Now and Forever 4, The Renovated Heart

by Joachim, Jean C.

  He held the door open for her. A musty smell accompanied by a little wisp of dust greeted her as she entered. The building and the furnishings were old but well kept. A massive mahogany table stood grandly in the dining room. A sofa plus loveseat in faded chintz were the main pieces in the living room. Kit found her favorites at first glance—a china cabinet from the early 1900’s, a fabulous antique roll-top desk, black Hitchcock chairs and a rattan rocker captured her heart.

  “Your mother had great taste,” she said, running her hand lovingly over the desk.

  “The kitchen is old but big…come on,” he said, taking her elbow to guide her.

  The kitchen spanned half the width of the house in the back with a huge cast iron stove. Old pine cabinets, cheerful gingham curtains and a round table with chairs made the room inviting. A full bathroom plus a powder room on the first floor provided convenience. Black and white tiles and a claw foot bathtub in the bath repeated the antique flavor of the house. Kit was enchanted.

  “Upstairs next,” Tunney said.

  She slid her hand along the smooth, polished mahogany banister as she climbed the tall staircase. There were three rooms on the second floor and two baths, one very large. The master bedroom had a double bed, two dressers, a large oak armoire. One of the small rooms had twin beds.

  “Your room as a boy?” She asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “Twin beds. One for you, one for a friend sleeping over.”

  He nodded. The last, obviously a guest room, had a double bed with a cheerful bedspread and matching curtains in yellow and white. She decided this room would be hers.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked him.

  “Just me. My dad had post-traumatic stress disorder from serving in Viet Nam. I was all my mother could handle and take care of him too. How about you?”

  “I’m the middle of three.”

  “Any more at home like you who aren’t married?”

  “Sorry. Just two brothers,” she said, blushing at his compliment.

  “Too bad.” He muttered to himself.

  Chapter Five

  They stopped at the staircase leading to the third floor. Kit peered up but couldn’t see much in the darkness. Tunney switched on the light.

  “The third floor is only for storage. When I was a kid, the third floor was a playroom with a ping pong table, then a pool table. Now I’m storing some of my mom’s stuff there until I can figure out what to do with it. What do you think? Are you interested?” He leaned against the banister.

  “This is a charming house. I love it…what’s the rent?”

  “What can you afford?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid…about seven hundred a month?”

  “The exact figure I had in mind. One caveat.”

  “Oh?”

  “You have to help me with the renovation.” Tunney pushed his hands into his pockets.

  “Deal. But I’ve never renovated anything before. I don’t know one end of a paint brush from the other, but I can duct tape anything.” She puffed her chest out with pride.

  Tunney tried to hide his smile behind his hand.

  “I’ll teach you how to be a carpenter’s helper.”

  “Just don’t get mad if I mess up.”

  “I’ll come up with a suitable punishment for mistakes,” Tunney said, staring at her body as he lounged against the banister.

  This felt right. If she and Zoe couldn’t have their life in New York City back, Kit could create a great home for them here. It was a place to bring Zoe, where they could relax, be together, the perfect place to write…if she could ever think of anything to write about.

  She warmed to the spirit of Tunney’s mother in the lovely house. Helping Tunney renovate would be fun, sort of like the make-over Sarah had given her. Soon the old place would be looking grand again.

  “You won’t mind living here while I renovate it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Could get messy. Very messy. Do you think your husband will approve?”

  The question brought her up short. Husband! OMG, Johnny! He’d hate this house. She forgot about her lie.

  “Yes…yes, I think he will. Not exactly his taste…but I don’t expect him back before Christmas anyway. We can plan an, old-fashioned holiday here.”

  ‘With Staid, too, right?”

  “With Staid, too,” she lied.

  “You’re not going to see him until Christmas?”

  “Right.”

  “How can you keep a marriage together being away so much?” His eyes probed hers, his brows raised in a question.

  “We manage.” She turned away from him, and changed the subject. “Can you show me how to use the stove?” Kit moved toward the stairs, first stopping to text Sarah.

  “Found a house!”

  “The stove? Piece of cake,” he said as they descended to the first floor.

  * * * *

  29 James Street

  The following week, Jim sat at his kitchen table, with a cup of coffee editing his novel when he heard the battle between Scottie and Sarah.

  “I’m not going to camp today.”

  “Scottie, you’ve got to go.”

  “I’m not going.” He pushed a small pile of magazines off the coffee table.

  “Why?”

  “Because…I just don’t want to.”

  The voices went back and forth for ten minutes. Finally Scottie wore his mother down, winning the battle. Sarah slammed the door as she went to the car to drive Laura to camp. Scottie went out in the backyard to practice dribbling with his soccer ball. Jim moved out to his back deck and propped his manuscript on his lap.

  “Hey, Scottie. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Jim.” The boy kept his head down, his eyes focused on the soccer ball.

  “No camp today?”

  Scottie came over to the fence with his soccer ball.

  “Some of the guys there…well…” He bounced the ball from palm to palm.

  “Bullies?” Jim prompted.

  “Yeah.” Scottie dropped the ball and watched it bounce.

  “I have an idea. Write your mom a note, tell her you went on some errands with me, okay? Let’s go.”

  A half hour later, Sarah opened the front door and put a bag of groceries on the front hall table.

  “Scottie!”

  No answer. She went through the kitchen to open the back door.

  “Scottie! Scottie!”

  On the way back to the front door a note on the kitchen table distracted her. Relief flooded her veins after reading the message, her heart rate slowed down as she sank into a chair. Scottie’s with Jim. Thank God!

  She sat down at the dining room table with her computer and stared at the screen, but nothing came. Pacing, listening to music, sitting some more, didn’t help—still, nothing. After two hours, she heard Jim’s car door close. In a few minutes, Scottie burst through the front door.

  Sarah blocked his path to the television set, stretched her arm out, pointing to the stairs.

  “Not a word, mister. Up to your room. You’re being punished.”

  “What for?” he whined.

  “For refusing to go to camp.”

  The sullen boy stomped up the stairs one by one, emphasizing his displeasure at his sentence. Sarah tried to keep the smile off her face. Since Scottie had disrupted her concentration she went outside. Jim stopped puttering around on his deck to smile at her. Sarah moseyed over to the fence.

  “Thank you for keeping Scottie occupied this morning, Jim.”

  He joined her.

  “No problem. He’s a great kid.” Jim opened a plastic bag to take out a flat of plants.

  She smiled.

  “I’m glad somebody thinks so. Sometimes I wonder.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dress.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s having a hard time adjusting…new place…new friends…new camp, no father…”

  “Isn’t an
adjustment to be expected?” He picked up a pot and a trowel.

  “I suppose. Doesn’t make it any easier though.”

  In a few minutes, Scottie poked his head out the back door.

  “Mom…”

  She went over to the door.

  “Your time isn’t up yet.”

  “I want to make a deal. If you let me skip camp for the next two days, I’ll go every other day.”

  “Skip camp…two more days? Why?”

  “I’ve got stuff to do with Jim.”

  Sarah looked over at Jim who shrugged and went back to potting plants.

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Secret stuff.”

  Do I trust him to be spending so much time with Scottie? She looked at him again…deciding she did.

  “Okay, but then back to camp.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Back upstairs. Read a book or clean your room.”

  “I’ll read,” he said, disappearing into the house.

  * * * *

  After two days of Scottie’s “secret time” with Jim, Sarah wanted to find out what was going on. Scottie seemed happier than ever so she didn’t suspect any foul play, but being his mom, she needed to know about everything in his life. If I invite Jim to dinner maybe he’ll tell me.

  Sarah wandered out the back door and over to watch Jim dig his hands wrist deep into the black earth. She leaned her elbows on the fence…the perfect position to show off extra cleavage. Jim looked up, stopped, and trained his gaze on her breasts. She chuckled to herself. Typical guy.

  “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Tuesday is salad night.”

  “I’ll bring tomatoes,” he said, his eyes not leaving the neckline of her sundress.

  “You can help me shred lettuce.”

  Within ten minutes, Jim stood next to Sarah cutting up more of his garden tomatoes. The children were outside. Scottie practiced soccer and Laura texted friends.

  “Let me show you how to cut tomatoes,” he said.

  “There’s a secret to slicing a tomato?”

  “I’m kind of a tomato expert. Here,” he said, taking the knife from her hand.

  He found a larger knife, then with one masterful stroke, sliced the perfect tomato slice.

  “You’re good,” she said, moving the tomatoes in front of him. “Now you can slice them all, since you’re so much better at it than I am.”

  He laughed, put his hands on her waist then pulled Sarah up against him. She lifted her chin and he kissed her, slowly. Sarah moved closer, her breasts crushed into his chest, her arms around his neck. He tightened his grip on her while he angled his head to deepen the kiss. She opened her lips, eager for his affection. Her tongue rose to meet his. She felt a shiver rocket down her spine as her body softened against his. His tongue caressed hers.

  Her pulse began to beat faster, heat traveled through her veins, she wanted more. Jim lifted his head and moved his lips down her neck slowly, placing small kisses on her skin. He slipped the strap of her dress down to kiss her smooth skin.

  He bent her back slightly so his lips could trail down further, stopping where the fabric began, kissing the swell of her breast again and again, his tongue darting out to taste her skin while his hand crept up. Sarah felt his body harden against her as he sampled her flesh. She moaned quietly at the sensuous softness of his touch and closed her eyes.

  Her nipples tightened, and heat sparked deep inside. His hand moved down to her waist continuing to hold her close to him. She stepped back to look into his light brown eyes, smoking with desire. His gaze traveled down her neck to her hard nipples showing through the thin fabric. Embarrassed, Sarah folded one arm over her chest to hide her body’s response.

  She tried to control her breathing, to calm her fluttering nerves. His eyes came back up to hers with enough heat to burn the dress right off her shoulders. As he reached up to put his palm on her cheek, she flinched.

  “What the?” he whispered, his eyes wide.

  Sarah cast her gaze to the floor. He leaned over, brushing her lips lightly with his. Quickly, she moved into his embrace, closing her arms tightly around him to stop her trembling. He folded his arms around her. Her cheek rested on his chest, her eyes closed. His palms held her gently against him, keeping her close while his fingers played with the ends of her hair. For a few moments, Sarah forgot how it felt to be alone.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Scottie came barreling into the kitchen.

  “When is dinner—” he started but stopped abruptly when he saw his mother in Jim’s arms.

  She pushed away from Jim reluctantly, turning to Scottie and smiling.

  “Soon,” she said.

  Jim smiled at the boy then resumed his position cutting tomatoes.

  “What were you doing to my mother?” Scottie asked Jim, with suspicion in his eyes.

  “Giving her a hug,” Jim said casually.

  “Oh, okay.” The youngster returned to the backyard, his soccer ball under his arm.

  Sarah let out the breath she had been holding.

  “A close call.”

  “Would it be so terrible if he saw me kissing you?”

  “I don’t know. Something else for him to adjust to?”

  “Maybe not. He seemed to take the hug in stride.” Jim stacked up tomato wedges on a plate.

  “True. I know he likes you. He needs to have a man around occasionally.”

  “Only occasionally?” He looked up at her.

  She blushed.

  “I don’t think it’d be great for him to run into you coming out of my bedroom in the morning, do you?”

  “I honestly don’t know; I don’t have kids.”

  “Jim!” The heat in her cheeks flamed hotter.

  “So you’re not going to have a life until he’s grown up?”

  “Not forever, but maybe not this minute, either. Can we slow this down a little?”

  “If we got any slower…” He took a handful of paper napkins and opened the silverware drawer.

  “Please?” she said, moving closer to him, touching his face, kissing his cheek.

  “Sarah, I’m a patient man but I want to be more than your friend,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist.

  “Me, too.”

  Jim kissed her, sighed, then returned to retrieving utensils while she finished shredding lettuce. She threw leftover chicken, green peas, scallions, cheese, walnuts, cranberries and Jim’s tomatoes into the salad. He carted the heavy ceramic bowl to the table for the family dinner.

  * * * *

  A week later at the Old Victorian on Bay Street

  Kit was so excited, she couldn’t sleep. Trading her small apartment for this big house brought unexpected pleasure she needed to share with Zoe.

  “A house? You bought a house?”

  “I rented a house…a big house…a huge house!” She cradled the phone in her neck while she unloaded groceries.

  “For two people? Why?”

  “Because the house is beautiful and we deserve to live in such a grand place.”

  “You’ll be living there alone.”

  “You can come for weekends. There’s plenty of room to bring friends.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t fall all over yourself with enthusiasm, Zoe.” Kit put her half-filled coffee cup in the microwave to reheat.

  “Gotta go. Good deal on the house, Mom.”

  When the microwave dinged, she took a mug to the kitchen table. I finally did something right. Kit blew out her breath in a sigh and took a sip, then called Sarah.

  “I’m here. I’ve moved in, if you can call unpacking one suitcase moving in.”

  “Congratulations! Your first place on your own.”

  “Don’t remind me. What if something breaks?” Kit took a sip of her coffee.

  “Call Tunney. You said he’s cute, so…”

  “He thinks I’m married.”

  Chapter Six

  “What?�
��

  “I told him I’m married…first night…I…” Kit plopped down into a wing chair in the den.

  “Mistake number one.”

  “Probably. But at least I don’t have to worry about him coming on to me or anything.”

  “His coming on to you would be bad…how?”

  “Hell, the ink on the divorce papers isn’t even dry.” She put her mug on a side table.

  “Don’t worry about Tunney. Enjoy your freedom and your first place. You’ve got enough on your plate right now. You deserve to be happy, Kit.”

  “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  Kit pulled out a small pad and pen. List time. Place to live, check. What’s next? Take care of business. Back to New York. The next morning, Kit caught an early bus back to the City and checked into a hotel. Then she put her apartment on the market, filled out a change of address for the post office, moved her bank account and gave her lawyer her new location. Anxious to have the no-fault divorce over so she could begin again with a clean slate, Kit was impatient to be rid of the last remnants of her old life.

  Upon returning to Willow Falls, she found a small, barely affordable vehicle at Delsey’s Used Cars. New sheets, towels and duct tape, plus other household necessities were purchased next. In the morning sitting with her coffee, she made lists again. Setting up house energized Kit. Plunged into her new life, she could almost enjoy her fresh start if Johnny and her old routines would fade into the background. Tunney questioned her, when he saw her move into the house with only her suitcase. She lied, explaining her possessions were in storage until Staid got through with his world tour. Tunney bought it. After all, she didn’t need furniture; the house was already furnished.