Torchlight

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “I’ll grab the coffee,” he offered.

  “Okay. I’ll get your cousin’s water.” She paused as she poured from a filtered jug—the house’s water was not yet suitable for drinking. “I didn’t know she was going to come up today.”

  “Neither did I. I hope it’s okay. She said something about wanting to see the old place; I’ve talked so much about it.”

  “It’s fine, fine.”

  “Well, good.” He gestured toward the dining room. “I’ll be in there. Coming?”

  “Yes. I’ll just grab a plate of cookies and be right in.” The door swung shut behind him, and Julia stared after him. I’ve talked so much about it, he’d said. And he and his cousin were apparently as close as she and her brother, Jake, were. She mused over her own smile. Maybe Trevor Kenbridge was more stable and at home here than she had given him credit for.

  The next few days went smoothly enough. Hours were eaten up by the demanding tasks of inspection: foundation, electric system, plumbing, timber framing. The list went on and on, and their to-do list expanded accordingly.

  The following day, a week after Trevor’s arrival, Julia left with Dan Lindgren to file renovation plans at the county courthouse in Portland, two hours away. Unlike the bureaucracy of the big cities on the West Coast, approval could come within days. Still, the lines and the forms and the interviews took all afternoon.

  When Julia drove back into Torchlight, she smiled at the wreckage, imagining how it would look within the year. The vision invigorated her. She wondered what Trevor had accomplished in her absence, and her heart sped up strangely as she imagined him coming out the door to greet her.

  Catching sight of the convertible as it came through the gates, Trevor paused at the kitchen window and watched Julia park and jump out of the car. His heart seemed to stop, then beat again more quickly. What is it about her? It irritated him that a woman could so captivate him. I’m a freewheeler, so why do I feel like my feet won’t move?

  Realizing he would be seen in the window if he didn’t change positions, Trevor forced himself to go back to tearing out the electric stove and wiring, in preparation for a new gas range. You always want the unavailable ones, Bryn had teased him. She had recognized his attraction for his new boss from the start. They had traveled together, spent hours on the phone together; she knew him like a brother. And she was right. He always set his sights on the unattainable … It made him angry at himself. He gave the wiring a fierce yank, and instead of trailing out, it ripped through the wallboard. “Oh!” he growled in frustration, clamping his mouth shut lest swearwords emerge.

  The door slammed shut, and Julia came into the kitchen to drop off the few groceries she had picked up. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello,” he responded, not looking up at her.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Fine.”

  “I thought you’d be done with this by now.”

  He stood up and wiped off his forehead. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d take the afternoon off while the boss was away. I just sat outside in the hammock and dozed.”

  “No need to get sarcastic, Mr. Kenbridge.”

  “No need to check up on me, Ms. Rierdon.”

  She put away her groceries silently, her tense shoulders telling him of her anger at his impudence.

  As she turned to leave, he caught her at the door. “Look, Julia, I had to move the rest of the stuff out of the basement so the guys could work on the pipes tomorrow. It took all morning and part of the afternoon. All the stuff is in the shed—you need to go through it and decide whether you want to save or toss it.”

  She looked down at her feet and then at him. “I’m sorry. I was checking up.”

  “I’m a trustworthy man. Give me some room. I’ve told you; you won’t be sorry.”

  She paused a moment, then: “What’d you find in the basement?”

  “It looks like mostly junk to me. But go on down and check out the wine cellar. I unearthed it behind two old couches.”

  “A wine cellar? I don’t remember that.”

  “Maybe your great-grandparents were teetotalers who buried it before you were born.”

  Julia moved over to the basement door and opened it. It smelled musty, dank. She yanked a chain attached to a bare light bulb, and the old cement stairs were immediately illuminated. Fighting off her childish fear of dark basements, she walked down. The basement was an empty warren of makeshift, half-walled rooms. It must’ve taken Trevor forever to empty it. And she had jumped all over him …

  “Boo!”

  Julia jumped. Realizing it was just Trevor behind her, she turned around and slugged him on the arm as hard as she could.

  “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

  “You creep!”

  “I was just playing around. Lighten up.”

  “I thought you had something to do.”

  “I wanted to show you some things.” He rubbed his arm and frowned at her. “Come on.”

  She followed him to the left, noting the rough-hewn beams and posts that made up the timber framing of the first floor. Here and there stood walls of shelves, full of empty canning jars, paint, brushes, and various tools. To the right of the wine cellar was a huge assortment of wine jugs and soda bottles, all full of a clear liquid.

  “What do you think those have in them?”

  Trevor smiled. “I thought you’d want to see that. I was thinkin’ that Gramps had gotten into the moonshine business, but it didn’t make sense with the little that I know about their lifestyle. Anyway, Ernie, one of the plumbers, told me to open one and check it out.”

  “What was it?”

  “Water. He said that back in the forties they had a severe drought. Apparently your relatives were stocking up for another sunny day.”

  Although she was still upset with him for spooking her, Julia had to smile. “And the way basements go, they never returned to empty or clean ’em out.”

  “Nope. This way, ma’am.” Twelve more feet to their left was the wine cellar, festooned with a huge hand-carved timber depicting luxurious grape leaves and their bounty. “Check it out; natural refrigeration at its best.” He opened the door and Julia peeked inside.

  “It’s really cold in here!” The small room had ten steps that descended another seven feet below ground. The walls were hewn granite. “It must hold more than two hundred bottles, when it’s full.”

  He jumped the last three steps and landed beside her. “Probably’s been empty since Prohibition.”

  “Probably. But I bet it was full when Shane Donnovan was man of the house. Grandmother said he loved to have either a quiet evening with his family or a big party. Anything in between left him restless.”

  “Sounds like a man I would’ve enjoyed knowing,” Trevor said, as they climbed back up into the basement again.

  He closed the wine cellar door behind him. “There is something else you should see. Over here.” He pointed into the corner of one section of timber framing, shining his flashlight carefully.

  Julia crowded in to see, with Trevor close behind her. “What?” His proximity and her own reaction to it irritated her. She felt herself flush from head to toe.

  “No termite damage.”

  “No termite damage?”

  “None whatsoever.” He calmly remained poised behind Julia, clearly enjoying her proximity.

  She turned to get out of the corner. When Trevor didn’t move, she pushed him backward. “You couldn’t just tell me that?”

  He shrugged innocently. “I thought you’d be happy with the news.”

  “I am. But … oh, forget it.” She shook a finger in his face. “Boundaries. Remember our boundaries. No flirting. I’m your boss. You’re my employee. That’s it.”

  “Right. Boundaries,” he said mischievously. “You have a boyfriend. And the flowers. I’ve seen the flowers. From him, right?” Was he taunting her, testing her?

  She kept her stern look and nodded once, staring him down. “Yes. They’re from
Miles.” But as she climbed to the main floor and he silently followed behind, Julia couldn’t keep a tiny grin from escaping.

  The old house reverberated with a loud groaning and squeaking noise.

  “What is that?” Tara asked.

  Julia and her new friend sat at Torchlight’s kitchen table, drinking tea from delicate china cups. “Creepy, huh? It’s the heating lines. Cast iron. They have to go. Unfortunately, it’s very ugly, dirty, heavy work. The men get rid of the lines in chunks, using a pipe wrench, a hammer, a chisel—whatever works. You should see their hands. I don’t know if they’ll ever get them clean.”

  “How is Trevor working out?”

  “I have to admit, he’s a godsend. My life would have been miserable without someone like him on board.” She wrinkled up her face. “But I have this weird thing going on with him. It’s like we’re at each other’s throats all the time. I say one thing, he says another. I do one thing, he does another. We’re constantly at odds.”

  “Could it be that he’s so spectacularly handsome that he makes you edgy?”

  Julia looked up at Tara in surprise. “What are you talking about? I already have one man in my life, and that’s quite enough, thank you very much.”

  “Just a suggestion. Tell me about your man,” she invited.

  “Miles. He’s an attorney in San Francisco. Handsome, talented, stable, reliable.”

  “And generous,” Tara said, fingering the petals of giant red roses.

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “Four years.”

  “Wow. That’s a long time. What’s the deal? Are you in love? Almost married?”

  “Not exactly.” Julia frowned slightly. “I guess we’ve been heading toward marriage all along, but there’s something that niggles at me, something missing. I guess I thought coming out here, gaining some distance, would help us figure it out. Our relationship is solid, comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. I think I just need a break to see it more clearly. For him, too.”

  “I see. Kinda like if he moves out here, or you can’t stand to be without him, you’ll finally know?”

  “Kind of,” Julia agreed.

  “I know what that’s like. Ben and I have been buddies so long, I don’t think he can see me in any other light. But I’m tired of the way things stand. It’s time for a change.”

  “Maybe we can form a support group,” Julia quipped.

  “Yeah.” Tara turned back to the roses. “How handsome is Miles?”

  “Oh, attractive. Tall, blond. Sophisticated. More basketball player than football.”

  “More handsome than your hired man?” she egged her on.

  At exactly that moment, Trevor emerged through the basement door, carrying a huge chunk of cast-iron tubing; his arm and chest muscles bulged from the effort. Sweat ran down his face, and his T-shirt was soaked. Yet he passed them with a bright smile that crinkled up his eyes warmly in the corners. The three plumbers passed by as well, carrying their own smaller segments.

  “Just a question,” Tara said lightly. “Tell me more about yourself.”

  “Well, obviously I was born into a family with great taste in property, and I was blessed with that trust fund that turned over when I hit the big 3-0. My grandmother didn’t want anyone marrying me for my money, you see, before I was old enough to spot ’em for myself. Not that there’s ever been any danger.” She paused to look around her. “All my life I’ve dreamed of coming back here. Somehow it feels more like home than the house I grew up in.

  “I tried to please my parents and go the professional route; I did all right as a CPA. But it just wasn’t me. It was like God was calling me home.” She grinned. “I mean to Torchlight, not to heaven. And he wouldn’t let me rest until I listened.”

  “So you’re a believer.”

  “As of a year ago.”

  “I see. What happened? If you don’t mind my asking …”

  “Not at all! My brother, Jake, works as a foreman at a ranch in Montana. After he got married, I stayed with Dirk and Rachel Tanner, the owners of the ranch, for two weeks. They had an incredible impact on me, and I realized how hollow my faith was. They helped me discover what it means to me, personally.

  “That’s another reason why I had to come here. I needed some time to myself … to grow. It feels good to be on my own. Away from my family and my boyfriend—at least for a while—and my old life. I’m thirty years old! It’s high time I figured out what I believe … and live it. I’ve got a long way to go.”

  Tara reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Me, too. I hope we can be there for each other. Would you want to go to church with me sometime? I think you’d enjoy getting to know our pastor and the congregation. It’d be a great way to meet some of your neighbors.”

  “I’d love it. I’ve been so busy since I got here, I haven’t had time to stop and think about it.”

  “Well then, I’ll just badger you until you actually come.” Tara stretched and looked at her watch. “I’d better head back to the restaurant. But consider this: It might please God to see you cut Trevor a little more slack. The man’s a believer too.”

  The news so surprised Julia she didn’t know what to say.

  “Don’t look so shocked!” Tara looked at her strangely. “Why are you so suspicious of Trevor?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Julia admitted. “There’s just something vaguely … dangerous about the man.”

  Tara frowned with concern. “Dangerous, physically dangerous?”

  “No. No. I feel perfectly safe with him that way. It’s more … I don’t know.”

  “No?”

  Julia squirmed under her gaze as Trevor came through the door again and disappeared into the basement.

  “Are you sure you don’t know what bothers you about him?” Tara asked leadingly, narrowing her eyes. “Or do you know exactly what throws you off center?”

  “Isn’t it time for you to leave?” Julia asked her saucily, tossing a napkin across the table.

  “Oh no,” Tara said. “We’re just getting started, my friend.”

  “Well, you may be,” Julia said, rising. “But I’ve got work to do. Can I pour you a cup of coffee as I go?”

  “No. I get the hint. I’m goin’, I’m goin’. But we will talk more about this someday, Julia.”

  “Maybe. Have a good day, Tara.” She grinned. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “My pleasure.” She leaned forward. “Now don’t work that poor man into a lather. You decide if you’re interested or if you’re not. Don’t mess with his heart.”

  “Good-bye, Tara.”

  “Bye,” she said, obviously aware that she had stepped on Julia’s toes and caring not a whit.

  The workers wrapped up the removal of the old boiler and cast-iron heating lines within three days and moved on to the plumbing and wiring. One night late Julia found Trevor still in the kitchen working on leveling and supporting the sagging ceiling.

  “Isn’t it time to call it quits?”

  Trevor looked down at her from his ladder, frowning and rolling his neck to ease the tension. “Yeah, maybe now that you mention it …”

  “You know I never intended for you to kill yourself on the job.”

  “I want to get the kitchen, master bedroom, and main systems on line quickly. Then I’ll ease up. I like to get the grunt work over fast and take my time with the finish work.”

  “Painting, wallpapering, and all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Closet artist?”

  “Maybe.” He climbed down from his ladder and held out his hands. “Still black. I’m hoping one day to get back to my natural color.”

  She smiled. “Have you had dinner?”

  “Hadn’t thought of it until you came in.”

  “How ’bout some leftover tomato basil soup?”

  “That’d be great.”

  Trevor made a valiant attempt to wash his hands as Julia heated the soup an
d toasted some bread. They sat down at the table, each trying not to feel awkward. It was the first time they had intentionally sat down alone together. Fortunately, both were famished, and the food afforded a welcome distraction.

  “This tastes great,” Trevor said.

  “Thanks. Got the recipe from Tara.”

  “Figures. That woman can cook better than anyone I know.”

  Julia fought off a ridiculous feeling of jealousy. She stood. “I’d better turn in. When we get the kitchen in shape, I’ll make you my famous fried chicken, regardless of what it does to our arteries.” Julia’s forward manner surprised even herself.

  He rose with her. “Or you can come over to my place and I’ll cook you dinner.”

  “I don’t think so. I feel more comfortable here, in the big house.”

  He brushed by her lightly as he exited the breakfast nook. “Of course.”

  Something in his manner disturbed her. “Look, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea—”

  “Not a good idea? No, I think that if you really listen closely, maybe you’ll hear that you’re attracted to the man you hired.”

  She frowned in consternation. “Of all the arrogant … Have you talked to Tara?”

  “No. Why, do I need to talk to Tara? Does she know something?”

  “Not at all!”

  “Good night, Julia.” He ducked out of the kitchen, walked quickly to the front door, and opened it.

  “I have something else to say to you—”

  “I think we both had better turn in now. We have a long day tomorrow.” He shut the door before Julia could respond, leaving her utterly frustrated.

  The phone rang, as it almost always did about this time of night. Probably Miles.

  Julia sat down and let the phone ring until it ceased.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hi, Sally,” Ben said to the new waitress as he sat down at the counter in the restaurant. The slim blonde automatically poured him coffee. “Tara in?”

  “She took the day off. She’s workin’ on her cookbook. I’ll be fill-in’ in on Thursdays for the next couple of months so she can spend her time on that.”