Your Hand in Mine: A Heartwood Novel

by Brea Viragh

  Your Hand in Mine

  A Heartwood Novel

  Brea Viragh

  Copyright © Brea Viragh 2018.

  All rights reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than the work in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Thanks and Afterword

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  You ever get to a point in life when you look in the mirror and screech? That’s me today. Me for the last ten years.

  Me since the day I popped out of the womb. Screaming. And I never looked back.

  I shifted the set of my glasses, feeling the rough bite of the rope at my back. “This is messed up.” The glare was meant for the row of parents holding their sides against cramping chuckles.

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have volunteered to be a part of the dunking tank for the school fair,” a certain Leslie Gordon told me with piggish delight. She was one of those moms who took pride in spreading her influence throughout her kingdom. In this case, the Heartwood Elementary School PTA.

  “What did you think you’d be doing? Throwing the balls?”

  “I thought maybe I could do whatever you do. Scare the kids in the fun house with my face.”

  A woman sporting a typical let-me-talk-to-your-manager haircut and color spared a laugh before a single quelling look from Leslie.

  “Shari, if you didn’t want feel comfortable with your volunteer duties, then maybe you shouldn’t have put your name on the list.”

  I did it for my niece. She was a smart kid and deserved to have someone around at the fundraiser who wasn’t a complete nincompoop.

  “No, no, I’m fine. Better me on this platform than you.” I spared a glance down at the dunk tank and artificially colored blue water below.

  “Why is that?” Leslie asked.

  “Because I won’t melt when I get wet.”

  This time a chorus of hastily covered laughter answered me. Instead of replying, Leslie stormed off ahead of the flock, her gaggle of groupies following closely behind.

  I turned to look down at my best friend, her eyes finding mine. “And that is how you deal with a bitch.”

  Essie Townsend shook her head. “Have I ever told you how much I admire your ability to stand up to bullies?”

  “It’s just another part of life.” I adjusted the set of my t-shirt and the sport’s bra underneath. Nowhere in my packet of information had been any indication I’d be ground zero at the dunk tank. Good thing I didn’t mind getting soaked. And hadn’t worn white. “But yes, keep with the admiration. I could use a little boost.”

  “You’ll be fine. This is right up your alley. And the kids are going to love you.”

  I settled in for the long haul, getting comfortable. “They’re going to love a chance to throw a ball and sink an adult.”

  “Same difference. How long did you say this thing lasts?”

  “About five hours.”

  “Think we’ll have time to grab a funnel cake on the way out.”

  “You know I love it when you scope out the competition.”

  She sent me a saucy smile over her shoulder before turning to face the crowd. “Why didn’t you bring what’s-his-face with you? The beefcake of the month.”

  “You mean Newman? He’s history.”

  “Oh? You hadn’t told me. I’m sorry.” Essie burped, a sure sign she was getting nervous. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

  I shrugged. “It’s fine. He wasn’t holding my interest anyway.”

  “Too boring?”

  “Not boring enough. He told me he’d bought plane tickets to Akron and he wanted to take me with him for a long weekend.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Akron sounds plenty boring to me.”

  “We’d only been seeing each other for two weeks! Like I’m going to hop on a plane and go out of town with a guy I just met.”

  “You’ve done worse.”

  I pointed to her. “We don’t talk about them. Remember?”

  “I know, I know. Sometimes I like to push your buttons.”

  “Well stop it. Now isn’t the time to discuss my failures with men. We’re here for the kids.”

  “Sure, the kids.”

  “If you’re about to bring up how happy you are with your own boyfriend, then stop.”

  Essie held out a hand. “Okay, I’m done. Let’s focus on the fair. We’re going to have a great day.”

  “You’re damn right. It’s show time,” I murmured under my breath, watching the kids roll in through the front entrance like a wave of screaming hellfire. It wasn’t that I disliked them in any way, beyond the crying and whining and constant drain on the bank account. I wasn’t in a position to have any around, besides my niece Kaylen. Now her, I could tolerate for more than an hour at a time.

  It took a line of five before someone finally managed to hit the target and send me catapulting into the tub of lukewarm water. It was a shock to my system, glasses promptly flying off my nose and diving to the bottom of the tank. Yeah, a big girl with glasses in a few hundred gallons of water…I didn’t see it as a recipe for success.

  This was going to be the longest five hours of my life.

  Essie sent me a look laden with a combination of regret and amusement. Then she took the child’s tickets and handed him a baseball.

  The trend continued for the rest of midmorning into afternoon. I glanced down at my feet, bright red toenails wiggling up at me amidst white pruney skin. any more of this and I’d be waterlogged for days. These kids had great aim.

  “I need to take a break,” I announced with an hour left to go.

  “You getting a little lightheaded from having to hold your breath?” Essie asked. A dig on my constant dunking.

  I grabbed hold of one my braids, black hair dripping water back into the tank, and gave it a squeeze. “Stop showing them how to properly throw.”

  “I’m not doing a thing. They’re form needed a little help.”

  “Let’s trade places and see how you feel then.”

  It took effort getting down from the stand, maneuvering the ladder with slick feet and hands that refused to grip the rungs. I made it to the ground. Legs shaking. Goosebumps rising on my skin even with the June heat.

  “You look like Venus stepping out of the ocean,” Essie commented offhandedly.

  I raised a dubious eyebrow. “If Venus was about tw
o hundred pounds with glasses and feisty Latina blood running through her veins.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “And you’re jealous of my boogey.” I shook my generous rear in her direction, turning toward the general direction of the concession stands. “Did you say you saw funnel cakes earlier?”

  “Yes. But they only take tickets.” Essie dug around in her pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled paper. “Here, take some of mine. And bring me back one while you’re there.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Good thing she’d had those tickets, otherwise I would have been left starving. There’s a certain emotion called hangry with which I was close friends. I didn’t want the kids to see my hangry persona, and I was pretty sure no one else wanted her around either.

  “Have you seen Kaylen?”

  “Not yet. I think your sister said she’d be helping out with the kissing booth today.”

  I started. “The kissing booth? She’s only fifteen.”

  “And about to start high school. Things aren’t like they were when we were that age.”

  They grew up too fast anymore. “Well, keep your eye out,” I told Essie with a parting wave over my shoulder. “If you see her then send me a signal.”

  Essie pursed her lips, scowling when no sound came out. “You know I can’t whistle!”

  I walked away laughing. That was the good thing about our friendship. She had the singular ability to make me laugh whenever I needed a pick-me-up, and without any prompting. Thank God she’d agreed to come out with me today. Not just come out, but stick by my side even when her bakery had set up shop amidst the brightly colored concession stands.

  “Aunt Shari! Over here!” Pale skinned, with a headful of golden-tipped black curls, the pre-teen had brown eyes and a little toothy smile that made my heart feel uncomfortable and gooey. The spitting image of my sister with the exception of her height. She’d pass us all in a few more years.

  “Kaylen.” The smile was genuine. I squinted through the heat rippling off the dry, compact ground and crossed to the tent where my niece sat. “Please tell me you aren’t the one doing the kissing here.”

  Instead of answering me right away, she pointed upward to the sign above her head. “You must be eighteen plus to come. I’m here to make sure the old ladies don’t get out of hand.”

  “And you’ve done a great job so far,” a masculine voice cut in.

  Stupid me, for not having noticed we weren’t alone. I spared a glance over toward one half of the male duo manning the booth.

  “Sorry, you are?”

  “Fenton Novak.” He held out a hand, seeming not to care that I was drenched and dripping. “Pleased to meet you.”

  I took his hand with a degree of reluctance. Not that there was anything wrong with the guy. He had a nice smile and a head of sandy colored hair. Shoulders that made the tent feel three sizes too small. But he’d been eavesdropping on my conversation, and I didn’t care for the interruption.

  “Shari Vest.” I returned the handshake. “You’re watching out for my niece? I don’t want anyone trying to hand off tickets in exchange for some hanky panky behind the curtain.”

  “Jeez, you think I would do something like that?” Kaylen cocked her hip to the side a classic gesture. “I have standards, Aunt Shari. There are little kids running around.”

  She’d learned to be a little more discerning than her mother and the endless line of bad choices she’d made. Hell, I was the same way.

  “I guess you guys have to fight them off with a stick, then,” I said to Fenton, leaning against the counter and staring at the nonexistent line.

  His companion, a guy I’d gone to school with and could never remember his name, nodded. “You hit us during a lull. You should have seen the lips we’ve been kissing for the past three hours.”

  “I’m exhausted,” Fenton said, the word barely audible. A fitted t-shirt outlined his broad build. His facial features were of the average sort, but he had an allure about him, an unnamable quality I couldn’t dismiss. Despite my earlier irritation.

  “Oh, I bet. These kinds of productions can zap your energy.”

  He gestured toward my outfit, plastered against me and showing every nook and cranny. Every curve. “They roped you into something worse, I think.”

  “I’m fine. Better to be wet on a hot day like this.”

  “At least we’re doing something good for the community, right? Raising money for the kids.”

  “Don’t call them kids,” Kaylen admonished. “I’m fifteen.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

  “I feel like I’ve seen you around before,” Fenton commented.

  “Well, it’s a small town. I’m sure we’ve run into each other somewhere.” I would have remembered, I thought. His wasn’t a face I would forget. If anything, under different circumstances, I would have tried to weasel my way into a date.

  “I work down at the Tooth. Bartender.”

  “Ah, of course. I bet you’ve seen it all.”

  “That’s not what I want to do forever,” he told me quickly.

  His companion bumped him in the shoulder. “My man is trying to get into house flipping.”

  They said it like it made a difference. Like I would somehow be invested in the answer. In spite of myself, and the grumbling in my stomach, I turned to Fenton and looked forward to his answer. “What kind of house flipping?”

  The odd blush working its way toward the apples of his cheeks was adorable. “It’s not flipping, exactly. I bought an old bed and breakfast off the parkway and I’m trying to rehab the building. Get it in some sort of habitable condition and open in the next couple months.”

  “That’s awesome.” The weird thing was, I meant it. “What kind of plans do you have after that?”

  “Aunt Shari, are you going to buy in or not?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Buy in. You can’t stand here all day. You’re scaring away the other women.”

  “I prefer to think I’m a magnet for beauty, Kaylen,” I responded with as much sarcasm. “And watch the attitude. I’m doing this for you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Now, are you buying in or not.”

  “I think she’s asking if you’d like to enjoy a smooch with one of the two handsomest men in town,” Fenton joked.

  I looked down at my hand and the tickets I still had clutched there. “I’m not sure I have enough tickets.”

  “The two handsomest men in town are on sale today. For pretty cheap, actually,” the second one answered ruefully. “Only five tickets.”

  “You’ll still have plenty left over for food.” Kaylen said it in a way that let me know she expected a snack as well. Hopefully, I’d have enough left for three.

  “I’m not sure.” I glanced around at the crowd. “I wouldn’t want to push your lips over the edge. You said they were exhausted.”

  Fenton leaned forward on his elbows, shooting me a look. One of those looks, that if we were out on a date, alone, I would have responded with in kind. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

  “Well, who am I to say no.” I smoothed the front of my shirt, looking like a hot mess. “If you’re making an exception.”

  “Five tickets,” Kaylen tried her best to hide a smile while holding out her hand.

  I slapped down the desired number with a gleeful squelch. “There you go. Enjoy.”

  “She’s not the only one who’s going to enjoy,” Fenton remarked.

  Hands went to my hips. “Pretty sure of yourself.”

  “I try to be. What kind of impression would I make on a pretty girl if I said you’d only be mildly pleased?”

  I chuckled. “Not a good one.”

  “There you go.”

  His compliment rolled over me like spun sugar. As sweet as cotton candy and gone as quickly. “So how do we do this thing?”

  “You lean in and close your eyes. I’ll take care of the rest.”

&n
bsp; “How embarrassing.” Oddly self-conscious, I did as he asked before closing the distance between us.

  A sound of approval rumbled in Fenton’s throat a split second before his lips closed over mine. And the world exploded.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It wasn’t a literal explosion. The kind where the world turns red and there are screams in the air, flames eating along the ground and the apocalypse on the horizon. Mushroom clouds and fallout. No, definitely none of those. It wasn’t the kind of explosion where fireworks burst to life in the open night sky and you remember the thrill of your first fourth of July. The wonder. Those memories of when you were eight years old and your parents let you stay up late, eat whatever you want, and fall asleep on a blanket watching the colors.

  The kiss was, however, pretty damn close to the second one. So close it was easy to confuse the two in my mind. Wowzah.

  Fenton had claimed my kiss. I’d paid the fee. I’d gladly pay it again and again and again, however many times I could as long as he’d keep kissing me!

  I let out a small sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and felt myself lean closer. Fenton’s mouth was warm and inviting. Sweet in the typical way of first kisses, sweet as tea with a gallon of sugar made right in grandma’s kitchen.

  Then it was more. It was the tugging like a gigantic fish hook through my belly button until I pressed closer still for a better taste. His lips moved over mine skillfully and I forgot that he’d done this before, numerous times today with numerous other women. Probably Leslie Gordon, for all I knew. None of it mattered.

  Fenton tasted like cinnamon and possibilities.

  A thousand years later he broke the contact, leaving me stranded in midair with nothing to fall back on. “I hope you have a nice day,” he murmured softly. “Thanks for stopping by. Your support means a lot to Heartwood Community Schools.”

  I made some sound of assent, not sure what to be honest, and turned around, blinking like I’d gotten salt water in my eye. The sun was blinding. My mouth a straight line of confusion, vision blurred, I wondered if I’d suffered a minor stroke or something worse. Could I still feel my arms and legs?