A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  Diamond sandpaper-fine whiskers from Dominic’s jaw scraped against her skin when he spoke into her ear, ‘Gum.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve got a pack of gum in my pocket.’

  ‘I don’t want any gum!’ her voice came out as a rasp.

  Dominic was glad she was terrified. It made him feel less like a wuss for being scared witless as well. ‘It’s bubble gum, grape bubble gum. Maybe it’s what the bear smells,’ he rasped back. ‘Hang on to me.’

  Lesley felt the muscles of his stomach contract. He swung his legs onto the vinyl seat and shifted, taking her along as he slid onto his lower back. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Look, I’m not stickin’ my hands anywhere near the glass. We’re not going to die, but we could get mauled and mauled’s no good, so unless you’ve got a better idea about how to put up that window, just hang on.’

  His long hands gripped her waist, bunching up her shirt. The pads of his thumbs tickled over her exposed skin when he adjusted her weight and used his heels to scoot further down the bench seat. In the next second, she lay atop him, her pubic bone pressed against his crotch, his body solid and very, very warm. He shimmied a little more, working his hips along the length of the seat, grinding against her. A heady, out-of-place punch of primal desire jabbed into her bloodstream and instantly headed south.

  The truck shuddered again.

  Lesley shuddered too.

  The bear made a sound between a growl and a yawn. One fat paw smeared sticky spittle over the glass.

  Dominic froze.

  Then, he reminded himself they were safe in the truck – as long as they both stayed calm, stayed still and got the damn window up. The point is, he told himself, this was all about survival of the fittest. Lesley’s jokes about his junk food diet aside, he was pretty fit for his age, and he’d be damned if some stinking, three-hundred pound tub of lard tried to prove otherwise. Man had evolved. Man made fire, invented the wheel and indoor plumbing, while bears, as they witnessed earlier, still shit in the woods.

  Yeah, as a man he was the superior beast solely on the merit of brain power and the flush toilet. Screw you Yogi, this man has a PhD.

  Trembling, Lesley pulled back, looking down into a face illuminated by the glow of dashboard lights. She swallowed and whispered, ‘You want me to try?’

  ‘No. I’ll get it,’ he murmured, fortified with a strange new steely resolve.

  Unable to see how close he was to the target, Dominic lifted his head higher for a better look. Instead of a dim view of black bear, he got an eyeful of Lesley’s hair. He pushed the clump from his face and scratched his nose. He moved a little to his right and his chin knocked against hers. When she went the other way his mouth grazed her bottom lip. Their eyes locked. Lesley whimpered.

  Heat flooded all the wrong parts of his body. Fear and lust were as closely linked as love and hate. Dominic wanted to laugh at the irony. His mouth was dry, his pits were soaked and his brother’s lesbian sort of ex-wife was the most desirable woman who had ever lain panting on his chest.

  He swallowed and repositioned his arms around her, fixing his thoughts on a different mission. Blindly, he felt his way until his outstretched foot came into contact with the window’s handle. The steel-capped toe of his boot pushed against the knobbed end of the lever.

  Lesley held her breath and gripped him tighter.

  The glass whined as it rose.

  Irritated and sniffing, the bear reared back, grumbling, paws thumping against the door. The truck shook and squeaked.

  Dominic kicked hard and, in one long screech, the window went up and sealed.

  A second later, he fixed his eyes on the smeared glass. He waited for the bear to reappear, to rattle the truck, to snort against the window. When nothing happened, and gravel crunched outside the truck, Dominic collapsed with Lesley a deadweight on his chest. They lay there like that, clutched together, breathing heavily.

  Slowly, adrenalin began to subside, giving way to relieved, nervous laughter. ‘Isn’t this where you say, “My hero”?’ he muttered into her hair.

  ‘No. This is where I say, “I hope Gentle Ben doesn’t come back and break the glass.”’

  ‘Cynic.’

  ‘I really have to pee.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘OK, you go.’

  ‘No, no, it’s ladies first.’

  ‘Hey, I’m not moving ‘til that bear’s gone.’

  ‘I suppose you could always use one of the cups on the floor.’

  ‘You have a really weird sense of humour. I bet you think this whole situation is funny, too.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Yeah, tomorrow this is going to seem absolutely hysterical.’

  ‘Is he gone? I hear something moving around on the gravel.

  ‘I can’t hear anything with you talking right in my ear. Can you see him?’

  ‘I don’t want to look.’

  ‘You’d rather not see it coming, is that what it is?’

  ‘No. I’d rather not wet my pants all over you.’

  ‘And I appreciate that. Can you take a look?’

  Cautiously, Lesley lifted her head and peered out the windshield. Her hips mashed into him, the friction enough to revive the response his body had set on pause. His nervous system dictated his next action without telling his brain. Dominic’s hand slid down her spine, over her bunched-up shirt. One finger slid into the perspiration at the small of her back, just where her skin was exposed, and his pulse quickened.

  What am I, fifteen?

  He cleared his throat. ‘Lesley.’

  She turned and looked down into his face shaking her head. ‘I don’t see him,’ she said.

  ‘That’s good,’ he half-smiled and half-grimaced, not at all game to move, ‘then you might want to get off me.’

  It took a second, but then her eyes widened, her lips parted. And she stayed exactly where she was, motionless, barely breathing, staring down into his face.

  Then gravel crunched, a heavy blow thudded against the Chevy and Dominic jerked her back to his chest, squeezing tightly, his eye glued on the window.

  A dark shape moved outside the truck. Light flashed across the dashboard, dancing over the steering wheel and vinyl seat back. Knuckles instead of paws rapped against the dirty, slightly steamy window.

  ‘OK, come on now, let’s clear it out. This is no place for you kids. So let’s,’ the door creaked open, ‘take it home and—Lesley?’ As dim as they were, the dashboard lights still glinted off Officer John Tilbrook’s nametag.

  Chapter 9

  Built in the late 60s, Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church was a modern structure with brick floors and an airy, vaulted ceiling. Martino hated how it didn’t look anything like a church was supposed to. There were no candles to light, no confessional booths, no stained glass windows, but it didn’t stop him from attending services. He hit the nine o’clock Sunday mass like it was a bingo game.

  Unlike most of his fellow parishioners, he still dressed for church. His Sunday best wasn’t safari-styled polyester crap left over from the 70s, or rumpled, tweedy old-codger get-ups that smelled of mothballs, medicated powder or incontinence. He wore a classic Brooks Brothers suit in ink blue. Lesley held his elbow as they moved into his favourite pew. His granddaughter looked especially pretty in a pink dress instead of the schifoso dungarees she wore during the week. What’s more, with her on his arm, he looked even better.

  Once they took their places, she leaned over, pulled down the padded kneeler. It took a little effort, but he managed to bend into position and cross himself. A moment later, his knees creaking, Martino heard the angels sing.

  Gloria in excelsis deo, every hair of her lovely red bob was in place. So many women her age wore those shapeless muumuus bedecked with wallpaper print flowers. They always made him think of curtains in a cheap Honolulu motel, but Eilish had style. She wore a green linen suit that she took time to smoot
h before she sat in her usual pew.

  His heart beat so fast he thought he might keel over and kick off. There were better ways to go. Attila the Hun supposedly went out giving his mistress una ciavatta. Buying the farm in the arms of someone you loved would be nearly as good as dying in your sleep, which was Martino’s preferred way for death to visit. But dropping dead watching that beautiful red head bobble would have been sweet and easy too.

  Mass continued and he stared at her happily, knowing that, just after the Lord’s Prayer, she’d turn around and offer a sign of peace. He’d be able to take her hand, which he would squeeze very gently. None of that knuckle kissing bullshit of Witteveen’s. She’d smile at him again, like she had for the last few weeks.

  Martino had lost his upper hand. He’d played in a senior’s golf tournament down in Pojoaque last Sunday and Witteveen had taken the opportunity to see the lovely widow. This cat and mouse crap would end today. After mass, over coffee and doughnuts in the parish hall, Martino planned to take Mrs. Flanagan aside. They’d have a nice long chat. He’d tell her about Angelina and the seven children they had together. He’d ask about her family, and her husband, and he’d be reverent about it. Then they’d get to talking about other things and he’d ask her out. Just like that. He’d be direct and suggest they have lunch. And at that lunch he’d show up with a small bouquet of pink tea roses.

  Oh, he had it bad for this Jane. She had him so jingle-brained he realised he wasn’t following the service. Had Father Kearney done his homily? Had he stood for the Nicene Creed? Martino glanced around. The offertory baskets were being passed, which meant he’d daydreamed though the entire Liturgy of the Word. ‘Oh, porca madonna,’ he mumbled.

  Lesley turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to swear in church,’ she whispered,’ even in Italian.’

  ‘Oh forgive me.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Then why are your eyes glazed?’

  Martino gave his granddaughter a devilish little grin. ‘I’m thinking of doughnuts.’

  Coffee and doughnuts after mass might have been part of GP’s Sunday routine, but Lesley would have preferred to get back to the house to finish painting the living room. The last thing she wanted to look at was doughnuts. Pasta equalled Enzo’s Il Duce while popcorn and doughnuts added up to Dominic Brennan. She pressed her lips together and followed her grandfather into the parish hall, feeling like Homer Simpson. Doughnuts. Why’d it have to be doughnuts?

  Why hadn’t Dominic chosen something she didn’t eat, like cheese Danish? If he had, she’d be able to leave this property flip and never think about him again.

  GP disappeared as soon as he got through the door. Lesley assumed he’d made a beeline for the table full of pastries, but she saw him near the side exit, chatting to an older woman with red hair. And beside her, cruller sticking out of his mouth, was John Tilbrook. He raised a hand and waved.

  Two nights ago, he’d stumbled across her in a truck with steamed-up windows, and she’d been stretched out on top of sweaty Dominic that’s not-a-pack-of-bubblegum-in-my-pocket Brennan. The fact his big hand was up underneath the back of her shirt, as if he was unhooking something, hadn’t helped matters. They explained about the bear, but the expression on John’s face had been that of a cop who had heard, and seen, it all. No matter what they said, or how they pointed out spittle smears on the window, the jumbled state of the blanket they’d left amidst the headstones, or the fact the keys were missing from the truck, John had not been convinced. To him, she and Dominic had looked like teenagers who’d gone for a grind at Guaje Pines.

  Lesley’s cringe changed to a shiver at that thought. She’d been shivering at the thought of grinding against Dominic for a few days now. Thinking about the cool touch of his palm flattened on the small of her back, remembering the feeling of his body rocking under her weight was enough to make her forget where she was – for just a moment.

  John touched her shoulder and reality slid back into place. ‘Hey.’

  She felt her face go pink.

  He eyed her with an amused Bruce Willis smirk and handed her a cup of coffee. He’d remembered she liked it black. ‘The guys in County Animal Control say they caught a bear up on Lupine.’

  That wasn’t what she expected him to say. She had a sip of coffee to hide her surprise. ‘So you believe us then?’

  ‘Guess so.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Officer Tilbrook.’

  ‘None of that official stuff. I’m off duty. See? No uniform.’

  ‘Oh, is that what’s different?’

  ‘Get used to it. I’m moving back to Criminal Investigations. Then you can say, Gee, thanks, Detective Tilbrook.’ John smiled and looked over her left shoulder. ‘I see my Aunt Eilish is talking with your grandfather.’

  Lesley turned to see GP with the same redhead as before. ‘That’s your aunt?’

  ‘Mm-hm,’ John nodded.

  ‘My grandpa’s smitten.’

  ‘I think my aunt might be too.’

  ‘No, I mean he’s really, really besotted. He’s so far gone he’s yelling about buying a place at Aspen Ridge Lodge, just so he can be near her.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Kind of makes you hopeful, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Hopeful for what?’

  John looked at her, his hazel eyes darkening slightly. ‘Love at any age.’

  Instantly, Lesley felt uncomfortable, confused and a little angry. John had kissed her. He’d made the overtures. She’d never led him on in any way, but he’d sure just made her feel like she had.

  A blank, gawky silence swelled between them. She glanced down at the tips of her shoes. The strap across her toes was rubbing a blister on both feet.

  John exhaled. ‘I’m sorry. I probably seem like a complete idiot. Why didn’t you say you and Brennan were—’

  ‘We’re not,’ she said quickly.

  He quirked one eyebrow.

  ‘Really. I know how it looked,’ I know how it felt too, ‘but trust me, just trust me… nothing’s…there’s no way I’d ever get involved with him. He’s sort of my ex-brother-in-law.’

  ‘Yeah, I imagine that might feel like some weird form of incest.’

  ‘No, it’s because he comes from a family of lunatics and liars, and I’m not stupid enough to get burned at the stake twice.’

  The Bruce Willis smirk returned and lit up his eyes. ‘Great. Then it’s all right for you to come out with me.’

  ‘Let’s just stay friends, all right?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m only here until September.’

  ‘And what’s your point?’

  ‘That I’m only here until September.’

  ‘So because you’re here short term, we can’t have a little fun? No, wait,’ he waved his hands, ‘that came out the wrong way. I’m not after anything besides your company.’

  Lesley snickered. ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Honestly.’

  She crossed her arms gave him a slide-long gaze. ‘You going to kiss me again?’

  ‘Do you want me to kiss you again?’

  ‘What if I said no?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’d say come over for dinner and a movie anyway.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she shook her head, ‘I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.’

  ‘If it makes you feel better, I was only testing the waters.’

  ‘Most people don’t use their lips to do that.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t exactly dip my toe into your mouth, could I?’

  She laughed out loud.

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Just think about it.’

  Lesley thought about it. She thought about the silly stirrings of lust she’d been having for Dominic and decided it had to stop now. Hanging out with someone else would be a great distraction, a great way to bring an end to idiocy and carnal thoughts. Or maybe she simply had
to redirect that sort of sexual energy. She lifted her chin and gave John a smile. ‘OK. When?’

  ‘Tomorrow night.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Eat. See a movie. And then I know this really great little place where we can look at the stars.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Now that I think about it,’ sniff-sniff-sniff, ‘yeah it is.’

  Some people liked chips or pork rinds. Others went for sweet bars of chocolate-coated caramel. Dominic loved popcorn. It got stuck in his teeth and he had to floss soon after eating it, but it was his weakness. Alone in the store on a Sunday morning, the only day the shop was closed, he grabbed the scoop from the top of the machine on the front counter and filled a small paper bag with the corn he’d popped just for himself. After he stuffed a few pieces in his mouth, he gathered the mail and wandered over to a little office that was hung with posters advertising flower seeds and Skil power tools.

  He settled into the squeaking chair behind his desk and munched his popcorn. A pile of unopened mail sat in a neat stack right in the middle. He’d been spending too much time at Lesley’s house and not enough time at the store, his store. So here he was, working on a Sunday, something he rarely did, catching up on any business that needed to be addressed.

  Reading glasses on the end of his nose, he’d looked through bills, letters and notices for upcoming trade shows. He’d checked accounts, went over stock numbers, and dealt with a few bits of email. By eight-fifteen he discovered nothing was urgent or overdue. Daphne might have been young, but she did a great job managing the place. Everything was in order.

  Things at home were back in order too. Kyle was back to normal – as normal as a sixteen year-old with a broken arm and no car could be. Since Clementine arrived on the scene he’d stopped moping and developed a keen interest in dog training. With his misery gone, all he talked about was housebreaking, puppy food, and how the little tick would one day be a champion in dog agility.

  Dominic sighed. It seemed the only thing jumbled and mismanaged was his idiotic brain. After the other night with the bear, and the crazy things that had gone through his mind, he told himself it would probably be a good idea to spend more time at the store and a lot less time making reparations for his smart mouth.