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Hometown Girl After All
Chapter 1 Cool spring air whipped across Julia’s face as she cranked down her truck window. Squinting into the wind, she adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and wondered again at her decision to leave New York. As her thoughts wandered, emerald-tinted buds on the trees and smudges of pink wild flowers on the Pennsylvania hillsides sped past her window. Fumbling with the CD book on the seat next to her and keeping one eye on the road, she tugged out her favorite Beatles album, inserted it, and punched at buttons until The Long and Winding Road hummed across the tattered speakers in the pick-up truck’s door. Ringo pranced in circles on the seat next to her, then stood to plant his front paws on the passenger door. He barked once over his shoulder is if to say, “Hey, roll my window down too.” |
As Julia glanced from her little dog to the country highway and back to the dog, her voice faded from singing with the stereo and her expression softened. “Sorry buddy, I can’t reach from here.” As usual, the goofy mutt managed to draw her thoughts from apprehension to the task at hand.
Ringo yipped, his eyes bright and ears perked.
Julia slowed the truck and pulled onto the shoulder. “Okay okay, you win…” Unbuckling her seat belt, she leaned across the truck to tug and push awkwardly at the passenger window crank. Blond curls fell into her eyes and she blew at them in frustration. Still not limber enough to reach that far over her head, she scooted farther across the seat. It had been years since she had owned a vehicle without power windows and she hadn’t thought about being able to roll down the window for the dog. She supposed she was bound to find many things she hadn’t considered.
Leaning an elbow on the seat, she scratched the little white dog between the ears, taking in the music and the moment, his fur coarse and curly under her fingers. Though she was momentarily lost in thought, Ringo’s squirming once again drew her full attention and she smiled.
“There you go.”
He lapped a wet kiss across her cheek, then happily resumed his position at the window.
“Don’t you fall out,” she warned.
Quirking her brow at the dog, Julia sat up and slid back to her seat, clicked her belt, and cautiously pulled onto the highway. Ringo leaned into the wind, his ears flapping.
By the time they got to Smithville, they would both be windblown, she thought, but happier for it. Winter had been far too long and bitter. A spring breeze was exactly what they needed.
***
Slowing as they pulled into town, Julia felt concern pluck at her brow. The flaws and imperfections of the old buildings along Main Street, even the cracks in the blacktop of the road, stood out sharply in the bright morning sun. The bulky clay pots on street corners stood empty, and sandy gravel lay in the gutters. Both were a testament to the fact that spring was tentative. She’d been told no one here planted flowers or cleaned the debris and salt left by snow plows until Mother’s Day, which was still a week away.
Julia’s lips moved as she read the names of business that lined the two short blocks of downtown Smithville. There was a real estate office in a beautiful old Victorian home, and a café, as well as a repurposed furniture boutique. An old gas station converted to a delivery service was the last business on the street. Recognizing the name of the service as the company delivering her furniture, she paused at the four-way stop for a closer look.
A tall, dark-haired man stepped from the building wearing jeans and a tee-shirt with the company logo on the back. He was grinning as he pulled the door closed behind him and he whistled a tune as he walked. His gaze met Julia’s as he reached for his truck door and he paused, then his eyes opened wide in apparent recognition.
For a split second Julia saw herself as she had been, sitting at the stop sign in her glossy black BMW wearing a prim suit, her hair short and stiff, with designer sunglasses covering her eyes.
Ringo barked, bound across her lap, and pushed his head past her to hang out the window and bark happily at the man. Julia flinched as her world tilted sideways, and she returned to the present, sitting back in the old pickup truck, her loose curls tossed by the wind, with the dog jumping on her worn jeans. Her mind went blank and the now familiar chasm opened beneath her. Grasping for reality, she squirmed in her seat.
She hated the vacuum moments that followed her flashbacks. She felt as if they swallowed her whole. She couldn’t think – couldn’t remember why she was there, or where she’d been going. Her face burned with embarrassment.
Ringo’s paws scrambled on her lap as he put his front paws on her chest. His stubby back legs danced on her lap and his tail wagged as he looked into her eyes, as if to say, “Mom, there’s a man, there’s a man.” The little dog bounded back to the window, his ears flopping and tongue lolling.
The man paused next to his truck, perplexed by Julia’s vacant stare. His dark hair shone in the sun as time slowed, then he lifted his hand from the door handle of his truck and walked across the parking lot toward her.
When he reached Julia’s truck, he patted Ringo’s head and scratched behind his ears. “Hey little fella.” His gaze lifted to Julia and he smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “You must be Julia, welcome to town.”
Feeling confused as to how the man could possibly know her name, she managed a weak smile. “--Do I know you?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Chad Howard, I’ll be delivering your furniture. We don’t get many people here from New York, so I figured it must be you.”
Her expression darkened. She had come here to find a place where no one knew her or anything about her. “—I…”
He pointed to the back of her truck. “You have New York plates…”
Her mouth snapped closed and she nodded, relieved, then extended her hand around the wiggling dog. “Oh, right. I’m Julia Arnold.”
He shook her hand then stepped back from the truck. “Well I guess I’ll see you in the next few days…”
She lifted her hand to say goodbye and Ringo barked. Driving through the intersection, she sighed and pushed the dog from her lap, determined not to berate herself. They’d warned her that the flashbacks and blank moments would continue to happen but she was okay. She did have New York plates, so people would know she was from out of town. Apprehension and despondent gloom filled her heart, but she pushed them back. She could do this.
***
Chad stood rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw as he watched the pickup truck move down the street. Julia had been a surprise. Something about her wide dark eyes had moved him in an unfamiliar way. Unsure what exactly had struck him, besides her delicate features, soft curls, and silken voice; he shrugged and turned back to his truck. She wasn’t really his type.
He’d see her again on Thursday. His delivery business contracted to various moving companies who used the large modular style containers, picking them up in Pittsburgh to drive them to local destinations, but rarely did one come to Smithville.
Walking back to his truck, he considered the address for the delivery. He’d grown up in Smithville and knew pretty much every person and address in town.
Like most of his friends, he’d left for college at eighteen, then had lived in Philly for five years managing a hub for United Package Service but he’d returned to Smithville last year to start his own delivery company.
Julia’s delivery would be going to an old Victorian mansion farther down the highway. The house was on the verge of falling down, if he remembered correctly, and it would take a wealth of both endurance and funding to make the place livable. Come to think of it, he’d seen Mac the plumber at the house last month. Steve, his contractor buddy, had also mentioned he was replacing a wood shingle roof on a Victorian. He’d have to ask the guys if they’d been working on Julia’s place.
He climbed into his pickup truck and backed from the lot. Heading down the highway, he rolled down the window to savor the cool breeze and wondered why someone from New York City would want to move to Smithville. He loved the old town but then he’d been compelled to seek the peace and quiet that was impossible to find in Philly. His folks were getting older, rarely leaving the house these days, snarled traffic drove him insane, and since the accident…city life had lost its charm. Come to find out he was just plain wired for small town life. Besides that, he had to be there for Bobby’s family. Maybe he was just the type of guy who liked waving at his neighbors when they passed, wide-open spaces, and listening to crickets at night.
Julia hadn’t been dressed like a typical city lady, he reflected. His lip quirked. Since when had he evaluated what a woman wore? Unless it was short or tight or…he shifted in his seat and punched at the radio buttons. Whoever she was, she was none of his business. She had looked a bit lost though.
Maybe he’d drive by and make sure she’d found the place okay. Scoffing at his thoughts, he acknowledged that the house was only two blocks away and if she’d found Smithville, she could undoubtedly find the house. But he’d drive by anyway. Something about her had hinted at vulnerability and he wanted to be sure she was okay.
***
As Julia pulled into the driveway of her new home, she closed the small notebook containing the address and directions and tucked it back into her purse. Ringo barked happily and dropped from the window to prance circles on the seat. “Calm down…” she muttered, craning her neck to take in the house and yard. She turned off the ignition and sat with her hands in her lap, feeling the weight of her choices heavy in her chest. The house had been purchased for cash, sight unseen, and she wondered now if she’d made a wise choice. It’s not like she’d had a lot of options in the city but coming here had been a radical plan – an escape.
Pulling the keys from the ignition, she swung open the truck door with a creak and stepped onto the weed-choked gravel driveway. The old house loomed before her, the windows dark. Shadows cast by clouds blotted away the sunbeams dancing across the new wood shingles on the roof.
Absently, she reached for Ringo and tucked him under her arm. She’d been desperate to get away from the city and now she was here. Disappointment and fatigue caused her eyes to burn with tears. Evidently a new location didn’t offer a different life. She was still herself, still overwhelmed, and still alone; just in a strange place. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she straightened her shoulders, blinked back the useless tears, and approached the house.
The two-story home spoke of grandeur long past. A rounded turret formed one corner of the home and the other end of the wraparound porch echoed back with a pointed turret roof. Dormer attic windows poked through the roof like unseeing eyes. The house was built of ancient red brick and the trim had been painted so many times, or so few times, that no paint scheme was obvious, just a hodgepodge of grayed peeling paint and weathered wood. The double front doors were missing window glass; plywood covered the openings, and a rusty awning protruded over the porch from the second story. Julia tilted her head to see if the awning had indeed once hung over the second story windows, instead of sagging onto the porch roof.
Picking her way through knee-deep weeds in the yard with birds singing riotously in the trees, she stepped onto the porch and the boards creaked in welcome. Sure enough, the crew she’d hired over the phone had replaced the rotting deck boards, leaving the porch floor looking yellow compared to the rest of the house. A new lock and handle shone on one door and Julia bent with a groan to lift the welcome mat and find the key.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened, pressed her lips into a thin line and stepped across the threshold. The smell of sawdust and new wood filled her first breath. Rays of sun streamed into the room through the dirty windows, lighting dust motes that fluttered in the air like pixies. The room felt hopeful, an emotion she no longer allowed. Hope only meant reality wasn’t good enough.
Ringo squirmed under her arm and she let him down to run circles, sniffing all along the floor of the room.
Smoothing her hand along the replaced parts of the wood doorjamb, the wood creamy and pale, she took in the various patched floorboards, as well as several windowsills the carpenters had repaired. They’d been told to only improve the inside to a livable point and not to paint or finish the wood. Electricians and a plumber had also been there to make sure the place was manageable, but just barely. She wanted to do all the finishes because she desperately needed a project but she also knew she’d need help with the repairs. Her construction skills were minimal to nonexistent.
Kinking her head back, she took in the stamped tin ceiling, still perfectly intact. Her eyes fell to the wall where an elaborately scrolled wood mantle, over a tarnished brass insert fireplace filled nearly half the wall. On the other side of the room, ornate wooden built-in cabinets and columns opened into the formal dining room. A smaller version of the living room fireplace was on the far wall, and the rounded turret formed a lovely bay window in one corner.
Ringo scampered through an open door off the living room and Julia followed, her footsteps echoing through the empty room. Her fingers lingered on the dark wood doorjamb, and her eyes cast upward to the dusty open transom over the door. Glancing back down, she found herself in the den, the walls lined with ancient wood shelves and grimy dark solid wood paneling. Limp velvet curtains covered the windows, blocking the sun.
“It’s so dark in here,” she commented, wandering to the window to tug open the drapes. Sunshine spilled onto the floor as the antique fabric tore across the seam at the top and fell at her feet with a poof of dust. Sputtering, she waved at the grimy cloud.
“I guess I won’t be making a gown from those…” she mumbled, pushing at the filthy rags with her foot.
Smiling lamely at her little joke, Julia headed back to the living room. Curious, she glanced through the rooms, amazed that this was her home. Her heart beat in her ears, causing her to feel as if she were on a precipice of some kind. Pausing for a moment longer, she took a deep breath, pulling the unusual sensation of home into her lungs. Any type of excitement that bubbled up from the depths she hurriedly tamped back down because if Julia knew anything, she was certain that what felt good now would only cause her pain later.
An ornate wooden staircase led upward in the opposite corner of the living room with a landing in the corner but she chose to investigate a doorway toward the back of the house. A narrow, paneled hall led her past a powder room, obviously not original to the house, but functional, then on to the butler pantry and the back of the kitchen.
Pausing in the pantry door, she took a moment to admire the floor to ceiling cupboards; the bottom cupboard doors with peeling paint and missing hardware, the uppers with wavy glass doors. She loved to cook, and this pantry would be fantastic.
She frowned and withdrew her hand from the pantry door. She had loved to cook, she reminded herself. She had no idea if she could now. It might be too difficult for her to follow a recipe. Besides, she didn’t have a reason to cook anyway.
Stepping inside the pantry, she reached down to open a cabinet door but instead of swinging open, the door leaned out toward her. Charmed by what must have been a flour bin, Julia wished the house could tell her all it had seen through the years. Surely it had seen happiness, drama, and tragedy in its long lifetime.
Closing the bin and laying her hand on the scarred wood counter, she decided maybe she’d been wrong about this just being a different place. She’d been inside for only a few moments and already the old home was weaving its way into her heart.
She frowned. Even the thought of liking her house brought a lump to her throat. It didn’t seem right that she could come here and be happy – that’s not why she’d come. Happiness didn’t last; she had to be practical.
Barking and the clatter of nails on the wood floor overhead interrupted her thoughts and she walked out of the pantry. “Ringo, where are you boy?” she called into the vast empty space of the house.
There was no response and she worried distractedly about the dog as she surveyed the kitchen. The room was large enough but desperately in need of help. Filth and grease covered the walls, and the floor was stained and dirty. Only a sink sitting on cracked cupboards and a mustard-yellow fridge revealed the room had been a kitchen. The broken-down look of this room fit her expectations.
The plumber had assured her she’d have running water but had also advised her that the plumbing would need to be updated right away. Even though the crew she’d hired had swept up and taken out various kinds of trash, the room still smelled of ancient dust, grime, and neglect.
This would be her first project she decided quickly, before she could change her mind. Cleanliness came first and she could lose herself for weeks just working on the kitchen. Meals were a requirement, that was just fact. More barking and scuffling overhead forced Julia to turn back toward the living room and the steps.
“Ringo?” she called, but the dog didn’t reply with a yip or a whine. At the bottom of the stairs Julia stopped to touch a curve of the ornate banister before biting her bottom lip and painstakingly lifting her foot to the first step. One step at a time, she made her way to the top, her fingers white on the worn rail and sweat beading her brow.
The second floor of the house was dark and dismal with old paint and cracked peeling wallpaper. Discouraged, she paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath and regroup. The agonizingly slow healing process never seemed to end. She’d learned to walk again fairly quickly but stairs were another story altogether.
Had she ever been agile? Had she even given it a second thought – appreciated it? She blew out a huffing breath, causing her bangs to stand up from her forehead.
Ringo trotted happily out of a bedroom to circle her feet. Julia’s frustration melted away as she bent to scoop up the little dog and held him up to face her. “You naughty boy, why didn’t you come when I called?” She touched the dog’s forehead to hers, melting into laughter when he lapped at her face with his wide wet tongue. Cradling the dog in her arms, she smiled down at him. “Oh Ringo dog, who rescued who, huh?”
He yipped, his tongue hanging as he smiled back.
Placing the wiggling dog back on the floor, she followed him slowly through the second floor of the old home, finding four sizeable bedrooms with filthy, old fashioned, nine-pane windows. Each room contained a fireplace and there was another outdated bathroom. It was far more room than she and Ringo required. Empty space full of nothing.
Another flight of steps behind a hallway door led to the attic but she wasn’t up for that just yet. Heading back down the stairs, grasping the rails with both hands, she decided that she would set up her bedroom in the main floor den for a while, at least until she could manage the stairs better.
Sitting on the bottom step to rest, Julia tried to imagine the home filled with furniture but no visions materialized. Rays of sun streamed across the dusty floor and her thoughts wandered.
Her things would never fill this space. She didn’t own much now but a mattress and box spring, a small folding table with two chairs, a few boxes of clothing, and her basic kitchen pans and dishes. She couldn’t fit much into her room at the rehab center, besides, she wanted nothing of her past. Her things would only have reminded her of what she’d lost. Memories attached to the city and the people and things she’d cared about were far too painful and confusing to face on a daily basis.
She stood to meander across the living room, Ringo by her side, his nails clattering and echoing in the empty room. Perching on the built-in seat under the front windows, Julia stared across the overgrown, weed-riddled yard. Ringo jumped into her lap and licked her hand. Absently petting the dog, Julia resolved that this was where she belonged. No one here knew anything about her, the house needed her, and she could finally get on with her sorry life.
That deliveryman, Chad, crossed her mind, but she immediately turned her thoughts away. She didn’t want or need any kind of romance. The scars slashed across her heart were far from healed and if she were honest with herself, she didn’t know if she was even capable of managing a relationship. She was no Snow White, and she certainly didn’t deserve a Prince Charming.
Shrugging off the dismal thought of men, she headed toward the back of the house. The realtor had said there was a mower in the garage and she’d need all her strength and determination to mow the front yard. She couldn’t have Ringo running around up to his eyeballs in weeds.
At the back of the house, Julia found a neglected, weatherworn, detached garage. She circled it once, her mouth tugged into a grim slash, trying to decide if the decrepit building would stay standing long enough to even open the door. The filthy windows were dark and the wood shingles on the old building were grey with age, but somehow managed to cling to the bowed roof.
Ringo barked from inside the house as Julia tugged at one of the sagging double doors of the garage. The door should have rolled on casters overhead but even without a ladder she could see that the track was rusted and leaves and debris clogged the wheels. She wasn’t strong by any means but she was determined and was finally rewarded by the door skidding open wide enough to walk through.
Patting her back pocket, groping for her ever-present notebook, Julia realized she’d left it in her purse. She could have started a mental checklist of things to do and add cleaning the tracks over the garage door to the many things already piling up in her mind, but she knew that she’d never remember the list and only be frustrated that she’d forgotten the whole thing. She’d have to walk around the property later with her notebook and take notes.
With the door was finally open, Julia stood scrutinizing the dark interior of the garage. Cobwebs hung like fairy wings from the open rafters, the air was heavy with dust, and a streak of dim sunlight gleamed weakly through the cracked window on the back wall to land on the dirt floor. A grey wood ladder lay tucked amount the rafters, alongside various warped boards and an old toboggan.
As promised, a relatively new lawnmower sat near the front. Evidently the real estate firm had been sending someone to mow but once the house had been purchased they hadn’t come back.
Tugging the mower out into sunlight, Julia paused to catch her breath. Why were everyday tasks still so hard? Bending to put her hands on her knees, her head hanging, for the first time she seriously doubted her choice to move to Smithville. If she couldn’t do something as simple as open the garage, let alone cut the grass, how could she manage to take care of a home?
Desperate and angry, she stood upright and kicked the mower, then perversely watched for a response. Nothing happened of course, her hopelessness never seemed to change anything, so she reached for the pull handle. Remembering her father starting his lawn mower back in her childhood, which seemed five lifetimes ago, she gave the handle a sharp tug, nearly unhinging her shoulder. Luckily the mower started with the first yank and she turned to bump the noisy machine down the strip of grass beside the house leading to the front lawn.
***
An hour later, Julia put all her weight into pushing the garage door closed and flopped against it, gasping for breath. Sunbeams sliced through the naked tree branches, casting stripes across her face. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she brushed dust and dead grass from her shirt. The temperature was dropping as the spring day drew to a close and even though she was overheated, a chill rose across her skin.
Limping up the step to the kitchen, Julia turned the handle and braced herself for Ringo to vault into her arms. As expected, the little dog jumped into her waiting hands, lapping at her face as if she’d been gone for weeks. Inhaling the mingled scent of frantic dog and cut grass, she walked inside and leaned against the wall to rest.
“Come on boy, come see what Mom did,” she finally mumbled to the wiggling dog, straining her neck to evade his kisses as she plodded forward. The old house echoed Ringo’s whimpers and Julia’s sighs as she wandered through the living room to the front window. She held up the little dog to see out. “See? There it is,” she whispered to the dog. “Your bathroom.”
Dropping into the window seat, Julia stared blankly toward the fresh lines in the newly cut yard, now dappled with shadow. Patches of sky past the yard were streaked with pink and orange, warming her weary heart.
She had no idea what would happen to her now but she was away from the city, the past, and the pain. Loneliness she could handle. She knew that for a fact. Her expression darkened. Chad would be delivering her furniture soon. Turning away from the window, she cuddled Ringo and stubbornly decided that she would be just fine there alone and she did not need anyone to come over – especially not Chad.
Ringo yipped, his eyes bright and ears perked.
Julia slowed the truck and pulled onto the shoulder. “Okay okay, you win…” Unbuckling her seat belt, she leaned across the truck to tug and push awkwardly at the passenger window crank. Blond curls fell into her eyes and she blew at them in frustration. Still not limber enough to reach that far over her head, she scooted farther across the seat. It had been years since she had owned a vehicle without power windows and she hadn’t thought about being able to roll down the window for the dog. She supposed she was bound to find many things she hadn’t considered.
Leaning an elbow on the seat, she scratched the little white dog between the ears, taking in the music and the moment, his fur coarse and curly under her fingers. Though she was momentarily lost in thought, Ringo’s squirming once again drew her full attention and she smiled.
“There you go.”
He lapped a wet kiss across her cheek, then happily resumed his position at the window.
“Don’t you fall out,” she warned.
Quirking her brow at the dog, Julia sat up and slid back to her seat, clicked her belt, and cautiously pulled onto the highway. Ringo leaned into the wind, his ears flapping.
By the time they got to Smithville, they would both be windblown, she thought, but happier for it. Winter had been far too long and bitter. A spring breeze was exactly what they needed.
***
Slowing as they pulled into town, Julia felt concern pluck at her brow. The flaws and imperfections of the old buildings along Main Street, even the cracks in the blacktop of the road, stood out sharply in the bright morning sun. The bulky clay pots on street corners stood empty, and sandy gravel lay in the gutters. Both were a testament to the fact that spring was tentative. She’d been told no one here planted flowers or cleaned the debris and salt left by snow plows until Mother’s Day, which was still a week away.
Julia’s lips moved as she read the names of business that lined the two short blocks of downtown Smithville. There was a real estate office in a beautiful old Victorian home, and a café, as well as a repurposed furniture boutique. An old gas station converted to a delivery service was the last business on the street. Recognizing the name of the service as the company delivering her furniture, she paused at the four-way stop for a closer look.
A tall, dark-haired man stepped from the building wearing jeans and a tee-shirt with the company logo on the back. He was grinning as he pulled the door closed behind him and he whistled a tune as he walked. His gaze met Julia’s as he reached for his truck door and he paused, then his eyes opened wide in apparent recognition.
For a split second Julia saw herself as she had been, sitting at the stop sign in her glossy black BMW wearing a prim suit, her hair short and stiff, with designer sunglasses covering her eyes.
Ringo barked, bound across her lap, and pushed his head past her to hang out the window and bark happily at the man. Julia flinched as her world tilted sideways, and she returned to the present, sitting back in the old pickup truck, her loose curls tossed by the wind, with the dog jumping on her worn jeans. Her mind went blank and the now familiar chasm opened beneath her. Grasping for reality, she squirmed in her seat.
She hated the vacuum moments that followed her flashbacks. She felt as if they swallowed her whole. She couldn’t think – couldn’t remember why she was there, or where she’d been going. Her face burned with embarrassment.
Ringo’s paws scrambled on her lap as he put his front paws on her chest. His stubby back legs danced on her lap and his tail wagged as he looked into her eyes, as if to say, “Mom, there’s a man, there’s a man.” The little dog bounded back to the window, his ears flopping and tongue lolling.
The man paused next to his truck, perplexed by Julia’s vacant stare. His dark hair shone in the sun as time slowed, then he lifted his hand from the door handle of his truck and walked across the parking lot toward her.
When he reached Julia’s truck, he patted Ringo’s head and scratched behind his ears. “Hey little fella.” His gaze lifted to Julia and he smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “You must be Julia, welcome to town.”
Feeling confused as to how the man could possibly know her name, she managed a weak smile. “--Do I know you?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Chad Howard, I’ll be delivering your furniture. We don’t get many people here from New York, so I figured it must be you.”
Her expression darkened. She had come here to find a place where no one knew her or anything about her. “—I…”
He pointed to the back of her truck. “You have New York plates…”
Her mouth snapped closed and she nodded, relieved, then extended her hand around the wiggling dog. “Oh, right. I’m Julia Arnold.”
He shook her hand then stepped back from the truck. “Well I guess I’ll see you in the next few days…”
She lifted her hand to say goodbye and Ringo barked. Driving through the intersection, she sighed and pushed the dog from her lap, determined not to berate herself. They’d warned her that the flashbacks and blank moments would continue to happen but she was okay. She did have New York plates, so people would know she was from out of town. Apprehension and despondent gloom filled her heart, but she pushed them back. She could do this.
***
Chad stood rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw as he watched the pickup truck move down the street. Julia had been a surprise. Something about her wide dark eyes had moved him in an unfamiliar way. Unsure what exactly had struck him, besides her delicate features, soft curls, and silken voice; he shrugged and turned back to his truck. She wasn’t really his type.
He’d see her again on Thursday. His delivery business contracted to various moving companies who used the large modular style containers, picking them up in Pittsburgh to drive them to local destinations, but rarely did one come to Smithville.
Walking back to his truck, he considered the address for the delivery. He’d grown up in Smithville and knew pretty much every person and address in town.
Like most of his friends, he’d left for college at eighteen, then had lived in Philly for five years managing a hub for United Package Service but he’d returned to Smithville last year to start his own delivery company.
Julia’s delivery would be going to an old Victorian mansion farther down the highway. The house was on the verge of falling down, if he remembered correctly, and it would take a wealth of both endurance and funding to make the place livable. Come to think of it, he’d seen Mac the plumber at the house last month. Steve, his contractor buddy, had also mentioned he was replacing a wood shingle roof on a Victorian. He’d have to ask the guys if they’d been working on Julia’s place.
He climbed into his pickup truck and backed from the lot. Heading down the highway, he rolled down the window to savor the cool breeze and wondered why someone from New York City would want to move to Smithville. He loved the old town but then he’d been compelled to seek the peace and quiet that was impossible to find in Philly. His folks were getting older, rarely leaving the house these days, snarled traffic drove him insane, and since the accident…city life had lost its charm. Come to find out he was just plain wired for small town life. Besides that, he had to be there for Bobby’s family. Maybe he was just the type of guy who liked waving at his neighbors when they passed, wide-open spaces, and listening to crickets at night.
Julia hadn’t been dressed like a typical city lady, he reflected. His lip quirked. Since when had he evaluated what a woman wore? Unless it was short or tight or…he shifted in his seat and punched at the radio buttons. Whoever she was, she was none of his business. She had looked a bit lost though.
Maybe he’d drive by and make sure she’d found the place okay. Scoffing at his thoughts, he acknowledged that the house was only two blocks away and if she’d found Smithville, she could undoubtedly find the house. But he’d drive by anyway. Something about her had hinted at vulnerability and he wanted to be sure she was okay.
***
As Julia pulled into the driveway of her new home, she closed the small notebook containing the address and directions and tucked it back into her purse. Ringo barked happily and dropped from the window to prance circles on the seat. “Calm down…” she muttered, craning her neck to take in the house and yard. She turned off the ignition and sat with her hands in her lap, feeling the weight of her choices heavy in her chest. The house had been purchased for cash, sight unseen, and she wondered now if she’d made a wise choice. It’s not like she’d had a lot of options in the city but coming here had been a radical plan – an escape.
Pulling the keys from the ignition, she swung open the truck door with a creak and stepped onto the weed-choked gravel driveway. The old house loomed before her, the windows dark. Shadows cast by clouds blotted away the sunbeams dancing across the new wood shingles on the roof.
Absently, she reached for Ringo and tucked him under her arm. She’d been desperate to get away from the city and now she was here. Disappointment and fatigue caused her eyes to burn with tears. Evidently a new location didn’t offer a different life. She was still herself, still overwhelmed, and still alone; just in a strange place. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, she straightened her shoulders, blinked back the useless tears, and approached the house.
The two-story home spoke of grandeur long past. A rounded turret formed one corner of the home and the other end of the wraparound porch echoed back with a pointed turret roof. Dormer attic windows poked through the roof like unseeing eyes. The house was built of ancient red brick and the trim had been painted so many times, or so few times, that no paint scheme was obvious, just a hodgepodge of grayed peeling paint and weathered wood. The double front doors were missing window glass; plywood covered the openings, and a rusty awning protruded over the porch from the second story. Julia tilted her head to see if the awning had indeed once hung over the second story windows, instead of sagging onto the porch roof.
Picking her way through knee-deep weeds in the yard with birds singing riotously in the trees, she stepped onto the porch and the boards creaked in welcome. Sure enough, the crew she’d hired over the phone had replaced the rotting deck boards, leaving the porch floor looking yellow compared to the rest of the house. A new lock and handle shone on one door and Julia bent with a groan to lift the welcome mat and find the key.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened, pressed her lips into a thin line and stepped across the threshold. The smell of sawdust and new wood filled her first breath. Rays of sun streamed into the room through the dirty windows, lighting dust motes that fluttered in the air like pixies. The room felt hopeful, an emotion she no longer allowed. Hope only meant reality wasn’t good enough.
Ringo squirmed under her arm and she let him down to run circles, sniffing all along the floor of the room.
Smoothing her hand along the replaced parts of the wood doorjamb, the wood creamy and pale, she took in the various patched floorboards, as well as several windowsills the carpenters had repaired. They’d been told to only improve the inside to a livable point and not to paint or finish the wood. Electricians and a plumber had also been there to make sure the place was manageable, but just barely. She wanted to do all the finishes because she desperately needed a project but she also knew she’d need help with the repairs. Her construction skills were minimal to nonexistent.
Kinking her head back, she took in the stamped tin ceiling, still perfectly intact. Her eyes fell to the wall where an elaborately scrolled wood mantle, over a tarnished brass insert fireplace filled nearly half the wall. On the other side of the room, ornate wooden built-in cabinets and columns opened into the formal dining room. A smaller version of the living room fireplace was on the far wall, and the rounded turret formed a lovely bay window in one corner.
Ringo scampered through an open door off the living room and Julia followed, her footsteps echoing through the empty room. Her fingers lingered on the dark wood doorjamb, and her eyes cast upward to the dusty open transom over the door. Glancing back down, she found herself in the den, the walls lined with ancient wood shelves and grimy dark solid wood paneling. Limp velvet curtains covered the windows, blocking the sun.
“It’s so dark in here,” she commented, wandering to the window to tug open the drapes. Sunshine spilled onto the floor as the antique fabric tore across the seam at the top and fell at her feet with a poof of dust. Sputtering, she waved at the grimy cloud.
“I guess I won’t be making a gown from those…” she mumbled, pushing at the filthy rags with her foot.
Smiling lamely at her little joke, Julia headed back to the living room. Curious, she glanced through the rooms, amazed that this was her home. Her heart beat in her ears, causing her to feel as if she were on a precipice of some kind. Pausing for a moment longer, she took a deep breath, pulling the unusual sensation of home into her lungs. Any type of excitement that bubbled up from the depths she hurriedly tamped back down because if Julia knew anything, she was certain that what felt good now would only cause her pain later.
An ornate wooden staircase led upward in the opposite corner of the living room with a landing in the corner but she chose to investigate a doorway toward the back of the house. A narrow, paneled hall led her past a powder room, obviously not original to the house, but functional, then on to the butler pantry and the back of the kitchen.
Pausing in the pantry door, she took a moment to admire the floor to ceiling cupboards; the bottom cupboard doors with peeling paint and missing hardware, the uppers with wavy glass doors. She loved to cook, and this pantry would be fantastic.
She frowned and withdrew her hand from the pantry door. She had loved to cook, she reminded herself. She had no idea if she could now. It might be too difficult for her to follow a recipe. Besides, she didn’t have a reason to cook anyway.
Stepping inside the pantry, she reached down to open a cabinet door but instead of swinging open, the door leaned out toward her. Charmed by what must have been a flour bin, Julia wished the house could tell her all it had seen through the years. Surely it had seen happiness, drama, and tragedy in its long lifetime.
Closing the bin and laying her hand on the scarred wood counter, she decided maybe she’d been wrong about this just being a different place. She’d been inside for only a few moments and already the old home was weaving its way into her heart.
She frowned. Even the thought of liking her house brought a lump to her throat. It didn’t seem right that she could come here and be happy – that’s not why she’d come. Happiness didn’t last; she had to be practical.
Barking and the clatter of nails on the wood floor overhead interrupted her thoughts and she walked out of the pantry. “Ringo, where are you boy?” she called into the vast empty space of the house.
There was no response and she worried distractedly about the dog as she surveyed the kitchen. The room was large enough but desperately in need of help. Filth and grease covered the walls, and the floor was stained and dirty. Only a sink sitting on cracked cupboards and a mustard-yellow fridge revealed the room had been a kitchen. The broken-down look of this room fit her expectations.
The plumber had assured her she’d have running water but had also advised her that the plumbing would need to be updated right away. Even though the crew she’d hired had swept up and taken out various kinds of trash, the room still smelled of ancient dust, grime, and neglect.
This would be her first project she decided quickly, before she could change her mind. Cleanliness came first and she could lose herself for weeks just working on the kitchen. Meals were a requirement, that was just fact. More barking and scuffling overhead forced Julia to turn back toward the living room and the steps.
“Ringo?” she called, but the dog didn’t reply with a yip or a whine. At the bottom of the stairs Julia stopped to touch a curve of the ornate banister before biting her bottom lip and painstakingly lifting her foot to the first step. One step at a time, she made her way to the top, her fingers white on the worn rail and sweat beading her brow.
The second floor of the house was dark and dismal with old paint and cracked peeling wallpaper. Discouraged, she paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath and regroup. The agonizingly slow healing process never seemed to end. She’d learned to walk again fairly quickly but stairs were another story altogether.
Had she ever been agile? Had she even given it a second thought – appreciated it? She blew out a huffing breath, causing her bangs to stand up from her forehead.
Ringo trotted happily out of a bedroom to circle her feet. Julia’s frustration melted away as she bent to scoop up the little dog and held him up to face her. “You naughty boy, why didn’t you come when I called?” She touched the dog’s forehead to hers, melting into laughter when he lapped at her face with his wide wet tongue. Cradling the dog in her arms, she smiled down at him. “Oh Ringo dog, who rescued who, huh?”
He yipped, his tongue hanging as he smiled back.
Placing the wiggling dog back on the floor, she followed him slowly through the second floor of the old home, finding four sizeable bedrooms with filthy, old fashioned, nine-pane windows. Each room contained a fireplace and there was another outdated bathroom. It was far more room than she and Ringo required. Empty space full of nothing.
Another flight of steps behind a hallway door led to the attic but she wasn’t up for that just yet. Heading back down the stairs, grasping the rails with both hands, she decided that she would set up her bedroom in the main floor den for a while, at least until she could manage the stairs better.
Sitting on the bottom step to rest, Julia tried to imagine the home filled with furniture but no visions materialized. Rays of sun streamed across the dusty floor and her thoughts wandered.
Her things would never fill this space. She didn’t own much now but a mattress and box spring, a small folding table with two chairs, a few boxes of clothing, and her basic kitchen pans and dishes. She couldn’t fit much into her room at the rehab center, besides, she wanted nothing of her past. Her things would only have reminded her of what she’d lost. Memories attached to the city and the people and things she’d cared about were far too painful and confusing to face on a daily basis.
She stood to meander across the living room, Ringo by her side, his nails clattering and echoing in the empty room. Perching on the built-in seat under the front windows, Julia stared across the overgrown, weed-riddled yard. Ringo jumped into her lap and licked her hand. Absently petting the dog, Julia resolved that this was where she belonged. No one here knew anything about her, the house needed her, and she could finally get on with her sorry life.
That deliveryman, Chad, crossed her mind, but she immediately turned her thoughts away. She didn’t want or need any kind of romance. The scars slashed across her heart were far from healed and if she were honest with herself, she didn’t know if she was even capable of managing a relationship. She was no Snow White, and she certainly didn’t deserve a Prince Charming.
Shrugging off the dismal thought of men, she headed toward the back of the house. The realtor had said there was a mower in the garage and she’d need all her strength and determination to mow the front yard. She couldn’t have Ringo running around up to his eyeballs in weeds.
At the back of the house, Julia found a neglected, weatherworn, detached garage. She circled it once, her mouth tugged into a grim slash, trying to decide if the decrepit building would stay standing long enough to even open the door. The filthy windows were dark and the wood shingles on the old building were grey with age, but somehow managed to cling to the bowed roof.
Ringo barked from inside the house as Julia tugged at one of the sagging double doors of the garage. The door should have rolled on casters overhead but even without a ladder she could see that the track was rusted and leaves and debris clogged the wheels. She wasn’t strong by any means but she was determined and was finally rewarded by the door skidding open wide enough to walk through.
Patting her back pocket, groping for her ever-present notebook, Julia realized she’d left it in her purse. She could have started a mental checklist of things to do and add cleaning the tracks over the garage door to the many things already piling up in her mind, but she knew that she’d never remember the list and only be frustrated that she’d forgotten the whole thing. She’d have to walk around the property later with her notebook and take notes.
With the door was finally open, Julia stood scrutinizing the dark interior of the garage. Cobwebs hung like fairy wings from the open rafters, the air was heavy with dust, and a streak of dim sunlight gleamed weakly through the cracked window on the back wall to land on the dirt floor. A grey wood ladder lay tucked amount the rafters, alongside various warped boards and an old toboggan.
As promised, a relatively new lawnmower sat near the front. Evidently the real estate firm had been sending someone to mow but once the house had been purchased they hadn’t come back.
Tugging the mower out into sunlight, Julia paused to catch her breath. Why were everyday tasks still so hard? Bending to put her hands on her knees, her head hanging, for the first time she seriously doubted her choice to move to Smithville. If she couldn’t do something as simple as open the garage, let alone cut the grass, how could she manage to take care of a home?
Desperate and angry, she stood upright and kicked the mower, then perversely watched for a response. Nothing happened of course, her hopelessness never seemed to change anything, so she reached for the pull handle. Remembering her father starting his lawn mower back in her childhood, which seemed five lifetimes ago, she gave the handle a sharp tug, nearly unhinging her shoulder. Luckily the mower started with the first yank and she turned to bump the noisy machine down the strip of grass beside the house leading to the front lawn.
***
An hour later, Julia put all her weight into pushing the garage door closed and flopped against it, gasping for breath. Sunbeams sliced through the naked tree branches, casting stripes across her face. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she brushed dust and dead grass from her shirt. The temperature was dropping as the spring day drew to a close and even though she was overheated, a chill rose across her skin.
Limping up the step to the kitchen, Julia turned the handle and braced herself for Ringo to vault into her arms. As expected, the little dog jumped into her waiting hands, lapping at her face as if she’d been gone for weeks. Inhaling the mingled scent of frantic dog and cut grass, she walked inside and leaned against the wall to rest.
“Come on boy, come see what Mom did,” she finally mumbled to the wiggling dog, straining her neck to evade his kisses as she plodded forward. The old house echoed Ringo’s whimpers and Julia’s sighs as she wandered through the living room to the front window. She held up the little dog to see out. “See? There it is,” she whispered to the dog. “Your bathroom.”
Dropping into the window seat, Julia stared blankly toward the fresh lines in the newly cut yard, now dappled with shadow. Patches of sky past the yard were streaked with pink and orange, warming her weary heart.
She had no idea what would happen to her now but she was away from the city, the past, and the pain. Loneliness she could handle. She knew that for a fact. Her expression darkened. Chad would be delivering her furniture soon. Turning away from the window, she cuddled Ringo and stubbornly decided that she would be just fine there alone and she did not need anyone to come over – especially not Chad.
