by L. B. Dunbar
“Let’s get to work,” Rita says to Nolan before glancing over at me. “Jake, get back to work.” Her demand is soft but still commanding before she addresses Nolan once more.
“Let’s step into my temporary office.” She chuckles as she tips her head toward her crossover and leads Nolan toward the vehicle. I’m frozen in place on the pavement, watching my brother wheel behind Rita. Her head twists to make certain Nolan follows her, and then her body shifts so she can look at me as she walks backward.
“Thank you,” I mouth to her.
“Anytime, handsome.” Rita salutes me with two fingers at her forehead before lowering her gaze to my brother and offering him another smile.
Watching Rita interact with my brother for a moment, a presence comes to my side.
“She’s good people,” Sullivan states beside me, pride filling his voice, along with desire. I haven’t missed how Sullivan tracks Rita, just as I do when she’s on-site.
“She’s the best of women,” I mutter, having stated the same thing to Rita once. I don’t deserve her, and Nolan certainly doesn’t deserve her kindness either.
A half hour later, Nolan starts to wheel away from Rita, and I drift over to him. “What’s happening?”
Nolan explains the job offer Rita’s given him. Rita has stepped up to listen and occasionally nods at Nolan’s explanation.
“Does this arrangement have a time limit?” I question, glancing up at Rita, shocked by all I’ve learned. The social media work Nolan can easily do from a computer. The fundraising efforts seem like something Nolan would be good at organizing, and the youth group, which is a bit of a surprise, could really do Nolan some good.
“This isn’t a sentence,” Rita clarifies. “It’s effort. Nolan will get out of it what he puts into it.”
“And Nolan can speak for himself,” he interjects, narrowing his eyes up at Rita. Rita softly chuckles and shakes her head at my brother. They aren’t friends, but I can see she’s trying. She’d done more than a friend might do. She did what I asked, and then she took it one step further. She’s put her faith in Nolan, too.
“Rita says you’ll be leaving the area,” Nolan mentions, changing the subject.
“I explained how you’d like to move out of state, but I can’t place you on our sites in New Hampshire yet. We have a new project up in Gaskin,” Rita clarifies.
“You’re really moving away?” Nolan questions, his voice lowering with regret.
My eyes leap up to Rita. “I’m undecided.”
Her lips purse, ignoring my comment, and she pats Nolan on the shoulder. “Well, Nolan, it’s good to have you here.”
“Yeah, I need to get going. I have that meeting next.” Nolan sets his hands on his wheels, but I step before him. My hands lift, stopping my brother’s retreat.
“What meeting?” I ask, fear creeping over my skin. Is this another setup for Nolan to turn himself in? What is Rita playing at?
“Rita found me a therapist.”
Slowly, I lower my raised arms. “Why?”
Nolan looks up at Rita once more and then back at me. “I need someone to talk to.” Shame fills his voice as he twists his lips, but there’s nothing shameful in seeking help.
“I-I’m proud of you for this.”
“Yeah?” Nolan’s head lifts higher, and he visibly swallows before glancing back at Rita once more. Then a shield drifts back over his pleased expression, and he stiffens his jaw. He’s scared, and I don’t blame him. It’s difficult to accept he’s done wrong. “Okay. I’ll see ya around.”
I step out of Nolan’s way, and he rolls past me to his car. For a few minutes, I watch him work his way down the drive and then open his door, maneuvering himself with the aid of the door. Everything in me wants to rush forward and assist him. Wants to take over and help him. Protect him.
“He’s going to be okay,” Rita states, and I turn back to her, squinting in the bright sunshine.
“How do you know?” The question seeks reassurance. Will Nolan find what he needs? Will he not feel as if he’s been left behind? Will he repent what he’s done? Will he find forgiveness for himself? The questions seem endless, and genuine concern still exists because he is my brother.
“I believe in second chances. This is his.” Rita gives me a weak smile before turning around and returning to her crossover, where the passenger door remained open. A laptop sits on the seat along with a file box on the floor. Rita needs a real office, and I might know the perfect place for it.
As the week comes to a close, the project receives its final touches. Saturday is the big reveal for the family and Rita has invited me to join them even though Saturday isn’t a mandatory day for me. I was expecting a large bus blocking the building like those emotional extreme makeover shows or maybe a big barrier, separated by the fixer-upper hosts. In prison, we watched a lot of random television. But the truth is, Jackie and Bob park down the street and are guided to the house with hands over their eyes. It’s a bit comical but also exciting.
The couple stands side by side clutching hands. Their son sits in his wheelchair while their daughter stands beside him, covering his eyes with her hand. He chuckles as he keeps trying to swat it away, and his sister demands her hand block his sight. Sullivan Vance is present along with Alfred Jennings, the officially former director of Building Buddies. Nolan is here as well.
“Jackie and Bob, are you ready to see your new home?” Rita even sounds like a television host, announcing the big reveal, and I find I’m actually holding my breath, hoping they like what they’ll see. I hope this house will recover all they’ve lost and offer them a future. I hope it brings them peace.
My eyes don’t leave Rita as she tells them to remove their hands. The air actually stills around us a second before Jackie bursts into tears, and Bob wraps his arms around his wife. The joy on their faces, along with the relief, is almost too much. My heart swells, and my eyes prickle.
Rita rubs a hand up Jackie’s back. “Would you like to go inside?” Her softened tone encourages the couple to move forward. Sullivan holds the keys to the house, and he hands them over to the stunned couple.
Nolan has been watching the whole process with rapture. Something settles over his expression, softening it a little bit, and I’m wondering if he’s thinking the same thing as me. This is a family. This is their new home and a second chance for them. Whatever the future has in store for them, they’ll weather it together.
“I’ll race you,” Nolan suddenly teases of the young boy in his wheelchair, sounding like a kid himself. The little girl squeals beside her brother before she reaches around the chair and pushes her brother forward. They each take off, but Nolan holds back, allowing the kids to feel like they’re winning. The laughter coming from all of them is like a fist clenching in my stomach—a happy fist—one that wants to hold on tighter.
Bob gives gratitude to Rita, but Rita shifts his praise. “Sullivan and Jake did it all.”
When Bob steps over to me, I anticipate his hand, but instead, he reaches for me, pulling me in for a back-slapping hug.
“Thank you, man,” he mutters over and over again. “Thank you from my entire family.” My eyes burn, and I rapidly blink away the threat of tears.
“It was no trouble,” I admit, uncertain if Bob knows anything about my history. This wasn’t a project but a sentence. Then again, standing here watching all of them, pride fills my insides. At this moment, it has become so much more.
Jackie steps up next. Her tear-soaked face is wet as she brings me in for a hug, burying her face in my neck. She begins to sob again.
“Thank you so much.” She draws back to pat my cheek once before holding my face a second. Looking me in the eye, she repeats herself. “Thank you for everything.”
The damn threat of tears breaks on me, and I quickly press at my lids, drawing my fingers over them to the bridge of my nose.
“It was nothing,” I state.
“It means everything,” she says, turning to
include Rita.
“We owe you everything.”
“You owe us nothing,” Rita states, her voice confident and reassuring. This seems to encompass Rita’s entire attitude. No one owes anybody anything. We owe what we do to ourselves first. Service to others second.
As a couple, Jackie and Bob are led by Sullivan to the ramp where their son has beaten Nolan up the incline. Nolan is giving the daughter a high five. As I watch their interaction, I accept that this is all I ever wanted in my life. A family. A home. I had those things in a slightly unconventional manner. I’ve definitely been missing them in the last decade.
“You did this,” Rita says beside me. “You did good here,” she adds, still glancing at the house. Her hands are tucked into the back pockets of her jeans as she nods at the place. Pride fills her voice along with appreciation. She loves what’s been done here, and I have to agree I do as well. It feels good to give Jackie and Bob this fresh start. It feels good to build something and see that, like anything, there is a beginning and an end. The thought has me staring at Rita. Some things are not meant to end, though.
“Is that a compliment?” I tease. The last week has been difficult. Rita has been here full time, but we haven’t had a moment alone together. I have so much to say, so many apologies to give her, but I’ve been stumped as to where to start.
“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head, handsome. It’s already big enough,” she snarks back, giving me an easy smile.
“You still think I’m handsome?” I joke, falling easily into our old banter.
“You already know I do,” she says, her voice lowering, reminding me of all the tender moments between us.
“Would you let me buy you a coffee? To celebrate.”
Observing her red-rimmed glasses and her light-colored hair blowing in the breeze, Rita wanted the same things I did at one time. A spouse. A home. Maybe children. If I could restore anything for her, it would be these things, and I chew my lip waiting on her answer to my invitation.
“Sure,” Rita says. She shrugs and squints back at the house. “Why not?” Her casual response has that fist in my belly unclenching a little bit, but a new tightness fills me instead.
“Meet you on the couch,” she teases, implying our spot at the Busy Bean.
“Actually, I was wondering if you could ride with me. I have somewhere I’d like to show you first.”
28
Rita
Never let ’em see you sweat, my dad used to say when he’d coach me on how to handle a courtroom if I had to enter one. So, I was trying my best not to let Jake sense the hesitation rolling off me as I climbed into his truck. We’d been together in his pickup plenty of times, and maybe that was the first part of my fear. The memories of making out with Jake in this front seat were overwhelming.
The harder part of being in his truck, though, was the confinement with him. His scent of sawdust and cinnamon overpowered everything in the cab, and my thighs clenched like the fragrance was an aphrodisiac. My attraction to Jake had not waned despite his exit from my bedroom or even his anger in that courthouse. If anything, over the past week, his attention on me working with his brother only doubled the magnetism. I felt him watching. And sometimes, I thought it might be apprehension. He didn’t believe in my intentions to help his brother, which made me better understand his desire for another person’s faith.
I wanted him to have faith in me.
I consider myself a decent person, but that confidence has been tested, and I wanted to prove to Jake I believed in his brother. Good people make bad decisions all the time. I’d had to come to terms with Jake’s decision not to turn in his brother because it was his decision, not mine. And then I had to agree to help Nolan when parts of me screamed he didn’t deserve it. I went to an AA meeting every night that week to remind myself we all deserve a second chance. Each person has moments of poor decision-making and the consequences that follow. If forgiveness isn’t an option, we’d all be damned.
“Where are we going?” I question as we bypass the turn-off for Colebury and head in the direction of Hampshire.
“As I said, I’d like to show you somewhere first.”
To my surprise, we pull up before the old fire station. Jake pauses, and I turn my head to stare out the window.
“Do you trust me?” Jake asks, and I swivel in my seat to face him.
“I never doubted you.” Once I got over that initial hurdle of Jake’s sentence and then learning what happened from his perspective, I never felt a moment of distrust in him. I believed in him. I’d even wanted to believe in an us, but that seems like a lifetime ago.
Jake nods before opening his door. “Wait a second?”
I remain in my seat until he comes to open my door. A small thrill rumbles up my middle. Then he takes my hand, and a tsunami of apprehension fills me. Anticipation mixes with hesitation, and for a moment, I feel sick. I don’t want to read too much into him touching me.
Jake leads me to a smaller door in the larger garage opening. Quickly unlocking it with a key, we enter the vast space where dust dances in the dim sunlight streaming through the windows, and a few items are scattered in the once empty truck space. Jake releases my hand and steps to the side, flipping a switch.
Miniature Edison bulbs on strings illuminate the dark space. The crisscross effect is almost romantic until I lower my gaze for the large workstation covered in scraps of industrial items and light bulbs.
“What’s this?” I question stepping forward to admire a collection of lamps Jake has designed using old pipes and wires. Examining each piece, I lower to one in particular. It’s man-made entirely out of copper conduit with that abstract cylinder head becoming a signature of Jake’s work. On the chest is the smallest of bulbs shaped like a heart. He looks like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz only he’s copper and missing a funnel for a hat.
“I’m calling him Man Enlightened.”
I stand upright and stare at the creation. “He’s beautiful.” The piece is solid but looks delicate, and still, my fingers itch to touch it.
“He opened his heart to possibility.”
I glance over my shoulder, wondering what he means. “What possibility?”
“Love. Second chances. New directions.”
Slowly, I smile and return my attention to the structure. “So, you’ve bought the place?” I glance up and over our heads at the vast room.
“I did,” he says, and I sense the smile in his tone. Gazing at him, he looks upward. “This will be my workshop. I plan to renovate the apartments upstairs and rent them out. One is mine. Maybe eventually I’ll do something else with this space.” He shrugs, implicating the lower level, and then he lowers his head, meeting my eyes. “For now, I want to keep it just as it is.”
Blushing, I turn away from him and peer at the fire pole still intact. A surge of memory and desire ripples up my middle.
“It’s a work in progress here. Just like me.”
My attention draws back to him. “Aren’t we all?”
He matches my smile. “I have one more spot I want to show you.” For a second, I’m thinking he’s planning to take me upstairs. Show me his apartment. Take me to his bed. Instead, he leads me into the lobby area of the old firehouse. There, an old metal office desk sits, freshly scrubbed and painted a deep metallic gray. The wooden desktop is refinished, perhaps new, and a vase of fall flowers sits on the corner. Beside it is a skein of purple yarn and two knitting needles.
My brows pinch. “Do you knit now?”
“I was thinking the new director of Building Buddies might need an office, and as she loves to knit to help her think, well . . .”
His voice drifts as I stare at him. Then the desk. Then him again.
“What?” The word is more of a choking sound.
“I suppose you might keep your office in Montpelier, but I thought, as you were making a change, maybe you’d prefer someplace new. New-ish. And we could—”
He’s cut off from the rest
of his thought as I’ve thrown myself at him, landing my lips awkwardly against his. He’s still and stiff underneath mine, and I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake. I read into this gesture more than I should have. Quickly, I release him, but just as quickly, his arms fasten around me, and my body is flush with his once more. His mouth latches onto mine, and it’s the kiss I’ve been longing for since he left my bedroom.
His mouth moves against me, soft yet demanding. His hands slide up my back, and one cups the back of my neck. Jake breaks the kiss but rests his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry I walked away.”
I want to tell him I understand. I want to assure him I accept his reasons, but I also don’t want to keep looking backward.
“As long as we’re walking forward together, that’s all that matters.” Pulling back from him, I need to see his eyes. I need to know I’m not alone in my thoughts. “Are we going forward together?”
“Does lightning strike twice?” Jake suddenly asks me, swiping my hair over my ear.
“Yes. Yes, it does. It strikes and strikes hard.”
“Hard, huh?” Jake teases, meeting my eyes again before his lips close over mine once more. His hand at my lower back presses me against him, letting me know how hard he is for me. “I’m in love with you, sweet. I love you.”
My breath hitches as I pull back from the words said against my mouth. “I love you, too, Jake.”
Our mouths come together once more, and then he leads me upstairs to show me his new apartment, the waiting bed, and how hard he is.
29
Rita
Two weeks later
Jake and I are sitting on our comfy plush peach couch. We don’t technically own the thing, but it’s our spot, and I snuggle under his arm as we sip the dark roast heaven on a lazy Sunday morning. The Busy Bean Café is . . . well, busy. Our resident writer sits at her table, typing away. A new barista has arrived. The place is abuzz with subtle activity, but Jake and I remain quiet, in our own little world on this old furniture.