So, she wore her girly clothes amid the sweaty, dirty work of construction. She could work just as hard as any man, but it didn’t mean she had to dress like one. Although, if she had to shovel dirt, she imagined she would probably dress appropriately in work pants and shirt, maybe a navy-blue pant with floral designs and a long-sleeved yellow shirt with lace on the cuffs. JD smiled at the thought and knew it was completely ridiculous, but she didn’t have to shovel dirt. She just had to manage a crew and she could do that in frilly shirts and feminine slacks just fine.
Thinking of Missy, JD realized that she hadn’t talked to her friend in quite a while. She wondered what she could be up to, but knowing Missy, JD figured her silence had something to do with a new man in her life. She’d hear from Missy sooner or later.
Finishing her tea, JD decided to take a look at how things were going inside the school house with the trenches. She had just stepped sideways to pass through the open front door where the conveyor belt chugged along when Eric, the manager of the excavation crew, called to her.
Eric was perched in the operator’s seat of the mini backhoe. He waved, calling to her over the noise of the machines. “Almost finished with these three, Miss Halstead.” She nodded in response. Eric and his crew were working on the third trench.
Satisfied with the progress, JD left Eric and his crew and returned to her air-conditioned office trailer. The moment she stepped inside, she felt a presence, and looking up, saw Nathan standing next to the window behind her desk.
“Nathan,” she said in surprise. He jerked when she called his name, and then he vanished. She stood still, not sure if she had just seen him or not. She looked under her desk to see if perhaps he had just ducked under it instead of vanishing right before her eyes, but he wasn’t there. JD poured herself another glass of iced-tea and pressed it against the pink scar above her eyebrow. I’m losing it, she thought, as her scar began to ache. I think I hit my head a little too hard.
***
Nathan exhaled, clenching his fists. “Stupid,” he growled to himself as he perched on the roof of the office trailer. He looked around below him as workers came and went, but no one seemed to have noticed him up there.
What just happened? How did she see me? He wondered.
He vanished and reappeared inside the school next to the mini-back hoe, just to see if perhaps something was wrong with him. But none of the sweaty men inside seemed aware of his presence. Frowning, Nathan vanished again.
Chapter 26
On the night before the big pour, Rick flew in from California. He wanted to be at the site before the cement trucks arrived. As far as JD knew, nothing like this had ever been done before, and Rick was understandably nervous.
Mr. Blackwell arrived shortly after dawn with his wife. Mrs. Blackwell, a petite woman with short, wavy black hair and turned-up nose, greeted JD enthusiastically. She wasn’t what JD had expected. Where her husband was a man of few words, she was a woman of many. Mrs. Blackwell looked as excited as a kid in a candy shop. She couldn’t stop grinning and squeezing her husband’s arm. Her Bed and Breakfast was mere months away from completion. Mrs. Blackwell regaled JD with her ideas for the interior design of the Bed and Breakfast, from Victorian-era furnishings for the main room, to Native American décor and schoolroom desks and chalk boards for the upper floors.
JD tried to listen attentively to Mrs. Blackwell as she directed the traffic of visitors who had travelled from all over the state, including parts of Colorado, and of course, the building inspector, Gerald Franklin. Local townsfolk, other contractors from the county, and a couple of engineering firms from Salt Lake City and St. George were also in attendance.
Rick’s anxiousness began to rub off on JD and caffeine wasn’t helping the matter. She hadn’t slept the night before. It was even nine in the morning yet and she was working on her fifth cup of coffee.
She felt like the hostess of a party who was the only one not having any fun, except for maybe Rick, who paced around the building, examining the trenches that were about to receive the loads of cement during the non-stop pour. JD went to him and laid a hand on his arm.
“It’ll be okay,” she said. “We ran this through the computer simulator a dozen times or more. Your calculations are solid.”
Rick nodded and smiled. “I know, but I can’t help it. Things can still go wrong, like the building collapses, or a cement truck runs into it, or−” JD cut him off with a laugh. Rick allowed himself a small chuckle. “You’re right. It’ll be okay,” he conceded.
JD glanced over and saw that the cement trucks were beginning to arrive. She left Rick and approached the cement foreman, who looked perplexed with the crowd that had showed up, and expressed his worries about safety and being able to maneuver the cement trucks around the building without hurting something or someone.
She promptly responded by asking all visitors to move to the field south of the schoolhouse while the cement trucks moved into position. It was going to be an all-day event. It had taken two weeks to get the forms built and installed. Nine cement trucks were called in, and JD stood by nervously, next to Rick, praying that all would go well. She walked around the building probably half-a-dozen times, hovering, watching first one truck unload its thick, gloppy, gray cement mixture, before rumbling away to be replaced by another truck.
Workers pushed the wet, gray mud into the forms that ran under the edge of the building with long rake-like poles, while others used short-handled trowels to smooth it out. After the third dumping, Rick and the Blackwells retreated to JD’s air-conditioned office because the heat of the day got to be too much. JD refused to leave. She had to see that everything went smoothly. Rick would have stayed too, but Mr. Blackwell pulled him away to talk.
As evening descended upon Torrey, the last cement truck finished its pour, and the work crew set about cleaning up. Rick offered to take JD and the Blackwell’s to dinner. Mrs. Blackwell, who insisted that everyone call her Kellie, put her arm through JD’s chummily.
Kellie dominated the conversation with the history of the Fremont Indians of the area, of which not a lot was known, except for what they left behind, like their rock art, unfired clay figurines, and granaries called Moki huts.
“After the Fremonts left the area,” Kellie explained, “other Native Americans moved in. When they discovered the remains of the Fremonts, especially the small granaries in the sides of the canyons, they thought little people had lived here. Isn’t that interesting?” JD nodded politely.
After dinner, Rick and JD bade the Blackwells goodbye, and then Rick walked JD back to her apartment where he had parked his rental car.
“JD,” Rick began, smiling, “Great job!” He threw his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. JD accepted the compliment with a tired smile.
Rick cocked his head to the side. “How are you holding up?” His tone became serious as he searched her face for the answer. It took her by surprise, the sudden change in his voice.
“I’m fine.” She shrugged. He squinted at her. He didn’t appear to buy it.
“There’s something different about you,” he said, folding his arms and continuing his search.
“Different? Like what? More mature? Less impulsive?” she said lightly, not sure what he had seen to make him suspicious. Rick laughed.
“Yeah, I guess that’s it. I think this experience has been good for you,” he said, smiling as if he were proud. JD looked away, not sure she could agree with him. He must have sensed her unease because he said, “Julia, if there is something you need to tell me, I’m here for you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
JD stared at him. His questions forced her to take quick stock of herself, something she had been avoiding since the attack. She looked at him, wondering what she should tell him. Did he want to know that she had fallen in love with one of her contractors? That she had slept with him, only to find out that he was a jerk? That he might have been the one who attacked her, leaving her with a scar on her forehead a
nd a weird mark on her arm? That this project was giving her an ulcer? That she was dreaming about the project every night, and that the thrill of managing it was gone? Or about Nathan, who seemed to be everywhere she looked, like he was a phantom haunting her?
Looking at him, JD knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He wanted to hear that she was fine, that she had a firm handle on the project, and that she was enjoying herself. She would spare Rick the truth.
“Rick, you’re being overprotective. I’m doing just fine. I’m stressed, but it’s all coming together.” She reached out and patted his arm reassuringly, forcing a relaxed smile.
Rick looked at her a while more, scrutinizing, and then shrugged. He pointed a finger at her. “You call me if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk.”
“Sure,” she said. He got into his car, giving her another long, worried look. She smiled at him and waved him away.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He drove away. She watched him disappear over a rise in the distance and felt a hot tear streak down her cheek.
“Liar,” she muttered, scolding herself.
Chapter 27
With the basement complete, she brought in the framing crew to start framing the bottom floor and begin construction of the third floor. It was a complicated process that involved constructing a new roof with several dormers. This was the longest phase of the project. From September through the end of December, the framing crew worked on the interior construction.
There were many setbacks and problems involved with the framing. When the main floor bathroom was being framed, instead of leaving the ceiling at twelve feet high, as specified in the blueprints, the crew had lowered the ceiling to eight feet. It had to be ripped out and redone.
To hide the electrical wiring that would have to be installed, a pony wall was constructed around the perimeter of the first floor gathering room, but instead of the walls being the width of the narrowest part of the two by fours, it was built out at the widest. The entire wall, about a thirty feet span, had to be ripped out and redone. To JD’s relief, the elegant grand staircase went up beautifully without a single problem.
The weeks passed in a blur of noise, construction, paperwork, and reports. JD was locked into the routine now and mostly on auto-pilot. She had her routine, up at 5:00 am for a morning run, home, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, home, and bed - Monday through Sunday.
One crisp Friday morning in early November, JD went in early so she could get caught up on some paperwork. Nathan’s truck was in the parking lot when she arrived. Out of curiosity, she went to the schoolhouse and peered in. Straining to catch any sound that would reveal Nathan’s location, she waited several long moments but heard nothing. She stepped inside and opened her mouth to call for Nathan, when she saw something unfamiliar and different.
At first, she thought it was small puddles of water on the subfloor, but when she bent to look closer, she could see that it was a darker color. She touched it with her finger and looked at it closely. Blood. She clenched her teeth as she felt nausea surge through her. Another splatter was just a foot away. Splatters of blood were laid out before her like a trail to the staircase. Panic began to throb through her as she held her blood-stained fingertip away from herself.
“Nathan?” she called. “Nathan!”
She looked at her finger again. Was this his blood? Had he been hurt? Images of Nathan lying on the floor upstairs injured, or worse, raced through her mind. She bolted for the stairs, screaming his name.
“Here,” he called from somewhere on the main floor−his voice echoing oddly. She turned halfway up the stairs and swept her gaze over the room. Nathan stood in the doorway of what would become the kitchen, the location where the box had been discovered. She stared at him, her heart pounding.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. She came down the steps, angry, irritated, relieved, and confused. She stopped before him.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded, while looking him over for signs of a wound. Nathan gave her a funny look and shook his head. “No, why would I be?”
“I saw blood,” she held up her finger to show him. His brows drew in as he took her hand gently in his to examine the dark stain on her finger. A fluttery sensation erupted in her stomach, and all her anxieties over the blood suddenly seemed silly and unimportant.
“Where?” he asked, clearly concerned.
“There.” She pointed with her other hand, unwilling to break the contact she had with him. Nathan looked over at the floor. He released her and strode over to have a closer look at the splattered blood. He squatted and looked carefully, and then turning his head toward her, he said, “Bird.”
“Bird?” she said incredulously. “How do you know?” She strode over to him.
“Didn’t you see the feathers?” he asked, pointing at the black and white feathers strewn about. “And the cat paw prints?”
JD looked to where he pointed, and suddenly she saw bird feathers everywhere and the splotches were not all splotches. Some were indeed paw prints. She gaped at him, amazed that she hadn’t seen the clues earlier. How could she have missed the obvious?
“Must have been a mocking bird by the looks of it,” he observed, then looked at her. He drew his brows in, concerned.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
JD blinked at him, stunned and taken aback. She was at a loss for words. If he had conjured the feathers out of thin air, it wouldn’t have surprised her more.
“I guess I didn’t see the feathers,” she mumbled.
A memory of seeing an orange tabby lurking around the schoolhouse the morning of her first run came back to her. She hadn’t seen it since, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been around. Then again, if she had seen it, it probably didn’t register as she was so preoccupied with the project and Matthew.
Nathan rose to his full height. “Well, I guess my shift is over. Have a good day Miss Halstead.” He turned on his booted heel and strode out the door.
To Be Continued in Book 2
If I Fall…
Will You Forgive Me?
If I Fall... Page 15