Restorations (Book One Oregon In Love) (6 page)

She couldn’t wait to get the house finished
and get out of Buell Creek. She wanted to be rid of his disturbing
presence, for once and for all. No more 'coincidental'
meetings.

Perhaps she could persuade Hattie to move
down to northern California with her.

Brian glanced over at Sara,
disappointed in her silence. Either she found the scenery
incredibly interesting or she had no interest in
him
.

He sincerely hoped the former. Sara was the
only reason he’d come to Buell Creek. Knowing she grew up here, it
seemed a logical place to begin his search for her. Besides, he
wanted to check into the building boom happening in Oregon.
Striking up a friendship with Eli proved providential, and Brian
took it as confirmation he was firmly in God’s plan.

With her grandfather’s help, he hoped to
reenter Sara’s life at some point and at least make wrongs right
with her. Now without Eli’s encouragement, he felt less certain of
how to proceed. He couldn’t just blurt out his apologies after a
two-year separation. He wanted Sara to listen to him with a modicum
of trust. That meant rebuilding a connection.

Right now, the situation
looked pretty discouraging. Her animosity made it clear she wanted
nothing to do with him. While Brian understood it up to a point, he
felt frustrated by it. And he knew of old that once Sara made up
her mind, there wasn’t much that could change it.
Stubborn as always
.

He'd hoped she might retain a bit of
affection for him. He looked over at her and felt a quickening of
his senses. That he still cared for her was an understatement.

Brian pulled into the local auto supply
store lot and parked. Sara scurried out of the cab and went on
ahead of him. He sensed tension emanating from her in waves. He
whistled a cheerful tune in hopes of annoying her as much as her
demeanor annoyed him.

Obviously ignoring him, Sara approached the
counter and asked a store employee to assist her with batteries.
When the clerk asked her about the model of her truck, she looked
over her shoulder with mute appeal in her gaze.

“It’s a sixty-three F one-fifty,” he replied
with a satisfied grin.

After Sara made the purchase, Brian loaded
the battery into the bed of his pickup and they drove back to the
farmhouse.

“Will you need help installing the
battery?”

“Yes,” she said stiffly.

Brian kept up a light stream of conversation
during the remainder of the ride, feeling gratified when she
appeared to relax a little. In the barn, he replaced the battery in
the Ford and gave the engine a quick inspection. “Give it a try
now.”

Sara climbed up into the cab and turned the
ignition. The truck roared to life.

“Yes!” she cried. Her cheeks flooded with
color. Clearing her throat, she quickly composed her expression and
politely thanked him.

The brief glimpse of the smiling Sara he
remembered gave Brian the desire to push forward with his mission.
One way or another Sara Andersen would forgive him of his past
behavior toward her. And maybe, just maybe, she’d return to where
she really belonged.

In his arms.

Chapter Five

Sara worked at cleaning the farmhouse over
the next three days, often with Hattie’s help. The truck made
everything so much more convenient, and although it tended to emit
black smoke when she drove, it otherwise ran okay.

She thought often of Brian’s help with the
battery and conceded his gentlemanly gesture. Beyond that, she
refused to read any more into it. She also noticed his conspicuous
absence. Of course she was glad of the fact.

Inside the house, Sara had pulled down all
the drapes and curtains to have them cleaned, washed the windows
until they shone, and eradicated the cobwebs from the corners of
the ceiling. She boxed up all the pictures and bric-a-brac and
organized the furniture into what she planned to keep and what
she’d give away.

By the fourth day, she had to drag herself
over to the house. A colossal headache gripped her skull like a
vise, and she felt hot and achy all over. Determination to finish
made her push on with the work.

She completed cleaning the entire house
until only her grandfather’s bedroom remained. Sara no longer had
an excuse to put off the task. Inside his room, endeavoring to
ignore her sadness, she gazed at the furnishings with a gimlet eye.
Sara decided the bed needed to go. The mattress looked lumpy and
the frame, scarred and cheap. In fact, most of the furniture was
nondescript and she’d probably just get rid of it.

His antique roll top desk, however, had been
cared for with a loving hand. She pictured the perfect place for it
in her Crescent City apartment and looked forward to using it as he
had—for her scribbles.

Heaving a sentimental sigh, Sara started
with the closet and carefully folded up all his clothes. The
familiar smell reminded her forcefully of her loss and tears
dribbled down her cheeks as she worked. Soon everything but his
books and papers were packed away.

She stood up to stretch her tired muscles.
Her heart roared in her ears. She lurched dizzily, landing on the
floor with a bump.

Closing her eyes, she waited for the
spinning world to right itself again. When she finally lifted her
lids, she saw the time. Just after three. One more hour and she’d
call it a day.

Taking a deep breath, Sara cautiously stood
back up and went over to the desk. She settled wearily into the
chair and began sorting through the contents of the drawers. She
planned to box everything up now and go through it at a later
date.

It felt strange to go through someone’s
personal things, but she looked forward to a more intimate glimpse
of her grandfather. She discovered a journal filled with snippets
of poetry, with most of the lines crossed out and rewritten.
Perusing the first few pages made her smile and she set it to the
side to take home later. A few minutes later, she found another
journal. This proved to be more of a diary and Sara wondered
whether or not she should read it. Curiosity won out and she set it
atop the book of poems.

Noticing her box becoming full, she got up
to get another empty one. A spasm of pain pierced the back of her
head and left her breathless. She sank down onto the side of the
bed and closed her eyes.

Brian tapped at the back door but received
no response. He knew Sara must be somewhere in the house because he
saw the Ford in the driveway. This was the fourth day they’d
inhabited the same property, and he couldn’t stand the thought of
not seeing her for another minute. Over the last few days, he'd
given her space. Now he needed to at least say hello.

He finally turned the knob and went in.
Lights shone everywhere and the dining room was filled with boxes.
Amazed at the progress she'd made in such a short amount of time,
Brian noticed every surface appeared ruthlessly scrubbed clean. It
seemed like a different house inside.

“Sara?”

Only the ticking of the old stove clock
sounded in his ears. Brian walked through the main rooms, but she
was nowhere in sight. Next, he checked Eli’s bedroom. There, he
found her sitting on the side of the bed, clutching her head in her
hands.

A spasm of alarm hit him in the solar
plexus. He kneeled down next to her and put his hand lightly on her
shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sara looked up at him with a flushed face
and glittering eyes. “You!” she grated. “You made me sick!”

It took him a moment to realize what she
meant. Suddenly, Brian sensed the heat under his hand. She had a
fever! He felt his face grow hot, knowing an apology wouldn’t
suffice. He put an arm around her shoulders and led her from the
room, glad her weakness prevented her from protesting the
contact.

“I’m taking you home, and I don’t want any
argument, understand?”

Sara nodded, and then appeared to regret the
movement, her hand pressing against her forehead. As he guided her
outside and into his truck, she began to shiver. In the cab, she
leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Brian
drove slowly to avoid turning too sharply. He darted concerned
glances at her during the drive, noticing the ghostly white pallor
beneath the feverish flush mantling her cheeks.

Once he arrived at Hattie’s place, he helped
Sara out of the truck and into the house, ignoring Hattie’s squawk
of surprise as they went through the living room. The older woman
followed, demanding explanations while motioning him into Sara’s
bedroom.

“I’m guessing she has the flu,” he said.

“I’ll be right back with something to help.”
She turned and rushed from the room.

Sara groaned when he eased her down onto the
bed. She pulled a pillow over her face and said something, her
words muffled by the pillow.

Brian tugged on her arm. “What did you
say?”

Sara yanked the pillow away and glared at
him. “I said I’ll get you for this!”

He grinned. “Now, now, you shouldn’t become
agitated. You need lots of rest and must drink lots of fluids.”

Hattie returned with some medicine and
proceeded to fuss about her niece. Brian stepped out of the
way.

“Is there anything I can get you?” he asked
them both.

“I have everything I need here,” Hattie
said.

“Sara?”

She coughed before answering. “There are two
books on Eli’s desk. If you could...” Her sentence fizzled in
another weak volley of coughs.

“Say no more.” Brian scooted out of the room
before she blamed him for anything else.

He drove back to the farmhouse and found the
books she wanted, along with her purse. After locking up the house,
he stopped by a florist’s shop before returning to Hattie’s. Brian
found Sara’s aunt in the garden, and she told him Sara was sleep.
Hattie oohed appreciatively over the flowers and sent him inside
for a vase.

Brian went into the kitchen and found one
under the kitchen sink. He filled it up with water, jammed the
bouquet into the vase, and took it to Sara’s room. Her door stood
ajar. He knocked to alert her of his presence. Hearing only the
sound of her breathing, he tiptoed in and placed the flowers on the
nightstand next to the bed.

Sara lay curled up under a
cotton blanket, with her fist tucked under her chin. She appeared
child-like and vulnerable.
Unlike her usual
bossy manner
, he thought with a smile. Her
dark lashes fanned out over her cheeks and the blue veins visible
under her skin near her temple lent an air of fragility.

On impulse, Brian leaned over her and
lightly pressed his lips against her forehead. He felt her
eyelashes tickle his chin as she came awake. Sara feebly tried to
push him away.

“What are you doing?” she croaked.

“Checking your temperature. My guess is
about one hundred and three.”

“There’s a digital thermometer on the
nightstand!”

He regarded her with an impish grin. “Settle
down, Sara, or I’ll kiss you on the lips next.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because...because you’d get my germs.”

“You forget, I’m immune to them now.”

She expelled a breath laden with obvious
exhaustion, “Oh, go away, Brian.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, instantly contrite. “I
shouldn’t bug you when you’re sick. Here, I brought the books you
asked for.”

He set them next to her on the bed. Sara
muttered a word of thanks and closed her eyes. Brian left the room,
berating himself for teasing her so. He knew it would only irk her.
And it might set him back in his plan. The thought of having an
opportunity to taste those pink lips once again motivated him to be
on his best behavior.

***

In a way, Sara was glad for the illness that
kept her confined to her room for the remainder of the week. It
helped keep Hattie’s questions at bay, and she didn’t run the risk
of bumping into Brian at the farmhouse.

Aside from his first visit, he hadn’t
returned to plague her. She gazed at the vase of heavily fragrant,
pale pink roses and baby’s breath, now in full bloom. Their beauty
forced her to acknowledge his thoughtfulness. Drat the man!

Sara wearied of her vacillation between
angst and resignation in reaction to Brian’s presence in her life.
There must be a way to make him see reason about the house and
encourage him to go somewhere else. Once the house sold and she
went back to her job, she didn’t care what he did with himself.

She saw the journals on the nightstand and
reached out for the top one. Feeling so miserable with the flu in
the last few days had drained her energy too much to read them.
After leafing through the one containing poetry, Sara’s heart
lifted. Her grandfather was wont to describe nature and flowers and
such, and she even found a few poems about love. Not exactly Keats,
but she thought them very sweet and treasured the glimpse into his
heart.

Sara picked up the second book and opened it
to the first page. Any reservations about looking into someone’s
personal life melted away as she became engrossed in the words
within. The journal covered the last few months of his life, with
his entries coming about once or twice a week. Some of what he
wrote covered the mundane aspects of life, but much expressed the
thoughts and feelings of what he experienced at the time.

Sara was surprised to find that she was on
his heart and mind more than anything else. He wrote of his deep
disappointment over the choices his daughter made and how he had
wanted to make things right for his granddaughter, to somehow atone
for his failure with Tanya.

Sara read of his plan to have his home
restored properly so she could live with him without the worry of
monthly payments. He later wrote about his new idea of using the
property to generate income, to take the entire burden of making a
living from Sara’s shoulders.