by Ellie Hall
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I’d rather scrape out a dirty pigpen using only my fingernails than paint a fence, so yeah, it’s that bad.”
Nick laughed and the way he smiled at me made my heart take off at a gallop. Geeze. Granny was right—I needed to get out more. All it took for me to swoon was for a guy to grin at me. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or joking again.”
I turned away to attach the staple gun to the air compressor hose. He didn’t need to see how pathetically desperate I was. “You’ve obviously never painted a fence before.”
“I can’t say I have, but this summer has definitely been a season of firsts, some of which I don’t like, and some of which I like very, very much.”
I was at risk of getting lost in his eyes, wondering where I fit in the spectrum of his likes and dislikes but instead of asking him outright like a grown woman might do, I drowned out any possibility of conversation by turning on the air compressor.
It chugged loudly as it pressurized while Nicked helped me measure and cut the hardware cloth. Positioning the two ladders I’d drug out of the tool shed, Nick held one end of the hardware cloth against the rafters while I put in a row of staples to hold up my end.
Handing over the staple gun, Nick gave me a wary look. “I’ve never used a staple gun before.”
“I can tell you’ll be a natural.” I shook it at him, insistent he at least give it a try. “Go ahead.”
“I’m not going to shoot myself in the leg?”
“Not unless you’re holding it against your thigh when you pull the trigger.”
Nick glanced up at the ceiling, still unsure of himself. “What if I mess up? I don’t want my work to look amateur.”
“So then you mess up. What better place to learn than a barn? No one’s going to care if I have a crooked staple in my ceiling and if they do, it’s their problem for looking so closely.”
“Alright, but if you hear any complaints from your hens, I’m going to say I told you so.”
“My hens are very forgiving.” I said. “Nothing like Licorice.”
“You have no idea. She bites my hand every time I go get the eggs and the rest of her day is spent plotting revenge.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s she been doing? Pushing threatening notes under your door?”
“Might as well be. The other afternoon, I watched the little she-devil strut onto the front porch, peek in the screen door to make sure I was watching, then drop a fresh one right on the welcome mat.”
I shook with laughter. “Maybe it’s a sign of endearment?”
“The same way keying someone’s car might be.”
I clung to the ladder as I laughed. Nick grinned ear to ear as he reached for the staple gun and took it from me. The second his fingers brushed against mine, I had to tighten my grip on the ladder to keep from melting into a lovesick puddle of goo on the ground. It may have been wishful thinking, but it seemed like Nick noticed the connection between us, too.
“Alright, here goes nothing.” Squinting as he pulled the trigger, Nick closed his eyes completely as the staple was ejected with a loud pop. Peeking through one eye to see if he’d done it, a broad smile of achievement overtook his uncertainty. “I don’t know why it’s surprising, but staple guns are extremely satisfying.”
“My personal favorite is the sledgehammer.”
Nick reached his long arms down to the other end of the hardware cloth and popped another staple in. “Is it as therapeutic as it sounds?”
“Especially right after a significant other breaks up with you. By the end of the day, I can barely remember the guy's name.”
“Huh.” Nick grunted. “Have you had to use it often?”
I avoided looking at Nick so I wouldn’t have to see his look of pity. That kind of sympathy always made me feel like a total loser. “More often than I care to admit. But, maybe it’s just as well I kind of lost faith in men and dating after the last one. I might’ve thrown out my back with how frequently I had to use it some years.”
Despite my attempt to joke about my sad love life, Nick didn’t laugh. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, Maren.”
I brushed him off with a wave of my hand. “Granny told you all about my pathetic past when you first met, remember?”
“She said you were single and ready to mingle, but she didn’t say you were pathetic.”
“It feels pretty synonymous,” I mumbled.
“I see you’ve got a sledgehammer by the water spigot. Had to use it lately?”
Nervous sweat prickled along my hairline and I itched at it. Ghosts of past boyfriends had never been my favorite topic, mostly because it meant that I had a zero percent success rate when it came to relationships.
“The closest thing I’ve had to a country boy keeping me company in a long while is John Denver and a playlist of his classic hits.”
Nick scooted his ladder over and put in another row of staples. “I see.”
I pinched my lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my eye. I remember that tone.”
“Tone? What tone?”
“Your judgemental, you’re-pathetic-so-I-feel-sorry-for-you tone.”
“I don’t have a tone.”
The more agitated I became, the more it amused Nick. “Yes, you do. Is the fact that I haven’t had a boyfriend in nearly a year shocking? If I remember right, you were always the one to have a girlfriend attached to you at the hip from sixth grade on. I don’t have that incessant need to use relationships as a crutch.”
“Ouch, now you’re punching below the belt,” Nick said with a smirk.
“It’s not a low blow if it’s true.”
“You’re exaggerating. I had the occasional girlfriend in middle school, sure, but they were never anything serious.”
“If by occasional, you mean you had a five minute breather between breaking one girl’s heart before moving onto the next shiny new thing, and not serious as in you weren’t carrying around a ring in your pocket, ready to propose in the cafeteria after you’d finished your fiestada and chocolate milk, then yeah, you didn’t date that much.”
Nick leaned over the top of his ladder and stared long enough that I started to squirm. “Do I detect a tinge of jealousy in your jab at me?”
He’d succinctly speared my agitation with one question. Jealous? Yeah, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was so intuitive he could see right through me. I picked at a drop of dried paint I’d splattered on my ladder when I’d repainted the barn last autumn. “Not so much jealousy as a sort of disappointment. You left me high and dry and it hurt enough that I must not have ever let it truly heal.”
“What do you mean?”
I kept myself moving to give myself the best chance of quelling the ridiculous surge of emotions the whole conversation had brought on. It had been years since we’d fallen out of favor with each other, but the stabbing pain of being abandoned by my best friend felt as fresh as a rose thorn catching on bare skin.
I brushed my hair away with a swipe of my hand, pretending it was from sweat and not to hide the tears that were gathering along my lashes. I was crying? Nothing could have made me feel more absurd. Forcing a laugh, I shrugged as casually as I could muster. “I mean, one minute, you were my best friend, the next, I was cast aside because I was a girl and didn’t want to play football or soccer every single day at recess. Then, when you decided girls weren’t the plague of the earth, you became a serial dater instead of seeking me out to be friends again.”
“I guess I thought you weren’t interested in being friends. You had stopped talking to me, too.”
“There wasn’t any way to get a word in with you between all the time you spent with your fan club.”
“I didn’t have a fan club.”
I quirked my head and raised my eyebrows in challenge. “You sure? I can’t tell you how often I’d see girls ball up in the hallway so they c
ould giggle and flip their hair as you passed.”
Nick’s mouth fell open to refute me, but I forced my eyebrows so high it hurt and he had to acknowledge I was right. “Okay, fine. If I’m being honest, I used to hide behind a steady stream of girlfriends, but it wasn’t an intentional move to block you out.”
“What was it then?”
He shrugged, suddenly looking very small and unsure of himself as he climbed down his ladder. “I don’t think a lot of people realize it, but it’s possible for a guy to be insecure, too.”
I mulled over his words, and having the tables turned, I didn’t resent his sympathy anymore. “I get it. Being a kid can be tough.”
I went back to stapling when I felt Nick’s hand gently squeeze my knee. “Maren, I should probably tell you that I regret a lot of things.”
I swallowed the boulder of emotion in my throat. “Like what?”
“First of all, for abandoning our friendship. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I don’t either.” I grinned, grateful for his apology and how it eased the burden I’d carried for so long. “At least you’re realizing it now.”
I stuck out my tongue and Nick belly laughed. “I am. You have to know you turned out pretty amazing. I can’t imagine any girlfriends I’ve ever had using power tools or single handedly running her own farm and small business, while still having time to help out her clueless neighbor.”
“You’re not totally clueless.” I reached over and messed with Nick’s hair. It was just as soft and thick as I imagined. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. I don’t throw compliments out there unless I mean them.” I climbed down my ladder and scooted it over so we could do the last row. “You know, you never told me how you ended up out at the Granges.”
“I didn’t?”
“Nope. I would have remembered an explanation as to why Nick Parker chose to come here and subject himself to this lifestyle. My first guess is that maybe you’re in witness protection and hiding from the mob.”
“Nope. No mob affiliation.”
“I never said it was a solid guess.”
“What did you imagine my life would have been like if I’m a fish out of water here?”
“I suppose I imagined you living in some posh high-rise in the middle of downtown, working at one of those jobs that requires you wear a tie.”
Nick’s chuckle was quiet. “You nailed it.”
“Really?”
“A couple months ago, that’s exactly what my life was like.”
“Mind if I ask what happened?”
“It’s not that entertaining. Basically, the corporation I was working for faced budget cuts, I was one of the low men on the totem pole. Without a job, I lost my apartment, followed by me losing my fiancée—”
“Hang on.” I held my hand up to stop him. “You were engaged?”
“Yeah. Why? You think I’m one of those guys who’s afraid to commit?”
“No. Your lack of mentioning her is surprising. A fiancée is a big deal and an ex-fiancée…well, that’s even bigger.”
“The woman kind of shredded my heart into a bloody pulp. Not exactly my idea of a fun dinner conversation.”
I nodded. “Of course. Sorry. I feel like I keep sticking my foot in my mouth. It’s none of my business.”
Nick shrugged, graciously letting my comment roll off his back. “Don’t worry about it. The more time I’ve spent out here, the more I’m thinking I’m ready to move on and see what the future holds.”
His words created a hope that felt as satisfying as a cool breeze on a hot summer day. Maybe our futures were intertwined and if he was ready to explore, I was willing to take a chance, too.
“Good for you. You can’t live life letting your past hold you back. It’s letting fear win.”
“That sounds like a good motivational quote to put on your chickens’ wall.”
I snorted an unladylike noise so hard it hurt my nose. “Maybe.”
“You really believe it, though?”
“That’s the way I try to live my life. Fearless and unafraid.”
Nick tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at me. “You’re telling me that you aren’t afraid of ending up alone?”
“Afraid? No. For one, I can’t control another person, even if I fall madly in love with them. If they choose not to love me in return, does that mean I should love myself less?”
“No, but rejection does hurt all the same.”
“Never said it didn’t.” Finishing the last of the staples, I took a moment to admire our handiwork. “Fear and feeling pain aren’t the same thing.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“Since I’ve mastered my fears, it’s made life so much less complicated.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “All of them? You can’t think of a single thing that scares you?”
“Not really.”
“Tornadoes? Haunted cemeteries? I think I remember you being afraid of spiders.”
“I got over it. They’re part of farm life and they help get rid of the flies.”
A wry smile crept up Nick’s mouth and he pointed behind me. “So you wouldn’t freak out if I told you there was a spider, only inches from your head?”
“How long has it been since I’ve fallen for one of your pranks?”
“No. Really. It’s coming down right now. You might want to move.”
I crossed my arms and frowned. “How gullible do you think I am?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the outstretched arms of a plump orb spider gliding down its spindly web, aiming for my shoulder. Instinctively, I spun around on the ladder, ducking and twisting away. In my flash of panic, I tilted the ladder off balance and it tipped dangerously. With one frightened squeak, I fell off, spread eagle in a spectacular dive.
I should have landed on my rear, but Nick had his arms out to snag me before I did. It wasn’t the graceful, romantic save that’s shown in the movies, where I ended up clutched next to his broad chest. Instead, we were kind of tangled together, his left arm hooked under my right and his other wrapped around my upper leg. Even as solid as he was, I’d created enough momentum that we slammed against the opposite wall.
I could feel Nick’s steady breathing, interrupted by a low, rumbling laugh. “I don’t know how you define fear, but that itty bitty spider on its web turned you into Miss Muffet.”
“That wasn’t itty bitty. It could have wrapped me up in its web and sucked me dry.”
“Admit it. You do have at least one fear.”
“Okay. Maybe I was exaggerating my comfort level around spiders. There. Are you happy? Now you know at least thirty-seven percent of my deep, dark secrets.”
Nick let go of my leg, set me upright, and spun me around to face him, resting his warm hands on my shoulders. I was sure my knees were liquifying. “You don’t have to worry about being lonely.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because,” Nick said with a grin that he’d crafted especially for me, “you’ve got me.”
6
Maren was absolutely right—painting fences was the worst. It’d taken forever and when I finally stood up, I tossed the paint brush in the nearly-empty paint can and threw my hands up in the air like I’d just won an Olympic gold. I hadn’t walked away unscathed, though. I was probably wearing half the paint I’d used, but it’d been worth it, knowing I was saving Maren from a chore she loathed. It was the least I could do for her.
I couldn’t wait for Maren to see it, but checking my watch, I knew I had to get out of there fast. She and Granny would be coming back from the farmer’s market any minute and I wanted my service to be anonymous, if only for a few seconds. It wasn’t going to cost Maren too many brain cells to figure out it was me , but I didn’t want her to think I was standing around, waiting for her to compliment me on my hard work either.
I’d been racing the sun since they’d left
and it was starting to lean toward the horizon when my phone rang. Wiping off my fingers on my already-ruined t-shirt, I pulled it out and checked the screen. I’d deleted the contact, but I recognized the number in an instant.
Brittney was on the other end.
Ice seeped through my veins and I wondered what she could possibly want. We hadn’t talked since she handed back my engagement ring and I didn’t feel much like picking up where we left off now.
My brain told me to ignore her, but my hand had other ideas. I swiped to answer and held it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Nick? Oh, my goodness. It’s so good to hear from you.”
How was I supposed to answer? Her own voice was familiar and talking to her used to bring out all sorts of warm fuzzies, but then she had to go and hurt me. No, not hurt—that was too gentle. She carved out a black hole where my soul used to be and filled in the wound with a dump truck of salt for good measure.
Yeah, our breakup wasn’t mutual and friendly by any stretch of the imagination.
“Brittney?”
“Of course it is, silly. Were you expecting someone else?”
I wanted to laugh at the irony of her timing, but it was stuck somewhere inside. “Why are you calling?”
There was a silence on the other end that made me want to tear my hair out. Brittney knew uncomfortable silence made me prone to spill my guts. Instead of falling for it, I clamped my mouth shut and waited for her to answer.
Brittney sighed. I hoped she was rolling her eyes and having to breathe through her teeth to keep her blood pressure down. Vindictive? Maybe, but I was the one with a crater-sized hole missing from my heart. “I missed you.”
I had to pick my jaw up off the ground. This was the phone call I’d been waiting for. I’d been living in denial, telling myself that our life together had only been temporarily sidetracked, but it would be pieced back together if I was patient. I’d find another great job and fantastic apartment. Then, Brittney would find her way back.
But now? Given the perspective being with Maren had given? I didn’t feel incomplete without Brittney anymore.