Assuming the slight shake of her head meant the computer drawing he’d designed based on Jay’s descriptions was accurate, Cole said, “If you’ll let me, I’d like to do it.”
“Do what?” she asked.
He hadn’t intended to be standing so close when he had this conversation, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to move away. From here he could smell the papaya scent of her shampoo, could see the faint dusting of freckles on the tops of her shoulders bared by her sleeveless dress. Her collarbones were narrow, her chin delicate, her mouth pretty, but it was the golden flecks in her light brown eyes he studied the longest.
It occurred to him that he was staring, and he realized she’d asked him a question. In answer, he finally said, “I’d like to finish the upstairs for Jay, and for you and the girls. Time and materials will be part of my gift.”
“No.”
She surprised him with her vehemence. He waited for her to say more, but that was it. No explanation. Just “no.” Coupled with the lift of her chin and the giant step she took away from him, it spoke volumes.
“No?” The breeze carried Grace and Violet’s voices into the room from outdoors. April looked at him the way he imagined she looked at her children when they asked a stupid question. He hadn’t been expecting an out-and-out refusal.
“Jay couldn’t make this a reality. He wanted to more than anything, but he couldn’t. I can, April. I’m a licensed contractor and am part owner of a construction company in Rochester, New York. Jay planned to do this for you. His descriptions got us through endless nights of explosions. He dreamed of coming home, of turning his dream for the second story into a reality, and sometimes I dreamed right along with him, back when I used to dream, that is.”
He clamped his mouth shut. Damn, he hadn’t meant to divulge that little jewel.
“You stopped dreaming?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He expelled a long breath of air. “It’s not a big deal.”
“When did you stop?” she asked.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
“Jay called you a dreamer. But that was—” she paused “—before?”
He looked at her. Finally nodded. When she handed the print back to him, he put it on the counter next to his water and said, “I don’t have PTSD like a lot of former soldiers. What they go through is hell. I don’t dream anymore.” He didn’t know how they’d gotten on this subject, but he was positive he didn’t want to talk about this. “I’d really like you to think about the upstairs. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Like I said, it won’t cost you anything. You wouldn’t even know I’m here except for the hammering and the screeching saws.”
She looked at him so long he geared up for her to tell him she had things to do, thanks for dropping by and have a good life. But instead, she said, “I’ll need references, and photographs of your work.”
He started. Falling back on professionalism, he said, “I can have them for you ASAP.”
“Monday is soon enough.”
“Why don’t we make it Friday, if it’s all the same to you.” And then, because he was a sucker for punishment, he asked, “What changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind. I never said you couldn’t do the job. I haven’t said you could, either, but if I decide to let you do this, I’ll be paying for it.”
“April, I know how little a soldier’s widow is compensated each month. I can afford this.”
“Good for you. But as I said, if everything checks out, and if I decide to hire you to finish the upstairs, I’ll pay for the renovations. I’ll want those references, photos and a detailed quote. I’ll get a second bid from an area builder, so don’t skimp on your own salary.”
A stare down ensued.
She was the one who broke the silence. “If I decide to proceed with this, you would be doing it for Jay?”
He nodded, and his throat closed up. In reality, he would be doing it for Jay, April, Gracie and Violet, too. But it started with Jay.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Meanwhile, I want to see that quote and whatever else you show prospective clients.”
He imagined she would run a background check on him—young mothers couldn’t be too careful these days. And there was no guarantee she was going to go through with this. But he would work up a quote, present her with sketches, designs, photographs and references. If all went well, she would like it enough to let him begin. And maybe, just maybe, after this project was finished, he would close his eyes at night without seeing death. Perhaps he would stop waking up with a start, when he slept at all. Maybe once he saw Jay’s beautiful family settled comfortably into their newly remodeled home, Cole would learn to live with the knowledge that the wrong man had died.
Thirty-three minutes after arriving in Orchard Hill, Cole was back in his black Ford 4x4. The slightly damp paintings from Violet and Gracie were on the bucket seat next to him.
Absently rubbing his sore thigh, Cole remembered when Jay had shown him artwork his daughters had sent him, but he’d failed to mention how stubborn April was. Cole couldn’t help wondering what else his best friend had left out.
There was no reason on God’s green earth for Cole to feel as if a weight was lifting. It was a little early for that, and yet he was pretty sure a half smile tugged one corner of his mouth up. Toward heaven.
Copyright © 2019 by Sandra E. Steffen
ISBN-13: 9781488042294
Their Yuletide Promise
Copyright © 2019 by Stacy Cornell
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