Now and Forever 4, The Renovated Heart (9 page)

* * * *

Two weeks into September. At 29 James
Street

Sarah put down the telephone. School began
calmly in early September. Both children seemed to be adjusting
well to the new school. Until now.

“Scottie, can you come in here for a minute,
please,” she called, trying to keep the irritation out of her
voice.

“What, Mom?” Scottie called from his
room.

“Just come in here.” Irritation broke
through.

The doorbell rang. Sarah wiped her hands on
her apron as she opened the door to let Jim in. He stepped inside
and kissed her.

“You look like a storm cloud on the move.
What’s up?” He headed for the kitchen with two bags of groceries
tucked under his arms.

Scottie joined them in the living room.
Sarah sat him down on the sofa, ignoring Jim. He took the groceries
into the kitchen to put them on the table.

“I just got a call from your school
principal. You were fighting in the yard. Now I have to go in to
explain why. So what is this about? You were fighting? Why?”

“Yeah, Mom. There were some bullies there,
like at camp. But Jim got me some lessons. Now I can fight back. So
they’ll leave me alone. No biggie, Mom.”

The boy arose from the sofa. Sarah put her
hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. When Jim entered the
living room, she turned to look at him.

“You did what?”

“It’s not Scottie’s fault,” he said, looking
sheepish.

The youngster slipped out of the living room
to return to his room.

“Fighting lessons? What’s this about?”

“He told me about some bullies at camp. So I
took him to meet one of my professors, Danny Maine, ex-military
guy. He showed Scottie a few moves to defend himself and…”

“And you were going to tell me about
this…when? You were going to ask my permission to teach my kid how
to fight…when?” She asked him her voice getting louder.

“Every boy has to face these things,
Sarah…not a big deal…”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

“I talked to Scottie…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She rested her
hands on her hips.

“He asked me not to.”

“Oh, I see. So he comes before me? He’s my
responsibility, not yours.”

“I know. I had no idea this would get out of
hand. I thought if he could defend himself…”

“You thought? Who are you to think about
Scottie? He is
my
son, not yours,” She shouted.

“Sarah…I didn’t mean to…I was only trying to
help…” Jim said, raising his voice.

The sound of loud voices broke the quiet in
the house. Laura opened her door, then stopped at her brother’s
room, motioning him to come with her. He followed his sister out to
the living room. Sarah continued yelling at Jim, who increased his
volume to be heard. Laura and Scottie got between the couple to
form a wall. Scottie raised his fisted hands at Jim.

“Don’t hurt my mother!” he yelled.

Jim was taken aback. He stared at the
children, glancing from Laura to Scottie, then to Sarah. His
expression changed from exasperation to surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Silence greeted his question. He continued
to move his gaze from one angry face to another, then he focused on
Sarah. Color crept up her neck.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked gently.

Sarah couldn’t speak. Tears welled in her
eyes. She nodded.

“Did Bob hit you?” Jim asked, understanding
lighting up in his eyes.

“Yes.” Tears threatened to spill onto her
cheeks, her hands rested on the children’s shoulders.

He knelt down to eye level with Scottie.

“I’d never hit your mother. I’ve never hit a
woman in my life. I wouldn’t now,” he said quietly.

“That’s what he said,” Scottie replied.

“You must believe me. We were having a loud
discussion. No matter how mad I’d ever get, I’d never raise a hand
to your mom.” He looked at Laura.

Scottie looked hard at Jim, then at his
mother, who smiled at him. The boy looked relieved.

“I believe him,” he said, turning to face
his sister who stood behind him.

Laura relaxed.

“It’s okay, kids. I was yelling at Jim. He
wasn’t even mad, only trying to be heard. Everything’s all right,”
Sarah said, her breathing returning to normal, the red draining out
of her face.

She hugged the children before they returned
to their rooms. Sarah avoided Jim’s eyes as she turned to go to the
kitchen. He stepped forward quickly, blocking her retreat, took her
shoulders and turned her around.

“Did he hit you…often?” Jim asked his eyes
warm with sympathy.

“Twice.”

“Twice?”

“After the first time, he apologized
profusely…said he wouldn’t do it again. But when he did, I knew
he’d lied…he’d keep hitting me. I had to save myself, so I took the
children and left.”

“Oh, Sarah! Did he hurt you badly?” He
surrounded her with his arms.

“The first time, bruises, a black eye. But
the second time he broke two ribs,” she said, letting out a
sigh.

“Oh my God. That’s where the scar on your
hand comes from?”

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears
again.

“He swung a knife at me. You were right. I
held up my hand to defend myself.”

Jim held her. “I’d never hurt you, Sarah. I
hope you believe me.”

“You’re not Bob. I’m not afraid of you,” she
said, closing her eyes, enjoying the male scent of him mixed with a
soapy aroma and clean shirt smell.

“I’m sorry about Scottie. I should’ve
discussed my plans with you, but I felt caught in the middle since
he asked me not to tell you. I wanted to win his trust…as well as
yours.”

“I understand. Still, having him trained to
fight, he needs to know how to use his new power, not become a
bully himself. I’ll talk to him.”

“We shouldn’t assume he was in the wrong,”
Jim said, releasing her.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t. Thank you for
caring about him and stepping in to help…even if you should’ve told
me,” she said.

“Just because I don’t have children, doesn’t
mean I don’t want them,” he said, looking at her with heat in his
eyes. “I’m hungry…but not for dinner,” he said, nibbling on her
neck, winding his arms around her waist.

She turned to receive his kiss, relaxing her
body against his. He deepened the kiss, putting his hand in her
soft hair to angle her mouth. Sarah lost herself in his embrace,
desire pulsing in her veins.

“Mom, Monica called. Can I go over there
for…” Laura said as she rounded the bend. She stopped abruptly when
she saw Sarah and Jim locked in a passionate embrace.

Sarah jumped back, embarrassed.

“…dinner,” Laura finished, looking at her
mom with interest.

“Laura, I’m…this isn’t what you…”

“So what? So you and Jim were…were…whatever.
I know he’s your boyfriend, no biggie. Can I go to Monica’s?”

“Tonight? For dinner? Sure. Do you need a
ride?”

“I’ll take my bike. See ya,” Laura said,
already texting Monica while heading toward the front door.

“Be home by eight thirty,” She called after
her daughter.

“So much for worrying about the kids walking
in on us.” Jim chuckled as he ran his hand down Sarah’s hair.

“I guess having a self-involved teenager
isn’t so bad after all,” Sarah said, smiling.

In the morning at the Old Victorian

Kit got up with the alarm at eight o’clock.
She ate a quick breakfast then made a list of what she needed to
buy at the superstore.

1. 1 man’s suit
   

2. 2 pairs of men’s casual pants
   

3. 3 jeans
   

4. 2 button down shirts
   

5. 5 boxers
   

6. 5 undershirts
   

7. 5 pairs of socks
   

8. 5 tee shirts
   

9. 1 belt
   

It was already nine o’clock by the time she
got in the car. When Kit turned the key, the vehicle only wheezed.
She tried again, hearing a whine but no hum of a running motor.
Pumping the gas pedal, then trying again, and again didn’t help.
She waited five minutes, feeling her pulse race as time passed. If
the car didn’t start, she’d be trapped. Tunney would want an
explanation.

Praying for the motor to turn over on the
next turn of the key, she thought about what he might say if he
found out she wasn’t married. The word “liar” came to mind. Next
“dishonest”, “untrustworthy”…then the worst of all, “faker”…she
covered her eyes with her hand for the last epithet, “fraud”. Tears
pricked at the thought of him slapping him with those words. But
she’d deserve his wrath, having no defense.
Please start, car,
please.
Kit took a breath, held it then turned the key. There
was a steady hum. Now nine-thirty, time pressure made adrenaline
pump through her system.
Gotta get those clothes and get
back.

Once at the store, she raced through,
ignoring sizes and colors, she grabbed everything on her list. When
a saleswoman offered to help, Kit shook her head, practically
running to the checkout counter. Her foot tapped nervously until
she was called to the register. She flew to the parking lot, threw
the bags of clothes in the trunk and sped home.

As it was already eleven-thirty, Kit worried
Tunney might be early. Checking first for any sign of his truck,
she opened the trunk, snatched the three big bags and disappeared
into the house. Once behind the front door, she breathed a sigh of
relief, until Tunney’s truck pulled up. Panicking, she raced up the
stairs, into the twin bedroom. She yanked everything out of the
bags, throwing the suit, pants and shirts on the bed next to her
clothes. Then she stuffed the underwear, tee shirts and socks into
dresser drawers.

Although he had a key, Tunney knocked. She
raced downstairs, out of breath, taking a few seconds to compose
herself before opening up. He looked at her with a question in his
eyes.

“Just how fast did you come down those
stairs?”

“Oh, this,” trying to catch her breath, “I
was running.”

Well, she
was
running, running up the
stairs to get the clothes in place before he came in.

“Oh. I didn’t know you run.”

“Not every day,” she panted, “only…when I
need to.”

“I’ve never heard running referred to as
need to
, you know? I like to run, too. Maybe we could jog
together some time.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Let’s get started,” he said, climbing the
stairs with a bucket of supplies in one hand and a step ladder in
the other.

“I thought you’d send your men to do this.”
Kit chewed her lip.

“Everyone’s booked. Besides, this is now my
house. I’m very particular about the way things are done.”

After the kiss last night, she guessed he
chose to be there, with her, rather than send his men. She’d
checked him out on the Internet. Tunney had built his father’s
company up to ten times the size it had been. He was the president,
a multi-millionaire not only from Nichols Building but also from
Things to Come, his Internet Company in Seattle. So why would he be
painting the closet if not to be with her? She followed him up the
stairs murmuring grunts of agreement while a smile played with her
lips.

Kit slipped into the twin bedroom to rip the
tags off the new clothes while Tunney dropped the materials in her
bedroom.

“I like what you’ve done with this room,” he
called out.

The new bedspread with a small flower print
in yellow, blue and green on white matched the curtains. Throw
pillows in each color were placed artfully on the bed.

She joined him. He shone a flashlight on the
closet ceiling.

“There might be water damage here requiring
more extensive renovation than I thought. We’ll have to look
upstairs for a leak.”

“Do I need to move into the master
bedroom?”

“You do,” he said, looking at the bed, then
at her.

Kit blushed when she realized they were
standing within two feet of each other in her bedroom. She moved
away half afraid of his desires, half afraid of her own.

“Does the fireplace downstairs work?”

“I’ll show you how to light the fire. The
one in the master bedroom used to work. Let me check it out first.
So great on cold nights, getting into bed with a fire blazing,” he
said.

I’ll bet you can show me a lot about
starting a fire.
She hid a grin.

His gaze roamed over her body from head to
toe, kicking up her pulse. “I’ll move my things into the master
bedroom, so I won’t be in your way.” Kit said, opening a drawer to
grab an armful of lingerie. A few garments slipped out of her
grasp, landing at his feet. He bent down to pick up a pair of pink
lace panties and a black lace bra. She snatched them out of his
hand, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she tucked them away from
sight.

He chuckled. “Do you wear those…those…”

“Panties. Of course.” She huffed, turning
away to hide her embarrassment.

“Wow, amazing,” he murmured to himself but
was overheard.

“What’s amazing?”

Now he blushed.

“I…uh…just…I mean you…in those…wow.”

She laughed while heading for the other
room.

“Don’t forget your husband’s stuff,” he
said, turning his attention away from her frilly things. Kit
stopped, the smile fell off her face.
My husband’s stuff.
Thank God there was men’s underwear in those drawers. She took the
socks and boxers out so he could see them then stuffed them under
her arm.

Kit stripped her bed, took the sheets,
blankets, pillows and bedspread into the master bedroom. While
folding hospital corners in the sheets, her mind wandered to
thoughts of Tunney. What would he look like, tucked into her bed,
lit only by the light from the fireplace, naked, the sheet pulled
up to his waist, waiting for her. Kit shook her head to clear his
image from her mind. She wanted him, but would have to let him go.
To Tunney, she was married. Too bad, but it had already been
decided.