REVIVING JULES
Peggy Trotter
Copyright 2015 Peggy Trotter
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Art by Joan Alley
Edited by Susan M. Baganz
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All Scripture is taken from the English Standard Version Bible.
Published by Prism Book Group
ISBN-10: 1943104220
ISBN-13: 978-1-943104-22-2
First Edition, 2015
Published in the United States of America
Contact info: [email protected]
http://www.prismbookgroup.com
DEDICATION
May the praise, honor and glory of anything good I do be heaped upon the One, Lord God the Creator and His one and only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, Who makes all things good and perfect in His time.
Also to my husband, my rock, my support—God’s gift to me of wisdom and love.
To all my other inspirations, Megan, Jariah, Chayce, Cristal, Piper, Texas.
And BCS, where I pray all the lives I touched would serve the Lord all their days.
“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
Psalm 30:5b ESV
CHAPTER ONE
The house completely sucked. Which made it perfect.
Jules Summers breathed in the stale air of the vacant living room, her gaze flitting from the water-stained wooden floors to the white walls riddled with nail holes. A large black spider suspended in a cloud of an intricate web drew her eye to the upper corner near the ceiling.
Yes, perfect.
The realtor beamed, flipped her bobbed hair, and pushed the ill-fitted door shut. “Well, I know you’re interested in renting only, but I give everyone the same tour, just in case you change your mind.”
Jules released a pent up breath and kept her face expressionless. The slender woman in the navy pantsuit continued as if Jules had gushed with interest. The realtor approached and pressed a fact sheet into her fingers before gesturing to the expanse before them.
“The open concept here of the living/dining areas is quite convenient for entertaining. The wood floor is original and would be gorgeous if one took a little time to resurface it.”
Jules ignored her and walked to the left where the sunlight streamed through the double-glass doors facing the backyard. The woman continued to talk, referring to her property hot sheet. Amy? Was that her name? Jules sighed and glanced at the paper she held. Did it matter?
“Built in 1951, it’s a classic jewel—solid. There’re plenty of cabinets, and all a person needs is a fresh coat of paint to perk them right up. They’re charming, really. Retro, even. The appliances stay.” She tapped a silver monstrosity sandwiched between bottom cabinets. “I think this oven might be a collector’s item. Irreplaceable. Now, if you’ll step down the hall with me, you’ll see the two bedrooms.”
“I’ll take it.”
The woman froze in mid-step and shot her a glance. “I’m sorry?”
Jules shifted her weight and pushed her empty hand into her jeans’ pocket. “When can I move in?”
Amy’s eyebrows lifted before her lips stretched into a small smile, and she nodded toward the back of the house. “Wouldn’t you like to check out the bedrooms first?”
“No.”
Her hands flew up. “Oh. Well, let’s see.”
She strode to the Formica-flecked counter, opened her briefcase, and rifled through the interior pockets. Jules turned to study the tall tufts of uneven grass spread across the backyard.
“I can set you up in a jiffy. You won’t be disappointed. This is an older home, but Mrs. Kissel took excellent care of it. Her son owns the house now and lives in Florida. He’ll be thrilled to have a dependable person here. And I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to sell it to you. This property has been sitting since his mother passed.”
Jules cleared her throat but continued to stare at the overgrown yard. “Right now, I just want to rent.”
For the first time since meeting the chatty little saleswoman, silence reigned. Jules took a deep breath and peered through her reflection in the glass to a neglected goldfish pond amongst the weeds. The hairs on her neck prickled, and she sensed the woman’s perusal.
“You’ll love it here. Great neighborhood.” The realtor paused. “You have family nearby?”
Tears rushed to Jules’ eyes. “No.”
Amy gave a soft laugh. “Well, you’ll soon feel at home in this tiny community. Most folks’ families have lived here for years. You from a small town?”
Jules clenched her jaw to staunch the moisture threatening to spill. “No.”
“Really? Ah, there it is. All right, if you could fill out this form, including references, I can get you in here by the end of the week.”
Jules blinked away the wetness on her lashes and forced herself toward the counter dividing the living space from the kitchen. She picked up the pen to fill in the appropriate information, cringing at the reference section. The ball point hovered above the blanks.
Amy threaded her dark hair behind her ears and shot her a smile. She snapped the briefcase closed. “I’m going to make a quick call to the office while you’re finishing. If you need anything, just holler. I’ll be right outside.”
The realtor’s heels clicked a victory chant as she marched through the living room. Relief washed over Jules as the woman tugged the door closed behind her. She took a deep breath and stretched her tense shoulders. After laying the pen across the document, she cracked her knuckles and pressed her clasped hands to her lips. Who could she put down? Who’d be discreet and help her get this house without spilling the whole scenario?
Moisture flowed to her lids again, and she stabbed her fists into her eye sockets. Those blasted tears. Blinking, she sucked air through her nostrils and expelled a quivering breath. Somebody, anybody. No, not anybody.
Maybe someone from church? School? No, not anyone from the neighborhood. She chewed her lip, her ears picking up the mumble of Amy’s voice on the front porch. The realtor’s dark shadow paced past the picture window. She didn’t have forever. Make the decision.
She settled on an old teacher friend who’d moved away a few years ago, and Mr. Slatton, a previous pastor from happier times. Hopefully, no one would think to contact either of them for news of her. Her pen grated against the page as she scratched the information down. She groaned when she proofread, her penmanship nearly illegible. With disgust, she slapped the form to the counter.
Tilting her chin, she blinked at the discolored ceiling tile and rubbed the wetness from her eyes. She wandered back to the smudged glass of the sliding door. How different things seemed. A weight settled on her sagging shoulders, and she crossed her arms to ease it. But it didn’t. It only made the stress on the inside bind up into a cluster of knots until breathing became difficult.
Please let her hurry.
The door swung open. “Super. All is settled at the office, and I spoke with Todd Kissel, the owner, so everything’s a go. Now, I just need your application to get started on the references, and you’ve got
yourself a house.”
Jules nodded and heard her swipe the paper from the countertop. While she waited, her gaze swept the outdated exterior aluminum window canopies, once burgundy and white, now faded pink. The fresh spring air gusted, sending several grey paint chips astir across the small back porch.
“Everything looks good here. Is there anything else you need to see? Bathroom, garage, shed?”
Jules spun on her heel. “No. I’m fine.”
The woman’s face lit into a well-practiced grin, and she came forward, hand extended. “Great. I’ll get this processed and give you a call tomorrow to pick up your key. I hope you’ll be very happy here.”
Jules attempted a smile, hoping the twitch of her lips qualified, as she shook the woman’s hand.
* * *
Jules groaned and rolled over on the air mattress. The first night in her new home. The musty smell caused her to sneeze. She focused her aching eyeballs on the clock. 5:02. Tears hovered in her scratchy eyes. She flipped over and willed herself back to sleep.
The blanket slid from her face, and light flared against her closed lids. She grimaced, squinting at the glass doors. Where was she? Recognition dawned and her gaze flicked to the red digital numbers. 8:28. Tears emerged to course down her cheeks. If only she could sleep away the next year. Or two. Or three. Anguish seemed a constant companion. A sob rose, and her throat throbbed. She buried her head under the velour blanket and clutched her pillow to her face.
Jules’ eyelids blinked open, and she uncovered one eye to read the clock. After ten. Again, tears threatened. Would she ever awaken without an episode of weeping?
She clenched her hands and pushed to a sitting position. Her hair wrapped about her head like seaweed. Sunshine poured through the glass doors in a cheerful greeting, and she groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. Moisture flowed down her face again, and she let her tears spill, her breath coming in spasms.
“Stop,” she yelled to the empty living room. Catching sight of the lone lawn chair sitting next to the mattress caused her lips to quiver again, but she balled her fists. Enough was enough.
She needed a plan. A goal to strive towards. First, she’d get out of bed. Second, a shower, no questions, no excuses. Next, she’d drive the jeep to the grocery store. Fresh donuts beckoned. Well, fresh from the donut shop in Evansville, thirty minutes away.
She’d purchase the donuts, her favorite super-charged caffeinated soda, and a paper. Such a healthy breakfast. Then she’d call her daughter. End of story. This was the plan. A sob rose while a balloon of pain bloated in her chest. Now, how to rally the desire to leave the bed?
The stagnant air tickled her nose, and she scrubbed at it. She shot a glance around the living room where she’d inflated the mattress. Her attention flicked to the glass doors, her only balm. The early spring sunshine cascaded through and warmed her mattress. She sighed and thrust her fingertips into her eyes to stem the moisture. No more crying.
Her stomach growled and a cramp clenched her abdomen like an exclamation point of hunger. With a sniff, Jules crawled off the air mattress onto the chilly, stained floor planks and followed her plan to a tee, ignoring her drawn face in the steamy bathroom mirror. Even the fogged glass couldn’t hide her pale skin and dark-circled eyes. Ugh. She looked horrid.
The caffeinated, sugary soda had kicked in by the time she drove to the rusted phone booth. Hannah should be home. Jules took a deep breath as she swung from the jeep. She hoped her daughter understood. Come to think of it, that was impossible, since she, herself, couldn’t comprehend what she’d done. Fine. She’d settle for Hannah not lecturing her. The coins jangled as they dropped, and her fingers trembled as she pressed the digits.
“Hello?”
Oh, glory. Hannah’s voice alone made Jules want to weep. She opened her mouth, but froze. How to explain?
“Hello?” Hannah spoke again. “Is anyone there?”
“Yes.” The syllable came in a hiss. Tears tumbled down her face.
“Mom. Oh, thank God. Where are you? I got your message the other day, and I prayed you’d call again. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Another hiss. A huge lie.
“Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and get you. It’s going to be okay, Mom, really.” Hannah voice sounded gentle, but commanding.
“No.” A shred of strength surged through Jules. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, Mom. You disappeared for two weeks. No one could figure out what had happened to you.”
“I know. Please don’t be angry. I can’t tell you where I am for now. I’m afraid it’ll get out, and someone will show up. I just can’t handle that right now. I have to work through this on my own.” Jules swiped her tears.
“But why? What you need are friends and family by your side. You’ll survive this mess, I’m positive you will. We all want to be here for you.”
Jules cleared her tight throat.
“No, honey.” Calm over swept her in a shiver. “Everyone’s smothering me to death. And knowing they’re right there…your Dad and…her. It’s too much.” Jules paused a moment. “Did she have it?”
“Mom, let’s talk about you.”
“Did she?” Jules’ jaw tightened.
“Yes.” A whisper-soft answer coursed through the line.
“When?”
“Last week.” Hannah’s tone flattened. A heavy sigh followed.
“How nice.” Her tumbling emotions turned icy and detached. A breeze dried her chapped face as she squeezed the flexible metal conduit cord. She was so glad she didn’t have to gallivant around Nashville while people examined her beneath their reaction microscopes as the tragedy played out.
“Mom, please. I hate telling you this stuff on the phone. I need to see you. Come home.” A childish whine laced her adult demand.
“No.” Jules fell into her old teacher’s voice. “I’m doing well here. I’ll call again with any updates. I don’t have a phone right now, but when I get one, I’ll let you know the number.”
Fat chance of that happening anytime soon. Jules gritted her molars. “Just tell everyone I miss them, and I’ll eventually be in touch.”
“Mother.” An audible sigh. “Okay. If this is what you need for now, I’ll go along with it. You can walk out on your friends, but I’m pregnant, and I want you at that hospital when the baby comes.”
“I’ll be there, Hannah.”
“September. You have until then, and you’d better be here.” The line went still. “I love you, Mom.”
A hot stone settled in Jules’s chest. “I love you too.”
Silence dominated both ends of the connection. A space. An understanding? After an unsteady breath, Jules spoke. “I’ll call next week.”
“I don’t recognize the number on the caller ID other than it’s out of state. Is there somewhere I can reach you?”
“No, this is a pay phone.”
“But what if I need to get ahold of you?” Hannah sniffed.
“I’ll keep in touch. I promise.”
“All right. If that’s all you’ll give me, I’ll try to be satisfied. Know I’ll be praying hard for you.”
Jules closed her eyes and laid her head against the cool, rusted metal of the phone box. “Goodbye, Hannah.”
“Goodbye, Mom.
Jules narrowed her eyes and plunked the receiver into the cradle. She clenched the black plastic as her breathing sped up.
Pray.
Yes, pray. A lot of good that did. Hadn’t she been praying for a year? She backed away from rusted booth and stumbled over the uneven curb.
Pray.
Her bottom lip quivered as the urge to do exactly that mounted in her soul. She wouldn’t. No, she couldn’t. Tears blinded her, and she choked for a breath of oxygen. This wasn’t her life. It shouldn’t be happening this way. She spun and began to run.
CHAPTER TWO
“Carson.” The gruff voice of the project manager rose as he squinted one red-rimmed eye. “Need you to
go to Chicago at the end of April and get that development started.”
Rhett groaned in silence. The second business trip since Christmas. He set his jaw and scratched down the information the P.M. rattled off. His gaze flicked to his watch. Bright sunlight streamed through the wall of windows behind onto the large, rectangular cherry table in front of him. Every chair was filled with note-taking engineers, attempting to look something other than bored. The shades were pulled on the opposite side of the room, shutting out the environs of the inner office.
Rhett ran his eyes up the olive green wall as the stocky man continued to give orders. The whole point of taking this job had been its lack of traveling. Yet here he sat, making notes to tackle another out-of-town assignment. Ever since Evans had left the firm, Rhett had stepped up to fill the gap.
Phil Moser’s big mitt slapped the file down on a huge stack to his left. “You’ve got your assignments for the next month. We’ll meet again next week. Dismissed.”
Rhett refrained from rolling his eyes. Phil, not only the project manager but also the owner, fancied himself a military man and often used such terminology. But he wouldn’t complain. For the most part, he enjoyed being staff engineer at Moser Design, Inc.
Chairs screeched across the tile as the employees retreated in mumbles. Rhett wasted no time, bee-lining for his office. At his desk, he stuffed his portfolio with necessary files, including the architect’s design.
“Lucky you. Off to Chicago.” Collins dipped his head into the office door.
Rhett chuckled. “Yeah, lucky me.”
Collins’ lean form strolled in, and he rapped his hand on the cushioned chair in front of Rhett’s desk. “Hey, don’t let it worry you. It’s sure to be a short assignment. Simple apartment building, and the boss’ brother is great to work for. You’ll have it done in a snap.”
Rhett clicked his briefcase shut. “I suppose.”
“What’s yer hurry? Let’s catch a mugful at Riverbend Tavern. They serve some fine home brew there.”
Rhett stilled his movements and eyed his co-worker. “You know me better than that, Collins. I don’t drink. Besides, Andi will be waiting on me. I’m running late.”
Reviving Jules Page 1