syrup and the café’s popular venison sausage. “You’re Amy, right?” He offered his hand. “I’m Chet.”
“Hi,” she said. Twinkie and Peanut-Butter chose this moment to peep out from under the blanket covering their box.
“I see you brought the whole family.” He grinned, his skin crinkling up cheerfully.
Though thankful for his kind tone and friendly smile, Amy blinked back the threat of tears. “Yes, I couldn’t leave them out in the van. Not at forty-two-below windchill.”
He shook his head. “This winter is trying to break us, all right. But I’m not giving in. Sam called me, and I have a nice kitchenette room ready for you, your girls and the kittens.” He grinned again.
“Thank you so much. I just feel so disoriented.” An understatement.
Chet playfully tapped Rachel’s nose. “No school today for you two. Too cold for standing at bus stops.”
Rachel and Cassie bounced up and down, chanting, “No school! No school!”
The people around them chuckled while Amy hushed them.
“I didn’t give school much thought,” she said after the twins went back to swirling their French toast through maple syrup. “But I should have expected it.”
“If there’s anything you need, you just let us know. Sam thinks highly of you. You’ve never been late with the rent in all the years you lived in that old trailer.”
“Your brother has been very good to us. He’s always fixed everything and has always been kind.”
“Sam doesn’t have anything else vacant. I’ll spread the word you’re looking for something temporary. If you don’t find anything, I’ll give you a good monthly rate on my kitchenette till your house is done. So don’t worry. We won’t let you end up on the side of the road.”
His understanding and generosity propelled her past her reserve. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He patted her on the shoulder and headed toward the cash register to take care of a customer.
Swallowing her tears and still without much appetite, Amy forced herself to eat her breakfast. Free food as good as this shouldn’t be turned down. Plus, she needed energy to handle this. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed Ginnie to tell her what had happened. Staying here at the motel would force her to drive the twins to and from school. And to Ginnie’s for after-school care. This would not work out with her clinic work schedule.
“Can we go to Dr. Jake’s with you today?” Cassie asked, taking another bite of the thick dripping toast.
Amy reached over with a napkin and dabbed some maple syrup off Cassie’s cheek. Thank goodness, she worked at the clinic now. Jake’s smile glimmered dangerously in her mind. “For the morning.”
“Goodie!” Rachel exclaimed.
Amy called Ginnie and explained the situation. God had provided, but the sensation of being disrupted, ousted and abandoned persisted.
Help me through this, Lord, she prayed.
Chapter 7
Jake heard the rear door open and the usual welcome from the animals in the kennel. He stepped out of his office. Amy had entered and had paused just a few feet from him. Her face tilted downward. Her eyes opened wide, her lower lip trembling till she gripped it with her teeth. She looked so forlorn; she stirred his heart. His caution didn’t stop his lips from tingling as if he were about to kiss her. He couldn’t keep from going to her. Then Bummer intervened. Rushing between Jake’s ankles, the hound greeted the twins with happy woofs. They knelt down to pet him and show him the kittens they’d brought in a box. The air filled with the twins’ cooing.
He was grateful that the commotion had interrupted him before he could embarrass Amy or him by reaching for her. “The phone has been ringing off the hook.” He smiled with an apologetic tilt to his head, ignoring the way her presence sharpened his senses. Or at least trying. “Because of the cold, I think we’re going to get a lot of cancellations for routine appointments.” He gazed at her, unable to prevent himself from moving toward her. “I take it school has been canceled.”
“We can’t go back to live in our house,” Rachel said as if broadcasting the live news. She and Cassie still knelt on the floor. “Our pipes froze.”
These three short words carried a wallop. Frozen pipes meant disruption, expensive plumbing, a big pain in the neck. His mouth dropped open. “Amy.” Instinctively and forgetting all else, he reached for her, to draw her close.
She caught his hand in midair and gripped it. “It’s been a rough morning.”
Her gentle rebuff hit Jake. He hid this, glancing over his shoulder to avoid her eyes. He offered her the only comfort he could. “I just made some fresh coffee. Come get a cup.”
“I had two cups at the Dew Drop Inn Café.” She let go of his hand. Leaving it cold.
“Hey, you’re having a rough day. Indulge yourself. I picked up some of that French vanilla creamer you like.”
Her shoulders relaxed, an obvious release of tension. She sighed. A faint smile flitted over her face. “Wonderful.” She followed him into the break room that connected to his office.
After waving her to the navy blue sofa, he insisted on waiting on her, pouring her coffee into her personal “I HEART my kittens” mug and adding a generous dollop of the special creamer. Handing it to her, he sat down on the matching navy plaid armchair at an angle to the sofa. “Now tell me about it.”
She did and at the end, she said, as if challenging him to disagree, “Everything’s going to be all right. This is just…unexpected.” She paused and he waited.
“I’ll have to move out of the trailer. My landlord owns the Dew Drop Inn and has offered me a kitchenette till I can move into my house.”
Jake tried to appear sympathetic, not pessimistic. “This winter has been a real…disaster.” He reached for her hand. This time she let him take it. “We’ll think of something.” She squeezed his hand. Their gazes caught and held.
Suddenly aware of the presence of someone else, Jake glanced to the doorway to see Rachel, Cassie and Bummer staring at them. Jake released Amy’s hand. And not a moment too soon.
The back door banged open. “It’s cold!” Sandy announced to the universe at large. “What is with this weather?”
Both Jake and Amy po
pped up. Amy spilled a few drops of coffee.
Sandy swooshed into the break room. “Coffee. I need hot coffee. Emphasis on hot.” When she greeted them, she smiled knowingly. And then turned away to make more coffee.
Jake knew he was missing something here. Why were the twins still staring at them, grinning? And why was Sandy chuckling under her breath?
The phone rang. Jake walked into his office and picked up. “Dr. McClure speaking.”
“I’m ready to chew nails,” Annie barked from the other end. “When one of the new volunteers locked up yesterday, she turned the thermostat down too low. Our pipes froze. We don’t have any water. And we don’t have the funds to fix the pipes!”
Jake reeled with the news. Amy’s and the shelter’s pipes had frozen? “This is a bad joke, right?”
“It’s bad, but it’s no joke.”
“We’ll need a temporary replacement facility,” he said trying to think of possibilities.
“No joke,” Annie repeated. “Can you think of any place big enough?”
“Not off the top of my head. I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’ll make some calls and get back to you.” She hung up.
Jake walked back into the break room. “You won’t believe this.” He explained the situation to Sandy and Amy. His low spirits sank lower.
“We’ll think of something,” Amy said.
He didn’t want to point out that her tone lacked conviction.
“We’ll pray!” Rachel and Cassie declared.
After a day of emergency cases and appointments kept by those who braved the harsh weather, Jake found himself unable to resist walking toward Amy. How he wished he had a solution for her. “So you’re going to the motel tonight?”
Standing with her hands on the back of her steel gray desk chair, she was stretching her neck and back. “Yes. I’ve gotten a lot of work done on the spreadsheets and billing today.”
So at odds with the mundane topic, her graceful movements riveted him. He tried to switch to showing concern for her situation, not staring at her. “If the twins don’t have school again tomorrow,” he said, though the tightness in his throat squeezed around each word, “feel free to bring them with you.”