by Lyn Cote
Mavis’s voice came up from the area below the steps. “We’re okay. I got candles lit down here. Now I wish I’d bought that generator someone suggested. I’ll come up and hand you my other flashlight. It’s small, but it will help.” She did this, shining the light over to where they stood.
Pete let go of Eleanor’s arms. “I don’t see any more leaks. We can go down now.”
She missed his touch immediately and rubbed her arms, as if they were chilled. However, the attic was in fact stuffy and muggy. They moved over the narrow floor joists till they reached the hatch.
Pete motioned for her to descend first. She handed him the flashlight so she wouldn’t leave him in the dark. She stepped down carefully as he trained the light onto the stepladder. And then Pete followed her down.
Mavis met them in the hallway. Before she could say anything, Pete announced, “I’m going down to the basement to check for water.”
Mavis’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
“Just checking,” Pete said, walking at a clip through the dining room into the kitchen and then down the basement stairs in the back hall. Eleanor hurried after him, keeping within the circle of light from the flashlight he was carrying.
“Mavis!” Kerry Ann called from the living room. “Come sit down. Let the young people take care of matters. Pete knows what he’s doing.”
Mavis must have obeyed, because she didn’t follow Eleanor into the basement. Eleanor halted at the bottom of the rickety, open wooden steps into the basement, mentally making a note that they must be closed-in for Mavis’s safety and a new railing installed.
“She needs to have the stairway made safe,” Pete said, voicing her thoughts.
“I agree.” She moved forward cautiously. He was flashing the light toward the floor drain. She saw the wet trickle. “Oh, no.”
“It’s not bad.” Pete swung the light toward a window. The window well was full and water was seeping through the seams around the glass. “This is just an especially bad downpour, much more than usual.”
“So this is just because it’s a bad storm?”
“Yes, but when the weather is better, I’d like to come over and check on your aunt’s drainage.”
For some reason, this comment hit Eleanor as hilarious. She tried not to laugh but it came out anyway in a burst.
“What did I say?” Pete asked.
“Checking…my aunt’s…drainage,” she managed to say between laughs.
“I get it.” Pete flashed the light up on his face to show her he was smiling. “Enough of this frivolity—we need to make sure that there isn’t any water oozing from any other place.” He walked slowly around the small basement with Eleanor at his side, playing the light over each window and over each wall. Everywhere else looked dry. “Good. We can go upstairs now. That trickle isn’t too much for the drain to handle.”
He directed the beam of light at the steps and Eleanor preceded him up to the kitchen. She led him into the living room where Kerry Ann and Jenelle sat with the children and Mavis. Candlelight drew them through the dismal, low light, making Eleanor shiver as if gloomy storm clouds were wrapping themselves around her, around them all.
Pete swung around two dining chairs, and they sat under the wide arch between the rooms. A candle set on the table had been lit, along with one on the mantel, and two hurricane lamps flickered from their positions at each end of the couch.
Eleanor sat back and sighed as if she’d been working hard at the Habitat site. This afternoon had followed a different course than usual. She glanced at her wristwatch.
“Need to be at work?” Pete asked softly.
She shrugged. “I always have work to do. But this is kind of nice to be inside out of the storm.”
“Thanks, Pete, for checking things out,” Mavis said. “What’s the bad news?”
“You don’t have enough insulation up in the attic,” he said, nodding at her thanks.
“I was going to ask you about the roof leak first,” Mavis said wryly. “Don’t give me all the good news in one big lump.”
Pete grinned, looking a little abashed. “Sorry.”
“So I have a leak in the roof?” Mavis held up one finger. “And—”
“Make that two leaks, Auntie,” Eleanor said.
“Two leaks,” Mavis groaned and held up another finger. “And not enough insulation.” Another finger rose. “What else?”
“Pete needs to check your drainage outside,” Eleanor forced herself to say this with a straight face, but a laugh shook silently inside.
Pete’s mouth became a flat line—whether because he, too, was trying to hold back laughter or not, she couldn’t tell. “I think I should go over the whole house and see what repairs need to be done. This is the time of the year that you should get these things taken care of. Not having a building inspection before buying is the pitfall of buying a house at a county auction,” Pete said.
“I know,” Mavis said. “People warned me. But honestly, I fell in love with the house at first sight. I’ve always liked these classic bungalows. And I loved the yard with all its perennials—”
“That probably need major thinning,” Kerry Ann inserted with a chuckle.
Mavis let her hand fall. “Oh, well. It’s only money and some elbow grease. And before this, I had enough work to do, getting everything basic fixed up so I could move in. I had to have all new electrical and have all the floors refinished and all the rooms painted.”
“Well, if your basic systems are in good order, that’s a big plus. But I’ll come over and go through the house inside and out to see if there are any other repairs are needed.”
“What do you charge?” Mavis asked.
Pete looked surprised. “You don’t need to pay me. I do this for friends all the time.”
“Then you should be charging your friends,” Mavis said. “I know what teachers make. And why should you give away your expertise?”
Pete shrugged. His cell phone rang. He pulled it out and spoke a few words. He rose. “Gotta go. The guys are done.”
Eleanor rose, too, and walked him to the door. “Here. Take this.” She handed him a plain, black umbrella from the stand near the door.
“No, that’s okay. I won’t melt.”
They stood a moment staring at each other. The sensations Eleanor had experienced in the attic within his protection shivered through her. She shook them off. “Take care.”
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something important, but instead he replied, “You, too.” He opened the door and raced through the rain to his pickup. He flashed his lights at her and then drove away through the downpour.
Turning back, Eleanor stood in the doorway, gazing at the group, but thinking about Pete. How his hand on her arm had felt. How peaceful she’d been in that moment, how secure.
Eleanor sat down and Cassie crossed the room and climbed up on her lap. Holding the child had become so natural. She knew Pete didn’t like it. But children needed love from people other than their parents, didn’t they?
That evening, after Pete shuffled down the stairs, he went in search of his mom. They had something that needed to be settled, and now. He found her loading the dishwasher.
“I could use some help,” she said brightly.
He grimaced out of habit but willingly started rinsing dishes and then sliding them into place in the dishwasher.
Kerry Ann hummed as she wiped down the kitchen stove and counter. “I like Eleanor. She’s got a good heart.”
This made it easier for him to bring up what he’d come to say and harder at the same time. “I like Eleanor. But I don’t want—”
“You don’t want Cassie becoming attached to her.”
He looked up, startled.
“My goodness, at Mavis’s table you were broadcasting it so plainly that any idiot could have read the message. I was almost embarrassed in front of Mavis. After all, Eleanor is like her daughter.” She went on the offense then. “What’s wrong with Eleanor?”
<
br /> “There is nothing wrong with Eleanor. It’s just that my kids have been through enough—”
“Cassie came to Wisconsin barely a year old. She doesn’t remember Suzann at all.”
Pete ignored this. “She has you.”
“Yes, as her grandma. She wants a mama, just like any child does.”
At this remark, he stilled. Salt in a wound didn’t come close to explaining the pain that suffused him. A fire in his middle flamed out making it impossible for him to speak.
His mom came close and rested a hand on his arm. “Pete, you’ve suffered a great deal. But that has nothing to do with Eleanor Washburn. Cassie should not suffer because of the past.”
“I don’t want her hurt.” More than she is. Guilt twisted through him like barbed wire.
“Then don’t try to fight Cassie, let her like Eleanor.”
“Eleanor is a busy woman—”
“Not too busy to help others. Mavis and I are taking Jenelle, Tiesha and Cassie to the library story hour later this week. I’m not going to avoid either Jenelle or Mavis just because they are associated with Eleanor.”
Before Pete could respond, his mom continued, “I’ve wiped down the counters. Please start the dishwasher when you’ve finished.” She left the kitchen.
His stomach burning, Pete finished the chore, pushed all the right buttons and controlled himself so he didn’t close the dishwasher door hard. He walked into the living room and sat down on the couch to watch some TV show he had no interest in.
He couldn’t contradict his mother. First of all, she was his mother, a good mother, a wonderful mother. Second of all, when he’d come back, she had welcomed him in—without any comments about his poor judgment in choosing a mate. Unlike his dad. And maybe his mom was right. Maybe he should let Cassie love Eleanor. Still, it felt wrong. Like stepping into the dark without a flashlight.
Later that week on Friday morning, Eleanor waited for the volunteers to gather. The Habitat house was coming along; the shell now stood on the foundation. Today they would begin sheeting the outside and, if time permitted, raising roof joists.
Would Pete Beck come? Or would he decide to stay home and avoid her? Last night as she thought over the rainy afternoon at Mavis’s house, his attitude over Cassie liking her had started rubbing her in a very wrong way.
Kevan got out of his car and headed straight for her. “Morning, Eleanor!”
She couldn’t have stopped herself from smiling back at him. This man certainly had a positive outlook. “Good morning! I think we’re going to have a good turnout today.”
“Hope so. Jenelle really enjoyed lunch at your aunt’s house.”
“Mavis enjoyed having her and Tiesha.”
“We got some good news. My uncle Dex is coming for a visit.” Then Kevan made a face. “But I think that Jenelle’s got that matchmaking look on her face.”
Eleanor glanced at him.
“Uncle Dex is around your aunt’s age, a bachelor and another veteran. Vietnam.”
Eleanor chuckled. “Well, that should prove interesting.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Another volunteer drew Kevan away to talk.
Pete’s blue pickup pulled up and parked by the curb. Pete, Luis and Colby got out and walked toward her.
Eleanor lifted her chin, ready to deal with Mr. Beck’s disapproval. Then she saw his face, and her sympathy flowed toward him. He looked worried, upset. Was this about her and Cassie again? Or something new? Pete, what’s wrong?
Chapter Five
“Hi, Pete,” Eleanor greeted him.
Looking into Eleanor’s pretty face, Pete tried to soften his expression. Her genuine greeting had flowed around him like a soft breeze. But now she was frowning slightly. Clearly she had picked up on his frustration. How could he help that? He and his brothers had been blocked at every turn. If they couldn’t find a place to hold the party for their parents, they couldn’t pull off the surprise celebration. He swallowed his frustration. Right now, working on this house for an Iraq veteran should be center stage as his goal, not the party.
He forced a smile. “Good morning! Looks like we’re having a rare sunny day.”
She took a step toward him.
Luis and Colby, both wearing cutoffs and tattered T-shirts, ran up behind him. “Hey! We’re here! What’s on for the day?”
Pete swallowed an unexpected chuckle. Luis sounded like this was the place to be. What had caused that change in attitude? He eyed the two teens.
“Sheeting walls and raising the roof joists,” Eleanor replied.
The day began. Pete kept an eye on the teens. As he carried another piece of sheeting to nail to the studs, he glimpsed Luis helping another volunteer with how to use the pneumatic nail gun. As he walked past them, he overheard Luis repeating to the woman Pete’s own instructions about safety. A rare feeling of accomplishment warmed Pete.
Still, as he worked, he kept chewing on the fact that his brothers and he had struck out. Who knew a person had to plan a party a whole year in advance?
The day passed with some volunteers leaving and more coming. He focused on what his hands were doing, not on his frustration. Finally, Pete looked around. Where had everybody gone? Only he and Eleanor remained. His spirit reached for her, seeking her gentleness, her kindness. Comfort.
She approached him as if he were a booby trap that—without warning—might spring. That irritated him. But then she was a woman, and one who obviously noticed things. Hadn’t she nailed him on not wanting her getting close to Cassie?
“I think it’s time you put away your tools,” she said in the “after five o’clock” quiet he hadn’t noticed till now. “And tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Huh?” he replied, displaying his lack of astute comprehension. He cringed at this dumb response.
“I’ve watched you work with a determination and focus that—by the way—moved the building schedule along at a faster pace today.” She grinned. “You had the other volunteers hustling to keep up with you. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad so much was accomplished today, but it’s obvious you’re upset about something. Is it Cassie and your mom going to story hour today with Mavis and Jenelle and Tiesha? Though why that should upset you is a mystery to me.”
The day’s fatigue slammed him; the starch drained out of him. He needed to sit down. He waved his arm toward a wood bench set against a broad oak tree on the property. She followed him and sat down. He lowered himself and rested his tired back against the gnarly bark, so aware of her nearness. “No. Story hour’s not bothering me.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together. Resting her head back against the trunk so near his own head, she sighed. “Okay. Forget I asked. I don’t like it when people pry into my business—”
“My brothers and I want to give my parents a fortieth wedding anniversary party August 23. And we can’t find a place to hold it. Everywhere we ask—the public parks and such—have been booked for a year in advance.” He resisted the urge to reach toward her soft cheek.
“Why not ask at your church?” She glanced his way.
The glossy green leaves overhead whispered with the breeze, whispered, Take her hand. He ignored this. “We don’t want to hold it at the church. You see, our church always holds a big shindig when a couple celebrates their fiftieth. My brothers and I don’t want to wait that long—another ten years—and we want it to be held at a different place than the church. We want it to be different, special—from us to them. And a surprise, too, if we can pull it off,” he said, as if he needed to explain anything to this astute woman.
“That makes sense. How many people are you expecting?” She looked to him.
Her immediate desire to help was so Eleanor. But Pete made a sound of amusement, a kind of snort. “There are a lot of Becks in Oneida County. We want them all to come. And then a ton of friends, too.”
“Ballpark figure?”
“Around one hundred and fifty.” He resisted the urge to smooth a stray h
air back from her face.
“Whew! That’s a big order.”
“I know. And I’m the oldest, and this party was my idea. And I can’t seem to get it off the ground.” He bent over and rested his elbows on his knees and bowed his head. Sitting down had unleashed more fatigue, fatigue due to distraction and worry. Maybe that was why Eleanor’s attraction was affecting him so. “I’m bushed.”
He felt her hand on his shoulder; he stopped breathing. The contact started a soothing warmth that spread from her touch through his back. He sighed aloud, letting it ripple through him. He silently begged her not to lift her hand. When she finally did, he leaned back. And found her nose a mere inch or so from his.
Her skin, though very fair, glowed with a subtle gold. Her green eyes gazed unabashedly into his. Her lips, a pale pink, beckoned him. He inhaled deeply and moved a fraction closer…closer. His lips brushed hers.
At the contact, she jerked backward as if stung.
Pete flushed with embarrassment. He rose and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I bothered you with my problem. I’ve got to go to Mike’s shop. He wanted me to stop by before I went home.”
“Okay,” she said. “Bye.”
Shock energized Pete. He gathered up his tools and headed for his pickup, not looking back. I just kissed Eleanor Washburn. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, he concluded as he drove up to his brother’s auto repair garage. But I better be thinking and on my guard from now on. Sheesh, how will I be able to face her again?
Hoping Mike had located a venue for the party, Pete walked into the garage bay area where he usually found his brother working underneath some car raised above him on the hoist. But today, he found it empty. Inhaling the combined aromas of gasoline and motor oil, he heard a peculiar noise coming from the back area where Mike stored parts and some cars he wanted to overhaul.