Hope's River

by McHeyzer , Margaret

  “Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to feed me.”

  “Here’s the thing you need to know about Hope River, Hope.” She stops and cracks a smile. “What a coincidence, your name being in the town’s name. Anyway, the thing you need to know about Hope River, we’re a small town, but we’re more like a family. We’re all here for one another. We don’t take well to strangers who want to cause problems. If you think you can bring your big city ways here, you may as well get in that fancy truck of yours and leave.” Can she be any more forthright?

  “May, I have no intentions on disturbing anyone or causing friction. I just want to get my hands dirty and flip Old Roger’s house,” I honestly reply.

  “Then welcome to Hope River.” She starts to head toward the door. “The ocean is about a mile or two that way. And Hope River is about three or four miles that way.” She points in completely opposite directions.

  “Thank you.”

  She gives me a small wave over her head as she turns to leave, and closes the door behind her. Although it’s a stable, there’s a long narrow window running down the length, allowing a ton of natural light in. I go to the bedroom, and discover it’s rather large, with a queen bed, a multicolored rug on the floor, and a small walk-in closet. This place is better than some apartments I’ve rented. It’s not overly large, but it’s cute, and extremely clean.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, and let out a sigh. It’s not yet eleven, which means I still have some time before I need to meet Eleanor in town.

  I may as well bite the bullet and call Grady. I call his number and he answers immediately. “Hope,” he says sounding relieved. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t believe what I did.”

  “We’re over, Grady.”

  “But I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

  This is hard. “Look, even if you hadn’t done what you did last night, I think we both feel the same way about each other.”

  “No, I love you,” he says, but his tone is almost robotic.

  “Grady, we’re better as friends.”

  “But I love you.”

  “We haven’t had sex in months, and we don’t spend any time together unless we’re on a job. I know you’re not happy, and I haven’t been either.” I lean my elbows on my knees.

  “This is because of last night, isn’t it? I’m sorry. What can I do to prove it to you?” There’s a level of desperation in his voice, but I can tell, he’s just going through the motions.

  “We’ve been drifting apart for a long time.”

  “No!” he protests. “We love each other.”

  “Grady, can you honestly tell me you’re in love with me? Crazy, giddy, can’t wait to see me, in love?” There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone. The quiet speaks volumes. “I’m not in love with you either.”

  “We can learn to love one another.”

  “I do love you, but I’m not in love with you. And even though what you did last night was a fucking dog act, it’s not the only reason why you and I are better off apart. We don’t love each other the way either of us deserves to be loved.”

  “Hope,” he whispers.

  “You’re normally a good guy, Grady. You’re just not my good guy. But I will tell you this, if I ever hear you’ve raised your hand to anyone again, I’ll make good on my promise.”

  Grady takes several deep breaths, then I hear him let out a small cry. “Hope, I have something to tell you.”

  If he tells me he’s hit another woman, I will end him. “What?” I find my posture changes, becoming more rigid, with my shoulders pulled back.

  “I know you’ve never cheated on me.”

  Where’s this going? “No, I haven’t.”

  There’s a long moment of silence. “But I cheated on you last night,” he whispers. I go quiet. What a damn asshole. “Hope,” he says after a moment of me being quiet. “I’m sorry.”

  “I take it all back. You can go to fucking hell, Grady! And don’t think for one moment, you’re going to get any share of the business. I’ve worked damned hard to build my business from the ground up. I’ll send you a check for what I owe you. Be out of my house by the end of the week.” I hang up, stunned and hurt.

  I sit staring at the colorful rug on the floor. Suddenly, I burst into tears. The bastard cheated on me, came home, and hit me because of his own guilt.

  Curling up on the bed, I hug the pillow and cry into it.

  I know Grady and I were over long before what happened last night, but for him to take his guilt out on me hurts. There’s a heaviness in my body, one that grows and clouds my heart. How could he do what he did?

  Closing my eyes, I try and not think about him. It’s over.

  Shit, what time is it? I grab my phone and see I have several missed calls from Eleanor. Shit, shit, shit, shit, it’s after one. Shooting up out of bed, I grab my truck keys and run out the door. I can’t believe I fell asleep for so long. I dial Eleanor’s number as I sprint toward my truck. Shit, shoes. I turn back, unlock the door, and slide on my shoes.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  “I’m so sorry! I fell asleep. I can be there in a few minutes.”

  “Hope?” she questions.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m still trying to wake up. Let me try this again. Hi, Eleanor, it’s Hope. I’m sorry I’m late, but I fell asleep, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Jumping in the truck, I speed down the long driveway.

  “I can come to you if you like.”

  “Oh no, that’s fine. I need to grab a few things from the convenience store. And I’m dying for a coffee.”

  “I’ll have it ready for you when you arrive.”

  I feel myself smiling. Eleanor is pretty cool, and I think we’re going to form a friendship. The drive to Main Street doesn’t take more than ten minutes, and when I get there it’s actually busy. For such a small town, I thought there’d be tumbleweeds blowing down the street regardless of the time of day. How wrong am I?

  The moment I’m in the café, a few people turn to watch me walking in. I can tell by the perplexed look on their faces that they have no idea who I am. Or, word has spread like wildfire, and they all know exactly who I am.

  “Hi Hope,” one woman says as she passes me on the way out.

  “Hi,” I reply and give her a small smile. I walk up to the counter, where there’s only one available seat.

  Eleanor sees me, grabs a cup and places it on the counter. She pours me a coffee. “Good sleep?” she asks with a cheeky smile.

  “Yeah. I needed it. I’m really sorry about sleeping through our meeting. I’ve never been this tardy before.”

  “I was going to drive out to Gran’s after I finished here if you hadn’t showed. I’ve got the paperwork out in the back. Give me a second.” She turns to one of the young girls working the front counter. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Can you cover the front?” The young girl nods, and Eleanor disappears through what I assume are the swinging doors to the kitchen. When she returns, she’s carrying a stack of papers. “Grab your coffee, Hope.”

  Standing, I get my coffee, and follow Eleanor over to an unoccupied table in the corner. “Eleanor…”

  “Everyone calls me Elle,” she corrects.

  “How long have you lived in Hope River?”

  She looks out the window as she taps a pen on the paperwork she brought out as her lips slowly draw up into a small smile. “Oh, I think I’ve been here about five or so years.”

  “What brought you out here?” I ask, genuinely interested in how this red-haired woman with two sleeves of tattoos came to a town where I don’t see anyone else with tattoos and red hair.

  She keeps looking out the window. Her smile disappears, and she blinks a few times before taking a deep breath. “Some of us have pasts we’re not keen to remember.”

  Ouch, that sounds painful. Shit. She’s had a bad time, or a stressful event in her life. I’ve hit a nerve, and I hate making her remember something she doesn�
��t want to recall. “So, when can we close on the house?”

  “I can push it for a quick sale. Five days?” Her eyes brighten, and she pushes past whatever pain I forced her to think of.

  “That works for me. Oh, give me a second. Let me get my checkbook. It’s in the truck.” I stand and run out to my truck. Opening the glove department, I take my checkbook out, and return inside. In the short few seconds I took going to the truck and back, the sheriff is in the café waiting at the counter to be served. Sitting down, I notice how Elle’s attention isn’t exactly focused on me. “Thanks for waiting.” She nods her head at my words, but I doubt she’s even heard them. She has one arm up, bent at the elbow leaning on the table, and her head slightly turned so she’s checking out the sheriff. She’s trying to make it look like she’s not staring at him. But if he turns around, he’ll catch her ogling him. “Elle?”

  “Yeah?”

  Her eyes are still fixated on him. “Elle?” She turns to look at me, and her eyes widen in horror. She clears her throat, and tucks some of her wayward hair behind her ear. She squirms in her seat. “So?” I throw a quick glance over to the sheriff.

  “Where were we?” She lowers her chin and shuffles through the paperwork.

  “Elle,” the sheriff says as he walks out of the café with a paper coffee cup in his hands.

  She barely even acknowledges him. She gives him a small nod, and keeps flicking through the paperwork. He leaves, and I see her let out a sigh. “So, you and the sheriff are a thing?”

  “What?” she squeals. “No! That’s ridiculous. No, what, why?”

  Aha! They may not be a thing, but I sure as hell know, she’d love them to be more than a thing. It’s obvious to me she’s crushing on him hard. “Why don’t you ask him out?” I ask.

  “Who?” Elle’s face reddens.

  “The sheriff.”

  “Jake?” her voice breaks. “We’re just friends. He and I aren’t like that. I mean, I’m not… you know, he’s not… we’re…” She shakes her head.

  Yeah, okay. The fact she’s tripping over her words, her face matches her red hair, and she could barely make eye contact with him, screams out loud that she’d like to have more. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t noticed. “Okay, if you say so. Anyway, Old Roger’s house.” I’m actually liking the nickname the townsfolk use. Opening my checkbook, I start writing out the amount as Elle slides the paperwork over to me. I sign the check, place it on top of the signed paperwork, and slide it back to her.

  “You know you’re causing a bit of a commotion with the locals.”

  Tilting my head to the side, I look around the café, and notice a few people quickly spin away. I can’t help but smile. “Why?” My stomach clenches with anticipation.

  “Because they all want to know what you’re going to do with Old Roger’s house. Word spreads quickly here.”

  I can’t help but marvel at how fast news and purpose of my presence has spread. I’ve been here less than twelve hours, and already people are talking. “Well, if they ask you, you can tell them, Old Roger’s house is safe in my hands.”

  I notice Elle look down at my hands, then back up. “Those hands have seen hard work.”

  I know what she’s looking at. The cracked skin on the back of my hands, the short-clipped nails, and the callouses on my palms. “Yep, and I loved every minute of it.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to cause more tongues to wag.”

  “I’m an open book, if anyone wants to know anything, they’re more than welcome to ask me questions. As far as Old Roger’s house, I’ll wait ’til I get the keys to see what I’m working with.”

  Elle smiles. “Have you eaten yet? I can get those pancakes you wanted.”

  “You know, I’d really appreciate that. I’m starving.”

  “Elle, I need your help,” the girl working the counter calls.

  “Good timing, I’ll get those pancakes for you,” Elle says. She stands, taking the paperwork and smiles. “As soon as it clears the closing, I’ll give you a call, if I don’t see you around town.”

  Knocking on May’s door, I step back and wipe my hands down the front of my jeans. I can hear May in the kitchen, and I know she’s heard me, but she’s not coming to answer the door.

  Yesterday she invited me to dinner. Has she changed her mind? Stepping forward, I knock again. Maybe I should leave. She could’ve forgotten and doesn’t want me here now.

  May pops her head out into the hall and sees me standing at the front door. Crap, should I have made a pie or something? Not that I can cook. Brought her a bottle of wine? I have no idea what these small towns are like. The smallest town I’ve lived in was where my parents live, and that has over a hundred thousand people.

  “Hope,” she says.

  “Hi May.” I smile through the front screen door waiting for her to let me in.

  She stands a good ten feet away. “You waiting for a red carpet and rose petals?” She places her hands to her hips.

  “I knocked,” I say, still unsure what to do.

  “I heard. My ears work well. I assume you know how to open a door.” Grinning I reach for the door, and open it. “Hey, who said you can come in?” May yells. Her brows are drawn in, and she has a harsh look on her face.

  I automatically close the door and step back. Is she bipolar or something? “I’m sorry,” I immediately apologize.

  “Ha, just kidding.” She starts laughing. “Come in.” She beckons for me to enter her house. “Should’ve seen the look on your face, girly. Priceless. You were probably thinking, man, this old bat is a nut case. Right?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “Come on, come into the kitchen. Supper’s nearly done. You can set the table.”

  She leads me into her kitchen, and I smile the moment I’m in there. It’s old fashioned, but certainly not old. There’s a huge white country sink, pale green Shaker doors on the fronts of the cupboards, butcher block counter tops, and barn doors leading to what I assume is a walk-in pantry. The most impressive thing in this kitchen is the massive island with a granite waterfall counter. Although the granite shouldn’t work with the butcher block, the light gray marbling ties in with the kitchen beautifully. “Wow,” I say as I look around her kitchen.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I kind of am.”

  “Why? Because I’m old?” she teases. May opens the oven and this amazing aroma wafts through the kitchen.

  “That smells amazing,” I say as I duck my head to look into the oven. But she closes it before I can see what she’s making. “What are you making?”

  “Ahh, my doctor told me to cut down on meat. Pffft, he thinks I eat too much of it, and I should only be having one to two servings of meat a week. That’s a bunch of hogwash if you ask me.”

  “So we’re having some type of meat dish?”

  “God no!” She flicks her hand at me, dismissively. She chuckles to herself. “Are you trying to put me into an early grave?” She shakes her head, but still has a huge smirk on her face. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You young kids…” she teases. “We’re having a caramelized onion tart with a salad.”

  “Sounds delicious, and smells even better.” Leaning against the counter, May goes to the fridge, and starts taking out things to prepare the salad. “What can I do?”

  “Can you cook?”

  I grimace. “I can warm things up, but I’m not really good in the kitchen.” My eyes widen as I add, “I can build beautiful, functional kitchens, but I’m not someone who can create anything edible in them. Never really have been.”

  May lifts her head as she’s chopping the salad, and squints at me. “Lord, help this child if she says she eats that pre-cooked trash from the supermarket.”

  “No, not much of that. But we…” I clear my throat as a vivid image of Grady and myself driving back late from a house we’re flipping appears. I straighten my shoulders and smile at May. “I used to eat out a lot. There were a l
ot of take-out places where I used to live. I had the choice of any cuisine I wanted. From Chinese to Greek food, all on our doorstep.” Did I say our? “My doorstep,” I rapidly correct. “It was always easiest to get something delivered when we…” I clear my throat. “…I was so tired after a day on the tools.”

  “Have you had a look around the town yet?”

  “Just the main street.”

  May smiles. “Then you’ve looked around the town. If you want a Target, or Walmart they’re a good twenty minutes from here. We don’t have a restaurant but we do have the Café, which I assume you’ve seen?”

  “I met Eleanor there. So, yep.”

  “There are three restaurants in the town over, and more beyond. You won’t find a fast-food chain restaurant for a good fifteen miles around here.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “It’s almost like untouched God’s Haven here, Hope. One of the big restaurants tried putting in one of those fast-food places. It didn’t work, they closed their doors six months after opening. Hope River is about family, and community. We all know everyone’s business.”

  “I’m a fairly private person, May.”

  She lifts her head and gives me a small nod. “No such thing as privacy here. Get used to that. Speaking of which, what are you going to do with Old Roger’s house?”

  “I like restoring houses back to their original glory. I do add my own touches and modernize the mechanicals. But in all honesty, there are ivy vines growing up the side of the house and probably inside, too. I won’t have any idea what condition that house is in until I get the keys to go inside.” May starts laughing. “What’s funny?”

  “Kick the door down and get yourself a look.” Her face is deadpan serious. “I’ll do it for ya.” And I have no doubt, she would.

  “It’s okay, I only have to wait a few more days. Gives me time to try and source some hardware, tiles, kitchen appliances and bathroom fixtures, those kinds of things.”

  “So you do this for a living?” I nod. “And it’s worth your time?” I nod again. “It’s a man’s job though.”

  I despise it when people say shit like this. It gets under my skin, and I want to start an argument with them. “Anything a man can do, I can do too.” Keep your cool, Hope. “Probably better.”