Evangelina Green (2 page)

The three
sisters
had a real
chance to know both
grandparents
before they passed away, even though the summer
visits had dwindled when the girls were seniors in high school. Too
many activities, clothes, makeup, and of course, boys, became more
important to the young women. Both of their grandparents had lived
into their 90's, Grams even achieving the very impressive age of
ninety-nine
years young.

Gramps had been gone nine years now. He died
quietly. One Thanksgiving weekend, he went to take an after dinner
nap and never woke up. He had been their rock, the one they knew
they could always come to with teenage problems or childish
worries.

Grams, however, was a
firecracker and a bit of a troublemaker. She didn’t take much of
anything seriously and was forever getting the girls to play in the
rain, skinny-dip in the local watering hole, and the kitchen was
never the same after all the food fights. Grams said it was a shame
to waste your youth on being grown up,
“You can always be old—for now, live like you want—remember
to have a little fun!”

Gramps didn’t mind. He was always somewhere
near, guarding them and loving each and every one of them. Lina
always felt safe, happy—so carefree—and content here.

Grams had been a strong,
opinionated, tightly wound bundle of life, right up to her death.
She’d been dancing her special dance. Her hips swaying, arms in the
air as she took her occasional spins, she walked the spring garden,
pulling weeds, or placing vegetables into her collecting basket.
Her iPod plugged in and the volume so loud it could be heard north
of Kentucky. Tashi and Lina were the only two who had made down
that summer, Netta was at some band camp or
whatever
, saying she’d try to meet
up with them by mid-July. Grams, still dancing her way through the
green of her garden, sat down softly said, “Oh my...” and just like
that she was gone.

Tashi and Lina had been watching and giggled
at Grams as she went down, thinking it was part of her odd dance.
By the time they realized she was in trouble, she’d gone to meet
Gramps. She went out like she’d lived—full of vinegar and spit.
Gramps had been gone nine years and Grams had only been physically
gone for eight years now. Lina still missed them both terribly,
though their spirits were felt everywhere.

***

“
Time to get to work,” she
mumbled to herself. She talked to herself since childhood, but it
helped her focus. She tended to daydream and when her mind
wandered, it really went on long, long,
long
trips.

“
Should probably try the
new keys; make a list of what to tear down first, call for
electricity, water, gas.” She mentally thumped her forehead for
having just then remembered she hadn’t gotten any groceries.
"Shoot, now I need to get food too!" She grabbed her pen and pad.
"Oh well, I’ll get the house opened and aired out while I run into
town,” she said to no one in particular, making a grocery list.
She
lived
by her
lists.

Cypress Wood consisted of a grouping of
failing—or ailing—businesses. There was a dry-cleaner that also
housed the “Wash-o-Matic” self-wash and dry. Then there was a drug
store, a small grocery/hardware store, and the barber/beauty shop.
That just about completed the small, sleepy town. It was just
enough to keep a dying community from going completely under, but
not enough to help it thrive. For anything special, the townsfolk
had to travel over forty-five miles to the next city, across the
border into Longsmith, Louisiana, which sported a Walmart and the
hospital and physicians building.

Her idea of bringing the
veterinarian in from Cypress Wood was a start at revitalizing the
area. Everyone around here had at least one coon dog, some horses,
cows, or chickens. The larger farm animals were quite an investment
for some folks. Buying a trailer to haul them to the vet was out of
the question. So there would always be a need for a vet after Doc
Martin retired. He made
farm calls
and traveled on a regular basis to check on his
patients, friends, and neighbors. The new vet would be nearer the
people who needed him the most, he would also need to travel but
his trips were going to be much shorter. It would also get more
people out to the mansion. She hoped bringing people out would also
dispel the rumors of it being cursed, haunted, and just plain
creepy. The new veterinary clinic was being constructed right off
the new kitchen and the vet would live in the apartment built
above. If they could finish in time.

Lina also hoped her family coming back,
opening the old movie house and making it into an antiques and
craft store, would help bring some life, or least hope, back into
the small town. She knew there were some very talented people in
the general area. They would gain from the promotion of their
creations. Some were painters, others were sculptors, and a few
wood workers had some impressive pieces that they had sold online
for some impressive prices.

They had all agreed to
help her out with some of their inventory to stock the shop on
consignment. Almost all the women around small towns knew how to
knit, crochet, and sew. This was old south and the menfolk
were
men
. They
didn’t do that
sissy
stuff. They drove pickup trucks and fished and hunted,
like
men
.

She learned that the hard way, when she
asked one of the men at the hardware store if he could recommend a
seamstress nearby. He would have ruffled his rooster-feathers, if
he’d had them.

"
I don’t know nuthin' about that sewin' stuff, you’ll have to
ask the womenfolk." Lina had smiled, wondering how he knew a
seamstress was a person who sews. She not only found seamstresses,
three of them, but also quilters, knitters, crocheters,
scrap-bookers—all the
sissy
stuff she needed for her store to do well.
Travelers came from all over, especially the East Coast, passing
through on the interstate headed for New Orleans. Tourists were
always looking for just the perfect trinket or gift to commemorate
their trip to the south. Their small town was
quaint
and now-a-days homemade items
were very popular. Since the county had paid for an exit for
Cypress Wood to take some of the heavy traffic away from the major
interstate, it might possibly get folks back to the
scenic route
. Since many
of those visitors might exit for gasoline and sodas from the
convenience store, she thought it would be perfect location for the
antiques store and flea market.

She’d have to advertise, cheaply of course.
Perhaps she would use a billboard. She would put Tashi to work on
that, as she had some training in graphic design. Netta also had
artistic talent, but hers was skewed toward the abstract and they
didn’t need a Picasso on a billboard to attract business! She
chuckled and began making yet another list.

Most of the townsfolk had lived there for
generations and would have more than enough antiques to consign and
the results could probably buy and sell the sleepy little town
several times over. The tourists could stay at the town’s B&B,
which was technically open, but hadn’t had a customer in over a
year. If things picked up, who knows…maybe a real hotel of some
sort would be built, meaning more jobs and on and on. Hope.

Realizing she’d been standing there
woolgathering as Grams called it, she sighed. She stepped up the
worn, squeaky front stairs. She carried her bags, packages, and
purse up to the third step, before she headed back to her car for
the rest. Then she’d have to drive to Cypress Wood, only about
twenty minutes from the mansion. If she couldn’t find what she
wanted at the hardware store, then it was off to the Walmart.
Looking back from the bottom stair she surveyed the remaining four
steps, crooked front door, and rotting porch railings.

"I’ll have to get that door replaced; the
steps fixed, and probably tear the porch down to bare studs."

"Might be easier to burn
the entire house down and start completely over." A deep voice
spoke from directly behind her. She let out a yelp, and twirled so
quickly, the step beneath her foot crumbled. She took a
header
directly into a
warm, solid wall that smelled very inviting. Woodsy. Strong arms
were wrapped around her in seconds to keep her from falling on her
face.

"Well, you’ll come in
handy around here." She said in a breathy voice. She had her nose
in his shirt and breathed him in. She could imagine the wall
without that shirt covering all those gorgeous muscles, whoa. She
recovered herself and realized she was being held by a strange man,
and he was
big
.

"I mean thanks.” she stuttered. “I’m
somewhat of a klutz and probably should hire a bodyguard.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"NO! I mean I’m not famous, or anybody you’d
want to know, not that I’m a bad person and all, it’s just that I
trip a lot and well a bodyguard could guard my body. Not that it’s
that great. I mean, pretty average except for being tall, and I
have lost some weight, but I can’t keep it off. I really do fall
often, not sure why. Guess it's just part of my nature? And cuz I'm
apparently clumsy, and trip often, I wouldn’t get hurt, well I’d be
hurt sure, but not as badly...if I had a bodyguard..." She trailed
off and whispered. "I think that’s where I started."

Her face had turned a nice shade of red to
match her ears; they always glowed red when she was embarrassed.
She finally raised her head to look into his face. She had to look
up, even standing on the bottom step. She’d always been tall and
had reached her current height by seventh grade. So having someone
taller than she stood made for a nice change. And he was smiling at
her. That’s a good start, right?

Oh! He had pretty eyes, green like hers, but
a slightly darker shade. Dark hair, long, that would maybe hit his
shoulders when worn loose. That gave her a little shiver, thinking
of it dragging across her breasts and down her stomach. She
shivered again. He had it pulled back and tied with a strip of
leather, looking rather bohemian or Native American. He had to be
over six-foot-five and that alone made him one hundred percent more
her type! She grinned.

She
never
thought that way. Sure she
thought about men, but not in that...
sexy
way. She had dated, but had
never done
that.
She knew she must be the oldest living virgin in the world,
but no one had ever made her feel...hot or...itchy. Oh hell, she
didn't know how to describe how he made her feel! She was drawn to
him but as gorgeous as he was, she didn't think he'd be interested
in her. Oh well, it would be nice while it lasted.

She noticed the black tank he wore was tight
over his manly frame, but not too tight. Over that he had a
chambray denim shirt, unbuttoned and with the slight breeze, it
billowed out a bit and she could see he was a big, tall, and
muscular, real-live man.

He wasn't the body builder type with bulging
muscles. He was just well muscled and toned like it was from good
old hard work. This, Lina could understand and appreciate. And boy,
howdy! She did appreciate it. Nice view. She knew he’d probably
always look that way, and that his muscles would not turn to flab
as he aged.

As she gave him the
once-over, she noticed he had on jeans that fit him very, very
well. Aged and faded, but not torn or sloppy. His boots were well
worn, but appeared to be of good quality. They weren’t those pointy
toed, worthless boots she was used to seeing back in Colorado,
where every guy thought he was a cowboy. These looked almost like
biker boots and she liked the look, the entire look. From top to
bottom and judging from the rest of him, she was sure he had a
fine
bottom
.

Okay, so he was perfect. She didn’t want to
find any faults with him. She wanted him to like her. She
wanted...him. He was better than all her wet dreams combined. His
pretty green eyes were boring into her as she stared right back,
unafraid, and maybe a little aroused? He frowned at her, making her
think maybe he was angry?

"Uh, sorry...you were...and I was...then
we...why were you..." He stumbled over his words, swallowed hard
and finally was able to ask. "Are you okay?"

His hold on her lessened. He looked
perplexed, confused, and almost lost but she could feel waves of
heat emanating from him, and it was aimed at her, plain ole
Lina.

Shush,
she told her whiny inner voice.
Enjoy this! You may never have this chance
again
. Then she realized she hadn’t
checked to see if he had been hurt by her landing on
him.

"Oh shit! Did I hurt you?”

She wanted to touch all that muscle, in a
purely medical way of course, just to feel his hard abs, and then
smell his hair, running her hands through it, checking for any
bumps she might have caused. Then she would kiss those lips and
lick him. Whoa baby.

“
What is wrong with me?"
She wondered out loud, damnit.

"Not a damn thing.”

They stared at each other
for several long moments. It could have been hurricane season and
they wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were mesmerizing, haunting.
Okay sorta cliché, but it was true! Just like in the romance books
she loved to read. She couldn’t move a muscle with his arms around
her, and hell, she didn’t
want
to move. It just felt so damn good. He held her a
little tighter. Even though she felt a sense of danger about him,
her nipples hardened and pushed thru her sports bra as a flush of
warmth and wetness pooled between her legs. She snuggled closer.
Niiice.