Canyon Weddings

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Canyon Weddings Page 23

by Julie Jarnagin


  Inside, Herschel tipped his hat to the woman working the cash register, stopped to say hello to a man with an armful of paint cans, and stuck his head into an office door to talk to the man at the desk. At this rate, Laura would be Herschel’s age by the time she finished the house.

  When they finally arrived at a small display of sandpaper, Herschel handed her a piece. “This right here is coarse-grit sandpaper. This one is fine. Can you feel the difference?”

  Laura nodded and listened. At one time Laura’s life had been fast paced and ruled by deadlines. Today she stood in a small-town hardware store getting a lesson on sandpaper. “Herschel,” she said, losing her patience and trying to decide exactly how she would break it to him. “Can we get on with it?”

  She pressed her lips together. That had not come out like she had intended. She waited for Herschel to respond.

  A big grin grew across his face. He pointed a long finger toward Laura. “You know what, kiddo? I like you. You have spunk.”

  Laura grimaced but forced a smile.

  Herschel took several sheets of sandpaper and paint stripper and carried them toward the checkout. “I have a couple of scrapers and the rest of the tools we’ll need in my toolbox.”

  Laura stopped at a display of paintbrushes she hadn’t noticed the first time she was in the store. Someone working here must be an artist. These were the real deal, not synthetic knockoffs.

  Herschel kept moving through the store without her, but she soon heard the clap of his handshake and his deep voice greeting someone with the “Hiya” she had already heard him use three times since entering the store.

  She ran her fingers over a small selection of natural-hair paintbrushes. She chose a filbert brush and rolled the glossy hardwood handle between her fingers. Just holding it made her want to lock herself in a room with a blank canvas and a few tubes of oil paints.

  She could still hear Herschel and the low rumble of another voice in the aisle beside her. It wasn’t like he could leave her. She had the keys. She poked around a few tubes of oil paints and mediums. Several blank canvases leaned against the back of the shelf. She turned one over and found a sticker with the price on the back. Ouch. She had forgotten how expensive art supplies were. She settled on a single flat brush.

  “It was a pleasure seeing you,” Herschel said from the other side of the aisle.

  It was time to get to work on those ugly cabinets. Laura reached for her credit card and faced the reality that it would be the first of many purchases at the hardware store to go on her remaining card. Most of her credit cards were maxed out except for one with a small limit she used only for emergencies. This certainly justified an emergency.

  She turned the corner to find Herschel saying his good-byes to Connor Overman. Connor’s blue eyes made all her hurt and anger bubble to the surface again, and her treasured paintbrush dropped to the floor.

  Connor and Laura both ducked down to the stained concrete and fumbled to pick up the paintbrush. Wyatt Bend was a small town, but Connor wasn’t prepared for running into Laura so soon.

  Laura stood and Connor retrieved the brush.

  “Thanks,” she said, void of any expression as he handed the small brush to her.

  Seeing her again splintered the vault he’d built around his feelings for her. Obviously the days hadn’t softened her critical view of him, even though his fondness of her hadn’t waned.

  “I believe you know Miss Laura,” Herschel said.

  Connor didn’t take his eyes off her long eyelashes pointing down at the floor. “Yes. We know each other. Hi, Laura.”

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other under his stare. “Hello,” she said halfheartedly.

  Herschel nodded his head toward Laura. “She’s with me,” he said proudly.

  She’d actually hired Herschel to help on the house. He didn’t allow the hope to settle in his mind that it meant she would be staying in Wyatt Bend indefinitely. “Lucky guy.”

  Herschel gave him a hard pat on the back. “You’re a smart man, Mr. Overman.”

  “You can’t go wrong with Herschel,” Connor said to a still-dismissive Laura. “He was the superintendent when they built the courthouse, not to mention a slew of other buildings and houses around town.”

  Laura didn’t respond. He ached to apologize to her again, but he wouldn’t put her on the spot with Herschel and the other patrons of the store there.

  Herschel removed his hat and clutched it with both hands.

  “I’ve passed the proverbial torch on to Connor. Now he’s the resident builder around these parts. I don’t know what Wyatt Bend would do without him.”

  Connor smiled and gave a quiet “Thank you.”

  Laura fidgeted with the small paintbrush in her hand.

  A dart of optimism shot through Connor. “Are you buying that for the mural?”

  The corners of Laura’s eyes creased. “I don’t think I’ll have time for the mural with all the work Herschel and I need to do on the house.”

  “I’d love to have your help on the house,” Herschel said. “That is, if it’s okay with Laura.”

  Laura didn’t even try to hide the look of horror she shot at Herschel.

  Connor waited for an answer, but Laura’s mouth was hanging open without a word.

  He turned back to Herschel. “Laura knows how to reach me if she needs anything, but I suspect the two of you will do just fine without me.”

  Chapter 12

  When Herschel and Laura returned to the house, they went straight to work on the kitchen cabinets. Eager to see change in the house that would give her some glimmer of hope of moving on with her life, Laura balanced on a rickety kitchen chair to unscrew the doors from the cabinets. Herschel emptied drawers and slid them from their tracks. The slow work of scraping the paint off the hinges and unscrewing the small screws was monotonous and exactly what she needed to soothe her shaky soul. The only sounds were Herschel whistling “Home, Home on the Range” and the clang of the screws she dropped into a white teacup she had found in the corner of the cabinet. At this point, Herschel’s age didn’t seem to matter. They worked together easily.

  He ran his hand across a deep dent in the wood. “We may need to have someone rebuild this damaged door.”

  Laura struggled with a stripped screw. “Okay. Do what you need to do to get the house finished.”

  She dropped another screw into the teacup. The cabinet doors were scattered around the room revealing the different paint colors inside the cabinets. The drawers were pulled out, and the supplies they’d bought at the hardware store covered the kitchen table. “It looks like a tornado hit this place.”

  Herschel removed another drawer. “That’s okay. Sometimes you have to make a mess of things before you can put them back together the right way.”

  She hoped that was true of her life, too.

  Herschel rested the drawer on the Formica countertop. “Are you upset that I asked Connor to help?”

  Laura rolled her head around in a big circle before going back to a stubborn screw. Pretending to be friendly with Connor Overman was the last place she had expected to find herself. Herschel knew she didn’t want Connor working on the house. She needed to keep her life as uncomplicated as possible right now, and Connor wasn’t part of that plan. She wasn’t sure what Herschel was trying to accomplish, but she didn’t appreciate it. “Why did you invite Connor to help?”

  Herschel was silent for a moment. “I’ve been known to stick my foot in my mouth. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  Herschel’s mind was as sharp as the utility knife he carried in his shirt pocket, and they both knew it. Laura didn’t believe his request was an accident. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  With a sly grin, Herschel tilted his chin down and angled his eyes up at her. “It’s just that the boy seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  She lost her grip on the corner of the door, and it swung down toward the counter. “What are you talking
about?”

  “I’ve known that boy since he was a kid building forts in his parents’ backyard. He’s normally a relaxed fellow, but the second you came around the corner, he turned into a ball of nerves.”

  “Did you ever consider he acts like that because he doesn’t like me at all?”

  Laura looked down to see Herschel’s bald head shaking. “Not a chance. I don’t know much, but I know a smitten man when I see one.”

  Maybe Herschel’s affection for Bonnie was clouding his judgment. “Well, if he likes me, he sure has a backward way of showing it.”

  Herschel laughed. “We often do, kiddo. We often do.”

  Standing at the entrance of the sanctuary, Connor drummed the stack of bulletins against his hand. The space was still empty and quiet, with only a couple of guys working on the audio at the back of the room. Connor had attended this church since he was too small to see over the back of the pew in front of him. Today he felt antsy and unsure he’d be able to focus through an entire worship service. The whispering voice of discontentment had crept into Connor’s head. Fears of never rebuilding Laura’s trust plagued him.

  Herschel’s hand gripped his shoulder, and Connor snapped out of his pity party. Herschel’s other hand clasped Connor’s in a firm handshake. “Hiya, boy.”

  Seeing Herschel gave Connor the perfect opportunity to find out how Laura was doing. She didn’t want to talk to him, but Herschel loved to talk about anything and everything. “It’s great to see you this morning.” Connor handed Herschel a bulletin.

  Herschel leaned in close. “I invited Laura to join me this morning,” he said in a low tone. “But she turned me down.”

  Laura and Connor’s conversation about faith surged in Connor’s memory. Connor kicked himself for not saying more the day she opened up about her doubts about God. He had thought he would have more chances to talk to her about it, but all his chances had been lost the day Thomas had called. “That’s too bad. Everyone here would love Laura.”

  Herschel looked at him with a sideways glance. “What’s not to love? And she’s easy on the eyes, too. Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”

  Of course she was beautiful. No man in his right mind could argue that she wasn’t. “Sure,” Connor said as nonchalantly as he could manage. He handed two bulletins to a man carrying a sleeping baby in a carrier. “How’s the work on the house going?”

  More church members trickled through the doors of the lobby, and Herschel moved to stand beside Connor. “Well, Laura and I need your help on a project tomorrow. It won’t take long. Just stop by midmorning.”

  Connor shook his head. “Laura made it pretty clear you two don’t need me.”

  “Trust me. She needs you. She told me herself that I should do whatever I need to do to get the house finished, and what I need is for you to stop by tomorrow.”

  Connor’s lungs expanded with relief. He didn’t know how Herschel had managed to change her mind, but he was glad he did. “And you’re sure about this?”

  Herschel tapped the rolled-up bulletin against Connor’s shoulder. “Of course. Come by the house tomorrow morning. You’ll see.”

  Laura waited for Herschel in the truck outside his home, expecting him to be standing in front of it as he had been every day last week. A white-haired man with a cane leaned down to look in her windshield, staring at her without apology. She didn’t want to spend all morning waiting for Herschel. She turned the key off and made her way to his door.

  Laura tapped the small brass door knocker. As she waited for an answer, she stretched to loosen the stiffness in her back. Her days had been filled with reaching, bending, and carrying—a better workout than she could have gotten at any gym. She had slept hard without a single dream about snakes or weddings—a first since she had arrived in Wyatt Bend.

  When the door didn’t open, her pulse raced with worry.

  Something shuffled on the other side of the door, and relief washed over her.

  Herschel appeared wearing a flannel robe and pajama pants that revealed his white socks and red slippers.

  She blinked, waiting for an explanation.

  “Sorry I didn’t call,” he said, his heavy eyelids hanging low.

  “Are you sick?” she asked, searching for some kind of explanation.

  Herschel gave a dramatic sigh. “No. Just old.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. Only the doorframe separated them, but he seemed to be standing in an alternate universe. Where was the hardworking, friendly old man she had worked with last week? “Stop kidding around. We have a lot of work to do today.”

  “I appreciate you offering me the job, kiddo, but I’ve decided it’s too much for me to handle right now. I’m retired. I want to enjoy it, not spend all my time in a dusty old house again.”

  His words stung. Another man was rejecting her. She was on a streak she didn’t know how to end.

  “Is it the money? How much do you want? Maybe I could pay it out, or we could work out a deal where you make a percentage of what I get for the house.”

  Herschel’s lips turned down. “It’s not about the money. I’m insulted you would even suggest it.”

  Laura’s rib cage tightened making it difficult to breathe. “What do you expect me to do without you?” she said, her voice sounding far more panicked than she intended.

  His eyebrows raised, and she saw a spark in his eyes. “Connor could help you.”

  Heat rushed into Laura’s cheeks. This nosy old man was trying to force her to ask Connor Overman for help. The rumors about people in small towns being involved in everybody’s business were true—even for Laura, an outsider. “Herschel, if this has anything to do with your crazy ideas about Connor Overman having a crush on me or whatever it is you have in your head …”

  “Now, why would I go and do something like that?” he said, his words drawn out, obviously for effect. “Can’t an old man simply retire in peace?”

  Herschel sure wasn’t going to win an Academy Award anytime soon.

  Laura threw her shoulders back in frustration. She wanted to stomp her foot and throw a fit in front of the entire Wyatt Bend elderly community. Instead she inhaled a deep breath through her nose. “Think about what you’re doing. You’re leaving me in a huge bind.”

  As he was shutting the door, the look in his eyes screamed with pride at what he had just done. “I’m really sorry, kiddo, but I have to do what I think is best.”

  She scowled at the closed door.

  “Miss,” a voice behind her said.

  She swung around, her ponytail almost smacking the side of her face.

  “I could use a part-time job,” said a small white-haired man slumped over a metal walker.

  Chapter 13

  Laura turned on the dirt road and pressed the gas pedal harder. The rearview mirror reflected the dirt flying up behind her. She was done relying on other people for her own happiness.

  The frustration and anger came from deep in the pit of her stomach and gave her just enough confidence to convince herself she could renovate the house on her own. She wouldn’t ask Connor for help and let Herschel believe his ludicrous plan had worked. She didn’t need Connor Overman, and she didn’t need Thomas. An educated, independent woman shouldn’t rely on a man to fix her life. Men had only let her down.

  She gripped the vibrating steering wheel as the air rushing in from the open window slapped her hair against her face. How hard could fixing up an old house be? The television shows made it look easy enough. Maybe she’d check out a book from the library or look online for anything she didn’t know how to do.

  She climbed out of the truck in a huff, flung the door shut, and stomped to the side of the house where the cabinet doors lay. She could do this. It couldn’t be that hard to scrape paint off wood. She looked around for the scrapers.

  The image of Herschel carrying his toolbox into his home flashed in her mind. She didn’t have any tools—no screwdriver, no hammer, nothing.

  The familiar sense of
dread crept through her. She couldn’t imagine how much it would cost to buy the things she needed. If they were anything like art supplies, it would be far more than she could afford.

  Her hand shielded the sun from her eyes as she looked toward the barn. The previous owners had left all kinds of things inside the house. Maybe they had left something other than the rusty truck in the barn. She hadn’t done more than stick her head in the door.

  Laura walked back to the porch to get the tall green rubber boots she had found. She had been too afraid to put them on or reach her hand inside. She could just imagine a rattlesnake curled up inside the toe. If not a rattlesnake, it could be a scorpion or a spider. Yesterday she had set them in the middle of the yard, turned on the water hose, and filled the boots with water from afar. Once she was confident that any creatures would have come out or drowned, she propped them upside down on the back porch.

  She slipped off her flats and slid the boots on her bare feet. Big, but they would do.

  She tromped across the yard in her green boots toward the barn. Thomas had planned to knock down the building. She had begged him not to because the structure reminded her of a famous Andrew Wyeth painting.

  Laura used all her weight to slide the heavy barn door. As it opened, light flooded into the dark space. The earthy smell of hay and dust swirled around her.

  She ran her hand across a bridle left hanging over the gate and poked around the empty horse stalls. A mouse scurried across the dirt floor, and she gripped at her heart that struggled to catch up to her breathing. Before her run-in with the rattlesnake, a mouse would have sent her out of the barn, never to return.

  Her eyes landed on a narrow wooden door in the corner of the cavernous barn. She pushed it open with one hand and held her breath as she stood back to make sure another mouse, or something worse, didn’t move toward her.

  Sunlight peeked through the cracks between the wooden boards that formed the walls of the barn. She stepped forward. The room wasn’t much bigger than the walk-in closet in her apartment in Florida.

 

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