A Touch Bittersweet Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Blank Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

 

 

  Edited by: Finishing Touch Editing

  Copyright © <2020>

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1-7338082-3-X

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7338082-3-1

  This one’s for my children, though I certainly don’t want them reading it anytime soon. But if ever they do, I want them to know that they were so supportive and encouraging to me through everything, and I couldn’t be more grateful or honored to have them in my life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  PERSPECTIVE WAS THE thing.

  The clipping listing local auctions in the paper used words like potential and opportunity and in need of some TLC.

  Ramshackle was more like it. Shabby. Rickety.

  The front porch roof was sagging badly. Weeds grown to waist-high. The screen door hung by a hinge.

  Neglected—another word.

  What about defeated?

  Logan stepped out of his truck parked just behind the rusted mailbox of 901 Daisy Street and looked at the defeated home.

  One-story but with a finished, walk-out basement. Four beds, two baths on the main floor.

  The roof would need to be completely replaced. The siding—was it salvageable? Might not matter if the insides needed to be completely gutted. Might have to take it all the way down to the framework. Hell, they’d get more money clearing the whole thing out and selling the lot it was on.

  Still, the framework. Strong bones. Good foundation. Given enough time, abuse, and neglect—even the bones and foundation would crumble.

  But these hadn’t. Not yet. They were holding up. Holding out.

  Logan thought about walking around back but didn’t relish the idea of what might be living in the weeds. Nothing in back would have changed his mind, anyway. He needed a project while he was in town. Something to keep his hands busy.

  He’d never fixed up a house before, but he’d done enough odds and ends around the places he’d lived; he figured he could manage just fine.

  He turned and made his way back to his truck. A mini-van turned down the street just as he was putting his key in the ignition. He assumed it would pass, but it didn’t.

  It pulled to the side of the road directly across from 901 Daisy Street.

  A woman in a long, white sundress with purple flowers around the skirt stepped out. She had blond hair pulled back in a loose bun. She strode across the street and up the driveway to the house, stopping as he had. Standing right next to the cigarette he’d guiltily lit and stamped out after two puffs.

  Logan sat with his hand on the key in the ignition. He didn’t turn the key. He forgot about it, actually.

  The woman stood for a long moment with her arms folded over her chest.

  And then she moved toward the defeated porch.

  Logan hopped out of his truck and jogged up the driveway. “Ma’am?”

  She stopped with one flip-flop-clad foot on the porch step and turned. “Yes?”

  His voice stopped in his throat for a moment. He wasn’t great at talking to people he knew well. Talking to a stranger was a hundred times worse. “Uh, I just thought maybe…maybe you can’t tell, but it probably ain’t too safe to climb up that porch. Because, well…” He gestured to it. What was there to say? The place should have been condemned, and it seemed so obvious to him he felt he might insult her intelligence by explaining it.

  She smiled. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  She proceeded up the steps, which creaked beneath her feet. At least she chose her step placement carefully. Still, Logan held his breath.

  She made her way to the windows, cupped her hands, and peered in. “God, they left all their junk in there. Did you see this?”

  She was talking to him. Had to be. There was no one else around. “Uh, no.”

  “It seriously looks like a junkyard in here. I bet it smells horrible. They’d have been better off knocking down the house and selling the lot.”

  He wanted to laugh. He’d had the exact same thought only moments before, after all. And how interesting to hear his thoughts come out of someone else’s mouth.

  But he didn’t laugh. Or speak.

  The woman turned and stepped lightly off the porch. “Have you looked around back?”

  He shook his head.

  She made for the weeds, as though she planned to traipse through them in those flip-flops and her pretty dress, with the fair and soft skin of her arms and legs exposed.

  “Uh, ma’am?” he said, taking a half step toward her. Not that he would have touched her to stop her. It was just an instinctive move he quickly halted.

  “Yes?” she said, turning again to face him.

  “It’s just, probably… I mean, maybe you aren’t really dressed for…for that sort of…” Again he gestured to the weeds because shouldn’t it be obvious that she oughtn’t go walking into them?

  She arched a brow. “Not dressed for…”

  “Well—the weeds are—I mean, they’re sharp. And scratchy. Could be briars in there. You never know.”

  “Thanks.” She turned back, clearly planning to ignore him.

  “Ticks,” he said. “Spiders. Snakes.”

  The last word stopped her. She took two steps back into the driveway before turning to face him. “Yeah, you’re right. Could be snakes.” She shivered. He could see goosebumps raise on her arms as she rubbed them. “It doesn’t much matter, anyway. The place is perfect.”

  “Perfect for…”

  “For me. I’m gonna buy it and fix it up.”

  He stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. She was one of those small women. The kind who looked like you could snap her in two like a toothpick if you hugged her too tightly. Not that he was thinking of hugging her. It was just that he couldn’t figure how it was she was planning to fix the place up. “You’re going to fix it up?”

  “Yep.”

  “You and—and your husband?”

  “Just me.”

  “Just you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…” He frowned as he looked back at the house and thought of all the heavy lifting. “The roof’ll need replacing. You can’t do that yourself.”

  “I got some family can help me.”

  “It’s just…mice probably chewed up all the wiring.”

  “I’ve done electrical work before.”

  He looked around at the yard. “What about the snakes?”

  She smiled at him, for some reason. “Are you looking for work, mister? Because I’d be willing to hire out to get rid of the snakes.”

  “No, ma’am. But I am looking at buying this place to fix-up myself.”

  She cocked her head and looked him up and down. “You wanna fix it up? All by your little lonesome?”

  It caught him off guard. She was biting back at his concern for her. He’d insulted her and she wasn’t having any of it. He felt his muscles relax. He’d been crossing his arms over his chest. Now he dropped them to his sides and smiled. “I’d be willing
to hire you to mow down the weeds and scare off the snakes.”

  She laughed. Her cheeks flushed slightly. And then he saw for the first time that she was beautiful, and the realization unsettled his stomach considerably. “It sounds like tomorrow one of us will have a house and one of us will have a job.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “Mind my asking what you want it for?”

  “Fix it up. Flip it. You?”

  “Fix it up. Live in it.”

  He nodded. He was searching her hands for something. It was like his eyes had their own mission that he wasn’t aware of. And then he realized—he was looking for a ring. And she wasn’t wearing one. “With your family?”

  “My kids. I’m not—I mean, I’m…” She blushed, laughed, and looked down at her feet.

  “Available for coffee? After I win the auction tomorrow?” he asked.

  With a deep breath that lifted her chest, she raised her bright eyes to his. “Yes. I’m available for coffee. After I win the auction tomorrow.”

  A breeze blew, and some strands of her hair brushed along her jaw, and all Logan could think was how he must be dreaming. How he couldn’t possibly be so lucky this late into the game of life as to meet a nice woman with clean-smelling skin and a kind smile, who seemed somewhat charmed by him. No, this couldn’t possibly be happening.

  Then again, perhaps a woman who looked at a defeated house and saw something worthwhile might also look at a defeated man and see the same thing. Logan had been feeling for some time that his own bones were barely holding him up. That time and abuse and neglect were finally chipping away his foundation. That it was too late.

  And yet there he was. Face-to-face with the impossible.

  She really was beautiful.

  “It sounds like I win either way,” he said.

  She blushed and beamed. “See you tomorrow at the courthouse.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He watched her walk back to her van. She gave him one last smile before climbing in and driving away.

  He got in his truck but didn’t leave straight away. He had to catch his breath. But it seemed as though every time he finally got a handle on it, he replayed his interaction with the beautiful woman in his mind and lost it all over again.

  Maggie sat in her van with the ignition off in the driveway of her in-law’s house, where she was living—temporarily—with her kids. She closed her eyes and held onto a ring that hung from a chain round her neck and pictured in her mind the image of a young man in uniform. Dark hair neatly combed. A crooked smile and a look of hunger in his eyes.

  She passed a year as a widow three months ago. More and more she had difficulty summoning Josh’s image in her mind. And now, though she could bring it forth, she couldn’t seem to hold onto it. The image kept morphing into a different one. Of a much taller, broader man in faded jeans, T-shirt, and well-worn baseball cap.

  He’d asked her to coffee.

  In the fifteen months since her husband’s death, this was her very first flirtation. Her first invitation. Her first time feeling as though it might be possible for her to love again—someday.

  She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. That smile she wore was indecent. She forced it off her face, took a breath, and stepped out of the van.

  Inside the two-story farmhouse, children ran around playing. Six children in all. Four of them were hers.

  There was a smell of bread baking, and barbecue chicken smoke blew in the opened back door.

  Josh’s parents were Frank and Eleanor Dugan. Frank was a retired police officer turned hobby farmer.

  Eleanor was dying of cancer.

  Today, she was on her feet. In the kitchen.

  Today was the first day ever that she would have all of her children and grandchildren under the same roof. Well—all of her living children.

  “What can I do to help?” Maggie asked as she dropped her purse next to the door.

  “You could fill the cups with ice,” Eleanor said with a smile. You wouldn’t know she was dying, happy as she was. “We’re almost ready to eat.”

  Maggie retrieved the ice bucket from the freezer and stood at the counter next to Eleanor to fill the cups. “Is the tea made?”

  “Charlotte took care of it. Have you met Spencer’s girlfriend, Jill?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware he’d brought her.”

  “They’re out back, looking at the chickens. She’s never seen live chickens before. She’s twenty-two.” Eleanor said that last bit with a pointed look punctuated by an eye roll.

  Spencer was Eleanor’s third child. At thirty-two, he should probably be looking beyond the college age range for a girlfriend. But Maggie saw no need to judge.

  “He’s here!” Charlotte came running into the kitchen.

  Eleanor—who had been moving fresh-baked rolls from the pan into a basket—immediately dropped what she was doing. She fluttered around the kitchen, adjusted the silk turban on her hairless head, and nearly started crying. “Go let him in, Charlotte.”

  Eleanor smoothed her hands over the front of her pants and took in a deep breath.

  Charlotte was the second child. She was going to the door to let in the first child.

  Logan Hayes had a different last name than the rest of the family, and he hadn’t been seen on this property in over ten years. Maggie wondered if it had been that long since Eleanor had seen him at all.

  Maggie kept filling the cups with ice and trying to look just the right amount of interested. Where she wanted to be was at the front of the house with her face pressed to the glass of the window to get a good look at this brother-in-law she’d never met nor seen before except in an old photograph Josh had always kept with him—it was a picture of him, age eight, and Logan, age sixteen, holding up a giant catfish they’d caught together.

  Maggie listened as the front door opened. She watched Eleanor’s face go from forced calm to pure elation.

  “Mom,” said a deep, scratchy voice right before the man himself came into view.

  Eleanor threw her arms around him. He leaned down to return her embrace. He was facing away from Maggie, but she’d already seen enough to realize this was the same man she’d just finished flirting with less than an hour ago.

  They were having coffee together tomorrow because he was the first man since Josh to light her up inside.

  Except coffee was out, now. It had to be. Right?

  Eleanor retreated from the hug and gestured toward the kitchen. “Have you met Maggie?”

  “No, I—” He stopped talking when his eyes landed on hers. He froze and stared at her. She stared at him.

  Maggie stepped around the counter and extended her hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

  He cleared his throat, took her hand. “Likewise.” His wide eyes stayed locked with hers, but he released her hand.

  The moment went on way too long until Charlotte shoved her brother. “Well, don’t just stand there. Sit down. Tell us all about Montana. You want something to drink?”

  “Uh, sure. Tea’s fine.” He broke eye contact with Maggie and sat on one of the barstools opposite where Maggie was getting the cups ready for tea. Charlotte took one and poured sweet tea into it and handed it to Logan.

  “So?” Charlotte said. “Montana?”

  “It’s nice this time of year. Mom, how are you feeling?”

  Eleanor sat next to him, turned to face him. “There’s good days. This is one of them. I’m so glad you came, dear.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. Spencer here?”

  “Out back with his teenage girlfriend,” Charlotte said.

  “Ah. And kids. Aren’t there kids somewhere?”

  Maggie suddenly realized she hadn’t heard her children in quite some time.

  “They’re all out back,” Charlotte said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be well acquainted with them by the end of the day. Where are you staying?”

  “I got a motel east side of town.”


  “No,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. We’ve got room here. Maggie and her kids are in the guest house, but you are welcome to any of the rooms here.”

  Logan shook his head and smiled. “We can talk about that later, huh?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. After supper, you just go on and get your things.”

  “Mom—”

  “I won’t have it, that’s all. Aren’t you here for me? Isn’t this the time in my life where everyone gives me exactly what I want?”

  He stared at her and took a sip of his tea. “How’s Frank?”

  Eleanor’s good humor vanished. “He’s well.”

  Logan nodded. “Good.”

  He took another drink of tea and turned his gorgeous eyes toward her. “Maggie,” he said, “you in town for long?”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. “Yes, actually.” She turned to finish putting the rolls in the basket for Eleanor, who seemed to have forgotten. “I’ve got my house sold. I want my kids to be near their family. Good school systems around here. So, yes, we’re here to stay.”

  “Nice. You looking for a house?”

  She glanced back and couldn’t help but smile. “Found one. It’s going to auction tomorrow. I don’t expect to have much competition.”

  “You never know.” He smiled bashfully and looked down into his drink.

  The back door opened, and Frank came in, carrying a large pan full of grilled meat—pork steaks, chicken, burgers. “Supper’s ready,” he called.

  Maggie had always found Frank to be a warm and welcoming father-in-law. His smile was pleasant. He embraced his grandchildren and took them fishing and taught them to ride horses. He seemed truly delighted to provide food for his family. He set the pan in the center of the table, smiling the whole time.

  Smiling until his eyes landed on Logan.

  Then, the smile vanished.

  Logan stood and extended his hand. “Frank,” he said.

  “Logan.” Frank shook his hand and turned back to Charlotte. “Honey, why don’t you wrangle up the kids. I’m ready to eat.”

  “Sure, pop.” Charlotte stepped onto the back porch.