Stormy Surrender

Had she been asked, she would have had to struggle to explain what had made her behave as she had. Perhaps the south was changing her already. She shook her head to dismiss that notion. Marti found herself heading towards the gazebo with no plan, and no idea what she was doing. She chastised herself. She was a married woman who had just had a momentary lust for a handsome man. No big deal, right? Wrong. She had felt more for that stranger in those few moments than she had for her husband in the last several years, or maybe even ever. There was no denying that had been powerful, but she had to dismiss it and focus on her future. Joey would clearly be a distraction.

It was a gorgeous December morning. For the first time, she understood what Carolina blue was. The clear sky was a shade she could only have imagined in the past. There was still grass, not as green and vibrant as it was in the spring and summer no doubt, but at least it wasn’t brown and patchy or covered in a thick layer of snow, mud, and ice like the grass was back in Vermont. She sighed, a sound of pure bliss. And that’s when she realized she had found her destination: a realty office.

She quickly glanced in both directions before she crossed the street. Posted in the window were some of the listings offered in the area. Some of the homes in the outskirts of the town were more contemporary, and therefore easily dismissed. She would know her house the moment she found it. There were others that were older, but completely refurbished. She frowned at that idea. She really wanted something she could put her mark on, something she could make her own. Nothing in the window seemed right.

Turning to walk away, Marti paused when a woman walked out of the realty office and stopped her. “I can see you have very discriminating tastes,” the woman explained. “I watched your reaction.” She nodded to the postings as explanation. “I’m Deborah. Why don’t you come in and give me a chance to help you find your dream home.”

Chuckling, Marti smiled. “I’m not sure you’d understand my idea of a dream home,” she said.

Giving her a reassuring smile, Deborah coaxed her through the door and into a worn leather chair next to a large old wooden desk. “Honey, you’d be surprised what I understand.” She shook her head.

Tilting her head at the comment, Marti studied Deborah. She was a beautiful older woman, silvery blonde hair, tall, thin, and tan. She was stylish in a way Marti only dreamed of being. And, clearly, she could apply makeup perfectly. At the same time, as she studied the woman, she could tell that she carried a heavy burden, maybe several. Mind resolved, she threw back her shoulders and held out her hand, “I’m sorry. I never introduced myself.” She smiled widely. “I’m Martha, but some people call me Marti.” Well, it was partially true. After the meeting, she was certain that Keely would be calling her Marti now, too.

Deborah reclined in her chair with a friendly smile on her face. “So, Marti, tell me about your dream house.” She reached for a pad and pen to take some notes.

“Well,” Marti began, trying to decide how to describe precisely what she was looking for.

“I guess I want a fixer-upper.” She watched as Deborah nodded and wrote down what she said as she continued. “I want something old and big, with a porch. And I want a yard that’s large enough for me to have flowers and vegetables and even a pool.” Her eyes squinted as though she was imagining it as she spoke. “Inside, I want fireplaces, plural. I’d love for all the bedrooms to be together, too. Oh, and some nice high ceilings, big windows, some architectural details. I love all the things that so many of the new cookie-cutter homes lack.” She sighed. “Tough fit, huh?”

Shaking her head, Deborah thought for a moment before speaking. “I can think of at least three houses off the top of my head that could be what you’re looking for. My question is this: when you say ‘fixer-upper,’ what do you mean?”

It took her less than a second to formulate a response. “A complete and total overhaul,” she said flatly.

Looking at her watch, Deborah thought for a moment. “Okay. I have another appointment to show some homes this morning. I should be done by mid-afternoon. What if I give you the addresses and you come back later and tell me if you’re interested in seeing any of them?”

Smiling widely, Marti nodded. “That would be perfect.” She watched as Deborah wrote down the addresses for the properties, then took them and walked to the door.

“I look forward to working with you.” Deborah called as Marti walked away, feeling as though she were on cloud nine.

All of the houses were within walking distance of the town square. She guessed that was because she had expressed an interest in an old historic home and that was usually where they were located. After a few minute’s walk, she rounded the corner and saw the first one on her list. She stopped and studied it.

Clearly the house needed some work. The outside was covered in wood siding that was currently decaying and drooping against the rusted nails holding it on. The windows had that lovely wavy glass pane look only old windows get through the years. She could tell the home was vacant, so she didn’t mind walking through the yard and peering in the windows. The yard was small. It might accommodate a few flowers, but nowhere near enough space was available for her vegetables and the pool would be out of the question. She sighed. Even if the inside was a dream, she couldn’t negotiate on the yard. She mentally crossed that one off as an option and moved on to the second address.

Again, without even crossing the street, she could tell this house met the fixer-upper criteria. It was dilapidated. She wondered about foundation issues immediately, but more even, she considered how close to the road it sat. She wanted more distance. It seemed that a road expansion had stolen some of the yard and new sidewalks had taken most of the rest. She sighed and looked at the remaining address on her list.

Dogwood Lane. The location had a nice ring to it. She smiled. Worst case scenario, she would just have to keep looking. No one ever found their dream home on the first day anyway. Marti kept telling herself everything she could think of to keep the depression at bay. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the last home on her list.

Initially, she inhaled sharply. This home, not as it looked at the moment, but as she knew it could, was a perfect match for her dream home, if she squinted and tilted her head. At the moment, everyone who knew her would think her insane for even considering the place. She smiled. Maybe she was a little crazy. Maybe she felt like taking a risk instead of playing it safe. What had playing safe ever won her anyway? Blaine was a prime example. He was her high school boyfriend. He was the only boy she had ever been with, the only boy she had ever dated. She had spent the last fifteen years of her life pleasing him.

And look at her career. Well, that was the point. She didn’t have a career. In an effort to support Blaine, she had gone to work, rather than get a master’s degree. And with just a bachelor’s, she wasn’t able to get the kind of position she might otherwise have. She always told herself she’d go back, but instead she had focused on making him successful and remaining the wallpaper in his life.

No more playing it safe. She tentatively walked up to the front porch. It was a fantastic porch, nice and deep, covered. There was an intricate trim work that followed the top of the porch all the way around. Currently, the porch covered two and a half sides of the house, which was two and half times as much as her house in Vermont. She chuckled. Some of the boards were weak, she could tell from the give of her slight weight as she walked on them. She headed to the front door to peer in, but stopped when she realized there was a hole the size of a trap door where the welcome mat should be. Marti laughed out loud at that and surprised herself. It had been so long since she laughed like that. It felt good.

Descending from the porch, Marti walked around back. She could see where there used to be a nice driveway that curved behind the house, which was now overgrown. As she rounded the corner, she had her first glimpse of the back yard and had to wrap her arms around herself in excitement. There was more space than she had dreamed of. Sure it was overgrown with saplings and resembled more of a pasture at the moment than the yard she envisioned. That mattered not. She had the space to make her vision a reality.

It was when she peeked in the back door that she realized how much work the place needed. That was fine. A lot of work meant a lot of room to negotiate the asking price. She glanced at her cell phone for the time. Marti never wore a watch. In fact, she didn’t wear much jewelry at all, just her wedding set that felt as though it were choking her lately despite her plummeting weight. She sighed. It would be several hours before she could convince Deborah to let her see the inside of the house.

Walking back around to the front, Marti glanced around. No one was around. It was New Year’s Eve and she was alone in every sense. For some reason, she was happier than she had been in months. Smiling, she sat down on the sidewalk, facing the house, staring and imagining the possibilities. And for the moment, that was enough.

Nothing should surprise him anymore. Joey had gone to Hope House for breakfast only to discover his regular table occupied. That was his first surprise. That he lost his first bet in…well, he couldn’t remember when, was his second surprise, a serious blow to his pride. The third surprise was more like his third and fourth wrapped into one. That was when Marti nearly tumbled down the stairs and he had the pleasure of catching her, which led to the introduction and of course the realization that he was capable of having feelings again. Possibly. It had been a long time. Years in fact. He half growled remembering.

So now, it should not shake him to his core as it did to have Marti sitting on the sidewalk across the road from his house, staring at the eyesore he had grown to hate with a passion, looking as though she had found Jesus. Yeah, she wore that same dazed look he had seen in those tent revivals. Secretly he had been planning to petition the city to declare it a hazard and tear the place down. Start fresh. That lot could be prime real estate. Now, if she decided she was interested in buying it, Keely had mentioned she was moving to town, then that wouldn’t happen. He’d have to stare at that place for another seven years, since he was only three years into his ten year plan. And he wasn’t sure at the moment that he had the strength to do that, even with such a beautiful backside currently decorating the sidewalk in front of it. He had to get out of this town.

After sitting for nearly forty-five minutes, jotting down notes and questions she wanted to ask, Marti reluctantly walked the short distance back to the town square. She glanced at her cell phone and realized that she still had more time to kill. She hadn’t eaten for hours, which wasn’t unusual, but that she was hungry was, so she decided to grab a bite to eat. Before she had the opportunity to ponder which of the small restaurants she might like to visit, the smell of baking bread drew her into The Carolina Café.

Pausing just inside of the door, she tried to discover the lay of the land before walking up to the counter. A smiling pleasantly plump woman stood behind the counter. “What can I getcha?” She asked in a decidedly Long Island accent. Her naturally curly dark brown hair touched her shoulders in the back and was scooped into a clip in the front. The restless curls around her face attested to how hard she was working in the kitchen.

“I’m thinking soup and sandwich,” Marti began slowly. She inhaled deeply, remembering the grilled cheese she had enjoyed the day before.

“Well, then let me tell you our soup of the day is Vegetable Beef Barley, homemade of course.” She nodded. And Marti smiled. “And I just got in this roast beef which is so rare…” She let her voice trail off for a moment. “Sorry. Foodgasm.” She chuckled to herself. “I’ve been dreaming about having some for lunch all morning.”

“You’re my kind of foodie,” Marti joked easily. Somehow she knew this was the sort of woman she’d enjoy dining with and befriending all together. “I just moved here…”

“Where ya stayin’?” She interrupted as she reached for a loaf of Asiago Cheese bread.

“I’m Laurel, by the way, and this roast beef on the Asiago loaf with horseradish mayo is for you. Tomatoes?”

Marti shook her head, “I’ll pass. I only like them cooked. Like last night, I had the most amazing soup at Hope House…”

“That Keely, she can cook,” Laurel acknowledged. “So, ya lookin’ for a place?”

“Working on it. I have an appointment with a realtor later this afternoon.” She watched happily as her sandwich was garnished with a pickle and plated. Then a huge steaming bowl of soup was spooned for her.

“Here,” Laurel motioned, moving from behind the counter and showing her to a bistro table near the window. “Try this and we’ll talk after.” She motioned to show that more customers had piled in and she would have to get back to work.

“Sounds great, thanks.” And happily, she moved to watch out the window and enjoy the meal prepared for her.

Pulling into his usual spot, Joe scowled as he looked towards his destination. The café had been one of his lunch spots for as long as it had been in business. He thought for a moment. He could go to one of his other restaurants. Frowning, he stepped out of the truck, locked the door and paused. Somehow, the thought of disrupting his routine was more painful than the thought of having to see Marti again. Barely. He might as well get used to it, he decided, since in a town this size they were bound to trip over one another on occasion. Still, this was bordering on ridiculous. Straightening, he threw his shoulders back and walked over to the door.

It was just another jingle to Marti. Lost in thought as she was, she wasn’t jarred from her reverie until Laurel greeted her next customer by name. The minute she heard the name ‘Joe,’ she slowly turned around in her seat so as not to be obvious. Unfortunately, even that move was transparent, since the minute she finished her rotation she found herself staring into the face that had haunted her all morning. And he was staring at her, arms crossed over his broad muscular chest, wide legged stance, nearly a challenge. She tilted her head, trying to discern what his body language was telling her. Was it possible he was as conflicted as she was? That was what she was feeling and that was what she was feeling from him.

Laurel chose that moment to interrupt. “I know you, Joe Masters,” she said admonishingly. “That table does not have your name on it. And look, there are two seats at it anyway. Why not join her? Marti could use a few friends in this town.” Then she turned and began making his lunch. And all the while she was working she was babbling almost inaudibly.

The only words Marti heard were ‘creature of habit’ and ‘damn stubborn man.’ She smiled slightly as she continued to concentrate on the world outside the café window. Bit by bit she was consuming the meal she had been given when she was jarred by the sound of sighing coming from behind her. She chose to ignore it. Then it happened again, louder and more obvious. And she realized it was directed at her. Annoyed, she turned around with her eyes narrowed angrily, “Yes?” The word was spoken in such a manner as to show the depth of her displeasure.

Joe smirked. Verbal sparring. He loved it. This was what he liked in a woman, feisty, fearless, and supremely confident. He was struggling to hide his smile as he spoke. “I always sit there.”

Her eyebrow arched angrily. “No,” she corrected, “you usually sit here. Today you don’t, unless, of course, you plan on sharing the table with me.” Her lips were pursed and she crossed her arms under her ample chest.

This time he was visibly grinning when he tried to respond. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to share, won’t I?” He sat down opposite her and smiled over at Laurel whose jaw had dropped when he sat with Marti. While he waited for his meal, he studied the woman he couldn’t help but like.

Marti had recommenced staring out the window. Known for her patience, she was embarrassed that he had cajoled her into a fight. And clearly he had enjoyed it. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was still smiling as he stared at her, willing her to pay attention to him. Well, she just wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She held her tongue for what seemed like forever. She tried counting to calm down. She tried clenching and unclenching her fists in her lap. She tried focusing on the life outside of the café. Finally, she broke. “What?” She asked, exasperated. “Why are you staring at me?”

A wide smile broke out on his face. “I was just trying to figure you out,” he admitted. “It’s a little something I do.”

“Really,” she said smartly. “So, have you figured me out yet? Because I have to tell you, I haven’t figured me out yet and I’m way more years into it than you are.” She leaned toward him and stared at his face.

“Well, that explains things,” Joey admitted, scratching at his chin. “You cost me a bet.”

“How’s that?” Marti asked, thoroughly annoyed. He was really sucking the enjoyment factor out of this meal and she was about to tell him so.

“Yup. I lost out on a week’s worth of free breakfasts because you own that orange hybrid. I hope you’re happy.” Joey was finally in a playful mood. Something about annoying her stirred something within him. Maybe it was because her mere existence had thrown such a wrench into his life. And now, if Keely was correct, that wrench was just getting bigger and bigger. He was enjoying upsetting her for a change.

“I’m ecstatic. Can’t you tell? So, what did Keely win?” Marti had taken a bite of her sandwich after asking the question and had to actually close her eyes to savor for a moment. Joey started to speak, but she silenced him by simply raising her finger.

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. No one had tried to silence him in a long time. Hell, half the people who had tried had paid the price. He wasn’t always the upstanding citizen she saw before her. No. He had been a complete bad ass in his day…fearless, impulsive, and as temperamental as his ginger colored hair suggested he might be. He never lost a fight and he had been in plenty of fights and had the scars to prove it.

When Marti opened her eyes, Laurel was standing near the table, smiling, waiting for a reaction. “Oh my God!” Marti exclaimed. “You weren’t kidding. This is quite possibly the best roast beef sandwich I’ve ever tasted.” She forgot for a moment how annoyed she was with Joey. She shoved her sandwich in his face. “Here. Try this!” He sneered at her sandwich. “Okay, have a bite from the part I haven’t eaten off of yet.”

Joey simply turned his nose up at her meal and leaned further away. “I don’t eat red meat,” he said seriously. “Could you get that out of my face? It’s disgusting.”

Looking at him in shock and dismay, she wondered how a man that…manly could not like red meat. “Huh. I didn’t have you pegged for a vegetarian,” Marti said.

And that’s when Laurel placed the large basket overflowing with fries and chicken tenders in front of him. The women exchanged glances. “Your usual, Joe,” Laurel said. Then she reached into the pouch of her apron. “And your Texas Pete. Try not to use the entire bottle this time. You are costing me a small fortune in that stuff.” She glanced at Marti. “And try not to let this grump ruin your lunch.” Then she returned to the kitchen.

It was a quiet lunch. Joey was focused on his food. He ate quickly with little concern for manners, although he did use napkins. That was when Marti realized she’d been staring at him. He needed more. It was no wonder the way he was shoveling food into his mouth, talking on the phone while eating, and cursing every few minutes. He paused mid-conversation with someone on the phone that he kept referring to as ‘Buddy.’ And Marti couldn’t help but wonder if that was the guy’s name or simply his station in life as a friend of Joey’s.

“Want a napkin?” Joey glanced at her but didn’t address her so she didn’t respond. “Hey., Marti,” he tried again, louder this time. “Do you want a napkin?”

And the way he said…enunciating every word and getting louder, only annoyed her more. “No, thank you,” Marti said, both annoyed and embarrassed. “You didn’t have to yell. How was I to know that you were speaking to me? You didn’t address me the first time. You’ve been talking on the phone the entire meal.”

Her words were lost on him. He had already jumped up from the table, grabbed a few spare paper napkins from the counter, and landed back in his seat while she was talking. The longer they were together, the less she liked him, really. He was so…arrogant. He was so…rude. And she was so…confused. What did it matter to her?

“Yeah, Buddy,” Joey said brusquely. “I’ll talk to you later. I can’t hear. There’s a woman trying to talk to me while I’m on the phone.” And he gave her a look that implied she was the rude one.

“That is it.” She stood up, made eye contact with Laurel who was working behind the counter, and asked her a question. “Laurel, should I leave these here, or bring them to you?”

“Leaving already, Marti?” She sighed and walked to their table. “I had hoped to talk to you more. I’ve just been so busy with the lunch rush…” Her voice trailed off and she looked first at Joey and then at Marti. They were glowering at each other. “What did you do?” She had her hands on her hips as she glared down at him.

Joey looked at her innocently. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I was the perfect gentleman. I even offered her a napkin.” He shot a look at Marti that dared her to contradict him.

“Yeah, well you might try using one you pompous fool.” Marti pointed at his goatee. “Or are you saving that hot sauce for later. Enjoy your table. And I thought I should let you know that I plan to stay in tonight. No need for you to worry that we’re going to trip over each other for yet another meal today, unless it’s your habit to eat dinner in the blue room at Hope House.”

Marti was leaving. He was going to have his table to himself. And she looked so damn cute when she was angry. There was a fire in her cheeks and something about the way her eyes flashed when she looked at him. He practically wanted to stand, taker her face in his hands and kiss her. As angry as she was, he wondered how long it had been since someone had loved her. Then he shook his head. Why did he even care? That didn’t matter. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. What the hell did he know about love anyway? He toyed with the idea of joking with her, but she didn’t much look like she could take a joke at the moment.

“Nope,” he said through a mouth full of fries, “I’ll be grabbing Bojangles to start my celebration of the new year.”

“That’s right,” Laurel added. “I forgot about the First Night celebrations. You should come!”

She was about to continue and explain, but Marti interrupted. She was still fuming over Joey. It was rare for anyone to make her that angry. She had never even grown that upset with Blaine and lord knows he deserved it. “I just want some fresh air. Yesterday was a long drive. Today has already been a long day. Can I think about it?”

“Absolutely, hon. Take your time.” Laurel gave her a pat on the shoulder as she walked past.

And with that, Marti headed out the door and down the sidewalk to the real estate office. Maybe Deb would have time to show her the listing on Dogwood now. Maybe she would finally catch up with Blaine tonight. Maybe she would check out the festivities. She did, after all, come here to find hope. And the chances of finding it in her room at Hope House were pretty slim, no matter how perfect the décor, the fire, the Jacuzzi bath, and the room service was. Any place she was alone was pretty low on hope these days.