Unfinished Dreams

by McIntyre, Amanda

  “Look. No strings, okay? I need you here. You say you want fresh air and healthy living. While that sounds a little “Green Acres” for me, the fact remains that we care about you here. This way, you have the best of both worlds. You get the house in the country, forty-five minutes commute time, and I get to keep—no, let me rephrase that, I get to promote, my best employee. Come on, Tess. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “No strings?”

  “Okay, maybe an occasional weekend away from the grind of the city? A good home-cooked meal?” His eyebrows rose and so did her curiosity.

  “You never quit, do you?”

  He grinned with boyish charm. “Not as long as I think I stand a chance at winning the game.”

  Tess cast her gaze to the ceiling. She was torn between the generous offer and Jack’s delusion. “Jack,” she cautioned, her voice weary as her thoughts of the future.

  “Okay, one meal. A sort of house-warming thing, after all, I haven’t even seen this hayseed of a town that I’m tossing you into.” He grinned and her will broke.

  “Fine, I’ll meet with the realtor and dinner. Maybe. Once.” She emphasized the point with her index finger, pausing at the door when he spoke.

  “I have the third weekend in October free.”

  “Jack.”

  “Right, I’ll wait for you to call me.”

  She didn’t look back.

  That was nearly a week ago. Now she had a future of her own. A new life and a goal that next time—if there was a next time—she would know what she was getting into first.

  Rushing up the stairs to her bedroom, her stomach protested that she’d only had coffee for breakfast. It was time to meet the neighbors and her first stop would be the old-fashioned looking grocery store downtown.

  Chapter Two

  The cold shower gave some relief to the war waging in Gabe’s head. How much longer could he go on like this? He managed to set aside the beginnings of a nest egg at the Tipton credit union, but when he asked the realtor how he could go about getting his farm back, the balding man skittered around him like a weasel.

  He’d had half a mind to march right up to the Davenport loan committee that had sent the letter of foreclosure to him and find out what caliber of people they were. Over the past few years, he’d seen other farmers struggling to keep their farms as land taxes continued to skyrocket and markets dried up. There was no doubt in Gabe’s mind that the government was making it hard for a man to work the land that many a father worked and their fathers before them.

  Just once, he’d like to corner one of those clinical cold-hearted bastards and make them look him in the eye. People were more than statistics or a number on a piece of paper and Gabe aimed to prove they weren’t going to beat him or his dad’s dreams. He dressed quickly and went down to the garage to see if Merle could use some help.

  * * *

  Merle pulled out from under the hood of a beat-up ford pick-up. “Will you tell that knucklehead friend of yours it’s time to get a new truck? I’m tired of wasting my time fixing his old one.”

  Gabe walked up to the vehicle, suppressing a smile, knowing whose truck was once again in the shop. “Uh, which knuckleheaded friend would that be?” He scratched his ear.

  “The one they call Travis.”

  “Ah, and wouldn’t he be the one married to that fine daughter of yours?” Gabe paused, grinning at his friend.

  Merle wiped his hands on the towel, leveling him a narrowed eye. “I can’t account for my daughter’s taste in men.” He shrugged a bony shoulder.

  “Didn’t you hire him also, which would make me wonder why he isn’t here fixing his own truck?” Gabe settled on a stack of used tires and stretched his long legs in front of him.

  “Because, Mr. Wiseacre, he’s taking his wife out to lunch.” Merle headed toward the bathroom.

  Gabe heard the running water and smiled. He yelled over his shoulder. “So honey, you want to go to lunch with me today?” Gabe raised his voice as best he could to a shrill falsetto, before he damn near choked to death with laughter.

  “I don’t know why I let you live up there, you smart-ass.”

  “Aw, Merle,” Gabe grinned as he clamped his hand over his shoulder. “You know it’s ‘cause know one else in their right mind would live in that place. Besides, you’d miss me if I was gone.”

  “Oh, put a sock in it. I’m hungry, let’s head across to Dusty’s and grab one of his grease burgers. I’m feeling adventurous today.”

  As much as he enjoyed the familiar banter, Gabe’s feet stopped at the thought of going into Dusty’s bar. He didn’t have a lot of good memories over there and he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face those demons just yet.

  “You mind if we just drive down to Velda’s instead?”

  Merle strode to the front window and turned the small sign indicating they’d re-open in an hour. “You’re going to have to go back one of these days, son.” Merle’s voice softened a notch.

  Gabe nodded. He knew Merle was right. “Yeah, okay, just not today, all right?”

  Merle stared at Gabe a second longer and finally nodded. “Hey, I don’t much care where we go, just so long as they serve iced tea. I’m dern near spittin’ cotton here.”

  “I told you to get that refrigerator fixed.” He glanced at Merle as they climbed into the cab of his truck.

  “Yeah, well I know this guy who does repair, but you think I can get him to fix the blasted thing?” Merle chuckled and gave Gabe an ornery side-glance.

  “I don’t do appliances.” His voice carried a measure of good-natured warning.

  “Yeah, I hear your specialty is rusty pipes.” Merle’s high-pitched laughter stopped abruptly when Gabe smacked his shoulder with his leather work glove.

  “Hey, you nut—” Merle raised his arm warding off the attack.

  “Hey, is right—” Gabe’s hand paused mid-air. “Who is that?”

  They’d stopped at the four-way intersection in the center of town. The grocery store, the bank, the post office, and the corner edge of the city park merged at the town’s main crossroad.

  Gabe’s eyes followed the bouncy stride of the slender blonde woman. She had a straw bag slung over one shoulder and the jeans she wore had enough rips and tears that covering her legs seemed useless--which in her case was okay with Gabe.

  “Looks like a newcomer.”

  Gabe barely heard Merle’s words as the woman reached up and fingered her short blonde hair. She turned toward the truck. For a moment, the sun bounced off her blue-mirrored sunglasses, and then she disappeared through the dark automated doors of the grocery store. The after effect of that brilliant flash of light left Gabe blinking to regain his sight. He sure as hell hoped she wasn’t just visiting.

  The peaceful contentment of her expression burned in his brain.

  “No kidding.” Gabe took a quick glance to the intersection before he gunned the truck and made a U-turn. He swerved into the store’s parking lot with the truck’s wheels bouncing over the curb.

  “Gabe, what the—we’ve got to open in less than an hour. What are you doing?” Merle’s voice rose as he clung to the dashboard.

  He had to have one more look, if only to prove the absurd notion that he’d just seen an angel cross his path. “Merle, call it silly. But I think I’ve seen the light.” Gabe grinned as he slammed his door. “Be right back.”

  * * *

  Tess dropped her purse in the tiny cart and pulled out her carefully planned shopping list. She pulled off her sunglasses, hooking them over her T-shirt front. Before moving ahead, she quickly leafed through the junk mail she’d picked up from her mailbox.

  She glanced over a note from her parents, some welcome wagon coupons, the local shopper’s ads and two others, one official looking, the other looked like a credit advertisement. Flipping it over, she noticed it was addressed to a G. Russell. Probably one of her neighbors. Shrugging, she decided to check the phone book as soon as she got home. Hanging ont
o the shopper coupons, she dropped the rest of the mail back in her purse.

  The air-conditioned store was a welcome relief despite the fact Tess loved the summer sunshine.

  She wheeled her cart towards the produce section and breathed deep. Was it her imagination or did this produce smell unusually fresh? The sweet scent of strawberries drew her to a large display and she plucked a ripe strawberry from a sample basket, nipping the end to taste its flavor. She caught the juice with her tongue as it slid down her palm and closed her eyes in pure enjoyment of its ripe, heavenly flavor.

  Tess heard a hollow thump not more than a few feet from her. She glanced up to see the closest thing to a cowboy wrestling to hold onto the watermelon in his hands.

  Tearing off a plastic bag and twist tie, she stuffed three berry cartons into a sack and twirled the neck shut with unmitigated glee. Her earlier thoughts of learning to can and maybe try making some strawberry preserves re-emerged in her mind. With that thought, her gaze rose, scanning the produce area for possible small books on the subject, but her curiosity got the best of her as her gaze flitted to the cowboy once again.

  The black Stetson he wore tipped down as he studied the melons. Her view allowed her to survey the breadth of his shoulders underneath the stretched cotton T-shirt he wore.

  Lowering her gaze and cautioning her lonely heart, she picked through a nearby bunch of bananas, glancing up now and again, hoping to catch his eye. An odd feeling that he might have glanced at her as well tickled her and she smiled, the thought striking her somewhere between funny and intriguing. Ease down girl. Let’s not get delusions of grandeur.

  Tess shrugged, deciding there was no harm in looking. Granted, she wasn’t interested in another relationship at present, but she had eyes, didn’t she? Her courage increased as her thoughts continued to justify the mystery of her situation. Maybe it was wishful thinking? Sure she wanted someone special, just like everyone did. She’d grown up in a close family with parents who worked hard and loved their son and their daughter with everything they had. Their house was always full of friends who felt comfortable there. It was no wonder, then that she dreamed of finding her handsome prince and having a warm home full of love, laughter, and children.

  Her blind side was that she was in love with the idea of romance and she’d already been stung, big time in that department.

  She glanced up noting the wonderful way his shirt tucked into the trim waist of his slim fitting jeans. Catching the slight tip of his hat, she quickly averted her gaze to her grocery list. A shiver flitted over her shoulders at almost being caught staring at him.

  She scolded herself mentally for not just walking over to him and introducing herself. What was the harm in that?

  Getting up the nerve, she raised her chin and her shoulders slumped. With a quiet sigh, she watched as he walked toward the check out with a large watermelon hoisted to his capable shoulder. Her brow rose and she tipped her head as she observed the posterior side of the grocery store cowboy.

  “Whew.” Tess fanned herself with her shopping list. She wondered what the heck happened to the air-conditioning.

  After an hour or better, sauntering through the store, she spent the greater part of the afternoon thinking as she scrubbed down the white woodwork throughout the old farmhouse. By day’s end she was exhausted, but in a pleased and contented sort of way.

  The sun setting in a great red fireball caused a peace to settle over her. Carrying a bowl of strawberries and a small chunk of bakery bread with her, she eased into the front porch swing with a tired sigh. Curling one of her legs under her, she pushed off with her bare toe, setting the swing to a gentle sway as she sampled the bread she’d picked up.

  Her thoughts turned to her mental list of what she hoped to accomplish tomorrow. Paint the cabinets. Put up a new curtain in the kitchen.

  She sighed again, and found herself staring at the tall grass bending in the soft evening breeze. Her mind wandered to the good-looking man she’d seen earlier at the grocery store. The swing creaked in lazy melody as Tess wondered what brought him, or better yet, what kept him in this tiny town.

  Glancing down at her arms, she noticed with pleasure, the faint blush to her once pale skin. Tangible proof of the fresh air and sunshine she was getting. What did Jack call this place? Oh yes, “Green Acres.”

  She grinned and her gaze scanned the rich green fields that flanked her property in all directions. Maybe he was right. All she knew was that for the first time in her life, she felt God smiling down on her.

  The impatient ring of the phone tore through her quiet solitude and she jumped from the swing stubbing her bare toe in the process. Hobbling to the phone, she wondered if this might be the Mr. Russell she’d found earlier in the phone book. A man named Travis said he’d make sure Gabe got the message, he was out on a job.

  Gabe? She wondered if that was short for Gabriel? It was kind of an old-fashioned name. Probably fit an elderly gentleman to a tee.

  “All right. All right I’m coming.” She winced at the throbbing pain, and rubbed her toe. Jack’s image popped into her head. She really hoped it wasn’t him. “Hello?”

  “Tess Graham?” It was a male voice all right. Gentle, almost caressing in its slow drawl.

  “Who’s calling please?” She kept her voice business-like, but her insides gave an involuntary quiver.

  “I was told you’d called. This is Gabe Russell.”

  An awkward silence followed and Tess swallowed, wondering how best to proceed. Her first thought was to quell the way her stomach shivered when he spoke.

  “Uh, Mr. Russell, I got your name from the phone book. She hurried on. “I have a bit of mail here that appears to be yours. Uh, the man I spoke to at the station said you used to live here.”

  “Yeah.”

  The chilly tone of his voice puzzled her.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, shall I send them to your current address or bring it—?

  Another silence. Tess shifted to her other leg as she nervously twisted a strand of hair around her finger. She wanted to ask him about the house, just a few of the problems she had with windows, but given his attitude, she was cautious not to overstep the boundaries of a small town.

  “Mr. Russell, is it my understanding you do repair work also? I can’t pay you much, but I hoped if you had some time—”

  “Travis tell you that too?”

  She groped for a response to his gruff reply.

  “Never mind, sorry, what’s the problem?”

  Tess got the definite sense that she was keeping him from his schedule. If she really set her mind to it, she could probably figure out the repairs herself. She’d let the soothing sound of his voice touch a vulnerable part of her. The part that was lonely for companionship. Besides, in a town this size, the guy was probably married with eight kids. Then again, he did live above a car repair station.

  What the heck was she analyzing this guy for?

  “Well, it’s this front window.” Tess bounced the cord, watching it bob up and down like some nervous Nellie as she glanced at the window in question.

  “Ah, you mean the one in the living room?”

  His voice softened a degree and so too, her concern. The sound reminded her of a gentle evening breeze.

  “Sounds familiar, huh?” Her eyes narrowed trying to envision what type of man went with this voice. He didn’t sound like he was too much older. How could she tell though over the phone? He chuckled so softly she almost didn’t catch it.

  “There’s a little trick to that. You just push the window frame a little to the left and then straight up. Works every time.”

  “Well thanks, I’ll try that.” A log stretch of silence followed, she tried to discern what the tingling sensation was in her belly. It was similar to the anticipation of her first date, as she pulled that memory out of the back of the closet.

  Good lord, you don’t even know this man. She blinked her way back to reality.

  “Uh, yeah, so abou
t the mail?”

  “I’ll stop by and pick it up tomorrow. No sense in you wasting a stamp or more time, by putting it through the mail again.”

  She wanted to tell him it was no trouble to do that. On the other hand, she wanted to get a look at the guy whose voice was like honey butter on cornbread.

  “That’d be fine.” She heard the line disconnect without a goodbye. Raising her brows, she glanced at the buzzing receiver in her hand, and returned it to the cradle, puzzled why her palms should be sweating.

  Chapter Three

  Gabe couldn’t remember when watching someone eat a strawberry sent his libido into a tailspin. Fortunately, he was able to grasp the watermelon he’d been holding, before it fell in the bin and cracked the other melons. He considered maybe the long drought of dating in his life touched off the erotic thoughts as he watched the juice trickle down the strange woman’s chin.

  Regardless, he knew he wanted to find out more about her. Maybe she was new, maybe just passing through. A lot of tourists come through these parts in the summer to shop the tiny antique shops in the area.

  Gabe bit into another slice of melon and caught the juice on his chin with his finger.

  “Still don’t know why you’d buy a whole watermelon knowing we don’t have a refrigerator to put the dern thing in.” Merle bit off another piece of the red fruit and promptly spit the seed in the wastebasket. They sat in the office of the gas station, with the melon propped between them on the desk. A flat plastic container for tools scrubbed clean with disinfectant served as a buffet tray.

  The crickets outside stirred a lazy familiarity within Gabe and for a moment he wished he were sitting on the old front porch swing of his farmhouse. It was the perfect night for it. He breathed in deeply, imagining freshly mowed hay. Instead, he smelled watermelon mixed with the sharp tangy scent of gasoline.

  “I just felt like watermelon, is that a crime?” Gabe wiped his chin with the palm of his hand. The juice made her image pop again into his head. He swallowed hard taking a few seeds down his throat.