Stormy Surrender (New Hope #1) Read online

  And of course, there was the most pressing item on the list, the reason that she was heading to Charlotte with her laptop riding shotgun.

  Research Vermont divorce laws and lawyers

  She knew that by late afternoon she’d be dragging, but honestly, it didn’t matter. Apparently from now on she could sleep when she wanted. She could do whatever she wanted. And now was just as good a time as any to put all of that into practice. Turning onto Interstate 77, Marti headed north to Charlotte. The drive passed incredibly quickly and soon enough she found herself in South Charlotte. There were few places open at that time of morning, but one lit sign stood out. She’d never heard of Panera Bakery before, but the sign in the window promised free wi-fi and the mostly vacant parking lot promised the privacy and anonymity she craved, but could never expect to find a in a town like New Hope.

  After ordering a four cheese baked soufflé, a chocolate croissant, and large hot chocolate with whip cream and chocolate syrup because after all that…what was the point of trying to watch calories, she sat in an armchair near the fireplace, set up her meal and her laptop and settled in to relax. While she knew she would have to meet with Joey at some point, she figured it would be at least afternoon before he had an estimate ready. She would use this time to figure out her legal rights.

  The Tylenol PM worked better than he had imagined they would. He was able to sleep until 6am. It was still early, but he had managed to get in twelve hours anyway. He rolled onto his back and tried to recall the events of the previous day. It all came rushing back to him. He had hoped it was a bad dream, but it wasn’t. He knew the minute he found his phone he’d find that unwanted text message. Well, he wasn’t going to let that ruin what had been an otherwise pretty pleasant start to the New Year. While the other contractors would be scrambling to find work this time of year, he had an entire home remodel to complete. And maybe, just maybe, if he could rebuild that house, he could rebuild his life, too.

  Sure, the house wouldn’t be demolished, like the dreams he had for it, but in a way it was better. The house was getting a second chance and he desperately needed that, too. He collected himself and headed to the bathroom to begin the process of starting a new day. He had suppliers to call. He had a crew to round up. They weren’t used to coming back to work so quickly after the holidays. And if he knew them, they were probably still drinking from the holiday. It was easy to get trapped in that cycle when there was nothing better to do. And there was little else in the world as effective at blotting out bad memories and keeping a person from thinking as alcohol.

  He smiled as he finished brushing his teeth. It was more than his usual scrub then smile check. This time, the smile was real, brought on by the idea that maybe by the time he had made his phone calls, he’d be hungry. And what better place was there for him to grab breakfast than at Hope House. He would need to catch up with Marti anyway. This was going to be a long project.

  It never occurred to him that Marti wouldn’t be at Hope House when he arrived. For some reason, when he searched out the parking lot and realized that, indeed, her vehicle which was nearly impossible to miss was…missing. He stood in the parking lot looking around and scratching his head for a minute before turning and heading up the steps to the front door. Keely was standing there shaking her head at him as he walked into the dining room.

  “She was gone when I woke up this morning,” she said. “And before you ask, I don’t know where she went.”

  “Who?” Joe asked. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He tried to walk past her to get his normal seat, but she blocked him with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Let her be,” she said. “I mean it. Marti is a lovely woman. And you know I worship the quicksand you walk on. I think you are just a doll baby,” she took a breath that indicated the conversation was only going to go downhill from there, “But you are horrible with women.” He stared at her ready to dispute her claim. She raised her hand. “Horrible!” She exclaimed. Then she turned to walk away.

  He stopped her. “How can you say that? I am great with women. I am a catch. They all love me.”

  “Ha!” Keely said loudly, then looked around and lowered her voice when she realized that she might be attracting the wrong kind of attention to their conversation. “You may be a catch…again…your opinion, but you are certainly not luring in the right women.”

  “How can you say that?” He asked again.

  “Honestly, Joe? Look at all the women you’ve brought here to dump. It has become such a habit that I named it. I call it the Brunch-n-Dump! Look at all the women you’ve had to work so hard to avoid for weeks at a time. Look at your silly rotation of women that keeps you safe and commitment-free.” He opened his mouth to object, but she silenced him. “We could argue about this all day, but let’s just agree to disagree. You need help, Joe.” And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

  He needed help. He was simmering and stewing as he replayed the conversation over in his head. That was…unfair. That may also be highly accurate, but it was still unfair. And with that, he looked about and realized he had lost his appetite. So, instead of loading his belly with some of Keely’s French toast or loading his plate with every breakfast meat she offered, he was turning sadly and heading back out of the dining room.

  As he drove away he thought about some of the truths of her statements. He did have a rotation of women. Everyone knew how easily he grew bored with monotony. That was one of the aspects of home remodeling that he loved. There was always a new job, a new house, a new neighborhood, a new project. Each one was just different enough. And he loved working with his hands. Women…they were not a challenge. And if they were, they were usually the worst kind of challenge. Finn had proven that. Just having her as his girlfriend…the feelings that Olympians had when winning medals, that couldn’t even come close to comparing to how it felt having her in his life. It didn’t last. Nothing ever lasted.

  So, he was left to figure out what to do to kill time until he could talk to the different distributors. He drove back to his house, and once he arrived he sat in the driveway for a few minutes. This wasn’t the life he was supposed to be living. This wasn’t the house he was supposed to be living in. This was just where he came to collect himself, to recuperate and to recover. He walked to the two locked sheds in the back of the property. He found the key to the lock on the key chain he carried with him.

  After unlocking the first shed, he opened the doors wide. Then he did the same with the second. The first shed held all the windows for the house, just as he had imagined them, complete with transoms. There were French doors in the back, too. The other shed held almost enough squares to reside the house, and enough 5/4 trim boards to trim it out. He had run out of room in the shed. If he were to be completely, honest, after he made the mistake of entrusting his bank codes to Finn, he had run out of money, too.

  He still burned from the humiliation of the day his card had been rejected when he tried to get gas at his usual gas station. If he hadn’t had some cash that he had hidden away, who knows how that would have turned out. He wouldn’t have been able to work that day for sure. He might not have even had enough gas to make it back to his apartment.

  Well, it was good that these products were finally going to be put to use in the home they were intended for. He could clean out the sheds, start a new project, stop holding onto the past. He hadn’t been able to return the windows, since they were custom order. And he had held out hope that it was a sign the home would still be his one day that the windows wouldn’t go to waste. Maybe this was the one day he had hoped for, but not in the way he imagined.

  By the time she was driving back to New Hope, Marti was feeling less than hopeful. She had read through the divorce laws for Vermont. And she soon realized that she had been tricked. It was obvious that Blaine had been planning this. The moment she announced her desire to move, he had turned that to his advantage. And there was the distinct possibility that he was now
going to blame the divorce on her. He could say very easily that she had abandoned him, knowing full well that he couldn’t leave town on a moment’s notice. It was her word against his when it came to the house in New Hope, which was entirely in her name. And though he had clearly transferred money to the new account, it could easily be twisted and explained away so that she was the bad guy. Marti hated being portrayed as the bad guy. There really was only one recourse.

  The paralegal who answered soon realized that they wouldn’t be able to represent her because they were already representing Blaine. And even though she asked when he had spoken to them, trying to determine how long he had been planning this, the paralegal couldn’t answer that question either. So, the second firm she called was more than happy to work with her. They recommended that she come in for a consultation. When she explained that she was in South Carolina, they all but insisted she return to get the divorce paperwork started and begin the division of assets.

  Just as she had imagined, it was early afternoon when she returned to her new home. She trudged up the steps. She was distracted, thinking about the discussion she had with the paralegal, wondering what she should do next, feeling worse by the minute. She shifted the weight on her legs as she pushed to get the door open and that’s when the board under her left foot gave. There was a snapping sound as the wood splintered. And then she was buried knee deep in her own porch. Though her first instinct should have been to pull herself out of the mess she was in, this just seemed like further proof that she was in too deep, so Marti sat hard on the porch and burst into tears.

  Lunch had been really good until the end. Laurel had loaded his basket with fries. She provided not one, but two small bottles of Texas Pete. And then, just before he left the café, she had walked over with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. She knew they were his favorite. As he was about to thank her and reach for one, she pulled the plate just out of reach.

  “Now you stay away from Marti,” she said. “Leave her be and you can have all the cookies and Texas Pete you want.” She started to leave the plate in front of him, but hesitated when she saw the look of bewilderment on his face. “What?”

  “Does remodeling her house count?” He was practically salivating over those cookies as he imagined eating just about the entire plate full.

  “Does it count for what?” She asked then with narrowed eyes. She still hadn’t let go of the plate though it was resting solidly on the table.

  He sighed. “Does it count against me? I need the work.” And he tentatively reached for a cookie, only to have the entire plate yanked off the table.

  “It most certainly does count against you!” Laurel stormed back to the kitchen muttering to herself something about common sense.

  Suddenly, though the temperature was staying a moderate fifty degrees, New Hope was feeling a lot colder. The women of the town had always taken care of him, looked out for him, spoiled him and babied him a little. In return, he was quick to lend a hand. Only now, they were out to get him, siding with a stranger. It hurt.

  Joe noted that Marti’s vehicle was in her driveway as he pulled into his. It would have been impossible to miss. And after he parked, he turned, just in time to see her fall through the porch. He winced, imagining that must have hurt, too. And shaking his head, he walked over to help. As he neared her vanishing form on the porch, he heard the first sign of her distress. She was crying…and not just a few stray tears. No she was currently racked with gut wrenching sobs. Well, he couldn’t vouch for what they were doing to her gut, but his was completely in knots as he listened.

  Looping his hands under her arms, he hefted her slowly out of the hole she was in. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured against her head as he pulled her free. “Everything can be fixed.”

  “Not everything,” she responded with a hollow laugh. And once she was back on solid boards, she wiped at her eyes and thanked him. “I could have gotten out by myself, you know.”

  He crossed his harms over his chest. “I know, but sometimes we could all use a little bit of help.” He studied her face. She was wiping at the debris on her hands, checking for splinters, and he noticed the uncomfortable way she rubbed at her ring finger…her naked ring finger.

  She realized he had noticed. That man didn’t miss much. “This,” she said raising her hand so he could see it better. “This is one of the many things that can’t be fixed.” She started to head into the house through the open door when she cursed. “Dammit. And I don’t even have water to wash my hands.” She chuckled and sniffled. This was a fine mess she was in.

  “Come on,” he motioned for her to follow him across the road to his house. She started to, but even as she took that first step, she realized that her leg was hurting and she could feel a warm wetness trickling down to her ankle. She stopped once she was off the porch and on solid ground again. There was a rip in her jeans, and sure enough…a gouge in her leg that was just big and nasty enough to require a visit to a doctor or urgent care. “Of course,” she said. She inhaled deeply a few times.

  Apparently Joe had mistaken her calming breaths for pain as he had now scooped her up into his arms and was in the process of carrying her to his house. She knew she should protest. She was quite certain nothing was broken. And yet at the moment, there was no place she would rather be than nestled in his strong arms. Before this, she had only seen arms like this in movies. She had only imagined what something like this would feel like. Now she was experiencing it. And there was something comfortable and natural about the way it felt to have his arms around her. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around his neck and buried her face against his throat. It was warm and smelled fresh and clean. She wanted to stay there forever. Then it was over. Joe had placed her on the counter, smoothly extricated himself, and was now examining her injury while she was struggling to recover from their closeness.

  “I’m fine,” she argued, a bit unnerved.

  “You just fell through your porch. I told you it had to come down. I swear. Did you not listen to me? Did you not believe me? Or were you just not paying attention?” He was ranting while pulling up her jeans to get a better look at the wound.

  She bit her lip for a moment. She had just stopped crying and was trying desperately not to start again. Everything was getting to her at the moment, from the shock of her being alone in a strange town far away from everything and everyone she had ever known, to the embarrassment of the injury, and the utter humiliation she felt from having her husband discard her like a stone in his shoe. She sniffled and looked around to see if there was something for her to wipe her nose on other than her sleeve. Finding nothing, she shrugged and swiped at her nose anyway. It was better than the alternative.

  When she looked at him again, he was studying her leg with a frown. “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

  Her head fell to the side as she considered that question. “I don’t know. I could call my doctor and ask him. I’ve had the same one my entire life. It has become more awkward with age…” Her voice trailed off and she smirked.

  “Well, you call while I drive.” And with that he picked her up and brought her out to his truck. He stood her next to the door while he opened the passenger side for her.

  He was about to pick her up again to lift her into the cab when she peeled his hands off her waist and pushed him back with one hand to the middle of his strong muscular chest. And after she recovered from that distraction, she glared at him. “I can walk, you know. You don’t need to man handle me.” Her hands were on her hips and she narrowed her eyes while she spoke. She started to climb in and discovered he had moved closer again so she waved his hand away. Once she was seated, she turned to him. “There. All by myself.” And then she pulled the door closed.

  By the time he had walked around the truck, she had already started to call the doctor. And soon she had the nurse looking up her file. “I’m on hold,” she announced while she sat there with the phone against her ear.

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nbsp; “I can see that.” He was mildly frustrated with her at the moment. He was also rather impressed. Finn was the kind to milk every injury. Back then he had to constantly baby her, coddle her, and treat her like a princess. Now he had to deal with Marti who had a gouge in her leg so deep that he swore he could see bone, but she would rather die than accept any help.

  She was jotting down information, like the date of her last shot and the fax number for the office in case she needed to fax them to get her records. Then he heard it start to get personal. He could tell because she switched ears, held the phone on her right side far from him. And it was obvious she was trying to get off the phone as quickly as she could. She sighed and spoke in a low voice. “Thank you. Your condolences are much appreciated.” And then she hung up. He could see that she was trying to avoid making eye contact. She was skillfully managing to stare out the window no matter what tactic he used to try to gain her attention.

  Joe made a decision. If cute and coy weren’t going to work for him in that moment, then he was simply going to have to take the direct approach. “So, did I hear that you lost someone?” He asked.

  She looked at him, her face carefully devoid of expression. “Two someones, actually.” And with that, she turned her attention back to the passing landscape. He didn’t even try. Joe knew there was no way to reach her.

  As he pulled into his physician’s office, he finally commented. “Listen, since you don’t have a doctor here yet, I thought I’d bring you to mine. Dr. Snow has a liberal walk-in policy. And with me here, you’ll probably be seen sooner.

  He didn’t lie. They were in and out in half an hour. It was closing in on 2:30pm. Marti had been given a shot and a lecture. And finally they walked out the door with a course of treatment and a script for antibiotics just in case the leg started to look ugly. As soon as they hopped back in the cab of his truck, he turned to her and asked something that had been plaguing him for hours.