Nine

 

 

 

 

 

Colt needn’t have worried that Ryder would object to finishing the work on Naomi’s house. Instead of balking, the man was all in with completing as much of the kitchen as possible while she was stuck in the hospital.

And once he got Ryder’s approval, Colt and Deke spent their Sunday continuing the momentum they had going the day before. Getting the walls done was the next step in the process and Colt intended that at the end of the day the walls would be ready to paint on Monday. 

Unlike most puppies, Deke stayed out of the way. In fact, the dog seemed content to curl up in the corner and watch Colt complete a chore before moving on to the next thing.

One of the guys had left a beat-up old boombox, so Colt popped in his Mac Miller CD. Rapping in time to the beat, Colt got to work.  

Around midday, Zach joined him in hopes of getting in a few hours of overtime. “With Christmas coming, I could use the extra pay.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

As the two men smoothed and buffed out the imperfections in the drywall they’d hung the day before, Zach ran a hand through the stubble on his face. “I got a question though. What if we make a mistake and do something Naomi doesn’t like? There’s no way to ask her ahead of time.”

“I pretty much know what she wants this kitchen to look like,” Colt explained. “I thought while she’s recuperating, we could get this room done the way she dreamed of so that when she walks back in, the entire kitchen will blow her away.”

“Great idea. But I wouldn’t go presuming you know what a woman thinks. They’ll surprise you at every turn. And they change their minds. One day they want blue, the next, they want purple.”

“Yeah, but in this case, Naomi’s thinking farmhouse. Look around. What’s the first impression you get when you drive up to this rundown, decades-old house, kind of out in the middle of nowhere?”

Zach’s eyes widened. “She wants it to be something that it isn’t? That’s crazy. This place was never a farmhouse. Not ever. There’s no barn, never was. There are no fields. It’s just a house that got left behind when the development moved west toward Main Street instead of east.”

Colt shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what it was. Naomi has a vision for what she wants it to become.”

“And you’re going to make that happen?”

“I’m gonna try.”

Zach scratched his stubble again. “It’s your deal. I’m still not sure why a single woman would want to live this far out of town when the nearest neighbor is a quarter mile away. Weird.”

“Maybe. But it’s her dollar.” Colt shifted topics. “I had a conversation with Drea last night. She seems to think you still harbor ill feelings about the breakup.”

Zach stopped his momentum and turned to stare at Colt. “Me? I rarely think about her at all. Up until two weeks ago she dated Tucker, dropped him from what I hear. Drea will always be a tough nut to crack when it comes to relationships.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I think she lets her past affect how she deals with men.”

“She said the same thing. She admitted she’s afraid she’ll turn out like her mother.”

Zach shook his head. “That’s total BS.”

Colt cocked his head, trying to figure out if Zach might still be hung up on her. Despite Zach’s protests otherwise, Colt got the sense that the man cared about Drea, an extraordinary circumstance given the way things ended between them. “Did she ever express regret?”

“Who wants to be with a guy who has to take meds every day in order to work and function? Not many women, I can tell you that.”

“You think you’re the only guy ever put on antidepressants? Think again. I know half my unit after they discharged went on drugs.”

“Gimme a break, that’s as a result of war. I never even joined the military. My problem lands somewhere in the middle between schizophrenia and bipolar-related. Quentin tried half a dozen different meds until we finally settled on something that works. Who knows for how long?”

“What difference does it make? The guys I knew are still in the same boat as you are. It’s no reason to be ashamed.”

“Tell that to Drea.”

“What about Freida? Does she give you a hard time about it?”

Zach looked like he’d been caught in a lie. “She doesn’t know. We don’t live together. She’s in San Sebastian, I’m here. Besides, she’s a single mom dealing with work and school and homework and an ex-husband who shares custody.”

“Basically what you’re saying is that the subject hasn’t come up.”

“Not yet. It’s not exactly something you bring up when you’re at a movie or eating out or spending alone time. Most of the time she has a full plate with her own worries. Why should I add mine to the stack of everything else?”

“I just don’t think you should be embarrassed about it, that’s all. I bet more people are on Prozac than what you’d think. If you doubt it, ask the doctor sometime or a nurse. They’ll tell you how often antidepressants are prescribed these days.”

“Bree says the same thing. She showed me a website with all these facts and figures.”

“Then stop beating yourself up. Do you know how many guys I served with who are now having to seek therapy every week? It doesn’t matter why. It shouldn’t matter to you or anyone else either.”

“But you aren’t taking drugs or going to therapy.”

“How do you know? Because I haven’t owned up to it. I’m not on pills. But I have my own demons I fight every single day. Maybe I should be in therapy. The point is, you don’t have to hide it from anyone. If someone cares enough about you, they’ll take you as you are. Don’t let anyone kid you, nobody’s perfect. I’m sure Freida has her own secrets.”

“You could be right about that. It took her two months before she even told me she’d been married…twice.”

“She has two ex-husbands?”

“Two kids, two different daddies.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really, but she held back certain aspects of her life. Like you said, everyone has secrets.”

Colt worked in silence after that, wondering if Naomi had held anything back. He certainly had. But his secrets involved painful memories, things he didn’t want dredged up.

Zach put in a few more hours before calling it a day. “Sorry, but I promised Freida I’d take her to start her Christmas shopping.”

“You’re kidding? Already.”

“Yep, her kids are staying with her mother for the weekend. This is the perfect time to play Santa Claus and pick out the big-ticket items that have to be assembled.”

“Let me guess. Someone’s getting a bike?”

“You got it. Her six-year-old boy has been begging for a twenty-inch Mongoose, a black and orange job with mag wheels. He’s been doing all his chores without the nagging, even taking out the garbage just to get on Santa’s good side. And her four-year-old girl wants a doll house. It’s on sale at Walmart.”

“Then get out of here. I can’t compete with Santa.”

Left there alone, Colt finished buffing the drywall until it was ready for the final step. He spread joint compound over the holes, covering the nails and cracks in preparation for the primer that would seal the sheetrock and protect it from water or any other types of dreaded moisture.

It took him most of the afternoon to apply the primer before going back over the surface to get rid of any imperfections.

He stood back to critique his work and realized he wasn’t sure what paint color Naomi had picked out. He’d have to put things on hold until he got an answer either from Troy or Naomi herself.

Unwilling to halt his progress, he walked over to a stack of unopened boxes that contained the backsplash. After using his knife to cut into the carton, he was surprised to see bluish gray subway tiles in a mix of light and dark staggered tones.

“Contrast,” Colt muttered. He stood staring at the white cabinets and the kitchen as a whole and tried to picture what it would be like when completely finished.

He reread Troy’s notes and discovered Naomi had initially wanted granite countertops but had ended up going with a less expensive laminate in solid brown.

It always came back to money. He wanted to give the woman her dream kitchen and wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he paid for the upgrade himself.

He could see it now, a deep, coffee-colored granite instead of the Formica top. He pictured how it would look once the stainless-steel appliances were installed. The finished product would pop with that farmhouse feel she so badly wanted.

He texted Troy to see if his boss knew off the top of his head what color the walls in the kitchen were supposed to be.

The walls in Naomi’s kitchen are ready to paint. What color did she pick?

But when he didn’t get a reply right away, he wandered around the house until he found his answer in the garage, where huge buckets of soft beachy blue were lined up at the base of the wall and labeled “kitchen.”

Knowing her color scheme made the decision easy for him. All he had to do now was switch the order from laminate to granite and pay the difference out of his own pocket. He’d deal with the consequences after the fact.

There was also the island he’d have to build. He measured the floor space twice before plopping down on the sofa, the only piece of furniture in the living room, to sketch out the design. He took out a pad and pencil from his workbag and began to work up a centerpiece with drawers and plenty of storage. With an idea in mind, he gathered up his tools. He couldn’t wait to get started.

By the time Colt loaded up Deke, Troy had verified what he already knew. He decided Naomi’s color palette would turn out perfect.

He sent Troy another text.

Is it okay if I open up the shop to start building the island tonight?

Why do you want to do that on a Sunday?

Because I need to have this finished by the time Naomi gets out of the hospital.

Okay. Your call. Would it do any good to remind you that there’s always Monday?

Nope. I want to get started now.

As the pickup rumbled down the lane, he mulled over Naomi’s farmhouse kitchen and realized if he worked twelve hours a day for the rest of the week, he had a shot at making it happen.

 

 

Inside the shop, Colt logged into the project database and changed the countertop order from laminate to granite, adjusting the measurements, and adding the top for the island. In keeping with Naomi’s dark brown tones, he stuck with that. In fact, he found the specific item she’d originally picked out, and then added it to the cart. He also ordered the materials to patch the roof and the exterior paint for the outside, putting the order on his own credit card, in his own name. Less hassle at pickup, he mused.

He went out back to where Ryder kept the excess lumber left over from other jobs. The best wood he could find was a hard maple, but he had to scrounge to locate enough of it to build the size cabinet he had designed.

He worked well into the night, cutting the lumber to certain specifications and salvaging every piece so that nothing went to waste. Because of that, he had to alter his concept slightly. But in the end, the kitchen island turned out the way he’d planned—a solid piece of furniture that would last for decades.

He began cleaning up his mess, putting away the tools he’d used, and looked around for Deke. The dog had slept through the buzz of a table saw and hours of hammering. But now the pooch sat up, wide awake.

Bone-tired, Colt pointed a finger. “Oh, no you don’t. You napped while I worked. Time to head home and go to bed for real. No wanting to play.”

Deke responded by yawning and getting to his feet. He trotted over to lick Colt’s hand.

“Yeah, well, don’t try to get on my good side now. Where were you when I needed you?”

Bouncing up and down, the dog was obviously ready to play tug of war.

“Take him for a run on the cliffs,” said the voice from the other side of the room. “Let him run off some of that energy.”

Colt spun around to see Scott standing ten feet away. “Are you nuts? It’s the middle of the night. He could break a leg or something.”

Scott grinned.

“Was that a joke? Sometimes I can’t tell with you.”

“You’re wise enough to know the difference. Be careful going home.”

“Huh? I should thank you for the heads up, getting me to move on that hospital thing when you did. I didn’t realize Naomi was that sick. Who would have known? I thought she was just hung over.”

“She’ll get better now. Keep an eye on Zach and Drea though.”

“What? Why?”

“Because.”

With that one word, the dog whimpered and whined as Scott’s image evaporated.

“You saw that, right?” Colt asked Deke. “A ghost going poof isn’t something you see every day, right?”

The canine woofed and trailed a scent out the door and into the night.

Colt shrugged and followed Deke to where he’d left the truck parked next to the huge double doors. From that spot, he could hear the water in the bay lapping up against the pilings.

To Colt’s way of thinking, the parking lot could have used a few more light poles. Working late, the guys often faced a black hole when they left this time of night. It wasn’t ideal, but Colt had been in more dangerous situations than a dark, small-town parking lot.

After loading up his tools, he slammed the tailgate shut and was about to let Deke into the front seat when he felt a presence behind him. He heard the dog growl. Thinking it was Scott again, he whirled around and took a smack to the face with the butt of a pistol.

“Gimme your money,” the man yelled.

Colt stared back at a shaky hand belonging to a druggie maybe. He ignored the weapon, slapping it away and bent his head. He barreled into the man’s gut, knocking him to the ground. The gun skidded somewhere onto the pavement out of sight. As Colt pummeled his attacker, Deke latched on to the thug’s pant leg with his teeth, ripping fabric and drawing blood.

After subduing his attacker, Colt rolled off the man and got to his feet. His main concern was trying to locate the gun. But as soon as he looked away, the jerk kicked Deke in the ribs and scrambled off, crawling at first, before jumping up and running like a scared rabbit into the night.

“I told you to be careful,” Scott groused from the other side of the truck.

“Thanks. If only you’d mentioned there was an asshole out here who planned to rob me.”

“I knew you could take care of him.”

“The bastard hurt Deke,” Colt lamented, as he went over to where the puppy had curled up. He scooped the pooch off the pavement and put him in the front seat, cradling him in his arms. “We’ll wake up Cord and get you checked out.”

He pivoted toward Scott. “Who was that guy anyway?”

“I saw him sleeping on the beach the other night with several of his friends. I heard them talking. Apparently, they got kicked out of their college dorm up north and decided to go on a little adventure.”  

“Robbing people is an adventure these days?” Colt asked, as he wiped the blood off the corner of his mouth where the pistol had made contact. “What happened to the gun?”

“I think it went under your truck.”

Colt bent down to look and retrieved a .22 caliber Smith & Wesson near the back wheelbase. “How many of these guys are camping nearby?”

“Four I think. Why?”

“How many weapons do they have?”

“Each brought a handgun with them. Why?”

Even though it was almost one o’clock, Colt dug out his cell phone to call Cord. “Because I’m pissed. And because they’ll end up hurting someone if they aren’t stopped.” But his attention turned to the puppy as soon as the vet picked up. “Cord, I need you to look at Deke. Now. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

At the animal clinic on Tradewinds Drive, a sleepy, disheveled Cord stared at the x-ray of Deke’s ribs. “He suffered a gash to the skin but there are no broken bones. He’ll be sore for a couple of days but he should be fine after that.” Angling toward Colt, he took the man’s chin in his hand. “Your mouth’s bleeding. I have antiseptic for that.”

“I didn’t know you could treat anything but furry critters.”

“I’ve treated my share of humans,” Cord stated, dabbing a pinkish liquid on Colt’s mouth and chin.

“Ouch. That stuff stings.”

Deke raised his head off the table to stare at Colt sitting at the other end.

“Your dog didn’t make this much fuss when I put the same thing on his belly. Stop fidgeting and let me clean the wound the right way or it’ll get infected. Do you want that?”

“What a stupid question? Who in their right mind would want an infection?”

Spotting Colt’s bloody knuckles, the veterinarian cleaned those scrapes, too. “Are there any other places I should know about that you cut or nicked?”

“No, Dr. Frankenstein, this is it.”

Cord screwed the cap back on the antiseptic and turned to confront his patient. “You’re going after these guys, aren’t you?”

“Somebody has to.”

“That’s Brent’s job. File a report and get the incident on record before doing anything stupid. I know you’re used to taking care of these things yourself, but you’re a civilian now. Try to act like one.”

“He was armed, and he kicked my dog. No one kicks my dog and gets away with it.”

Cord rubbed the dog’s ears. “Jelly will be fine.”

“Deke. You need to change his name to Deke on his microchip. And his paperwork needs to reflect his new name, make it official.”

“I suppose there’s no connection there to Deke Sutton, huh? It’s just a coincidence that you named this stray after a man who got blown up in Afghanistan?”

“Coincidences happen all the time. Why didn’t you warn me that this was Scott Phillips’s hometown and that I’d be seeing him every other day?”

Cord let out a sigh and grabbed the rolling utility stool where he could sit down. “Would you have believed me?”

“No. But Simon could have said something before we got here. He didn’t. You know what I think? I think all you guys have seen Scott at one time or another. I think you knew I’d see him, too. What about this little club we have going? Huh? What about that? Now, we’re all at the mercy of some ghost after everything we’ve been through? I’m supposed to be, what? Grateful? No thanks.”

“Scott warned you about the guy in the parking lot, didn’t he?”

“Not really. He told me to be careful going home. That’s not much of a warning when a guy’s packing heat.”

“What’d you do with the gun?”

“It’s in the truck.”

“Leave it here and I’ll take it to Brent in the morning. I’ll tell him what happened. Go home now and get some sleep. If I know you, you’ll be up in four hours anyway. Try to stay in bed for an extra couple of hours. Your body needs to heal. Let it.”

“Hear that, Deke. We’ll take our bruises out of here and head home.”