by Beth Andrews
But would you leave because you—the grown-up you—wants to? Or is it running?
Well, she felt better. More stable. The dreams were less frequent, now. Since the day in Bina’s office, the little girl had been silent. Maybe it wouldn’t be running.
But there was Nick. Their dates were wonderful, full of camaraderie, laughter and sexual tension...that ended in failure, every time. Her failure.
She stood, lifted the box and walked to climb the stairs one more time. Bina assured her that a satisfying physical relationship was not only possible, but inevitable. It was just a matter of her letting go.
Just.
She turned the corner at the landing and continued up. God knows, she was trying. But trying only made things worse. Every time she failed at sex, she put more pressure on herself, with expectations about the next time. Her nerves were starting to feel like overdone bacon.
And she’d invited Nick for dinner tomorrow. She felt like an athlete who trains for the games for years, then, in the most important competition, chokes. Nick may say that he was okay with it, but she wasn’t. It was frustrating. She’d get right up to the edge of...something, yet another part of herself was always watching. Always judging.
She felt retarded, failing at something everyone else took for granted. Her last dirty secret.
As if that weren’t enough, the thought of leaving Nick was getting harder to imagine. And that frightened her. Well, okay, so it frightened the old Sam. But the today Sam still felt the fear.
Guess there’s more rows to hoe before I can rest.
“And more boxes.” Rounding the corner at the landing she dropped the box in a chair, and snapped the radio off. The bedroom loft stretched before her, the length of the house. She’d broken up the long expanse by creating a sitting area closest to the stairs. Her bookshelf nested under the window, and with her overstuffed chairs, a floor lamp and a braided rug, it was a snug oasis that tempted her to drop everything, sit with feet tucked up and read.
She walked to her decadent purchase, the massive brass bed dominating the other end of the loft. It stood high enough off the floor to warrant the wooden steps she’d put beside it. An ivory quilt with an interlocking ring design covered it and creamy shag rugs lay scattered on the polished wood floors.
Bina was right when she said Sam had been denying herself a home. No more cots and card-table furniture for her—she decided she could take it all with her, and create a home wherever she found herself. She’d felt happy shopping for it, and she liked the sense of permanence the furniture gave her. A ridiculous extravagance, maybe, but it made her smile.
Downstairs, Bugs barked and she heard his nails scrabbling on the wood.
She shot a look out the window, but didn’t see a car in the drive. Bugs’s staccato barking moved off toward the front door.
What now?
She peeked through the curtain at the window, then ran down the stairs, stepped to the door and pulled it open, joy and relief mingling, rising in her. “Beau!”
He stood, hands in pockets, his face wary. Until he saw her smile, then the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. His usual uniform looked worse for wear. Grease smears and what appeared to be mud covered his jacket and jeans. A white tape bandage covered his left earlobe. “Hey, Sam.”
She caught his sleeve, dragged him inside the door and enveloped him in a fierce hug as Bugs danced around their feet. He was safe. He was home.
A weight lifted. She’d tucked the subject of Beau in a cubby of her mind and had tried to ignore it the past three months. Only now could she realize how much she’d worried.
“Sam? I can’t breathe here.” She could feel tense muscles under the chilled denim of his lightweight jacket.
She backed up, but still held onto his jacket, her hands wanting to touch, as if it would make his presence real. Beau’s home!
Anger followed on the heels of relief. She frowned. “Where the hell have you been? You scared all of us witless.” She released him. “I should whup your ass.” He looked as though the road had done her work for her. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” She touched the bandage and he flinched away. “What happened here?”
“Yesterday sometime, and it’s a long story. I need to talk to you, Sam.”
“Not before I get some food in you. Follow me.” She led the way back to the kitchen.
He stood in the middle of the room, looking around slowly. “Wow.”
She strode to the refrigerator, pulling out eggs, bacon and a pitcher of orange juice. “Wash your hands.” She pulled an omelet pan from under the stove. He looked pained, like a toddler, needing to pee. “I know you want to talk, but give it a rest, Beau. First things first.”
A few minutes later, she placed a loaded plate in front of him.
“What about yours?”
“Just eat.” While he was distracted wolfing food, she examined him closely. He looked so—used. His hair was greasy and he was pale, except for the bruiselike shadows under his eyes. His knuckles were scraped, as were the knees that poked through his jeans. The gaping holes no longer appeared to be a fashion statement.
Seeing him like this hurt her heart.
She filled him in on the progress on the house, and what Sunny and Pete had been up to in the three months since he’d left. When nothing remained on his plate but a few egg smears, he sat back, holding his flat stomach.
“Oh, man, that was good. I didn’t know how hungry I was.”
She leaned forward, coffee cup cradled in her hands. “Where have you been, Beau?”
He took a deep breath, and looked at the ceiling. “I was so pissed off that day on the side of the road. I started to walk back, but then a truck came by. I just stuck out my thumb. I didn’t set out to run away. It just kind of happened.”
“Where were you going?”
“Didn’t know, didn’t care. I was just running. The guy in the pickup was going to Paso Robles, so that’s where I ended up.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It was okay at first. I cashed the last check you gave me, and I got a room at a crappy motel.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Did you know there are hotels that charge by the hour? That’s only one of the million things I didn’t know.”
He didn’t appear happy to have learned many of them. “Your check wasn’t that big.”
“I thought with what I’d learned here, I could get on with a contractor.” He shook his head. “But once they got a look at me, and found out I was seventeen, the interview was over. They wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t let me show them what I know.”
“I’m sorry, Beau.”
“Hey, that was the good part.” He rubbed his forehead. Little pills of dirt fell on the empty plate in front of him. “I didn’t eat much, but even so, I ran out of money pretty fast. I wandered around town, looking for any kind of work. A guy who ran a redneck bar finally hired me to clean out the place when he closed.”
She winced. God, not this innocent kid, in a bar. Thanks to her dad, she knew what the seamier ones were like.
“You wouldn’t believe what a bathroom after a night full of drunks is like.” He grimaced. “But it paid, at least enough to keep me in the whore motel, and the bartender fed me when I showed up for work.”
“At first, I liked being on my own. No one to tell me where to go, or what to do.” He raised his head to look her in the eye for the first time since coming through the door. “But you know, once I settled into the life, I realized that I wasn’t living. I was just surviving. I kept interviewing with contractors, but eventually none of them would even talk to me.” He glanced out the window. “I’d fall in that crappy bed at four every morning and see the days stretching in front of me—cleaning up barf and shit every night, getting no closer to what I really wanted to do.”
“So you decided to come home.”
Sam knew from her own experience that no one could teach you a lesson like that—you had to learn it for yourself. But she wished she didn’t have to hear how he learned it.
“Paso Robles isn’t that far from here, but it’s like a whole different state. It’s redneck heaven.” He touched the dirty bandage on his ear. “They’d give me a hard time at the bar, making fun of my piercings, my clothes, you know. The bartender would keep them off me most of the time, but one night, I locked up alone. Three Bubbas jumped me when I was walking back to town. Beat me up, ripped out my earring.”
“Oh, Beau—”
“That’s what convinced me to come back. My situation here may not be the best, but at least I have a chance to earn my way to a career.
“You and Tim were right. I was a spoiled rich kid. Whether you take me back on or not, I just wanted you to know that I’m not that person anymore.”
He slid his chair back, stood and walked to the back door. “Thanks for the food, Sam. Thanks for everything.” He opened the door. “I’m going to go tell Tim the same thing.”
Now that she knew the story, she worried retroactively. God, she should have tried harder to find him. Should have...
That’s not your job, Crozier. If you wouldn’t have gone through what you did, you wouldn’t be the person—well, maybe not the person you are now, but the person you’re going to be.
The latch clicked shut before she could move. She jumped up and moved to the door. Beau walked away, shoulders square, head high.
She opened the door. She’d give anything to be there when Beau talked to Tim, but knew she had way too much estrogen to be invited. “Hey, Beau.” He looked over his shoulder, but kept walking. “I’ve got to go see Jess. I’ll give you a ride as far as town.”
* * *
FRIDAY EVENING, SAM carried the large serving dish of hot stew to the table.
Sunny gave Pete a threatening glare. “Don’t you dare say it, punk.”
“But what if it is my favorite?”
Sam jumped in to avert bloodshed in her kitchen. “Sunny, grab the basket of rolls for me, will you? Beau, pour the iced tea for me? Okay everybody, dig in.”
After being loudly welcomed back by Sunny and Pete, Beau had settled in the past two weeks as if he’d never left. Tim had accepted Beau’s apology, and allowed him to move back in to his cabin at the Rest. Sunny was even helping Beau study for his contractor’s license.
Sam glanced around at her team. Their clothes were splattered with the carriage house’s exterior color, blinding white. Beau was spotted with the interior apartment’s French blue. The house was in the finishing stages, and lately the mood had been one of celebration.
Bugs barked, and ran for the front door. “Okay you guys, pipe down. We’ve got a few things to discuss.” She heard the front door open, and footsteps on hardwood.
“Hey, where is everybody?” Tim rounded the corner into the kitchen. Conversation died. Everyone gawked.
Tim’s thin, no longer grizzled eyebrows came together. “What?”
Sunny was first to find her voice, “Mr. Raven, you’re positively stunning.”
Tim’s hair had been neatly trimmed. Comb tracks still showed in the sparse strands. His face shone clean-shaven and a blue-and-white striped shirt, still bearing package creases, was tucked into chino pants that didn’t droop. His shiny wing tips were the only part of his attire that Sam had seen before.
A few weeks ago, replumbing complete, Tim had disappeared from the job site. Sam stopped worrying when she noticed his truck parked outside Ana’s gate, most days.
Pete said, “Jeez, Tim, you look downright pretty.”
The kitchen echoed with laughter and everyone talked at once.
“Let’s give him a chance to tell us what’s going on.” Sam patted the chair next to her. “Come on, Tim, pull up a seat. There’s plenty of stew.”
“I’ve been busy. This isn’t my only project, you know.” Tim sat, and the teens passed a plate around the table for him, filling it with stew and bread.
“Yeah, and that other project wouldn’t involve a cute chick nearby, would it?” Pete asked.
Tim glared. “You keep a civil tongue in your head, son. Ana is a lady, and I expect you to speak of her as such.”
“Yes, sir.” Pete ducked his head and focused on his plate.
Sunny jumped in with a tactful change of subject. “Doesn’t the house look great, Tim? Once we get the painting done, we’re going to help Sam put up the Christmas decorations for the party.”
“It’s good. I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done since I’ve seen it last.” The kids basked in the old man’s rare praise.
“Tim, you are coming to the party, aren’t you? I’ve been trying to call you to get an RSVP, but you’re never home.”
“I’ll be here, as long as I can bring a date.” His eyes twinkled with his smile.
“Ana’s already invited. Do you think you can get her to come? I’ve been harping at her since I decided on the party, but she’s still giving me excuses.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Now tell me what you kids have been up to.”
Sam sat back and listened, enjoying the sound of a full house.
Whether I stay or go, at least I’ve had this.
Something Tim said caught her attention.
“The Hilton chain has offered me a ton of money for Raven’s Rest. They want to tear it down to put up a Victorian hotel.” He smacked his hand on the table. “Can you believe they think a newfangled hotel would be better than my cabins?”
The kids sat staring at each other, not sure if he was joking.
“I’d really hate to be the cause of one more eyesore in this darned town. The problem is, I probably won’t be living there much longer, and I’m going to have to do something with it.” A blush spread up his neck.
The table was silent. No one dared comment on his living arrangements.
“God knows, it’s not like I’m making much. Seems most of the tourists hereabouts would rather pay two-fifty a night to sleep in one of those yuppie kennels.” He shook his head.
Sam stood. “Let’s think about it a bit, Tim. Maybe we can come up with some ideas.”
She raised her hand to get everyone’s attention. “Now, I want to talk to you all. I haven’t mentioned it, because I just had the plans signed off, but I’ve got another house to work on, thanks to Bina Rani’s recommendation.”
“Hey, good for you, Sam,” Beau said.
“Is it someone we know?” Sunny asked.
“Is it local? What do they want done?” Pete asked.
She put up a hand. “I’ll tell you the details in a minute, but I wanted to know if you all were interested before I took the job.”
“You mean you want us to help?” Beau sounded tentatively hopeful.
“How am I going to accept the job without my team? It won’t take longer than a month or so, but I’ll need all your skills to pull it off. Let me get the photos, and I’ll show you.” She walked to the great room to retrieve them, smiling at the excited babble that broke out behind her.
Who knew how long it would take to sell the house? January would be too cold to ride up the coast, anyway.
* * *
PETE AND SUNNY had pre-Christmas break exams the next day, so they left after dinner. Sam, Tim and Beau donned jackets and retired to the front porch to watch the sun go down. Sam and Tim settled on the porch swing, and Beau sat sprawled on the porch, his back propped against the railing.
Sam watched Beau, working a column of figures with a pad and pencil. “Okay, Beau, I know you. Your brain is smoking o
ut of your ears. What’s up?”
He worried at a hole in his jeans with a finger. “Um, I’ve got an idea, but I could be full of crap. I’m not sure.”
Tim pushed the swing with his foot. “Well, son, you’ll never know if you don’t say it out loud, will you?”
“You’re trying to decide what to do with Raven’s Rest, right? I have an idea.” He looked between Sam and Tim.
“Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“You know I want to start a woodworking business. And I need a place to live. So I was thinking. What if you turned the Rest into an artist’s colony? You know, artists could rent the cottages from you and work out of them. They could sell their stuff to the tourists—it’s just down the street from downtown, where they all hang out, anyway.
“Carrie Upton already makes a living, selling her willow chairs at the old garage downtown, and I know a bunch more people who’d love to rent workshop space. You probably wouldn’t be able to charge much per cottage, but you’d make more than you make now with most of them empty, right?”
Tim rubbed his newly smooth chin. “Maybe.”
“That way, you wouldn’t have to tear them down and let them trash the place with another stupid hotel.”
Sam spoke up. “‘Raven’s Artist Colony.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tim?”
“Yeah, I kinda like the idea of sticking it to the Hiltons.” He chuckled. “Now, I’m not promising anything, but I’m willing to consider the possibility.”
Beau scribbled a few notes in the notebook.
“You might have come up with a pretty good crappy idea, kid.” Tim smiled down at the top of Beau’s head.
Sam was sure he didn’t realize it was a proud father’s smile.
* * *
WHEN HER FEET touched the bottom landing, she slid a hand along the wall to guide her steps. She knew better than to feel for a light switch. Stepping forward, her boots touched dirt. The point of no return.
Dread, like battery acid, trickled into her mind, eating away her resolve. She tasted her own fear at the back of her throat. She knew, somehow, that the thing also tasted her fear. She felt it in her mind.