Restoring His Heart

“It’s not that big a deal. We’ll do the woodworking and I’ll sub out the other trades.” He drew his eyebrows together. “I employ four full-time carpenters, one fabricator and a cabinet maker. The rest of the work is hired out to subcontractors. Like the brick work, electrical and drywall and tile. The mill will build the post and spindles. Any other craftsmen I need I’ll hire to do the work.”

Adam nodded in understanding and followed her to the damaged corner, watching as she stooped down and inspected the gaping hole in the brick foundation. She pulled out one crumbling brick and examined it, a look of disgust on her face. She stood and held up the partially destroyed pale red brick.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to find more of these?”

He grinned. “Can’t we run over to the local brickyard?”

She tossed the brick on the ground and glared. “That gazebo is over one hundred and thirty years old. Those bricks are handmade. I can’t walk into a store and buy more like you can replace that little car of yours.”

“That car was built in the 1960s. It’s worth ten times your little house.”

“House?” Laura set her jaw, eyes blazing.

“It’s a gazebo. It’s old. I’ll give you the money to build one twice that size with all the bells and whistles.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “First, we don’t want a bigger, better gazebo, we want this one. It’s a historic landmark. Second, I know you have no idea what you’ve done to this town or the history that you’ve destroyed, but believe me, it’s significant. Third, I’m sure paying for everything is your usual method of getting out of trouble. Well, not this time. You’re going to help me rebuild this and I can’t wait to see you sweat and break your back doing it.” She stomped off. Adam watched her go, tempted to walk out of this small insignificant town. Then he remembered the ankle bracelet.

He wouldn’t get far.

* * *

Laura worked off her irritation by pulling out the orange plastic safety fencing and the stakes to anchor it from the truck bed. She had to regain her sense of control or she’d end up with a helper who might go AWOL on her. As much as she hated to face it, she would need his upper-body strength to wield some of the beams and timbers she’d need to rebuild things. She started back toward the gazebo, her heart tightening at the sight of the wounded structure. Adam came toward her, arms extended.

“I’ll get those.” He took the cumbersome material from her grasp. “Where do you want them?”

“I want you to set up a perimeter about twelve to sixteen feet from the gazebo to give us room to work and set up the equipment we’ll need. Be sure to leave an opening so we can come and go. You’ll find a special fencepost driver tool in the back of the truck. It’s red and looks like a pipe with handles. Use that to set the posts about eight feet apart.” Adam started to move off, then turned back.

“You want exact spacing or approximate?”

“Approximate will do. I just don’t want people getting too close while we work.” Laura stapled the building permit encased in protective plastic to one post, leaving Adam to figure the mechanics of the fencing. Retrieving her electronic tablet from the truck, she started her detailed list of the materials she’d need and the specifications for the gazebo to start tracking down the lumber from the correct era.

She glanced at Adam smiling as he tugged the flimsy orange fencing between the posts. She let him struggle for a while, intending to give him some pointers, but the next time she looked, he’d gotten the hang of it. He finished his task at the same time she completed her list.

“How did I do, boss?”

The grin on his face made his eyes sparkle. “Fine. You’ll have to check it each day. It tends to sag over time.”

“What’s next? Power tools?”

“No. We have to stabilize the roof, then take all this damaged section apart.” She picked up a pair of protective goggles. “But first we need to go over a few safety rules. You will wear these when using power tools, and earplugs when running the saw. Use a waist support when we do heavy lifting and never, I repeat, never treat a power tool with anything less than the utmost respect. They aren’t toys.”

Adam nodded. “I might not understand the tools, but I do know a thing or two about safety and being cautious. I make sure my sports equipment is thoroughly checked out before I use it. I don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Laura huffed under her breath. “Yet you still risk your life for nothing more than a temporary thrill.” She turned and motioned for him to follow. “We need to support the roof before we do anything else. I’ll get the jack, you bring that four-by-six post over here.”

Laura positioned the jack in the center of the gazebo and instructed Adam how to position the heavy post to take the weight of the roof. She’d anticipated his resistance today, but so far he’d followed her every command without question. She held the post in place while Adam put his strength behind the jack, pumping the handle. She glanced down at him, surprised to see him watching the upward movement of the beam closely as he worked. She also was suddenly aware of the muscles in his arms and the way the fabric of his shirt strained across his shoulders as he moved.

“Is that enough?”

Laura jerked her attention back to the beam. It was touching under the center of the roof but not firmly enough. “Another inch should do it.” Satisfied, she stepped back, watching as Adam rose to his full height and placed his hand on the beam.

“Will this one piece of wood hold up this whole building?”

She swallowed and took a step back. “It’s only a temporary fix until we can assess the damage to the rafters and make the repairs.”

“Okay.” He smiled. “What’s next?”

Laura searched her mind for the next task she wanted him to do, but her thoughts were muddled with things she rarely thought about. Like how strong Adam was, and how small she felt beside him. He made her aware that she was very female and he was so male. She forced herself to focus on the work. “We need to start stacking the loose bricks over there out of the way. We’ll reuse the ones that aren’t too damaged. Make a pallet out of scrap lumber and stack them on that. It’ll keep them from sinking into the ground. I need to make some phone calls.”

Without waiting for his response, she walked to her truck and climbed inside. She needed time to think and space away from Adam Holbrook. He reminded her a little too much of her ex-husband, Ted—concerned with his own life with never a thought to anyone else and no appreciation for anything of value. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer for tolerance and forgiveness. It didn’t matter what Holbrook was like. All she needed was for him to help her get the gazebo restored in time for the festival and then he could go on about his merry way.

* * *

Adam pried the last loose brick from the foundation and stacked it with the others. He was hot, sweaty and his back ached. He had no idea dismantling the little building would be such hard work. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new boss. It was obvious she loved what she did. To him, the debris looked like so much broken wood. To her, each piece was a special handcrafted treasure.

Adam leaned against the side of the gazebo, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Reaching down, he took a bottle of water from the small cooler she kept nearby. His gaze traveled around the square inventorying the rows of businesses. The usual stuff. Couple of banks. A diner. Pizza place. Antique shop. Drug store. Hardware store. Her daddy’s store? He smiled. Daddy could keep an eye on his little girl all day long from his store. Interesting. The damaged gazebo. A daughter in construction. A father willing to help out to keep her safe. Normally he would scoff at such behavior, but having met her father, and her, he could hardly blame Tom Durrant for wanting to keep watch. He found it a bit old-fashioned but sweet.

Laura had made it clear she thought he was incapable of doing anything without assistance. He was looking forward to proving her wrong. How hard could swinging a hammer be? He finished his water and tossed it into the trash can just outside the orange fence.

Laura came toward him from the truck, slipping her cell phone into the small holster on her hip. “Okay, I found brick down in Long Beach, left over from a Katrina salvage. They’re shipping it up. Should be here by Tuesday.”

She stared at him expectantly, as if he should grasp the significance of her words. The excitement in her expression lit up her violet blue eyes. He’d never seen a color like that before. Nor had he realized how the hard hat made her features appear delicate and fragile. But Adam knew better. There was nothing fragile about this lady. He blinked. She was waiting for some reaction from him. “Is that good?”

“More than good. But replacing that foundation will take time.”

“Is time a big deal?”

“Yes, it is. We’re having our annual Founder’s Day Festival at the end of the month and this ‘little house’ is the centerpiece. If this gazebo is unusable for the festival it’ll be like Christmas without a tree. It’s that important.” She sighed and pulled on her gloves. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, captivated by her passion for the little structure. Her eyes flashed like a summer storm, her cheeks flushed, turning her violet eyes to deep purple. He forced his mind back to the job at hand. “What now, boss?”

She pointed to the broken railing. “Start pulling that apart and stack it over there. Keep all the like pieces together. We’ll have to use them as templates later. Don’t throw anything away unless I okay it.”

“So you’re going to recycle all this? Saving the planet and all that?”

“In a way. All this lumber is original. I want to keep as much of it as possible not only for the historic value, but to keep the historic designation, too. The structure has to be comprised of a certain percentage of original materials to be on the registry.”

Adam worked a spindle loose from the splintered floor board. His gaze drifted toward Laura again. She moved like a little dynamo, never still. Even when she was on the phone, which was frequently, she paced. He’d seen her sitting on the tailgate of the truck once when she was studying her tablet, but she hadn’t sat there long. It was easy to see why her business was a success. She worked hard and with passion.

“Good morning.”

Adam turned and looked over his shoulder. A man a few years older than he was standing near the orange fencing, a warm, friendly smile on his face. He studied the gazebo intently, while slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Adam braced himself for some nasty comments. Several locals had drifted past this morning, but all they’d done was scowl. Sooner or later he’d known the words would start to fly.

The man nodded toward him. “You the man responsible for this damage?”

Adam stood and faced the man. “I am.”

The man’s smile widened. “It’s nice to meet an honest and forthright man.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Jim Barrett. You must be Adam Holbrook.”