Canyon Weddings

by Julie Jarnagin

  Connor trudged down the steps toward the plot of overgrown plants and stalks that once served as a vegetable garden. “Calm down, Thomas.”

  A huff vibrated through the speaker above the voices and commotion in the background. It was only noon in Florida.

  “I called Laura today. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Connor paced through skeletal twigs of the plants. “I was helping her out. I don’t know what you think is going on.”

  “I saw the way you acted with her, Connor.” Thomas said his name like it was an infectious disease. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  With each word Thomas spoke, pressure built tighter and tighter in Connor’s skull. “How did I act?”

  Thomas scoffed.

  Connor pressed a finger in his ear to hear Thomas over the clanging of glasses.

  “You always have to look like the good guy. Why are you trying so hard to impress her?”

  The words, along with the pungent smell of the decayed plants, made Connor’s stomach turn. “What are you talking about? You left her. Remember?”

  “Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to go after her,” Thomas said.

  Thomas spoke about Laura like some kind of trophy. A mere possession.

  “There’s nothing lower than a guy who goes after his friend’s ex,” Thomas said.

  Connor didn’t need to defend himself to Thomas, a man who deserted his fiancée and left her alone in a new town to flounder through financial trouble and heartbreak. He didn’t owe Thomas anything, and he wouldn’t pretend to. “Thomas, you walked out on her. You have no idea how much you hurt her.”

  “Stay away from her.” Thomas’s words sounded as if they had escaped through gritted teeth. The call went silent.

  Connor’s foot smashed against a metal bucket with a loud crash as it skidded along the creeping ground cover. Right now Connor didn’t have an alternative. Laura wanted nothing to do with him.

  Connor’s head hung down, and he watched the earthworms squirming in the moist dirt that had been hidden under the bucket.

  He turned his face up to see a figure standing behind a second-story window. Had his feelings for Laura really been so obvious? He trampled through the dead plants and tromped up the back steps. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

  The front door had been locked, but after pulling the screen door open, the doorknob on the back door turned easily.

  When he walked through the dining room, Laura’s footsteps stopped in the middle of the stairway. The eyes that had been filled with tenderness yesterday now glared at him with disdain. “In the big city, we call this breaking and entering.”

  He stood beside the stairs and looked up at her. “The back door was unlocked, and all I want is a chance to explain.”

  Laura crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Say whatever it is you have to say, and then get out of my house.”

  Connor’s emotions raged inside him. One phone call had changed everything between them. “I didn’t even know you when I said those things to Thomas. He’s being manipulative and self-serving. You deserve so much more.”

  Laura leaned forward and gripped the railing. “What if I think you’re actually the manipulative one?”

  Connor stared up at her and realized how much he had to lose if she walked away. “What are you talking about?”

  Laura’s chin trembled. “Didn’t you talk him into dumping me? Then you lied to me.”

  “I never lied to you,” he shot back.

  “You didn’t tell me the truth, and I just met you. Give me one good reason I should trust you.”

  He held his open hands out in front of him. He wished she could see his open heart, too. He had nothing to hide from her. “I would never hurt you, Laura.”

  Her eyes dulled. “It’s too late. You already did.”

  She turned and walked up the stairs, leaving Connor with the weight of her words. He turned and carried the defeat out the front door.

  The strong words from Laura took him down without a blink. If Laura wanted his help, she would ask for it. Until then he had no choice but to wait for her.

  Chapter 9

  Bonnie stood in the same spot where Laura had left her days ago at the back table among the stems and blooms. The soft green glow and the light streaming from the windows put Laura’s quivering heart at ease. Since Thomas’s revelation yesterday, the anger at Thomas and the disappointment in Connor blended together until she didn’t know which hurt the most.

  From the second-story bedroom window, she had watched Connor pace through the weeds with the phone to his ear. She was less angry about the terrible things he had told Thomas, convincing him to end their engagement, and angrier that for days he pretended like nothing had happened, like he wasn’t the one who told Thomas he would be settling by marrying her.

  Settling. The word reopened the scar Thomas’s rejection had left behind.

  “Laura, you’re back,” Bonnie said, her voice raspy. Today white tulips and hot-pink ribbon and tulle covered Bonnie’s table. “Excuse the mess. I’m getting ready for a big wedding. Did that boy come to his senses and change his mind?”

  Laura shuddered. Even if Thomas had begged for forgiveness, she wasn’t sure she would want him back. He had revealed a selfishness and carelessness she had been blind to before. “No, ma’am. I’m here about something else.”

  Bonnie pushed the round glasses up on her nose. “Oh?”

  Yesterday morning she had been sure staying in Wyatt Bend was the right thing to do. With the new information about Connor, all the doubts had returned, along with a string of new questions. Could she remodel the house without Thomas or Connor? Could she trust anyone to help her?

  She had been foolish for putting her faith in Connor and trusting him after what had happened with Thomas. Tired of playing the role of the naive girl who only saw the world the way she wanted to see it, Laura knew it was time to grow up and see the true nature of most men—only out for themselves.

  Not knowing where to turn, she did the one thing she did best—she developed a plan. Stage one was to gather information, and Bonnie seemed like the perfect woman for the job. “I don’t know many people in Wyatt Bend, and I thought you might be able to answer a few questions I have.”

  Bonnie’s chin tilted up with pride. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I know everyone in town or at least their families.”

  “Perfect.” Laura sat on a metal stool across from Bonnie. “I’m looking for someone to help me remodel the house at Canyon Crossing. I’m on a tight budget and would like to get it done as soon as possible. Do you know anyone who does that kind of work?”

  Tight budget was an understatement. She didn’t have nearly enough in her bank account to pay for the renovations. She had been depending on the money from Will and Cassie’s mural. She would simply try to pay her bills the best she could. It was all she could do until she figured out a way to re-create her old life in Florida.

  Bonnie pointed a long-stemmed tulip at her. “You’re the one who bought that house?”

  Laura rested an elbow on the table and covered her eyes with her hand. “Guilty.”

  “Believe it or not, it was once the nicest home in Wyatt Bend,” Bonnie said. “Such a lovely house with the two stories and the big porch.”

  Now it was the bane of Laura’s existence. Had the entire town laughed at the city girl who had moved into the biggest eyesore around town? “It needs a lot of work.”

  “The McCormicks held the most wonderful Christmas parties. They would hang Christmas lights on the house and fresh garland on the porch.” Bonnie’s hands glided out in front of her. “When you walked into the house, you would smell the apple cider and hear the music playing. It was simply magical. Everybody wanted to be invited.”

  The McCormicks had built a beautiful home, and Laura had planned to reclaim the original beauty. She had believed that’s what Thomas had wanted, too. She had never met Mrs. M
cCormick, but Laura imagined she would be looking down on her, making sure someone was taking care of her beloved home at Canyon Crossing. Now she was letting Mrs. McCormick and the rest of Wyatt Bend down. “Do you know anyone who can help me?”

  Without a word Bonnie climbed off her step stool and disappeared into the back room. She returned moments later. “I know just the person to take care of it.” She shoved a business card into Laura’s hand. “He’s such a nice young man and so handsome. If only I were a few decades younger …,” she said, looking dreamily toward a display of houseplants.

  Laura ran her finger across Connor Overman’s name printed on a card identical to the one he had given her. Her blood rushed through her veins. “I’m sorry, Bonnie. I should have mentioned that I need someone other than Connor Overman.”

  Bonnie’s eyes widened behind the thick glasses. “Why on earth would you want someone else? He’s perfect for the job.”

  Bonnie’s adoration of Connor grated on Laura’s nerves. Laura shifted on the uncomfortable stool. “He’s a friend of my ex’s.” The story was too long and fraught with turmoil to share the rest.

  Luckily, the explanation seemed to be enough for Bonnie who bobbed her head up and down, the gray curls on top of her head unwavering.

  “Isn’t there anyone else?” Laura asked.

  Bonnie looked up toward the ceiling. “My neighbors used someone from a nearby town, but they were pricey and ended up charging them double the estimate.”

  This wasn’t helping. “Thanks, but that won’t work. I’m on a tight budget.”

  “Oh.” Bonnie’s face brightened. “I think I know someone.”

  Laura’s shoulders relaxed. “Really? That’s great. Who is it?”

  Bonnie drummed her fingers on the counter. “He’s more of a handyman than a remodeler, but he might be able to help you.”

  As long as he could help her get out of Wyatt Bend, Laura would be happy.

  Bonnie opened a drawer on the underside of the counter, pulled out a thin phone book, and flipped through the pages. She scribbled down a number with a pen with a giant plastic daisy stuck to the top of it and pushed the piece of paper to Laura.

  Laura stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this helps. Before I go, maybe you can help me with something else.”

  Bonnie thrust her shoulders back, obviously proud of her role of Wyatt Bend information desk. “Of course.”

  Laura stood. “I’m an artist and a graphic designer. While I’m in town, I might as well try to do some freelance work. Do you know anyone who might need a mural, painting, or design work?”

  “Have you ever painted windows?” Bonnie asked.

  Laura hadn’t, but it couldn’t be much different than a mural. “I’m sure it’s something I could handle.”

  Laura followed Bonnie to the storefront windows. “I used to pay a young man to paint something different on my store windows every two weeks. The customers loved it, but he moved away—most of the young ones eventually do.”

  Laura exhaled a slow breath. She had forgotten what it felt like to have something go her way. “I would absolutely love to do that.”

  Bonnie clasped her hands together. “Wonderful. I’ll come up with some new ideas.” Bonnie placed a hand on Laura’s arm. “Don’t go anywhere.” Bonnie walked back to a small counter against the wall with a cash register. It opened with a ding. “I also never had a chance to return your deposit.”

  Laura took the money she had put toward her wedding. Numbers of how much money she had spent that she would never get back plagued her. She would put the small amounts refunded by the baker and the photographer toward the next mortgage payment. “I really appreciate this,” she said holding up the bills. “Please let anyone else around town know that I’m available.”

  Laura hoped her desperation to make money didn’t come across. She still hadn’t figured out how she would renovate the house and pay the bills and the mortgage, but she would find a way. She didn’t have a choice.

  On a bench in the small park just down the street from Bonnie’s shop, Laura pulled the slip of paper with the name and number out of her pocket. Herschel Long. A mom and a toddler shared lunch in a gazebo across from her.

  Laura dialed the number on the card.

  A woman answered the call with a cheery “Hello,” followed by, “Wyatt Bend Retirement Village.”

  Retirement Village? “I apologize. I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

  She hung up the phone and dialed the number again.

  The same perky voice answered the phone with the same greeting.

  Laura blinked at the number on the slip of paper. Surely it was a mistake. “You don’t happen to have a Herschel Long working there, do you?”

  “Oh no,” the woman said. “Herschel doesn’t work here.”

  Bonnie must have written the number down wrong. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  Just as Laura pulled the phone away from her ear to end the call, the woman said, “Herschel is a resident here.”

  Laura’s mind worked to add up what the woman meant. Laura pressed the phone back to her ear. “Is this the same Herschel Long who does remodeling?”

  “Oh yes. He still relishes being a handyman.”

  This had to be some kind of joke. Laura rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” the woman said.

  The woman’s bright voice only elevated Laura’s anxiety. “Why is Mr. Long in a nursing home if he’s well enough to be a handyman?”

  “We’re not a nursing home,” the woman insisted. “This is a continuing care retirement community for older active adults. Mr. Long is free to come and go as he pleases.”

  Laura had no idea what the difference was. “Are you allowed to tell me how old Mr. Long is?”

  “Oh, Mr. Long will proudly tell anyone who asks he’s eighty-five years young.”

  Laura closed her eyes and pictured Connor with his broad shoulders and strong jaw. She wasn’t sure how an eighty-five-year-old—or -young—man living in a retirement home could possibly take his place. What choice did she have?

  “I’ll transfer your call to his suite.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I—” The phone clicked, and ringing came from the other end of the line.

  “Hello?” a deep voice said.

  What was she doing? She moved her finger to the END CALL button, but visions of the leaky roof flashed through her mind.

  “Is anybody there?” the voice said.

  Laura sighed. “Yes. Is this Herschel?”

  “That’s me.”

  Laura swatted at a fly that buzzed around her shoulder. “My name is Laura Dobson. I’m looking for someone to help me with a remodel, and Bonnie at Bonnie’s Blooms said you might be able to help me.”

  “Oh, beautiful Bonnie,” he exclaimed. “She sure is a doll.”

  Sounded like Herschel had a little crush on “Beautiful Bonnie.”

  “That she is,” Laura said. “Was she correct? Are you interested in a remodeling job?” Laura squeezed her eyes closed as she asked the question. Did she really expect him to help her?

  A low laugh vibrated through the speaker on her ear. “Absolutely,” he said. “I built half the houses in Wyatt Bend. Of course, I only dabble in it these days.”

  Laura leaned back in her seat. “It’s a pretty big job.”

  “Dobson, you said? I’m not sure where you live.”

  “I’m new to town. I live in the old McCormick place at Canyon Crossing. Are you familiar with it?”

  Silence hung between them on the line. “Oh yes. I’m familiar with it. And you say you’re living there?”

  Her hope deflated. “I am.”

  “Well, I’m willing to take a look, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Laura didn’t have any good alternatives, but the butterflies in her stomach told her she could be making another huge mistake.

  The buzz of the circu
lar saw vibrated off the garage walls as Connor cut through a piece of pine.

  Sawdust swirled in the air and stuck to the sweat on his skin. He blew the dust off the wood then leaned back to inspect his work.

  Connor took a swig from his bottle of water and turned up the volume of the country station playing from the stereo on his workbench.

  Will’s truck pulled into the driveway behind his own.

  “Did you come to help?” Connor asked when Will entered through the open garage door.

  Will wore a Sunset Camp T-shirt and a long pair of basketball shorts. “Cassie, our mother, and a whole crew of women are in my house chattering about baby showers.”

  Connor ran his forearm across his dripping forehead. “So you’re hiding.”

  Will twisted his mouth to the side. “I guess you could say that, but don’t tell Cassie.”

  Connor laughed as he dug through a drawer in his toolbox.

  Will ran his hand along the shelves Connor had already cut. “What is this going to be?”

  “It’s the bookshelf Lillian asked me to make.” The situation with Laura had built up enough frustration it had finally driven him to start the project his sister had been asking him to construct for months. Even as a kid, when a problem bothered Connor, he built something. With everything going on in his life right now, he could probably re-create a life-size replica of the Taj Mahal.

  Will leaned against the boat protected by a gray cover. “So how are the renovations going at that house at the Crossing?”

  The muscles in Connor’s hands tightened around the tape measure. “I’m not working on that project anymore.”

  “No? What happened?” Will asked over the drone of the radio DJs.

  Connor grunted. He didn’t want to talk about it, especially with Will, who had told him not to get involved. Connor didn’t need another voice in his ear telling him how badly he’d wrecked everything.

  “I know you were excited to get your hands on that house,” Will said, his voice free of sharp corners of judgment. “If anyone could have saved that house, it would’ve been you.”

  So wrapped up in his disastrous conversation with Laura and the phone call with Thomas, Connor hadn’t taken the time to soak in the reality that he had lost the chance to renovate the house. While not the most disappointing part of the situation, he had longed to get his hands on a big old house like that one. Connor stuck two nails between his teeth and held a third under the hammer.