by M. Piper
“He’s killing it, huh?” Ford whispers from behind me.
“He needs to learn the script. This is painful,” I grumble. At least it’s free labor. God I feel more like a cranky old man when these teenagers are around. That, and the fact that though I love history, I find nothing interesting about learning where these presidents sat or what they did in their own homes. I want to know the facts, the things the history book doesn’t tell us.
“Could be worse,” Ford says, shrugging and wandering back outside. I follow him, giving Billy the crowd’s full attention.
The sun glares down on us the minute we make it outside and the humidity levels are already rising to annoying levels. In the distance I can see storm clouds brewing. Maybe we won’t be going to the park this afternoon.
“When’s the next group coming through?” I ask Ford as he smiles at a family passing by.
“Forty minutes,” he says, continuing trying to rope some families in. He’s good at this social aspect. Really, all three of us siblings have our particular skillset that have made it easier for our parents to back off a little bit. They should, they’re not getting any younger. While I’m great with the books and upkeep, my brother is more of a people pleaser and my sister runs the boutique and gift shop at the back of the property. We’re a great team, even if we get on each other’s nerves every now and then.
“Hey how was your date last night?” Ford grins at me and I let out a puff of air.
“I didn’t go,” I say, laughing at his expression.
“I set it all up for you, though! What happened?” If he could bug his eyes out any more they’d pop out of his head.
“Carter’s been sick, dude. You know this.”
“Yea, mom’s cared for a sick baby a time or two before. Not sure if you know this.”
“I’m not putting that on her. I’ll date again. Just…not now.” I rub the back of my head and move my gaze to the travelers starting to fill the streets. It’s tourist season. It’s summer camp tour season. It’s housework season.
It’s definitely not dating season.
“How long has it been though, Linc? You’re gonna forget how to work that thing,” he nods down at my pants all while smiling at a family passing by.
“I…” I laugh at the topic at hand. “I’m sorry I can’t have this conversation with you right now.” I pat him on the back as an old lady with her walker approaches my brother. That’s all you, bro.
It’s not that I’m against dating, but things right now are tricky. I’ve gone out on a few dates since Carter, but honestly he’s my first priority. I can’t date a girl anymore without thinking ‘what type of mom would she be to a kid that isn’t even hers?’ and more often than not my answer is ‘horrible.’ I’m open to a new relationship, but I’m not wasting my time on self-centered bimbos…my life isn’t like it was a couple years ago. A few years ago I was on the west coast, traveling every weekend and living it up. Reality hit in a tiny blue bundle and it grounded me in the best way possible. I know what I’m looking for in a woman… I’m just not looking for her now.
Right on time the tour ends and I see Billy getting one of the counselor’s phone numbers. Fine by me, as long as it’s not during a tour. God, there’s days I feel so much like my dad it scares me. Growing up this was our summer job. We worked here, did the tours, kept up the house. It was hell, and the main reason I left right after high school. Looking back now I realize how much of a shit I was growing up. I gave my parents a hard time without even knowing it. Now I’m the old man yelling at the employees and grumbling about the upkeep. I’m twenty-three and I’m already an old man but I’m going to do what it takes to make a steady and supportive household for my son.
I spend most of the day helping plan the city’s weeklong Lincoln-Fest happening in just a few weeks. We’re the only local-owned tourist home in the entire historic downtown so we try to stay as active in the community as we can. Every other house and building on this block is government owned and run by people who couldn’t give a damn about the community. All they see are dollar signs. I’m in it for life, meaning I need to help make this place sustainable through the next generation. A few years back we had some trouble with a few of the senators trying to buy out our land, but we held our ground and have never been better business wise.
Talk about feeling old, I remember when coming to these places for field trips was exciting. Nowadays, kids can do virtual tours in the classroom of pretty much any building in this area, so coming here isn’t financially savvy for the district. That’s where my job comes in. Trying to rope the schools and groups and parties in and pack our schedules Sunday through Saturday to help pay for everything…including our salaries. It means long weeks, long hours, and most nights I’m still working after I put Carter to bed, but I’m determined to keep this running as smoothly as my father and his father before.
“Hey there’s a huge tour here and I need some back-up,” Billy says, peeking his head into my office. I roll my eyes and stand to stretch out some stiff muscles. I really need to go for a run this weekend. It’s been almost a week.
“Be right out,” I say, sighing. Saving the manuscript on my laptop for the speech I have to give at this festival happening soon, I shove my hands in my pockets and exit my office.
Billy wasn’t joking when he said it was a huge tour. There are kids everywhere! Not school-aged older kids, either. Like…little kids. Tiny kids. Daycare kids…shit.
“The hell?” I whisper to myself. Ford approaches me with a crazed look on his face.
“Dude, they’re everywhere. We can’t keep them from touching everything in every room!”
“Calm down. It’s fine. We’ll each man a room…was this a planned tour?” I keep trying to think back to the schedule but this one isn’t ringing a bell. It has to be a day care or something, but they didn’t plan this.
“They didn’t say. She handed me a huge wad of money so I’m guessing not.” He shoves the money at me and grins. “Steak tonight!” he yells, walking away. I laugh and walk back to my office, locking the cash away until I can go through it later.
The entire next hour is spent corralling children, keeping Ford from freaking out, and making sure nothing of value is broken. When the teachers blow their whistles, the small children all form a line by the door faster than I thought humanly possible.
They’re like tiny little minions, all falling in line.
I smile a tired smile as they exit the building and the minute the front door closes, I let out a breath.
“Well that was crazy,” Ford huffs, grinning.
“Crazy is good for the wallet, bro.” I shrug. “I’m going to do a walk-around to make sure everything’s still in place. What’s the schedule look like, again?”
He pulls out his phone and checks the screen. “Thirty minutes until the nursing home walk through.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Nursing home, right.”
“Olds like Lincoln too, dude.” He laughs.
I walk away and start straightening up each room. We don’t have a ton, but what these kids could get to they definitely touched. It’s such a mundane task that it doesn’t take me long to have everything straightened up. A quick check to the bathroom to see that the trash cans are overflowing means I have to get these swapped out before the next group. If there’s one group of people to complain about anything it’s this next group.
I walk out back, the summer air hitting me like a freight train, and as I round the corner to the dumpster I stop in my tracks, gripping the trash bag tightly as I take in the sight before me.
“Not too hard or you can’t see the lines,” the girl says.
What the…?
“No, not on the bricks, Phillip!” She laughs this airy, heavenly laugh and something in my chest expands.
This girl in front of me, blonde hair in a messy bun and her shorts showing off her tanned skin…holy hell she’s beautiful. A natural beauty, not one that looks like she’s trying
too hard.
“Excuse me,” I say, then clear my throat. “Are you coloring on my building?” I smirk and her eyes flash to mine in a moment of sheer panic.
“Oh I’m… We’re just doing rubbings!” She smiles and stands, wiping her hands off.
“Rubbing crayons on my brick? Do you know how old this brick is? I’m not certain crayon wax is something I want to have to clean off this.” I want to be annoyed at her and these kids but I’m more intrigued by who this girl is. She wasn’t with the tour, I don’t think. At least I didn’t see her in the house. I feel like I would have remembered her had I seen her earlier.
“No, not on your building,” she scoffs then laughs. “Have you never seen this done before?” She nods down to one of the kids who takes their paper and places it on the brick, then grabs a black crayon and gently rubs over it, causing the texture to transfer to the paper.
“I have,” I nod. “But why my place. It’s brick. You can get brick anywhere.”
“The texture of this tells a story. It’s not new brick…it’s old and bumpy and has a past. There’s more emotion in this brick than the ones at Wal-Mart down the street.” She smiles, something as beautiful as the sunrise on a cloudless day, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Emotion? In a brick?” I grin and shake my head. What’s this girl on? “Bricks don’t have emotions. They aren’t living things.”
“I know that,” she says, laughing. “But I like to think that everything, living and non-living, can tell a story. We’re collecting rubbings this summer of everything we see that the kids think has a story behind it and putting on an art show at the end of summer.”
“This isn’t art, it’s literally just rubbing a crayon on paper. Maybe you should teach them how to draw or something. Crayons and all. I have another tour coming soon.”
“It’s charcoal,” she whispers. “And it is art. I’m sorry for taking your time.” I watch as she picks up her papers and crayon box and shuffles the kids away, making me feel like a massive tool for some reason. As they walk away, she glances back at me one final time and when our eyes connect I have to look away.
“Who the hell was that?” I hear Ford ask from the doorway. Looking back at him, I see his eyes trained on her ass and slug him in the arm.
“Don’t be a dick,” I say, trying not to watch her ass sway away in those tiny shorts.
“She’s hot dude, you get her number?”
“No,” I growl.
“Should have.” He shrugs and heads back inside.
Yea… I should have.
I glance back down the sidewalk, maybe if she’s still there I can, but she’s long gone.
Figures.
“I thought we told you no,” my father states from my bedroom doorway.
“You said the word no, you’re correct.” I nod, shoving clothes into the boxes that Lucy gave me at work today.
“You do as I say!” My father’s voice bellows throughout the empty hallway. I stop and glare at him, wondering how I ended up so normal with such an asshole as a father.
“I’m a grown woman, Dad. In case you didn’t notice. I make my own money now—”
“Because of me!” he yells, slamming his fist to the doorframe and making me jump. I’ve seen my dad mad plenty of times before. This shouldn’t shock me. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the fight I can’t back down from. I’m in my twenties. I need to break free from my parents.
“Yes, and thank you for that. But I need space…away from you and Mom. This will be good for me.”
I continue shoving clothes into my boxes, trying not to look like I’m rushing to get out but at the same time going as fast as I can. I don’t want to run away from my parents, but I’ve been back in town for a month and it’s time I’m supporting myself. My sister’s right. I can’t use the money from my grandma. Not yet. While teaching at a daycare isn’t something I want to be doing full term, it’s a starting place. The prestigious place my dad got me this job at actually pays a full time art teacher, so at least until I get my feet wet and find a job on my own, I’m still doing something I love.
“I can’t support this,” he laughs through his words. “You’re just going to end up back here, begging for our help again.”
“When have I ever begged for your help, Dad?!” I shriek, throwing the sweater in my hand hard into the box. He raises his eyebrows at me and I point a shaky finger at him. “I never, not once, asked you and Mom for help. Two years ago I needed you, but I never asked because I knew you wouldn’t be there for me. I didn’t want to move home, Mom forced me to. Not once in my adult life have I come running to you for help because I can do it without you.”
His eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath. “We’ll see about that, Wren. It’s only a matter of time until you fuck up again.” He storms down the hall and straight out of the house. I huff and bite back tears. I wish, for once, my parents would believe in me.
It takes me three trips out to my Jeep to load all my boxes. Luckily, lots of the things I left in Seattle have already been shipped to my new place so that’s a few less loads I have to take over there. Thank God for my sister doing whatever she likes and not listening to my parents’ nagging or I’d have everything in storage across town that I’d have to go get, too. How I got stuck being the failure is beyond me. I had everything right on track…then the minute I peed on that little stick two years ago my entire world changed. Now I’ll forever be the daughter that screws everything up, and that’s not me feeling bad for myself. I’m fairly certain those exact words came out of my mom’s mouth when we told her the news.
Now, here I am, trying to pick myself up but I know I can do it. I have to. I was young and naïve back then. It’s different this time.
I’m sharing a house with my friend Lucy. She and I work together and have become pretty close friends since I’ve started working there. The closest friend I have left in Springfield. Everyone else up and left after high school and never looked back. I don’t know her all too well, but I assume that’ll all change rapidly once we start sharing a house. She’s giving me a break on rent since her house is already paid for thanks to her parents and the place is big enough so it won’t seem like we’re living on top of one another constantly.
“Where do you want this box?” Lucy huffs from the kitchen. We’ve been unpacking boxes for a few hours and I’m about done for the day.
“Uh…” I sigh, completely exhausted and sweaty. “Bedroom.”
She nods and carries it in and I hear the box hit the floor and cringe. I really hope nothing expensive was in there. Lucy’s an awesome girl, but she’s a little careless sometimes. The other day at work we came in from playing outside and went about ten minutes until I looked out the window and there was a kid left outside, playing by himself. Thank God they can’t get out the fence and no one saw, or she’d be out a job right about now.
I head out to the jeep to grab the final box and on my way up I hear a familiar voice.
“It’s art girl,” he says and I freeze.
That voice, smooth…friendly…like butter. God, I love butter. It’s the man from the field trip. I know without even looking at him, and only because his voice has been engrained in my head since he caught me doing rubbings on his building.
I’d like to rub his building. I chuckle to myself and sigh.
“I’m ok with that nickname,” I say, smiling and turning around. My eyes trail his body, shirtless and sweaty, and my mouth goes dry. He’s…beautiful. He grins at me, his strong jaw and slight dimples make me weak in the knees. Or maybe that’s the lack of food today.
“Hey, let me help,” he says, grabbing the box out of my hands. I don’t have the energy to fight him on it…I’m too dumbfounded by how hot this guy is. Like, too hot for Springfield, hot. Deserves to be on a book cover hot. I watch his ass as he marches inside the house like he knows exactly where he’s going and when he disappears inside I shake my head and try to rid myself of these feelings. I
can’t fall for anyone right now. Hell, the last time I was with a guy bad things happened from it. I need to get my life in order before falling for someone as good looking as him.
I make my way inside, walking as slow as possible so maybe I can just get a quick thank you in as he’s on his way out. This boy has feelings written all over him. Feelings I’m not ready to feel.
“Wren!” Lucy yells from the door. “This handsome piece of man meat says he knows you?” She appears in the doorway, motioning inside the house and I groan to myself. Lucy’s not like me. She’s loud, outspoken, opinionated, and has no shame whereas I’ve learned to keep to myself and do what I love most, not worrying about what everyone else thinks about me.
“I don’t know him, Lucy,” I whisper, skipping the steps on the porch to get to her before she embarrasses me even more. “Stop yelling! He can hear you,” I hiss quietly.
“Man meat, huh?” He’s standing next to her now, when he appeared I have no clue. All I can focus on is that smirk and that cute as fuck dimple.
“She said it,” I mumble. “Hey thanks for carrying that in for me,” I say, trying my hardest not to stare at his abs. God, his abs. I’ve never felt abs that…defined… I wonder what they feel like.
“We’re going out to dinner tonight. You should come with us. My treat. As a thank you.” Lucy blurts the idea like it’s the best thing she’s ever thought of. I squeeze my eyes shut in pure embarrassment over my friend’s bluntness, but when I hear him let out a chuckle I have to open them again.
That dimple is everything.
“Uh, Luce—” I moan.
“It’s fine,” he chuckles. “I have to get home anyway. Thanks for the offer, Lucy.” He smiles at her and pins me with those eyes. Those deep brown eyes I could get lost in. “It was nice meeting you again,” he pauses and smirks. “Wren.”
My name on his lips does things to me I’m not prepared for and the giggle that erupts from my gut does nothing for my level of embarrassment around him.