CHAPTER FOUR
Noah pushed open the driver’s side door of his truck, but he didn’t exit the cab. He stared in disbelief at the massive neglect this house had experienced, questioning why his parents had purchased this place for his homecoming.
He wasn’t ungrateful in the least.
It was just hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that his parents had a nest egg they could have used a million times over during the course of their marriage for any number of things.
Instead, they’d chosen to save it for their children.
He didn’t doubt for a minute that his father’s pride contributed to that decision, but the result was the same. Mary Kendall had gotten her wish—to have her family close at hand.
“It’s bittersweet.”
“Yes,” Gus acknowledged after clearing his throat a couple times. “Yes, it is.”
Gus got out of the cab and shut the door, walking around the truck so that he could lean against the front bumper. He crossed his arms and stared at the broken windows, the red spray paint across the porch windows proclaiming the property as Douchebag Manor, and the cavalcade of broken planks that hadn’t gotten that way with age.
Noah saw the surface damage, but there was so much potential here. The two-story farmhouse sat on a good thirty acres of open pastures that butted up against the DNR land to the east and was separated from the town to the west by a half-mile of hardwood forest. Though it had always been called Yoder’s farm, it wasn’t technically farmland. The Yoders had kept a couple of horses, a medium-sized herd of dairy cows, and a mess of chickens on the property fifteen years or so back, mostly growing a patch of pumpkins and squash for additional money in the fall season.
Phil Yoder’s death had been unexpected. The family carried on with their small dairy farm for a time after his passing. It wasn’t a surprise to the town when his former wife and her older children moved east to stay with family when their Ordnung of the Amish moved out of the area back to Pennsylvania. It was the following football season that this place had turned into party central.
Gus probably had no idea, but Noah’s first kiss with Beth Ann Mason had been up in the hayloft of the old barn located at the back of the house near the pond. They’d had their legs dangling out over the second-story doorway the farmhands had once used to load hay. He remembered staring down at the bonfire, watching as it reflected off the pond when he’d made his move.
She’d broken his heart the next day when he saw her wearing Chad Schaeffer’s letterman’s jacket.
Noah removed the keys from the ignition before joining his father, curious as to why the previous homeowners had left town.
“How long has it been since the Andersons moved?”
“About five years, give or take a bit. Pete got a good-paying job down in Texas. It was too good to pass up, but he couldn’t sell the property for what he was asking.”
“So Pete just hung on to it?” Noah asked, thinking that was a long time to go paying a second mortgage, including property taxes and all.
“Unfortunately, he eventually let the farmhouse and land go into foreclosure. It went up for auction around a year ago.” Gus nodded back toward town. “I bought Harlan Whitmore a bottle of scotch not to spread the word that I’d put in a bid. I didn’t want you kids to hear that I’d been buying up a number of properties in Blyth Lake. Your mother was very clear with her instructions. I had the place put in your name last week. You’re on the hook for property taxes next year. It’s all yours now.”
“I won’t ruin this surprise for the others. You have my word.” Noah was curious about something, though. “Have all the other properties been purchased?”
“You’ll find out when your brothers and sister find out,” Gus said pointedly, shooting Noah a stern look as he bit down on the toothpick he’d taken from the shot glass he kept full of them on his kitchen table. He was usually always one step ahead of his children. “You realize the house is going to need a new roof…like yesterday, right?”
“New windows, insulation, and siding,” Noah contributed to the list of renovations. “The porch needs more than a little work, but it could technically be expanded around either side or both. I suspect I’ll be changing the name of the place. The red spray paint just clashes.”
“Wraparound?” Gus inquired, moving the toothpick to the other side of his mouth as he smiled in reference to the nickname the local teens had given the place. “You might consider screening in the porch with that pond so close by. The mosquitoes have only gotten worse over the years. Hell, it’s going to take a bulldozer to muck out the moss that’s grown over the surface. That is, where the cattails haven’t taken over.”
Noah leaned back and reached into the front of his jeans for the key his father had given him earlier this afternoon. He held it up before twisting it around in reverence.
“Twelve years in the Marines, and I’ve always stayed in the bachelor quarters or the barracks.” Noah shook his head at the responsibility laid out in front of him. His fingers itched to get started. “I never in a million years imagined this kind of project.”
“You’re not disappointed, are you?”
Noah had to have heard wrong, but he realized his dad had asked the question in all seriousness. Even a slight tension had settled in his shoulders, almost as if he expected some type of rejection.
Noah suspected one of his dad’s old buddies might have suggested over a beer or two that not all his kids would be happy with this type of gift.
They were wrong.
“Dad, there isn’t a single kid of yours that will come home and be disappointed at what’s waiting for them…and that includes me.” Noah shook his head in wonderment. He held up the key a little higher. “I finally have a place to call my own. You always taught us that hard work pays off. By the time I get done with her, she’ll be restored back to her old glory days…even better.”
Noah wasn’t sure what made him look over his shoulder, because he certainly didn’t have the best hearing after twelve years in the service. Tinnitus had set in after his second combat tour, leaving behind a constant ringing that no longer bothered him more out of habit than comfort. It was astonishing what the human body could withstand over multiple years of torture.
“Dad, who is that?”
A beautiful woman was casually walking toward the shortcut he remembered very well from his youth. She flashed a smile his way and waved her hand casually in greeting, but she didn’t veer from her destination. It appeared she was taking the shortcut he knew would lead her into town.
“Her name is Reese Woodward. She’s renting out Rose Phifer’s cottage for the summer. She grew up around here. Heartland, I think.”
Reese. The name seemed fitting, reminding him of that blonde actress who always starred in those romantic comedies. Her hair was piled high on top of her head in what his sister always referred to as a messy bun. Her hair wasn’t blonde, but rather a light shade of chestnut.
A pair of oversized sunglasses with dark brown lenses sat high up on the bridge of her nose. She had on a pair of denim shorts, but they were still long enough to leave his imagination running wild.
She was downright stunning.
Things were looking up around here.
“Really?” Noah asked, as he watched Reese disappear into the woods. An uneasiness settled over him as he thought back to a night he hadn’t thought about in years. “Why would she rent a house in Blyth Lake?”
“You’d have to ask her that yourself, son.” Gus’ tone suggested that he thought Noah would do just that. “Now, let’s go take a look at the inside of your new home improvement project. We can tour the outside after you find out about the electric and plumbing problems.”
Noah dragged his gaze away from where Reese had vanished from view. He’d probably be smart to stay away, considering he’d just gotten back to town. He hadn’t even had time to hit up the local watering hole where he had no doubt some of his old friends were still gathered.
Gus had decided to grill up the steaks for lunch instead of dinner. The two had talked for hours before finally deciding to take a drive across town to see the new place. They’d more than likely hit up the diner in an hour or so.
“Let’s do this,” Noah said excitedly, pushing aside the curiosity he had about Reese Woodward. It was none of his business who she was and why she was visiting Blyth Lake. “I remember this place being renovated twelve years ago. I hope the Andersons left the hardwood floors intact.”
“You’ll be disappointed then,” Gus warned, maneuvering around the broken wooden step. “I had an inspector check to see if there were any problems with the foundation. Turns out the Andersons had a penchant for shag carpeting.”
Noah suppressed a groan as he slid the key inside the deadbolt, turning until the latch slid free of its home. There were only one or two broken windows from the front of the house. It hadn’t been enough to let the air pass through. The stifling heat was somewhat overwhelming as Noah stepped over the threshold…onto what had most likely once been cream shag carpet.
“You weren’t kidding. This is horrible.” Noah wasn’t impressed with the Andersons’ taste in design, but his memories were from a different time. He took in the large living room, already having a picture in his mind’s eye as to what his home could become. “There’s got to be some hardwood left underneath this carpet. And look up there. They painted the exposed beams a beige color to match the walls. What the hell were they thinking?”
Gus walked over to a corner of the living room, peeling back an upturned piece of carpet. He nodded his agreement.
“You’re right. That’s some fine-looking flooring under this crap.” Gus removed the toothpick from in between his lips before standing, gesturing toward the exposed beams near the ceiling. “How did you know the Andersons painted that wood and not the Yoders?”
Noah shot his dad a look of skepticism. Was he being serious?
“Dad, you know very well we used this place to have parties every Saturday night. We never did anything like what these kids do nowadays.” Noah took in the broken pane of glass in the windowsill on the far side of the wall. “We mainly used the abandoned firewood pile to make a bonfire and used the barn for…well, you know. Anyway, a group of us came back here the morning after Emma Irwin went missing. We joined the search party, remember that?”
“I do,” Gus replied, shaking his head in regret. “That poor girl and her family. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.”
Noah took another step closer to the window, looking out toward the woods in the direction Reese had taken. Billy Stanton had said he last saw Emma taking that same route, but nothing had ever come of it. There were a lot of theories as to what had happened to her, but none had ever been proven out worth a damn.
Emma Irwin had never been seen after that night.
“I never thought about what happened back then when buying this property,” Gus admitted, crossing his arms as he looked around the room. “It happened so long ago.”
“I have good memories here, Dad.” Noah was telling the truth. His first kiss had taken place right here on this patch of ground, as did reaching second base with Whitney Bell shortly thereafter. He, his brothers, and most of their friends had some of their best times here. “Emma disappearing that night had nothing to do with this place. Do you remember Uncle Jimmy saying he thought he saw her walking down Seventh Street? Whatever happened to her didn’t occur here.”
Noah didn’t want to think back to that confusing and emotional time. Emma had been a year younger, but they still ran in the same circles. Months and months of his senior year had been consumed with the mystery of her disappearance.
As with anything, though, the years had faded the pain for the entire town—with the exception of her family, of course.
“What is that?” Noah asked, realizing that the far wall had never been between the living room and the kitchen. He closed the distance, passing his father so that he could see what the Andersons had done with the layout. “This used to open up into the kitchen. Remember?”
“Pete wanted an office, so he used the small space that was for the dining room and closed it off.” Gus didn’t bother to go into the office. His attention was on the kitchen. “If you take down those two walls, you’d be able to install a rather large island where the family can congregate around when making Sunday dinner.”
“Sunday dinner will always take place at your house, Dad. You know that.” That didn’t mean Noah wouldn’t host Thursday night football games with his brothers and sister coming over to watch the Browns play the Steelers. That rivalry went way back. Leave it to Gwen to be the only one of them to support a rival team. He was sure that was entirely by design. “But I see what you mean. These two walls take up too much space.”
“I was talking about your own family, son.”
Noah let that comment slide, not knowing what the future held for him. He and his dad walked through the entire house noting numerous problems before venturing outside, touring the property and ensuring the barn was still sturdy. It could use some of that new metal siding and a new roof to give it a chance at lasting a while longer.
Gus most likely had already inspected all this before purchasing the property, but he kept up the front of interest as Noah made mental notes about what needed to be done and what should come first.
“You know, I was thinking.” Noah turned around, walking backwards as he took one last look at the house. “If I buy some boards to put over the broken windows, I could technically stay here.”
“I’m not going to listen to that horseshit.” Gus motioned for Noah to get into the truck with a sharp wave of his hand. “You’ll stay with me. No reason you shouldn’t sleep in a comfortable bed while you whip this place into shape. Now, let’s get to Annie’s before that fine meatloaf runs out.”
“I take it Cassie didn’t change that particular recipe?”
Noah settled back behind the wheel and turned over the engine while Gus talked about a revolt that almost took place a year ago when Annie’s daughter moved back into town. He hadn’t meant to tune his dad out, but his thoughts drifted to all the renovations he wanted to get started on tomorrow morning.
“Noah? I’m not gonna be real pleased if I don’t get my meatloaf.”
His parents had given him the ability to build his own home. It was hard to put into words the gratitude flowing through him.
“Dad, I—”
“I know, son,” Gus said with a pat on Noah’s shoulder. “I know. Enough said.”