He shrugged. “Yeah, but some inside, some out. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
She realized they approached the house, and Maude Pearson stood at the back door. She waved. Stormi gave a small swipe of her hand. “I can’t stay, Ake.”
“Come on. She’s got oatmeal. Always makes way too much oatmeal. We need someone else to eat it.”
“Oatmeal? Bleck. I don’t eat oatmeal.”
He paused and gave her the once over. “You ever have it?”
Well, that would’ve required her mother to belly up to the stove in the last twenty-odd years, so no. That glop had never even been in a pot inside her childhood home. “No.”
“Trust me. A little cinnamon, a little banana. Delish.”
Once up the steps Maude drew her into the house and had a hot bowl of spiced oatmeal set in front of her in no time flat. And it was—edible. The texture could use a change, but watching Ake converse with his mother proved priceless. He’d definitely inherited his mother’s positive spirit. Was she for real?
“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” He grinned.
She nodded.
“Oh, Ake, you do a heart good.” The older woman rose with a laugh from the table and patted her son’s arm. “I’d better check on your dad.”
“What brings ya by?”
“You.” She spooned another slimy spoon of oatmeal into her mouth. It did go down warm.
Ake grinned. “I told you I was fine.”
“I figured that brother of yours had you out on the boat today.”
He chuckled. “Hoge? Pshaw. His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Still…” Stormi’s belly filled with the warm mixture. “I could probably get used to this slimy goo, but the texture is a little weird.”
“Pearson tradition. Mom makes it every morning.”
She brought up her eyes. “Seriously?”
He grinned. “Yup. Pop has it every morning.”
“That’s a lot of oatmeal.” She eyed the bandage on his left arm beneath the rolled cuff of his red flannel shirt. “Does it hurt?”
He cocked his head and shrugged. “Eh.”
“Clearly, that’s a, ‘yeah.’ Me and my stupid plan.”
Ake’s dark eyes caught hers. “I wouldn’t take it back.”
Stormi cleared her throat and abandoned the spoon. She sat back in her chair. “Yeah, but now, your Mom and brother, they all think—“
“Like you said, just shrug.”
She assessed him. It was odd to see his thick arms and shoulders without a canvas covering. Somehow he didn’t look much smaller. Without the beanie his features appeared even more charming, his hair lifting in slight waves curling here and there. He seemed more relaxed.
The starting beard on his face made Stormi think he hadn’t shaved since before the injury. It made his jaw and cheeks look black like his eyes and hair. Ake was one handsome man. He grinned.
She raised a brow and shrugged. Time to change her thought pattern. “I think I’m stuck.”
His face clouded. “Huh?
“My car.”
He let his head roll back in understanding. “Oh. Yeah, you’re not stuck.”
She straightened. “I am. I tagged the snow bank.”
“I’ll get it out.”
A burst of laughter popped from her lips. “I want to see that. You, wrestling the car above your head.”
He stared at her a long time, and she returned the favor. “I like being around you, Stormi Zobroski.”
There it was again. Just honesty. Had she ever known anyone so boldly honest? She smiled. His dark trusting eyes had no secrets. And she had to agree with him. She enjoyed being with him too. So refreshing. Which made faking it that much easier. “You think we just, you know, keep up the pretense? Show those idiot friends of yours they don’t know everything?”
“Don’t call your brother names,” came Pop’s voice from the living room.
Stormi burst out laughing. “I guess I’ve been told.”
Ake grinned ear to ear, and she soaked in the pure companionship. Simple stuff. Precious togetherness. A laugh, a joke. Complete acceptance. Without her scraping her nails against the insurmountable wall of conditions and guilt. How she longed to embrace a life where people truly cared. Where things were honest and plain. A place where she’d fit in, acknowledged as a person of great value, no matter what. Gazing in Ake’s eyes gave her an inkling that maybe such a life could be real.
***
Somehow she’d overslept. But her podcast was finished and a relaxing Saturday stretched out before her. The early December wind whipped at Stormi’s collar as she stepped into Calvert’s Grill on the corner. Hopefully a cheeseburger would get her back on track today. It had been a lazy morning.
The smell of fish wrapped around her as she bellied up to the worn butcher block counter and put in her order with Madge. She’d even earned a smile from the Brillo-headed woman. But Stormi had to admit, being referred to by name made you feel like you fit in.
Imagining all the stereotypes that had popped into her head when she’d burst through those doors, she racked her brain as to her own moniker. Naughty girl turned nice? A chortle almost burst from her. Born-again bad girl? Maybe. Anyway, she’d begun to fit into this strange neighborhood, and she welcomed it.
The bell clanged behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn. It was probably toothless beer belly, or more accurately, Mitty, whose kids had swindled away most of his money. Poor guy. Several of the usual patrons nodded and waved. A large form settled beside her on the stool.
Madge circled, her gray countenance lightening. “Afternoon, Ake.”
Stormi swung her head. Sure enough, Ake sat beside her, grinning. A full beard now bloomed on his jaw, but his furry face still held his genuine frankness.
“Two fried fish sandwiches, Madge, and hot coffee.
The waitress gave a smirk. “Big surprise. You’ve been ordering that since you were twelve.”
She walked away thumping her pen to her order pad.
“Hello.” Her greeting earned a hundred watt smile.
“Hi.”
Handsome jobless Johnny, which Stormi now knew as Carl, an army vet with an artificial limb, addressed him from the other side of the u-shaped bar. “I saw on social media that your brother got a new couch. Joni seemed pretty happy.”
Ake nodded. “Yep. That’s what I’m doing now. Getting rid of the old one.”
Madge harrumphed. “Tell that old Hoge to pitch it himself.”
Ake shook his head. “Naw. I don’t mind. Guess I’ll take it to the Salvation Army and see if they’ll take it.”
“Yeah, I ditched my old recliner there,” Carl returned.
“Not me,” the weathered bleach-blond responded, whom Stormi now knew as Sheena, recovering addict. “I always have a big yard sale every year. Last year I earned seven hundred dollars.”
Several let out low whistles and the advantages vs. disadvantages of yard sales continued across the way. Stormi focused her eyes on Ake, who was already assessing her.
“How’s the arm?”
“Fine. Stitches are out. Good as new.” He pulled his arm out of his thick coat and worked up his shirt sleeve. An angry red gash ran down the underside of his right forearm.
Stormi’s stomach clenched. “That looks horrible, Ake. You shouldn’t be lifting couches with it still looking raw.”
He readjusted the material back over the wound. “The doc cleared me, so I figure I can do most things.”
“Hoge with you?”
“Nope.”
Madge brought her to-go sack and her Cherry Coke. She took Stormi’s money and hiked back to the cash register.
Ake’s brows descended. “You’re not eating here?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Oh.”
The sag of his shoulders was comical. She glanced around. How embarrassing would it be to unpack a to-go bag just to eat with Ake? The jukebox kicked on in the rea
r of the restaurant and the whine of a steel guitar filled the space.
“You could get yours to go, and we could head to my house to eat it.” She kept her voice low, hoping to keep Mitty, Carl, Sheena, and Madge from adding their two cents.
His face brightened. “Okay.”
Well, this had worked out nicely. She didn’t have to trudge up Blackberry Hill against the wind. His sandwiches soon arrived, and they hopped down to head for the exit. Too late the thought came. What did everyone think of them leaving together? Perhaps it would add to the whole “relationship” thing. She couldn’t help a glance behind her. Yes, several pairs of eyes were fastened on them. Yard sale conversations just got pitched out the door. She and Ake were sure to be the new topic.
Ake led her to his old black truck with an enormous couch in the bed. She thankfully scurried to the passenger side where he held the door. As he drove, wheels spun in her head. A couch? Hmmm.
Chapter Ten
“So, where are you taking this couch?”
He glanced at her before answering. “I thought I’d take it to the Salvation Army Store over in Fulbright. Why?”
“I…need a couch.”
He pulled in her driveway and threw the gear into park. “No problem. I’ll carry it in.”
Her mouth dropped. “I can’t just take your brother’s couch.”
“Why not?”
She sputtered, clutching her brown bag from the grill. “Well, I should pay for it or send a donation. I don’t want to be a charity case. Besides, you shouldn’t just lug that in by yourself.”
He grinned. “You could help me.”
For a moment she just stopped and took in his wholesome face with his cheerful smile and a dash of twinkle in his eye. He was really quite gorgeous with his dark eyes, hair, and beard. She’d pondered why he captivated her so much, and she hadn’t settled on the exact reason yet.
She’d dated much more handsome men. Richer, more powerful men. Yet even now as she surveyed him, sipping on her cherry coke, her day had brightened as soon as he’d appeared. No one else had ever done that. She pushed it aside for more study and shot him a mock glare. “Me? I’m going to carry a couch?”
He reached over and squeezed her bicep. “Sure. No problem. The couch is a lightweight.” His door protested in squeaky volume as he swung from the vehicle. He reappeared at her door and opened it. “But right now, we eat.”
Stormi led Ake to the back and let them both in. Thankfully the place was clean. She dropped her keys and bag on the counter and removed her coat. He did the same. Thankful for the burgundy ribbed turtleneck and undershirt, she rubbed her upper arms in the chilly air.
“What is that?” He pointed to her couch and chair and then edged over to investigate.
“Oh. That’s my current furniture.”
His faced twisted comically. “They’re like…balloons.”
She laughed. “Yep. And they fit nicely at the dorm. But I think I’ve outgrown them.”
He stabbed a finger at the vinyl. “This holds you up?”
“For the most part.”
He grinned and turned to settle his large form in the center of the couch. Both ends curled up in rejection of all that weight. His laughter burst out. She hurried with her camera phone aloft. “Wait, wait. Don’t get up. That’s hilarious.”
He sat inches from the floor with a huge smile on this face. She clicked several shots, giggling at his predicament.
“All right.” He grunted. “Give me a hand.”
She set the phone down and returned to pull him out with both hands. He rose on a chuckle. “Sure glad I didn’t go to college if that’s all they had.”
“No, silly. That’s just what I had. And it worked okay for me.”
Giving the air furniture one last inspection and a shake of his head, Ake drifted over towards the two bays where the old garage doors still hung. “You sure have a lot of cold air coming in here. You need some insulation. With some two-by-fours and drywall, you could re-make this whole wall.”
Stormi went to stand near him gawking at the far wall. “I suppose. But I wouldn’t know how to do any of that.”
“I do.”
She patted his arm and turned to head back toward the counter. “You’ve got enough on your plate, Ake Pearson. Fishing, taking care of your parents, delivering couches.”
“It wouldn’t take long.”
The plates clattered together as she pulled them down from the only overhead cabinet. “I suppose, if one knew how.”
He rotated and came to stand beside her. “Well, I do. We could knock out that project in a weekend or two.”
She blinked at him. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask.” He grinned and settled on a stool. “I like your place. Nice and open.”
“Yeah. It’s a caveman’s dream, I suppose.” She settled her form close to him and unwrapped her sandwich.
“You want me to ask the blessing?”
For a moment she said nothing. Then, dawning washed over her. “Oh, sure. The prayer.”
“Father, thank you for this food you’ve given us, amen.” He pushed his wrapper aside and took a bite.
Lovely to have someone to pray beside you. Even such a simple prayer. A pleasant sensation swelled within Stormi’s chest.
Ake chewed and swallowed. “Anyway, my mom said this used to be the old garage when she was little. Duckett’s Garage. Her dad, my grandpa, used to get his car serviced in here. I guess it went through several owners, and then it went out of business. Finally someone just sided it over and turned it into a house. Never would’ve guessed that the garage doors were still in here.”
“Yeah well, I wished they would have put in a front door. What house doesn’t have a front door?”
“We could do that, too.”
She took a swig of drink before answering. “What?”
Ake tore into his second sandwich. “We could insulate, drywall, and add a front door.”
“No, Ake. Too much work.” She rose and tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash.
“It would be a lot warmer. And it would make the house have more value if you decide to sell.”
Her face quirked. “Why would I sell?”
“Just in case.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” he crumbled up the paper and washed the last of his lunch down with coffee, “let’s start with the couch and maybe I’ll talk you into it.”
Ake had been right. She carried her side of the couch without any difficulties. Deflating the blow-up couch was exhilarating. Her new denim-covered couch showed a little wear, but overall looked clean and comfortable. She flopped on it. “Oooh. Snuggly.”
He grinned and sat next to her. “Yeah, and look. Both ends stay on the ground.”
She laughed.
“I’ve taken a lot of naps on this couch and can tell ya that it’s pretty cozy.”
The soft denim nearly matched the jeans she wore, and she pressed herself against the back cushion. Somehow knowing Ake had napped here made her like it even more.
“Now, the wall.”
She groaned. “You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Do you really know what you’re doing?” She shot him a look.
“I built my own house.”
Well, that did carry some weight. “The whole thing?”
“Yep.”
She studied his face. “You’re an interesting person, Ake.”
His face contorted. “What do you mean?”
With a shrug she sat up to face him. “You know. Once you told me you struggled in school. Yet, you know all about fishing and built your own home.”
He stared at the empty fireplace. Was he embarrassed? She reached up and turned his face to hers. “That’s something to be proud of.”
***
Ake stared into her stormy eyes. This was exactly why he couldn’t get her out of his mi
nd. Everyone else treated him like—well, a dummy. But she always pointed out how smart he was. And for the life of him, he had no idea how she did that. But he soaked up the admiration in her eyes. “God’s given everyone different talents.”
Her eyes grew misty, and she dropped her hands. She bounced from the couch and turned around several times. Finally she blurted out. “I’m a Christian.”
Fire snapped from her eyes. Passion flared from her hands, those small hands. She seemed to be waiting for something. “Okay.”
“Ake!”
His gaze went back to hers. “Yeah?”
“Are you?”
“Of course. Since I was a small kid.”
She pulled her hands in and crossed them over her middle, tugging the end of her sleeves over her hands. “Oh. I—just became one. Well, I mean, just a few months back.”
He rose and grinned. “That’s great. You want to join me for church tomorrow?”
A quirk started at the side of her mouth. “I’ve been meaning to find a place. So…yeah.”
“Cool.” He gestured to the far wall. “Now, if we get the supplies, we could start tonight. We’ve got a long winter coming up.”
She walked to him and reached a hand up to tug on his beard. He flicked his brows. “What was that for?”
“I don’t know.” A full bellied laugh bubbled from her. “I thought I wouldn’t like your beard, but it’s growing on me. And I suppose the thought of fixing that wall is growing on me, too.”
He nodded, supposing that kissing her was out of the question since there was no one here to witness it. But he sure did have a hankering to pull her tight against him. She, grinned at him, hands on hips, chest thrust out, and a swagger to her body framed behind by the window’s light. He rubbed his hands together to stop them from reaching out. That’s how he’d gotten into trouble before. His first crush sure hadn’t welcomed his clumsy attempts.
Somehow, the expression in Stormi’s eyes made him think this situation proved to be quite different. But he reined himself in nonetheless, dreading her possible rejection. No, he’d take this camaraderie with her rather than risk everything. Besides, she needed him. The winter would get a lot worse, and she’d be in here freezing. Sure was glad he’d stopped at Calvert’s. ’Course, he’d had the notion he might catch her in there.
The Secret Storm Page 8