by Taylor Dean
It was true. The time had gone by as if a whirlwind had taken over their lives. The house looked very different, but not necessarily for the better. Walls had been demolished, kitchens and bathrooms were torn apart. All in all, the house somewhat resembled a war zone. It was all part of the renovation process. A house always looked worse long before it began to look better.
Jack was temporarily holed up in one of the smaller bedrooms, with an interim door in place, and the plumber had installed the “necessaries” in order to make life livable for Jack. Chloe still couldn’t believe he wanted to live in the house during the demolition stage, but he insisted he was fine. He wanted nothing to do with his old house or his old life.
“This is the way I plan to do every wall in the house. Are you sure?” Chloe questioned. Jack preferred a consistent wall color throughout the entire house and Chloe agreed that it would work with the look Jack wanted. The house would be transformed into an elegant southwestern villa. Jack felt it went well with the pueblo-style adobe and shutters concept on the outside of the house. The rounded edges of the walls were amazing and they decided to make the doorways match. Every doorway and every entryway would be transformed into a brick archway; the custom-made curved doors would be wooden with black iron fixtures, reminiscent of garden gates. The baseboards and the crown molding would all be done in dark finishes, made from a malleable wood to handle the curves of the architecture. The downstairs flooring would remain cement, stained with a dark brown, high gloss finish. The house would be cool, sleek, and modern, with old-world charm.
The second story flooring had been the first concern. Jack wanted the second floor to match the first floor. First they’d had to determine if the structure of the house was strong enough to support concrete flooring. When it was determined that it was, the contractor insisted that the first order of events was to rebuild the doorways, changing them into beautiful archways. Once that was done, they were ready to face the daunting task of adding concrete floors to a second story. Carefully and painstakingly, the workmen laid down heavy wood sub-flooring, then plastic sheeting. Next the concrete was poured and smoothed flat. It was a huge project and had taken up most of the first two weeks.
Once that was done, Jack was able to move in and Chloe was finally able to begin work on the walls of the upstairs story, while the downstairs demolition was in full swing. With the design of the house in mind, the color and texture on the walls was a huge factor in the overall look and feel of the home. They had the power to make the house feel cave-like or to make it cozy and light. Chloe had just finished the first wall and felt pleased that Jack was happy with it. Using plaster, she’d applied a thick texture to the wall, purposefully swirling the thick mixture into raised, circular patterns. Once dry, she painted it a soft gold, not too yellow and not overwhelmingly gold. Next she’d used a dry rag to rub a hint of light stain onto the wall. It provided the rustic feel she’d been hoping for.
“I already feel like I’m in a wealthy Spaniard’s villa, overlooking my vineyards,” Jack said with a lopsided grin.
“Just don’t look out the windows or I promise you’ll be disappointed.”
Jack guffawed. “You’re a genius. Are you really going to do all the walls yourself?”
“Every last one of them. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”
“Looks like I hired the right woman for the job.”
“It’s actually an easy treatment for walls. I’ve seen many people do it on their own. But, let me tell you, the results varied greatly. Some looked amazing, others looked like they plopped something really lumpy, gooey and gross on their walls and smeared something nasty over it.”
Jack chuckled. Chloe wanted to do the walls herself for more reasons than one. She enjoyed the work, but she also liked being with Jack. And she didn’t have anything else to do. Why not take her time with this project?
Ever since the night Chloe had told Jack her story, their relationship had remained light and easy, yet there was no doubt there was a connection between them. They seemed to understand each other and a simple and straightforward working relationship had ensued. Chloe arrived in the early morning and they had breakfast together while discussing the plans for the day. Jack left for work and Chloe—working with and relying on the contractor to make Jack’s dreams a reality—oversaw the renovations and began work on several projects of her own in the house.
When Jack arrived home, they always had dinner together and admired whatever work had been completed that day—even a demolished wall became an exciting sight to behold. Chloe couldn’t wait to get to the decorating stage—the part where she really shined. She’d already begun furniture shopping and knew exactly what she wanted to do.
Mark and Taryn were no longer the subject of conversation. They didn’t talk about them, they didn’t think about them, they didn’t refer to them, and they didn’t make jokes about them. Nothing. As if they didn’t exist. They were both putting the experience behind them and it felt good. She and Jack both were completely consumed by the house. They ate, drank, and slept the house. It was all they spoke of and all they thought of. It was a nice respite.
Chloe felt somehow validated by Jack. He allowed her to feel sad, listened if she wanted to speak of Christopher, yet helped her to keep on functioning. It was just the right combination of emotions.
Every once in awhile, Chloe dwelled on the feelings she’d felt while visiting Jack’s family. The thought of her and Jack together had trickled into her mind and danced in her imagination. The idea still thrived and the potential was promising, but it had been pushed to the back burner. She’d hardly had time to think of anything else but Jack’s new home. They’d worked through the past couple weekends, not once taking a break. Jack pleaded for mercy and was excused from his Sunday afternoon family time. The house had become a mind-numbing, life-forgetting endeavor, and to some extent, highly therapeutic. Much needed for them both.
“I aim to please,” she told him.
As usual, Jack held take-out in his hands, always bringing home enough for two. Chloe never once argued the assumption that they’d dine together. “Ready for a break?” he asked.
They sat down at a card table with matching folding chairs, Jack’s temporary dining table, and munched on juicy burgers and fried zucchini while sipping from freshly squeezed strawberry-lemonade. Jack always brought home amazing food, never repeating a meal as of yet. He knew every original, hole-in-the-wall restaurant in town that served semi-homemade food. In spite of their not-so-healthy eating habits of late, the hard work already showed on Chloe’s figure, something she was quite pleased with. At last, she was beginning to lose the extra baby weight. It was something she was actually ready to let go of.
“I’m not happy with the backsplash in the kitchen. Some of the tiles look crooked,” Chloe remarked.
“I noticed that. I think it’s a re-do,” Jack agreed. He’d changed into jeans and a white t-shirt, a total transformation from his business attire. Chloe couldn’t decide which way she liked him best—beach bum or classy executive. He pulled off both looks flawlessly.
The conversation, as usual, turned to every nook and cranny of the house they were concerned about. As it turned out, Jack was just as detail oriented as she was. While allowing her to be in charge, he was involved in every decision and Chloe liked it that way. Chloe took notes, preparing for the morning meeting with the contractor, feeling a bit disgruntled with the quality of some of the work. She refused to accept anything but the highest quality of craftsmanship. And she wasn’t above making them do it over if they didn’t do it right the first time.
“Hmmmm, Rose is displeased. What to do?” Jack muttered.
“Titanic,” Chloe responded as she finished her notes. “Too easy. And not a movie you should quote.”
“How so?”
“Jack, Jack, Jack! Need I say more? You’re just asking for it with that one.”
He laughed aloud. “You’re right. I should know better.
Maybe we should count how many times Rose says the name “Jack” in Titanic. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Chloe arched one eyebrow. “I can’t think of a more fascinating way to spend my time.”
Jack snickered at her sarcasm. “It’s a date, then. When this house is finished, it’s the first thing we’ll do together inside of it. It’ll be my housewarming celebration, party of two.”
“Just two?”
“Yep. Me and you.”
Chloe pretended she was intensely interested in her notes to hide her red hot cheeks. Jack planned to spend time with her even after the work on his house was complete. The thought sent a little thrill up her spine.
Jack leaned back and stretched in his chair, stifling a yawn. He needed a haircut, but she liked the way his hair went everywhere after a long day, as if he’d absentmindedly run his hands through it several times. “I hate to cut this short, Chloe, but I have about an hour’s worth of work to get done in preparation for tomorrow and I’m beat. Soon as I get it done, I can hit the sack.”
“All right. Do you mind if I stay a little longer and get the next wall prepped? I’m not ready to quit for the night and it’ll make tomorrow a little easier.”
“No problem. Stay as long as you’d like. I enjoy having you here, Chloe. The house seems big, lonely, and empty after you leave.”
Chloe’s eyes skittered away from his. She knew Jack liked having her at his house, but she also knew she was reading too much into his comments. Every little thing he said made her wonder what he really meant.
Jack blurted out how he felt at any given moment. It took her awhile, but she quickly realized Jack meant what he said, and it was as simple as that. No hidden meanings were intended. She was the only one twisting his words around and searching for veiled innuendos.
Chloe was well aware that she could fall for Jack. Hard and fast. Thank goodness they were both obsessed with the house—the only reason she was spending time with Jack Alexander at all. She’d do well to keep that in mind. Regardless, she was thankful for the diversion. Otherwise she’d still be at home feeling sorry for herself. Jack had saved her life in more ways than one.
Jack retired to his bedroom, working at his makeshift desk while Chloe began to texture the next wall. She’d promised Jack she’d get his master bedroom completed first and she was determined to get him into it as soon as possible, hence the rush to complete his walls.
Her mind began to wonder about weird things like: what were these bedroom walls destined to see?
They would witness life—Jack’s life.
They’d see Jack and his new wife, a spectator to their love. They’d see Jack, sleeping soundly every night of his life, spooning with the lucky lady who became Mrs. Alexander. They’d see Jack’s beautiful children—she had no doubt they’d be blondes—tiptoe in at night because they were scared and wanted to climb in bed with mom and dad. And Jack would welcome them because that was the kind of man he was. They’d observe arguments, drama, sickness, whispered sentiments, happy days, and sad days.
Chloe found herself feeling envious of the walls.
She was on dangerous territory when it came to Jack. He made her envision a future, something she’d had a hard time foreseeing after she lost Christopher. Everything had felt like it was The End. The end of her marriage, the end of her baby, the end of her dreams, the end of her life. Maybe they were just friends, but she’d always think of Jack as the person who helped her to see that her life was far from over. There was still so much more in store for her and it was only the beginning. Imagining a life with Jack was healthy for her and a huge step forward.
Even if it was all in her mind.
He’d probably be mortified to know she could picture herself with him, living in this house, and sharing his life. Regardless, it was huge that she could picture it at all and the thought made her happy.
All at once, a sharp, radiating sting pierced the bottom of her foot and a yelp escaped her lips. Had she stepped on a nail? That’s what she got for kicking off her shoes in a veritable construction zone. She knew better.
However, when she looked down, cold, hard panic rushed through her entire being. A chill went up her spine and she couldn’t bring herself to move. A scorpion sat not two inches from her. Searing pain began to climb up her leg and she felt as though she was about to pass out.
“Jack! Jack! Jack!” she yelled, panicking, each time saying his name a little louder.
“Titanic,” he hollered back. “Very funny.”
“Jack,” she cried again, sheer terror making her feel unable to think clearly.
He must’ve sensed the alarm in that one word, because he stood in the doorway just a few moments later. Even so, at the sight of her he didn’t suspect anything was wrong. He leaned on the doorjamb, arms crossed. “I already guessed which movie. Think of something new.”
Chloe couldn’t put together an intelligible sentence. “Jack,” she said again, fear lacing her tone.
He straightened, “What is it?”
Chloe pointed to the scorpion. It had scuttled away, but was still within sight. Jack rushed to her side and when he saw the creepy little critter, he immediately smashed it with his shoe, stomping on it several times until it was a sticky piece of mush.
“Darn exoskeletons,” he muttered. “Disgusting creatures, aren’t they? I haven’t seen one in the house for quite some time. They…” he trailed off as he looked at her. “Chloe?” He looked down at her bare feet. “Did it sting you?”
She nodded. Her throat felt as though it was closing and she gasped for air. Her entire foot tingled as though it was asleep and the sensation sent waves of panic through her body. Creepy crawlies always had this effect upon her. They rendered her useless and had the power to turn her into a blithering idiot. Dizziness engulfed her and she swayed. Jack caught her in his arms, thankfully or she would have fallen to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Then the scorpion would’ve stung her again. Maybe he would’ve had a heyday. A stinging fiesta.
Thank goodness for Jack.
Jack carried her to his bed and gently laid her down. His pillow smelled of his aftershave and provided much needed comfort in the heat of the moment. He immediately took a look at her foot. Even at a glance from her angle, she could see that her foot was red and swollen already. Chloe felt her breathing turn heavy at the sight.
Jack’s gaze was razor sharp. “Are you having trouble breathing?”
“I’m just panicking. I’m okay, really,” she said through labored gasps.
Jack didn’t believe her. “I’m taking you to the emergency room,” he said firmly.
“No…no, I’m okay. Just give me a minute to calm down. I hate…b-bugs and I overreact.”
Jack acted as though she hadn’t said a word. He swooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and held her close to his chest. He practically ran down the stairs, which was no easy feat while holding her at the same time. He positioned her in the jeep—reclining the seat so she could lie down—and buckled her in place.
“Jack, this isn’t necessary.”
“I’m not taking that chance.”
Jack drove like a madman, taking corners at an alarming rate. “You still with me?” he asked.
“I’m not dying, I promise. Just feels like someone’s holding a lighter to my foot. My leg’s all tingly and I feel like I’m going to pass out. There’s a funny taste in my mouth too,” she said, sounding as though she’d just run a race.
“Your breathing is scaring the heck out of me.” Jack purposely pressed on the gas a little harder and Chloe grabbed onto the sides of her seat.
“Your driving is scaring the heck out of me.”
Jack came to a screeching halt at the emergency room and carried her inside as if she was about to die at any moment. “Scorpion sting!” he practically yelled, positive it was a dire emergency.
The receptionist barely glanced at him. “Fill out this form.” Chloe wondered if they saw hun
dreds of scorpion stings every day. Maybe thousands. Maybe Arizona is crawling with the nasty little critters and they’re getting ready to take over the state…
“She’s having trouble breathing,” he scolded. “She needs help immediately.”
They took her back at once and a bored doctor examined her as if it was no big deal. They washed the sting with soap and water, elevated her leg above her heart, placed an ice pack on her foot, gave her Benadryl, ibuprofen, and a steroid shot—updated her tetanus shot—and monitored her breathing. As it turned out, it wasn’t just panic and it did take awhile for her breathing to return to normal. Jack insisted on staying at her side and holding her hand throughout the ordeal. She was glad to have the support. Her reaction to the scorpion sting was a little embarrassing. She’d definitely lost all reason and panicked, frozen in place as if she’d been scarred for life by the sight of a terrifying creature of the dark. At least she hadn’t gone with her gut instinct, which was to run through the house screaming like a madwoman, shaking off invisible scorpions that didn’t exist. That would’ve been quite the performance, and she never would’ve lived it down. All in all, motionless with terror was a much better reaction.
Are they like roaches? Where there’s one, there’s more. Chloe shuddered at the thought.
“Is this your first scorpion sting?” the doctor questioned.
“Yes.”
“Have you ever been stung by a fire ant?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, as a kid while on vacation. I had several stings actually. An unforgettable experience. Why?”
“People who’ve experienced the sting from a fire ant often develop allergic antibodies. For some reason, cross reactivity occurs, causing them to have an allergic reaction to the scorpion, even when it’s their first sting. Judging by your reaction, I’d say you were stung by a bark scorpion.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Oh yes. Bark scorpions are by far the most venomous.”
They considered her reaction “mild” and Chloe disagreed wholeheartedly. At the same time she felt relieved that it hadn’t been worse. After observing her for the next six hours, they finally released her. She was ordered to bed rest and the admonition to stay off her foot for the next few days. No problem there. The pain in her leg was overwhelming, like a thousand red hot needles all poking her at once. Her hands felt numb and her entire body felt tingly.