by Aimée Thurlo
Betty found a flashlight and led Joshua upstairs. Myka followed and watched Joshua work. His gaze took in everything as he concentrated. A shiver ran up her spine. To have him look at her like that... She sighed softly.
The last stop was a hallway access point to the attic. Joshua climbed up the ladder, then spent several minutes overhead before finally coming back down.
“What’s the verdict?” Myka asked as Joshua pushed the folding ladder into place and closed the access panel.
“From what I’ve seen, the inn’s had at least two additions over the years, but the work was well thought out and it’s in good condition. Before you knock out any walls, I suggest hiring an electrician to check out the wiring and help you decide how to reroute what’s there.”
“I’ve been trying to find an electrician, but Harry Westin moved away last month,” Betty said.
“Harry’s shop is closed, but his daughter Molly took over his business part-time,” Myka said. “She’s a teacher at Independence Elementary, but she’s also a licensed electrician. She works after hours and on weekends.”
“So, Joshua, how soon do you think you’ll have those plans ready?” Betty asked.
“In a day or two I can tell you which walls in the guest rooms can be taken out or fitted with passageways. The downstairs portion will require a bit more work. I’ll have to do some calculations and take measurements. We’ll also need to discuss design options within your budget before I draw up the specs, and that’ll have to wait until my New Mexico license comes through. Will ten days be okay for everything?”
“Sure. Take longer if you need to. I’ve got a ton of work to do first—everything from removing wallpaper to refinishing exterior trim. After that, I’ll tackle the big jobs like knocking down walls,” she said. “Grandma passed on five months ago, but she let things slide here after IVA closed down. Seeing Independence die a slow death and watching Mom go downhill every day took its toll. Her heart was broken.”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s,” Myka said, answering Joshua’s unspoken question about Betty’s mom.
“What about your dad?” Joshua asked.
“Dad passed on three years ago, before IVA closed. He couldn’t cope with what was happening to Mom. One day his heart just stopped beating,” Betty said. “Mom lives in a private nursing home over in Painted Canyon. She doesn’t know us anymore, but we visit once a week. Last time I took Evie to see her, she thought Evie was me,” Betty added.
“I’m sorry,” Joshua said. “That’s got to be tough.”
“You accept it and go on. What else can you do?” Betty said. “When Grandma left the place to the three of us, Will figured we’d close it down till we could find a buyer, but I couldn’t let go. I love this place. I always have. I used to do my homework here after school and I helped at all the big Christmas parties Granddad used to host. You should have seen it back then! Only the North Pole had better decorations.”
“Maybe it’ll be that way again, once the inn reopens.”
“I sure hope so,” she said with a wistful smile.
As the phone rang and Betty went to answer it, Joshua asked Myka, “You ready to go?”
“I think I’ll stick around. I can catch a ride home later,” she said, “but let me walk you to the door.”
They stopped in the entryway, and Joshua glanced back into the room. “Now I understand why Betty’s so invested in this place. The inn is part of her personal history.”
“The Blue Spruce is also her and Evie’s future. It’s a good place for them.”
He brushed his knuckles against her face in a gentle caress. “Myka, it may be too late for Independence, but not for you. Think of your future. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”
His touch sent warmth all through her. A fleeting touch, the tenderness of a caress, those had been missing from her life for so long she’d forgotten what a sweet thrill they could bring.
“You put on a brave face for everyone but keep the real you out of reach,” he said, his voice quiet.
The way his eyes held hers was mesmerizing, but the spell broke instantly when something clanged onto the tile floor back in the kitchen.
As Myka turned toward the sound, she saw the photo of Tanner, Will and Betty that hung behind the front desk.
“I better get to work,” she said. “I promised Betty I’d help her put a coat of varnish on one of the armoires upstairs.”
“See you later then,” Joshua said.
As Joshua left, Betty walked over to join her.
“Pants warm?” she asked.
“Huh?” Myka turned around and looked directly at her.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire. We’re not varnishing anything today.”
Myka gave her a thin smile. “Oh, that.”
“What are you worried about, Myka?” she asked. “What people will think if you spend time with a man? Tanner’s gone. I loved my brother dearly, but he’s not coming back.”
“I know, but...”
“There are no ‘buts’ about this...except maybe Joshua’s exceptional one,” she said with a mischievous grin.
Myka choked.
“What? I’ve got eyes. You thought I didn’t notice?” she asked, laughing.
“I hadn’t.”
“Baloney,” Betty said.
Myka grinned. “Okay, maybe.”
“Will’s being a jerk, but he’s right, you know. Joshua has a thing for you. It dates all the way back to elementary school.”
“Why on earth would you think that? Because he’s nice to me? By that definition, he has a thing for everyone.”
“No, it’s in the way he looks at you—when you’re not looking.”
“Betty, we’re just old friends.”
Betty shook her head. “It goes beyond that.”
“You’re wrong, but even if we were both wild about each other—and we’re not—it couldn’t go anywhere. Sooner or later he’ll leave Independence, and I belong here.”
Myka swallowed hard and continued. “Joshua’s a heartbreak waiting to happen, and life’s hurt me enough. I don’t want any more pain.”
“Maybe you’re right. Josh is destined for city life, and you can’t change a man.”
Myka heard the pain laced through Betty’s words. Reaching out, she gave her a hug. “You and I bend, but we never break. That’s what makes us who we are.”
A few hours later, Myka left the inn and headed home. It was a pleasant afternoon, and the mile-long walk back would do her good. She needed time to think. She and Betty were both strong women, but being around Joshua had reminded her that even the strongest among them needed gentleness, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS went by in a blur, and September turned into October. Myka was busy packaging yarn and craft orders when she heard a knock at her door. Thinking it was the delivery man, she taped shut the box she was working on, then hurried over, balancing two large boxes in one hand. As she pulled the door open, the boxes shifted and went crashing to the floor.
Myka bent down to retrieve them, her gaze falling on the pair of dusty boots directly in front of her. She looked up the leggy frame and saw Joshua smiling down at her.
“Did you do that so you could check me out?”
Her eyes widened. “No, I—” Seeing his teasing grin, she laughed. “Sorry. Haven’t seen you dressed so casually in years. Come on in.”
“We live next door to each other, but I haven’t been within fifty feet of you since that day at the inn,” he said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
He looked past her and saw the living room filled with open boxes waiting to be sealed, labels balanced on top of each. “Business is good, I see.”
“Yeah, it is. I’ve been thinking of
adding more sheep to my herd so I can keep up with the demand for yarn. I thought I was set for the rest of the year, but at this rate...”
Just then, there was another knock on the door. When Myka opened it, she found Liza Jenner standing there with a smile on her face. “Things look busy today!”
“I’m getting some shipments together. Millie Boyer made two beautiful cloaks that sold an hour after I’d listed them. Would you like to see?”
Liza started to answer, then hesitated, glancing at Joshua. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t know you had company.”
“Nah, it’s not company, it’s just Joshua,” Myka said.
Joshua laughed.
Myka opened one of the larger packing boxes and pulled up a plastic bag containing a folded cream-colored poncho knitted in an intricate cable design. “This one’s in a style reminiscent of the seventies. I can’t believe how quickly it sold. I put the photo and description up, and by the time I made a pot of tea, someone had already clicked on Buy Now.”
“I’m not surprised,” Liza said. “It’s beautiful! Look at the workmanship.”
Myka reached into a second box and pulled out another clear plastic bag containing a wine-colored cloak. The rich color was eye-catching and it was knitted in an elegant rib and lace pattern. “This is my favorite.”
“Wow, no wonder it sold right away.”
“People are shopping more with Christmas around the corner. Can you believe it’s already October?” Myka asked, gently placing the cloak back inside the box. “So what brings you here, Liza? Just visiting?”
“I wanted to see if you’d be interested in selling my rugs on your site. I’m trying to raise some cash, but don’t mention it to Robyn, okay? I told her she could live at home for as long as she needs, but stretching out my pension makes it tougher to get by.”
“Do you have anything ready to go? If you do, I might be able to add the listing this afternoon.”
Liza reached into her tote bag and brought out two photos of a latch rug. “It’s my own design.”
The rug featured a beautiful piñon jay nestled in the branches of an evergreen. The colors were brilliant and from what she could see in the close-up shot, the workmanship was intricate, showing attention to even the minutest detail.
“I’d be happy to put this up, but I better warn you. I haven’t tried to sell anything like this before. I can’t guarantee results.”
“I know, but will you try?”
“Sure. Bring the rug by, and let me know what price you’d like to charge.”
“What percentage will you take of the sale?”
“It’s a first offering favor. I’m not charging.”
“That’s really unfair to you, Myka. You take the photos, write the copy and pay for your space online. What’s it called, the...”
“Domain,” Myka said.
“So how about this?” Liza said and quoted Myka a price and the percentage she thought Myka should take. “I think that’s a fair commission for you, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Myka said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After Liza left, Myka realized that Joshua had grown quiet.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I was just thinking that you should consider approaching the others singly, not as a group. They might find it less intimidating if it’s one friend to another.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said.
Hearing an odd noise outside, followed by the sound of sheep bleating, Myka glanced out the window. “Bear!”
Josh was beside her instantly. “Is he harassing the sheep?”
“No, not at all. If anything, he guards them.” She opened the back door.
“Where is he?”
“On the far side of the pen.” She went outside and called the dog’s name. Although she didn’t try to go after him this time, he once again disappeared through the trees.
“It was Bear this time, no mistake?” he asked.
She nodded. “It was him. The sheep sound different—frantic—when they’re scared. The sound you heard was a greeting.” She wiped a tear away quickly, but he saw the gesture.
“Why are you so worried? The dog’s got food and water in two places and the weather’s still in the low fifties at night,” he said.
“You don’t understand. This is about keeping my word to your dad. He trusted me, and I’ve got to find a way to make things right.” Her voice tightened, and she swallowed back the lump in her throat.
“Sometimes things just go wrong. No one’s perfect.”
“This isn’t about perfection. It’s about being able to look at myself in the mirror at the end of the day,” she whispered.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asked, taking her hand.
She shook her head and waited, almost holding her breath.
“I see a woman who’s done her best for everyone, and who never hesitates to lend a helping hand.”
She smiled. “I appreciate you saying that, but that’s not what I’m going to see until I find Bear.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he said, then kissed her on the forehead. “My dad was very lucky to have a friend like you.”
The tenderness in Joshua’s gaze took her breath away. Her heart ached to feel his arms around her, to feel safe and protected again.
Almost as if he’d read her mind, he pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. It was too tempting, and even if it was only for a moment, she needed to feel wanted for who she was, flaws and all.
His lips brushed hers then, slowly. As his kiss deepened, a sweet fire coursed all through her. It was pure heaven, and she lost herself for one brief moment.
Drawing away at last to take a breath and force herself to think clearly, she stepped back. “We shouldn’t...”
“No, probably not, but we both needed that,” he said. “You and I are connected. We know what it’s like to have our dreams taken away.”
A connection. That’s what she’d felt, but what had given her so much comfort also made her vulnerable. “Maybe that’s true, but it can’t happen again.”
“The problem is that we both want it to.”
His words were open and honest. They stated a fact but made no demands. “We’re both too fragile, Joshua. You’re trying to find a new direction, and I’m fighting to hold on to my life in Independence. We’re on different paths right now. I need to stay here and keep what I have, what I need. You want to leave and find something new, bigger, better.”
“Is that so bad? Living in the past has never worked for me. It never will,” he argued.
“You see? How can we have a relationship when we can’t even agree on what we want beyond today? We can’t afford to get close to each other, not now, maybe not ever.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said, looking away.
They walked around the yard looking for Bear, but there was no sign of him and his tracks disappeared where he’d crossed the road.
Myka checked her watch. “The delivery van will be here soon. I’ve got to finish getting the boxes ready to mail.”
They went back inside, and Josh helped her by sealing boxes with packing tape and sticking on the prepared labels.
After the packages were picked up, she glanced at the grandfather clock and drew in a sharp breath. “Where did this morning go? I’ve got a class here in another hour. I didn’t realize it was already past one.”
“You never told me you were teaching classes,” he said.
“I’m not. The Women’s Guild meets at two the first Friday of every month, and we try to teach each other a new skill. I’ve been learning about colcha embroidery, wool-on-wool work, but I’ve got a long way to go before I turn out anything decent,” she said. “No
t that it matters. That’s not the goal of our group.”
“What is?”
“Strengthening our sense of community. There are only a half dozen members left—the others have moved away—so these meetings are more important than ever. It’s our way of lifting each other’s spirits.” She walked him to the door.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, and headed out.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, as Daniel got something to drink from the fridge, Joshua turned on the light and walked down the hall of his father’s house. He stubbed the toe of his boot against a bookcase that was too large for such a narrow space. It was filled with regional history books, most of them University of New Mexico Press titles.
Josh preferred open spaces—that was why much of his architectural resource materials were on DVDs and other digital storage devices. His dad, on the other hand, had been old school, down to his choice of furnishings. All the rooms were cramped and overflowing with large wooden furniture pieces, most of them handmade.
He stepped inside the spare bedroom. This had become his father’s library, a testament to his passion for history.
Daniel followed him, handing Josh a Coke, and looking around. “I only glanced in here before, but now I see what you mean,” he said, and looked at the open maps on the futon. “You can’t just give this away or throw it out. You’ll have to go through everything. Collectors might have use for this stuff, or maybe some university professors.”
“Yeah,” Joshua said. “No way around it. Some of those maps of Independence go back to the late 1800s. I have no idea where Dad got them, or if they’re originals or copies, but they might have historical value.”
“You could check online, or take them to the librarian over in Painted Canyon.”
“What happened to the Independence Library?”
“It closed six months after the plant shut down. IVA had always funded the library utilities and the librarian’s salary in exchange for tax benefits. Once IVA left, the librarian had to be let go. Volunteers filled the gap for a while, but they’d cut services so much that people stopped coming in.”
“What happened to the building and the collection?”