Stormy Surrender

If asked, Martha wouldn’t be able to explain what made her leave Vermont at midnight on what was now December 30th. All she knew was that she wanted to wake up in a new town on New Year’s Eve, ready to start this new life she envisioned. The weather wasn’t particularly accommodating, what with the mixed bag of snow and rain that they were currently experiencing. It simply further cemented her belief that she was making the right decision in choosing to leave the frigid north.

The snow stopped once she hit the Virginia border mid-afternoon. She had stopped only a few times, careful to combine her needs. The Pilot gas stations meant she could go to the bathroom, fill her tank with gas, and get food without having to interrupt her travel repeatedly. Martha smiled at her cleverness. And the one thing she noticed in her travels was that people were just friendlier the further south she went. She couldn’t help but feel better about her decision.

The best part of her long drive, however, was that it was giving her the opportunity to get to know her new vehicle. She and Blaine had agreed to not exchange presents this year since they were moving, but he had still managed to surprise her with a new vehicle for the move. He claimed the Aztek was getting too old and he was concerned about her safety. Whatever the reason, she now drove a Saturn Vue Hybrid. He had selected a vibrant orange color that just didn’t fit her at all. And it had a practical tan leather interior which did. She had quickly discovered that her favorite feature was not the stereo or the six disk changer, but the heated seats that were working overtime to keep her warm.

For the most part, Martha was enjoying the drive. Watching the climate shift the further south she went was greatly elevating her spirit. And if she concentrated really hard, she could almost feel that glimmer of hope begin to take hold. Slowly, almost hesitatingly she began to do something she hadn’t in such a very long time. Martha began to hum. Before she knew it, she was singing. “And I know it’s gonna be…a lovely day!” Soon, she was giggling to herself.

Just before six that evening, after making excellent time due to her minimal stopping policy, she rolled into the town of New Hope. Her breath nearly caught in her throat as she realized it was so much more beautiful than the pictures truly showed. The white gazebo in the town square was decorated in white lights, as were all the trees up and down Main Street. Wreaths hung from every light pole decorated in ivory ribbon and white lights. Couples were walking hand-in-hand. People would pass each other with a greeting of ‘hey’ that was at least three syllables long. Many would even stop and chat. It was better than a Norman Rockwell painting. Martha’s throat swelled from the effort of trying to choke back tears. She longed to be a part of this life, this town. Taking a deep breath, she pulled down the vanity mirror and swiped at her eyes.

Drawing in another fortifying breath, she reached over to grab the directions she had printed off the Internet. Glancing at the street signs, she realized she was only a few short blocks from her destination.

“Hope House, here I come,” she said quietly. Then forcing a smile on her face, she turned the corner to Magnolia Drive.



Once she arrived at her destination, one short turn away, she gasped at the entrance. It was everything she had ever dreamed about. A large circular drive led to a spectacular butter cream yellow three story home. The main level welcomed with its wrap around porch and wicker furniture that suggested a place to relax and rejuvenate. The yard was immaculately landscaped with two large magnolia trees on either side of the home, thick vines that probably belonged to wisteria dangled from the porch. Overall, it couldn’t have been a more perfect place for her stay and start her search for a new life.

After parking in one of the spots to the side of the house, she fiddled a moment, deciding which of her bags she truly needed to bring with her. Finally, she slung the black Calvin Klein duffle over her shoulder, yanked her toiletry bag from the corner it was wedged into, and made her way back to the porch.

A woman with shoulder length blond hair greeted her at the door. She was wiping her hands on a towel that was slung over her shoulder. “Come on in,” she said in a warm welcoming voice.

“I’m Martha,” she began quietly, suddenly very tired and very overwhelmed from her journey. She held out a hand.

“You’re not from around here are you?” The woman smiled kindly. “I’m Keely,” she announced, “owner and operator of Hope House.” She beamed proudly and quickly drew Martha into a hug.

Martha was taken aback at first, but realized that as much as she was shocked by this manner of greeting from a complete stranger, she was desperate for some kind of human contact. It had been so long since she had experienced any physical contact at all. For the second time that day, she could feel her eyes welling with tears and she pulled away.

Keely tipped her head to the side and studied her a moment. “How about we show you to your room, then I bring you up a nice meal?” She paused for a reaction, “Or you can join the rest of the guests in the dining room if you would prefer.” She had already picked up the bags that Martha had set in the entry and was heading up the stairs as she spoke. “I just thought you might like a nice warm bath to go along with the fire we readied in your fireplace.”

Following behind her, Martha finally managed to respond. “I think you’re right.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this evening. Being all emotional is so unlike me.” She tried to work on her smile for a moment, but failed miserably. “I’m not fit for public consumption at the moment. A meal and bath in the room would be…lovely.”

Once they reached the landing, Keely paused. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put you in a room in the front of the house.” She gestured to have Martha head toward a door to the right. “Normally, I would have preferred to have you overlooking the gardens, but they aren’t much to look at in December I’m afraid.” She unlocked the door, moved aside so Martha could enter and followed her in.

“Now, if you look out here,” she gestured as she opened one of the heavy damask navy curtains, “you have a perfect view of the town all lit up and decorated for the holidays.” She turned and folded her hands across her ample stomach as she watched Martha for a reaction.

A weak smile played at the corner of Martha’s lips. “It’s a wonderful room,” she said honestly. She studied it now, with the night sky blue on the top of the walls separating the white bottom wainscoting by a chair rail. The large brick fireplace against the back center wall had an ornate wooden mantle with an antique mirror hung above it. There were unlit candles in the wall sconces on either side of the mirror. The effect was warm and inviting.

One of the best features of the room was the queen sized four poster canopy bed covered in clean white linens and a plethora of puffy pillows. She sighed, already imagining laying in it. To the right of the bed was a writing desk, similar to the one she had left behind, though this one was probably authentic whereas hers was a reproduction. The matching chair was upholstered in dark blue damask.

“So, this will do?” Keely questioned. She pointed towards a door to the right of the fireplace. “Your private bathroom is through there.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry; we’ve updated the bathrooms entirely. Found the guests don’t want that authentic an experience.” She winked as she walked back to the door. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes with a hot meal. You just relax.”

Martha stood in the center of the room with her arms wrapped around her. It was a habit recently developed when she discovered after her hospital stay that she couldn’t get warm. Her memories drifted to that experience and she shuddered. She saw Keely tense, and quickly responded. “I’m sorry. Must be the climate change.” She offered a weak smile and continued, “I think that bath may be just what I need.”

Nodding and smiling once more, Keely walked through the door and turned just before closing it. “I’ll be back soon!”

For the first time in a long time, Martha relaxed in a tub. She had poured a healthy amount of the complimentary bath salts in, found the light floral aroma to be pleasing and dumped in some more. She had stayed in the water until her hands and feet were pruning and the water had turned cold. She had let out some of the cold water to make room for more warm water and stayed even longer. From the other side of the door, she heard a delicate ‘ahem’ which she recognized as Keely’s way of discreetly announcing her arrival. She wanted desperately to be nice to this woman, nice to everyone, and become a welcome member of her new community, but tonight she couldn’t face anyone.

“Almost done,” she called to Keely.

“Take your time. I’m not staying. Just wanted to let you know the food was here.” She heard the door open again. “I’ll just get the tray in the morning. We start serving breakfast at seven if you’re up.” And with that, the door clicked shut and Martha was alone once more.

Lying in the tub, she struggled to evaluate her feelings. Why was she suddenly so emotional? Her doctor had warned her that this might happen. She could grow depressed. She had thought the move would ensure she was so busy that she wouldn’t have time for that. That was her plan. She was stronger than that. It couldn’t be that she was lonely. She was alone all the time at home. And it couldn’t be that she was missing home. What was there to miss but a house she had decorated? She could do that anywhere. She was here to live her dream, build a new life, and get back to being herself, whoever that was. Maybe a good cry was just what she needed. Maybe she should allow herself just one good cry and then push away all those pesky tears from now on.

Standing up gingerly, muscles still sore from the long drive, she slid from the tub and toweled off. The white thermal robe with the bed and breakfast logo was a bit large for her small frame, but once the belt was cinched, it was wearable. Slowly, she opened the door, the only noises being the gurgle of the draining tub and now the crackle of her fire, and surveyed the meal Keely had delivered her. There was a note addressed to her on the tray.

Dear Martha,

I’m not sure what you liked, but judging by the way your clothes hang on you; you need a nice heavy meal. And judging by the way you’re acting, you need comfort food. Here’s the best I could whip up on such short notice.

Hope you enjoy it.

Sleep well!

Keely

PS. Not sure what wine pairs well with grilled cheese and creamy tomato soup, so save it for the chocolate cake.

The bottle of Inniskilin Cab Franc was placed next to what could only be described as a slab of chocolate cake. The grilled cheese was no ordinary sandwich. This was grilled to perfection on thick slices of homemade sourdough bread with extra cheese and a healthy portion of ham. Even the tomato soup was garnished with swirls of cream in the center. Every bit of the meal was served on fine china or in crystal stemware. And there had been a wonderful, sweet, caring note to boot.

This was where she really wanted to cry. Instead, she couldn’t bear to let this meal get cold, nor could she stand the thought of being unable to eat it on an upset stomach, and perhaps most importantly, she would never allow herself to hurt this woman who seemed determined to mother her and had shown her more kindness in the last hour than she had experienced in ages.

A genuine smile curved across her face. She picked up the tray from the writing desk and walked over to the fireplace. Slowly she placed the tray on the floor and sat down beside it to enjoy her meal. For the first time in a long time, she savored someone else’s cooking. She ate every bite of the sandwich, spooned up every drop of the soup. Every crumb of that decadent chocolate cake was consumed. And as she lazed beside the fireplace basking in the glow of the fire and heat in her belly from her meal, the warmth only a fine wine can spread slowly taking hold, she realized that she really could make a home here. Martha couldn’t wait for Blaine to come and share this with her. Glancing at the clock, she decided it was too late to call him. She’d reach him at the office in the morning.

She stretched and wandered lazily over to the bed. For the first time ever, Martha didn’t wear pajamas, or panties. Wearing only the robe, she pulled back the duvet cover and climbed into bed promising herself to use every pillow on the bed. And before she knew it, she was fast asleep.



The sharp rap on the front door was quickly answered by Keely, who ushered the man in nervously. He was not overly tall for a man at 5’10”, but something about his build made him appear to be larger than he was. As soon as he shrugged out of his work jacket, wearing that tight thermal shirt, it was obvious that he hadn’t a spare ounce of fat on him.

“Come right this way, my little doll baby,” Keely crooned as she led him to the utility room.

The man, in his early thirties, blushed until his pale skin nearly resembled his striking red hair. “How can I help you, Keely?” He asked. “You were pretty vague on the phone.” He rubbed his hands together. “Man, it seems a bit chilly in here,” he commented idly as he glanced around the room.

“Ah hah,” she said happily. “It’s the furnace. The pilot light has gone out again and the guests are going to notice once their fires die down, and I don’t know how to light it. I mean, I could try to do it, but I know it’s dangerous, and damn it, I want to live!” She babbled endlessly for a moment then stopped to see his reaction.

Joe wore a grin that could charm the panties off any woman in a 100 mile radius. Rumor had it; a long time ago he had put that to the test. More recently, however, experience had him shying away from relationships of any kind and learning to enjoy the single life. Many had tried, but none had succeeded in even stirring his interest. While he had the rare and occasional dinner date, no one had been able to claim that elusive second date. Really, what Joe did, couldn’t be considered dating. He kept a stable of women that he could call on a moment’s notice to serve his need, but that was all they would ever be.

“Let me give it a try,” he said, his grin quickly fading. He confidently walked over to the furnace, played around with a few buttons, and the furnace soon magically roared to life. “Now, we have talked about how you need to get a specialist in here to replace this old heap, right?” He gave Keely an admonishing look.

“Yes, Joe,” she said, eyes seemingly downcast, trying her best to look contrite. “You know that I don’t have money for that right now. What with the two residences and business being slow and the real estate market in a slump. Don’t worry though; it is at the top of my repair list.”

“Yeah. Somehow I doubt you even have a list,” he teased. Walking back toward the front door, he turned just before leaving, “Looks like you have a few guests. And I’d love to know who owns that bright orange hybrid out there.” He shook his head. “The only kind of person who drives a car that bright is someone who wants to draw attention to himself.”

With a knowing smile, Keely smirked, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

“I bet I can tell you right now, without ever meeting mind you, all about the owner of that vehicle.” He crossed his arms over his chest, preparing for the challenge.

Keely threw her head back and laughed. “You’re on. The usual?”

“The usual.” He held out his hand and they shook. “Do I get a closer look?”

Keely shrugged, confident that she had already won. “Why not?”

They walked out the front door, but Joe walked down the porch steps and over the graveled drive to the parking area alone. Slowly, he circled the vehicle, struggling to see inside the tinted windows to the interior. He scratched at his chin some, a subconscious thinking gesture on his part, running his fingers through the short shorn goatee he wore from under his lip to his chin, one direction, repetitiously. He glanced up and saw Keely smiling at him from the porch. Still thinking, he strode back to her with his careful analysis of the owner.

“Well, this is owned by a guy who wants to appear to care about the environment, but really only cares about saving a buck.” Keely’s head dropped to the side to consider what he was saying. Joe continued. “He likes to be noticed. I mean, bright orange, come on.” He shook his head. “He arrived late and was too lazy to carry in all his stuff. In fact, I think it may be a couple.”

“A couple?” Keely scrunched up her face. “What makes you say so?”

“There’s some girl stuff in there. A few dresses hung up. A lip gloss is in the cup holder. That kind of thing.” He paused in his thoughts. “How close am I?”

“You’ll find out in the morning,” Keely announced. “I know you’re not an early riser, but I’ll call when the owner comes down for breakfast.”

He glanced over at the SUV once more. “That owner isn’t getting up before ten,” he announced confidently. Then without a backward glance, he strode over to his big black Ford F-150, unlocked the door, hopped into the cab, and drove away. A week’s worth of free breakfasts was going to taste especially good.



At eight the next morning, Martha was chastising herself for sleeping the day away. The fault, actually, lay with the bed. It was simply too comfortable. She did a quick cursory self-assessment and realized that she felt refreshed and relieved. Rolling over, she grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed Blaine’s office. Suzette answered immediately. How Martha loathed that overly efficient snip of a woman. Unfortunately, she could find no fault with the work she did, which was shy Suzette was still working with her husband.

“Sorry, he’s in surgery all day,” Suzette announced, although she didn’t sound sorry in the least. In fact, one might say she sounded smug.

“Please have him call when he gets a chance,” Martha said crisply.

What a lousy way to start her morning. She pitied the man who finally lost his fight to that. She had often joked with Blaine that Suzette was likely going to make some man very miserable one day. Blaine, naturally, hadn’t even cracked a smile. She sighed at the memory. Suddenly, the smell of bacon and coffee drove her from the bed.

In less than twenty minutes, she was showered and dressed for the day. She hadn’t exactly formulated a plan of attack, but she was certain she would be ready to do so once she had a full stomach. Grabbing the key off the desk, she locked the door behind her and headed down the stairs.

Following the wonderful aromas, she quickly found the dining room. Everything was homemade, just as she knew it would be. She smiled to herself. And there were very few people up at the moment, which appealed to her immensely. Martha preferred to ease into her day before she had a lot of conversation.

Spotting her almost instantly, Keely strode over. “How’d you sleep?”

Without hesitation, Martha offered her a smile. “Like a baby,” she announced. And her smile quickly faded. She paused to collect herself. “I never have understood that phrase. In my limited experience with babies,” her body shuddered slightly, “the one thing I did learn is that they don’t really like to sleep when we’d like them to.”

Keely reached out to touch her shoulder and guide her to the buffet. “Eat as much as you can, dear.” And once she had settled Martha in front of the plates, she quickly exited the room.

While Martha concentrated on selecting from the wide variety of items laid out on the table, Keely was in the kitchen dialing the phone with such glee she could barely suppress the laughter. “Rise and shine,” she said in her sing-song voice once the phone was answered with a grunt.



In his bed, Joe sat upright and glanced at the clock. “You have got to be kidding me.” He growled low in his throat. “So, up already?”

Nodding and giggling, she responded, “Yup. I’d hurry if I were you. I don’t know how long I can keep the owner occupied.” And without even saying goodbye, she hung up.

Joe took a quick shower, dressed in his work clothes, and threw a baseball cap over his wet head. He scowled at his unkempt image in the mirror. He did not want to feel self-conscious as he met this playboy. And what was this guy doing up so early anyway? He wasn’t even hungry for breakfast yet. He smirked as he thought of Keely’s bacon. Maybe he could manage to eat a little something. That thought warmed him so; he barely noticed the chill in the air as he drove to Hope House.



“I don’t do this for everyone,” Keely began, “but since you’re not used to southern cooking, I could make you something else.” She studied Martha for a moment and knew just what to offer. “What about Eggs Benedict?” The slow smile on Martha’s face told her everything she needed to know. “I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”

Her purpose was two-fold. First, she was desperate to win this bet and the only way to do that was for Joe to see Martha for himself. And second, she knew without being told, that Martha was hurting, and more than anything, she wanted to heal that wounded bird picking at her food in the dining room. She glanced at the clock. If she knew anything, she knew that Joe would be pulling in any minute. Beaming happily, she danced around the kitchen while she made Martha’s breakfast.

The dining room was nearly empty when Joe walked in. Dammit, he had taken too long. He studied the patrons more carefully. There was an older couple quietly enjoying the newspaper while they ate in silence. He shuddered. He never wanted to do that, be with someone and have nothing left to say, eat every meal in silence. Behind them were several of the locals who liked to come have breakfast at Hope House. He shook his head. Over near the window in the seat he usually claimed was a woman. She was staring out the large panes, clearly thinking, and somewhat unhappy. She had long brown hair pulled back into a pony tail, big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and very nice lips. She must have felt him staring at her because suddenly her gaze met his and she looked…confused? It was as though she couldn’t understand why he would look at her. Having been caught, he quickly turned away and headed directly towards the buffet, heart pounding.

Keely caught up with him after she delivered some food to the woman who was sitting at his table. He had forced himself to sit on the opposite side of the room, forced himself to eat when he wasn’t hungry yet; forced himself out of bed when he should still be lying under that warm gray suede duvet. He could feel his face tighten and threaten to twitch.

“So, I missed him?” He asked Keely pointedly. He was too tense to play around.

“Nope,” she smirked, annoying him all the more.

Glancing around the room once more, he realized there really was only one possibility. “Her?” He asked weakly. “The woman who stole my seat owns that vehicle.” Keely was now beaming. “Well, I can tell you this much. She may be driving that SUV, but she sure as hell didn’t buy it.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. Why don’t you ask her?” And with that, Keely turned on her heels and walked back into the kitchen.

The idea had merit. He was never wrong in this game. He was on a winning streak. When it came to character analysis, he was king. How could he have been so wrong? It had been a really long time since he was this wrong about someone’s character, and that time it had been a woman, too. He sighed. Once again he seemed to be wrong on all counts it. This woman didn’t like to be watched. She didn’t want attention. She wasn’t any of the things he imagined as he studied the vehicle. Hell, she probably did care about the environment. He scowled.

For several minutes, he tried to decide what approach would be best. He kept thinking and second guessing himself. Apparently, he waited a moment too long. When next he glanced over, she was standing and exiting the room. As he watched her exit, one thought came to mind: Baby, I hate when you leave, but I sure do like to watch you walk away. A grin broke across his face. Based on what he’d just seen, he could watch her walk away all day.



Breakfast had been an experience. For one, she finally had experienced grits. She had seen them on television and thought they looked disgusting, but now having eaten them…well, her opinion hadn’t much improved. Must be they were an acquired taste. On top of that, for the first time in a long time, she had been stared at. Maybe it was because she was a newcomer, but surely they were used to tourists in the town. Maybe it was because she was alone, because it certainly wasn’t because she was attractive. No, Martha was not having a pretty day. She smiled at her plain face in the mirror.

Years of living in Vermont had taken their toll. She was decidedly pale. Her hair was more practical than stylish, and she seldom wore makeup. Part of the problem was that makeup application was a mystery to her. She couldn’t apply it without resembling a circus freak. And therefore, she had decided long ago, that she would have to rely on her inner beauty. (Or maybe that’s just what ugly people say to comfort themselves.) She giggled.

Grabbing her purse and fleece pullover, she headed back down the stairs. She would ask Keely if there was anything special going on in town, then take a nice walking tour and maybe even look for a house. Martha continued to formulate her plan as she went skipping down the stairs. The man who had been staring at her in the dining room was standing by the door, talking with Keely as she neared the landing. Something about his presence was so disconcerting that she stumbled on the last step. Martha inhaled sharply, prepared for the impact, when instead firm, strong hands grasped her upper arms and steadied her.

“It’s okay,” he said warmly, “I’ve got you.” He helped settle her on the floor, releasing her only once he was certain she wouldn’t collapse.

Martha looked up into clear ice blue eyes rimmed with a sea green, lashes so strawberry blond that she couldn’t help but stare. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. He had a strong angular jaw, a long straight nose, and small lips that were full and utterly kissable. Lips that were currently spread wide in a grin. He was perfection, wholly male, and only made seemingly accessible by his one minor flaw, a small pitted scar near his jaw line. She sighed, struggling to keep from caressing that jaw line.

Blaine would have jumped at the chance to work on this face, remove the one flaw that kept him from being runway ready. Blaine. That’s right. And suddenly, she was thrust back to reality, a reality where she was coping with the loss of a child and a distant husband.

The first to break the silence, Keely chuckled. “So, I see you’ve met our local handy man, Joe,” she said. “Joe, meet Martha. She’s new to town.”

They seemed to suddenly realize that they were standing entirely too close to each other for complete strangers, even maybe for longtime friends. Taking a step back, they clumsily shook hands. The act itself was awkward, stilted, but the touch…the touch was home. For reasons Martha couldn’t explain, she felt as though she had known this man all of her life, the touch was natural, comfortable, and warm.

“Nice to meet you, Joe,” she said, with a shy smile.

He shot Keely a disgusted look. “It’s Joseph, actually. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince people to call me.” He looked at her, studied her, and somehow didn’t care if she knew it. “And you go by Martha?” Instinctively, he knew she was no Martha. Martha was an old name, a tired name. This woman was vibrant, vivacious, completely at odds with the image her name conjured. He scratched at his chin pondering that.

She gave him a sly half smile as she gently relinquished her hand, already missing his added warmth. “You don’t look like a Joe or a Joseph to me,” Martha said.

His eyes were crinkling again. “I don’t?” He was feeling playful.

“No, you don’t.” She crossed her arms in front of her. Smiling openly now, she asked, “So, can I call you Joey?” She beamed and it fully transformed her face.

He was completely mesmerized. Somehow he managed to respond, “Only if I can call you Marti, with an ‘i’ of course.” The gauntlet was thrown.

She tilted her head to the side, and pondered that suggestion. No one had ever given her a nickname. She had always thought her name plain and boring, and somehow had let it dictate her personality. Maybe now she was ready to try a new name to go along with her new life. And Marti seemed like it might just be saucy enough to fit.

“Marti.” She tried it out on her tongue. “I think I like that.” She smiled and held out her hand once more. She didn’t know what made her do it, it was so unlike her. “Nice to meet you, Joey. I’m Marti.” And with that she turned and sauntered out the front door and down the steps. It was only as she reached the driveway that her self-satisfied smile had faltered. Caught up in the moment, she forgot she needed directions. Too embarrassed to return, she set out on her own.