Love in a Fix (4 page)

The deep down truth was, unless her income situation changed, she’d be in the same boat as now given another few months. The truth scared her, but better that she confronted it now.

Still looking away from Shep, she took a deep breath, knowing what the answer had to be. “I want to, but I still can’t accept.”

Heavy footsteps approached. “Why not?”

Pivoting in slow-motion, she turned to face him. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate your selflessness by offering, but it would only be a temporary solution. I’ve cut out every expense I can, but there’s still more money going out than coming in.”

“You don’t know what the next few months will bring.” Shep looked at her with optimistic determination. “Buy yourself some time.”

“And if I still lose the house, I’ll feel even worse if you’re out that money for nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be for nothing.” His jaw set in a firm line, ready for a showdown.

“Please, Shep. I’ve thought about this for several weeks, and I was afraid to say it, but the best thing to do is sell the house before I completely lose it.” Dull pains bordered her heart now that she’d vocalized her idea. She balled her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “I can rent a small apartment at a fraction of my mortgage. Josh and I will get by.”

“You shouldn’t have to ‘get by’.” He took another step closer to her, out of reach from the porch light’s glow. “Mark would want more than that for you. You deserve better.”

Darkness provided a welcomed veil. In it, maybe Shep wouldn’t see the desperation and conflict she knew found their way to her eyes. If only there were a way to disguise it from her voice. “One day I’ll get back on my feet, but for now I need to think about the future, not the short term.”

For a long time, Shep didn’t answer. At last he gave a resigned sigh. “There’s no expiration date on my offer. In the meantime, what
can
I do for you?”

“I’ll call the bank and realtor tomorrow. Then I’ll have to start packing.” She glanced to the house, allowing her gaze to drift from the colonial blue board-n-battan shutters, through the dining room window to the farmhouse dining table which Mark and she had wanted to fill with children. Hours of love and dedication had gone into making the house a home. “I could use a friend to help.”
For emotional support more than anything
.

Shep nodded. “Say the word and I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. The lump in her throat precluded her from saying more.

For better or worse, she’d set the course for a new chapter in life.

Boxes staged for easy loading filled the foyer and living room. Disassembled bed frames leaned against the wall where Shep had propped them last night. The walls boasted no frames or shelves—all had been removed and drywall repaired earlier in the week. Once he loaded the furniture and boxes, the house would be empty, ready for new occupants.

Lyndsey walked through the front door. She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved teal T-shirt, and a pair of worn sneakers—a practical outfit for moving day. Her face lacked its normal, vibrant coloring, but a strained smile tugged at her lips. “I guess this is it.”

“Josh got off fine with his grandparents?” He wiped a dusty hand on his faded flannel shirt.

“Yes.” Her eyes shifted, scanning the room. “It’s better this way. The transition will be easier for him if I have his room set up before he sees the new place. It will help him see it as home.” The shakiness in her voice belied the confidence of her words.

“I thought we’d load the bed of my truck first with the necessities, the boxes you’ll have to unpack first. After that we’ll load the moving truck.” He cast a brief look out the window to the rented vehicle. “I think we can get it all in one trip. Once we unload and return the truck, I’ll bring you back for your car.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

He went outside and grabbed the wheel dolly.

By the time he returned, Lyndsey had boxes waiting. “These can go in your truck.”

“That’s it?”

“There a few more in the other room. I’ll get them while you take these out.” Her voice wavered, and Shep wished there was something, anything, he could do to make this easier for her.

All he knew to do was be there for her, which he’d done every evening for the past three weeks. After his normal work for the day, he’d gone straight to her house and helped her pack for a few hours before he went home. Yesterday he’d taken a half day, leaving his second-in-command in charge of the latest project. He’d cleared his Friday and Saturday, something he rarely did, so he could help her move and settle in.

He wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like the idea of her downsizing to an apartment, especially when she’d found excuse after excuse to not let him inspect it first. What Lyndsey didn’t know was that he’d done some previous work at that apartment complex. He knew the condition of the buildings, the caliber of many of the tenants.

Yet, the decision wasn’t his to make. Lyndsey had to follow what she believed was best, and that was selling the house. No matter how much he’d prayed and wished and hinted, she’d still chosen to move.

Which led him to this point, loading boxes on a dolly, being supportive in any way he could. The boxes she’d set aside were large, about three feet tall. He took them to his truck two at a time until the extended cab was full.

Once he accomplished that task, Lyndsey helped him carry the furniture into the moving truck. He’d argued when she’d insisted on not bringing anyone from church or his company to help. Most of the items he could finagle on his own, one way or another, but there were a few pieces with which he’d undoubtedly need assistance. It didn’t make sense to do it all on their own when help was available, but Lyndsey wouldn’t budge.

As they moved the bed frames, the couch, and the china hutch, Shep learned a new fact about Lyndsey. Her physical strength matched that of her spiritual and emotional strength. She moved deftly, without complaint, showing a competence he’d underestimated.

“Any more furniture hiding in the house?” He scanned the trailer’s interior, seeing its walls lined with the bulky, mostly heavy items.

“That wasn’t enough?” She tipped her head to the trailer and laughed.

A sound that warmed him on this cold day after witnessing innumerable frowns from her throughout the preceding weeks. “Nope, you need another loveseat. Maybe a recliner or two.”

More chuckles escaped, and she grinned. “Maybe I’ll add a spare bed as well, to go in my nonexistent spare bedroom.”

Her jokes did nothing for his unease regarding her new living arrangements, but he wouldn’t risk her good mood by commenting. “In that case, let’s load the remaining boxes before you fill the truck with imaginary furniture.” He grabbed the green cart and rolled it toward her. “You take the dolly.”

Within two hours, they’d moved everything from the house to the truck. Only a small, four-square-foot empty spot remained in the trailer.

“Ready?” He leaned against his Chevy, staring at the house.

Lyndsey stood next to him. “No.”

Her voice cracked again, and he was surprised she’d held on that long. No one would fault her if she cried. If their roles were reversed, if he was the one leaving the house he’d shared with Miranda, he’d be a mess, at least on the inside.

Not thinking twice, he slid an arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You’re a brave woman.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.” Sensing she still needed some form of support, he kept an arm around her. “I admire the courage you possess.”

“What courage?” She bit her lip before continuing, drew in a long breath. “I’m a derailed train, one step away from a train wreck.”

“I wish I could hand you a pair of glasses that allowed you to see what others do.” 

His arm tightened around her when she leaned in to him—he was certain she was unaware of her movement.

“I’ve failed Mark by selling the house.” Her fist clenched beside him.

“How do you figure?”

“The day we closed on it, he was so proud.” She fixed her stare to the house, but the expression in her eyes put her far away in a time long ago.

“Mark would understand.” He shifted his position so that he stood in front of her, removing his arm from her shoulders in the process. “More than that, he is gone, and you have to make the decisions that are best for your family.”

“You still don’t think I should have sold?” An eyebrow rose, accusing him of what they both knew already.

“I understand and respect your decision.”

The slightest glimmer of a smile showed on her mouth. “Such a cop-out answer.”

No way would he implicate himself further. He gave a short nod to the vehicles and handed Lyndsey the keys to his truck. “Let’s go and get this unloaded.”

With a final longing glance to the house, Lyndsey reached blindly for the keys. She went to his truck and sat in the passenger seat.

Shep climbed in to the cab of the moving-truck. Sticking his head out the window, he watched her adjust the seat and mirrors. Two minutes passed before she waved and pulled onto the road.

He followed her for twenty minutes to the other side of town. The route to her new apartment complex lacked the aesthetic views most of Maryville offered. Older homes, not well kept, were staggered on asymmetrical land plots. Residential homes tapered off, replaced by several industrial businesses.

A few miles later an older apartment complex appeared. The property possessed an inviting, if outdated, charm. A faded red banner with large block letters announced “Now Leasing” and brittle fallen leaves littered the driveway entrance. Turkey, acorn, and pilgrim window clings stuck on the windows of the building marked “Office.”

By all outward appearances, it seemed like an acceptable place to live.
Too bad I know better
. His chest squeezed as he drove to the rear of the complex, following Lyndsey. The further they went, the tighter it constricted. He knew the tenants’ wildness correlated to the distance from the office. Whether there was a legitimate reason for that or not was of no concern.

What did matter, was that Lyndsey seemed oblivious to that fact. Should he mention what his experiences here had taught him? He’d tried to warn her, but he’d been too vague—she hadn’t picked up his hints.  Besides, she’d made it perfectly clear that she had to make her own decisions.

The brake lights illuminated. Lyndsey stopped and then she backed into the spot closest to a door. Shep did the same with the moving truck, only it required extra maneuvers. The large vehicle blocked the road, but the row of parking spots on the opposite side provided a clear path, should anyone need to pass.

He climbed out and met Lyndsey behind the trucks. “Which one is yours?”

“Over there—199.” She pointed to the windows on the left side of the door.

The urge to growl overwhelmed him and by sheer force, he kept the dissatisfied noise to himself. The top floor would have been preferable, even if it meant extra work carrying all her goods up several flights of steps. Higher risk of break-ins, noisy neighbors above, stray gun shots coming through.

Okay, maybe that last one’s an exaggerated concern.
Or was it? Gun crimes were rare, almost non-existent in Calding County, even in the disreputable areas, but with the increase in drug activity, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine gun crimes would also go up.

Realizing Lyndsey was staring at him, he cleared his throat. “How about we go inside first and you can show me where you want everything.”

“We can do that.” She locked her fingers together, and she didn’t move. Wide-eyed repulsion took over her face.

Shep followed her line of vision. A rat sat directly in front of the single step to the door. “He’ll run off when we get near.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“You’ll always have rats in an environment like this. Most never make it inside.” Except he knew of two apartments in the complex just last month that had encountered rats. Jerry Salude from 233 told him about the infestation two weeks ago when Shep spent a day here working on appliances.

Her mouth opened, then she snapped it closed without speaking. She squared her shoulders, unlocked her fingers, and marched to the door.

Behind her, Shep saw her back rise as she took a deep breath. He reached around her and opened the door. 

Voices assaulted them right away. A woman yelled, using language he wouldn’t use against an enemy. A man shouted back and a crash on the wall followed a second later. The door to 198 flew open and a young girl—late teens, early twenties at oldest—burst out. She brushed past them, elbowing Lyndsey in the process. No apologies, no eye contact. Nothing.

Lyndsey blanched, and Shep saw her struggle to maintain fearlessness.

She deserved better than this. It was the same argument he’d had with himself for weeks, but hadn’t found a solution.

Her hands shook, so he took the keys from her without preamble and opened the door to her apartment. A musty smell lurched to his nostrils, sending a burning sensation through his sinuses. As he lifted his foot to step inside, the light caught on an object in the hallway.

Again, his chest tightened.

“Watch your step,” he told Lyndsey, pointing to the used needle on the floor.

She cast her eyes downward, shock registering on her face. Her throat trembled, her lips quivered.

When a door down the hall opened, Shep pulled Lyndsey inside her apartment for privacy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“What other options do I have?” Tears glistened on her face.

“Find another apartment.”

“They’re all out of my price range. The only other complex I can afford has no openings.” She cringed at the slamming of a nearby door.

“Then don’t sell your house.”
I’ll get on my knees and beg if that’s what it takes to keep my promise to Mark.
“Let me give you the money.”

A long sigh preceded her argument he knew would come. “We’ve been through this. I need a long term solution.”

“Then marry me and move into my house.” His suggestion didn’t register to him until he saw Lyndsey’s jaw drop.

“What did you say?”

He ran a hand through his hair, buying a few seconds. How could he backtrack, take back his words? Or did he have to? The impromptu proposal wouldn’t have come out unless he’d thought of it subconsciously, and it did have merit. “Let’s get married. You wanted a permanent solution, there it is.”

“You can’t be serious.” Her nervous, high-pitched laugh cut off further statement.

“I am. Give me one good reason why it’s not a good idea.”

“Where do I begin?” She raised her hand, tapping on each fingertip as she spoke. “First, no offense, but neither of us are in love. Second, marriage is a commitment that takes a lot of work, not an easy way out. Third, one day you might meet someone and fall in love again, and I won’t be your trap. Not to mention the obvious that it’s crazy.”

“I’ll grant that we’re not in love, but we have a solid friendship. Marriages have begun and thrived with much less of a foundation.” His ready response further convinced him that he’d thought about this more than he cared to admit. He eyed her carefully, measuring her response. “And I know marriage is a commitment. We’ll both have to adjust, but we can make it work. To answer your last rebuttal, I wouldn’t fall in love with another woman. I loved Miranda wholly, and I’m not sure I even have what it takes to love again.”

Lyndsey nodded. “Same for me about Mark.”

He took her hands. “More than that, I wouldn’t give myself an opportunity to develop affections for another woman. Regardless if our marriage would be one of convenience or based on love, I would keep my vows and honor them.”