Mending Her Heart. Judy Baer
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he had found as a new Christian was the struggle to turn his concerns over to God and to leave them there.
“Trust Him, Will,” he could still hear Abigail say. “If you don’t trust Him, do you really believe in Him? Each time you experience a prayer answered, you’ll see His faithfulness and your trust will grow. Mark my words.”
Warm with exertion, Will wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his denim work shirt. He hadn’t needed to work out since he’d come to Abigail’s. She kept him so busy lifting, toting and digging that half the time he felt like begging for mercy.
He tested another board with the toe of his foot and grimaced. Another soft spot. That made it certain that the entire floor would have to go. He took a crowbar, wedged the flattened end beneath the end of the board and pried it loose. The visitor he’d spied out the window was forgotten for the moment.
The grating sounds emanating from the main bath made Catherine wince. It sounded more as if the man was tearing the house down than restoring it. It was a good thing she was here to oversee things and keep Tanner in line.
She smiled a little. The idea of someone like her keeping up with a powerful man like Tanner bordered on the ludicrous. Still, a big boat could be guided by a little rudder. That’s what she would have to be. Bigger didn’t have to be better.
She put the lunch bucket Emma had packed on the chair by the front door, mounted the steps to the second floor and followed the loud banging noises. What she found nearly took her breath away.
Will Tanner, wearing a T-shirt, denim jeans and a tool belt, was balancing precariously on the floor joists that had held the wooden floorboards in place. Beneath was the plaster that formed the ceiling of the room below. One mis-step and Tanner would land in the sunroom downstairs.
He looked up and grinned at her. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you. Could you please come over here where there’s a floor to stand on?” Even in her dismay Catherine couldn’t miss the sight of Will’s strong, well-built frame.
He bounced a little on the tips of his toes. “There’s something to stand on here.”
She reached out as if to stop him and nearly lost her own footing.
“Don’t worry. I’m accustomed to this.” He walked across the joists like a cat and stopped beside her. “Piece of cake. You don’t have to look so concerned. I do this for a living, you know.”
She was surprised at the nervous feeling in her stomach. “When will you start to lay the new floor?” By the look of it, the house would never come back together.
“Tomorrow afternoon, I think. Or the first thing the day after. Why?”
“Oh, no particular reason,” she said vaguely. “For now, is there anything I can do to help?”
The pressure on her felt greater because she’d recently been getting emails from the law school about faculty gatherings, workshops and the like. Although, because she would be part-time at first, she wasn’t duty-bound to attend any of them, she felt it would be a nice gesture. Even more, it would be a true step toward that other life she was seeking.
“I cut a hole in the wall in the bedroom. I’d like to get that door put in between the rooms as soon as possible.”
“Maybe I could help with that?”
He gave her a startled look but led her into the bedroom that had once been hers. “I don’t think I explained what I was planning last night. I found the studs in the walls, marked the position of the door and cut out the hole, but I haven’t taken down the plaster yet. You could do that. I don’t even have to put up a new header for the door because the original one is still there….”
Catherine had no idea what he was talking about. Her education had been broad and varied, but there’d been little opportunity to learn carpentry and construction.
“There are hammers and crowbars in the hall. Help yourself.”
And before she could say anything, Tanner strode out of the room.
Well, then…. She picked up a hammer and took a swing at the wall where he had marked the outline of the doorway. There was a satisfying crunch and chips of plaster flew. She hit it again, harder, this time. It was surprisingly therapeutic, as if the tension and grief she’d been carrying left her body, exploded out the head of the hammer and fell to the floor with the chunks and crumbles of plaster. She swung fiercely at the wall as a refrain formed in her mind. She took a swing for the Three C’s and all the stress and pressure the firm had provided her over the years. She took another swing for that dreadful woman who had lied to her about wanting custody of her son and one for the manipulation and deceit. One cathartic swing was for herself for so foolishly buying into that story. How naive could she have been? And take that, death, for stealing my grandmother away….
The hammering on the other side of the wall was unrelenting, Will noted. Catherine was really tearing into it. Too bad he hadn’t had her on his crew when he was running demolition jobs. By the rhythmic sound of her swings, she was a miniature wrecking ball in action. Good. That freed him to work on other things. What’s more, it would keep her busy and out of his hair.
Lovely as she was, he didn’t need her underfoot right now. She’d tire of this soon enough and move on, but for now this would keep her occupied. Will turned up the radio he’d brought from home and lost himself in the nasal twangs of Hank Williams, country-western-style loneliness, cheating hearts and lovesick blues.
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