Recapturing Her Heart
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Jennifer Slattery
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19,6K
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Chapter One
Clammy hands gripping her steering wheel, Harper Moore forced herself to park in front of the one place in Sage Creek, Texas, she had determined to avoid. The name painted on the dusty window—Nuts, Bolts and Boards—seemed to mock her, reminding her of the words she’d spoken the night she and CJ Jenkins broke up.
She’d never intended to hurt him. She’d simply wanted more than this town and, by association, CJ could offer.
Yet here she was, back home, living with her mom, no less, and needing help from the people least likely to give it to her. But only for a season. God willing, in two months, she’d move with her daughter and return to the world of professional dance.
But first, she needed to muster the courage to get out of her car, march into the Jenkinses’ hardware store and apply for a job.
Her baby’s paternal grandmother, Cynthia Rhodam, Managing Director of South East Repertory, had promised to use her connections to land Harper a prestigious choreographer position. As if that could rectify the injustice Harper suffered when the woman forced her to resign to avoid tarnishing her son’s name. Nor could a job, however needed, heal the wound caused when Chaz denied paternity.
Harper could’ve fought the matter. She’d certainly had every right. But standing up to someone with such influence could’ve killed any future opportunities in the dance world.
Lost child support, she could handle. The death of her dream, she could not. So, she’d conceded to “lie low” until lawyers resolved a sexual harassment suit against Emaline’s father that didn’t directly involve Harper but affected her nonetheless.
Needing a dose of encouragement, she called her best friend.
Trisha answered on the first ring. “Hey, girl. Been praying for you. How’d it go?”
She released a sigh. “Haven’t done the deed yet.”
“Okay. What do you need from me?”
“A reminder that I can do hard things? If only I’d been able to make ends meet in Seattle.” Unfortunately, childcare fees and the skyrocketed cost of living had forced her home.
“But then you wouldn’t get to see me.”
Harper laughed. “You do remember this is temporary, right? Just until I save funds for first and last on an apartment and a month’s worth of childcare fees.”
“And assuming Chaz’s mother holds true to her word?”
“And that.” Emaline’s paternal grandmother hadn’t exactly demonstrated high integrity. But she did hold a lot of influence in the dance industry. “If only the library would give me more hours, I wouldn’t have to be here, about to eat the biggest slice of humble pie imaginable.”
“You’ve got nothing to feel insecure about. March in there with your head high. And remember, you look amazing, by the way.”
Sitting taller, Harper eyed her reflection in the rearview mirror, more thankful than ever that her beautician friend had treated her to a free hair makeover. “I do love the burgundy highlights.”
“I knew they’d look great with your sable-toned locks. Like I said yesterday, the color combo really makes your blue eyes pop.”
“Thanks.” The curl cream she’d purchased, which emitted a faint pineapple-coconut scent, countered the Texas humidity that normally turned her wavy hair to frizz.
Regardless, she couldn’t help but view herself through CJ’s eyes, certain she’d find nothing but bitterness and contempt staring back at her.
“You want to celebrate with milkshakes at Wilma’s after?” Trisha asked.
“Can’t. Promised Mom I’d clean the kitchen in exchange for her watching Emaline.”
While her mother hadn’t always been the best source of support, and often offered it with contempt, Harper was grateful for her help now.
Unfortunately, her father hadn’t been a part of her life since he bailed on her and her mom fifteen years prior.
She released a heavy breath that did little to ease her churning gut. “Guess I best get this over with.” Ending the call, she grabbed her printed résumé and stepped out and into the pleasant spring sun. The soft scent of geraniums and petunias wafted toward her from pots hanging from either side of the lamppost streetlight. The faint twang of a country song emanated from the hardware store, merging with the eighties’ rock drifting from the adjacent pawnshop.
Harper paused on the sidewalk to center herself, watching through the window as Nancy, CJ’s mom, spoke with a potbellied man wearing a stretched-out navy T-shirt. Harper scanned the store’s interior for a glimpse of CJ’s dad, John Michael. She’d much prefer to deal with him. With his relatively even-keeled personality, he was less likely to respond to Harper’s job inquiry with venom.
Nancy, however, epitomized the mama-bear sweatshirt she used to wear. Hopefully time had overcome any residual anger. CJ’s mom was an adult, after all. And a business owner, one who, if that Help Wanted sign tacked to the window still held true, needed an employee.
“Are you going in?” The deep voice startled her.
She turned toward the tall, lanky man who held the door open for her. “Yes, thank you.” Her legs and fingers felt tingly as she stepped inside, and not from the gush of air-conditioning blowing overhead.
Nancy shifted in their direction. “Welcome to—” Her instant smile faltered before returning, taut, below stony eyes. Her gaze remained locked on Harper.
“Ma’am.” Her lungs felt tight as she fought for the courage to say why she’d come. Instead, Harper stared, mouth dry, at the woman who’d once encouraged her to call her Mama, while Nancy stared back.
An approaching customer wanting a particular color of paint interrupted the heavy silence that stretched between them. Watching Nancy disappear down a nearby aisle, Harper released the breath she’d been holding.
Everything within her urged her to exit the store as quickly as possible. Instead, she squared her shoulders and walked, stiff-legged, toward the long, pine checkout counter.
What would she do if, once Nancy returned, she kicked her out? At least the store was nearly empty; any public humiliation wouldn’t gather much of an audience. Not that she expected Nancy to respond with such unprofessional behavior. She could, however, see the woman avoiding her until Harper’s growing anxiety overpowered the last of her resolve.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve got two-wheel dollies next to our moving boxes.”
Harper froze, a jolt shooting through her, at the sound of CJ’s approaching voice. She darted behind a steel pillar barely wider than her five-foot-four frame.
What was he doing here? Her friend Trisha had seen him scraping paint off somebody’s shed not long ago. They’d assumed he was working construction, but he may have been helping a friend. Or, maybe, like her, he needed to piece together the hours from two jobs to make ends meet.
Harper focused on his conversation with his customer to gauge which direction they were heading.
“My friends keep pestering me to hire a moving company to come in and pack all my things.” The woman huffed. “As if I’ve got money for that.” Her footsteps halted. “Oh. Spackle. Is this what I need to fill in the holes in my walls? From hanging picture frames and such?”
It sounded as if she and CJ had stopped a few feet away. Unfortunately, they appeared in no hurry to leave. Harper held her breath as the woman went on to talk about her various collections and other items she hoped to sell at a garage sale. Apparently, she was moving into an assisted-living facility near her oldest son.
“That sounds like a big transition.” Compassion softened CJ’s tone, his words unhurried, as if prepared to listen for as long as the lady needed.
He’d always been kind, a trait that had initially caught her off guard. She’d expected him, the high school quarterback, to act cocky and self-obsessed. Instead, he’d been the first to reach out to the new kid or the teen lingering on the fringe. Although she’d initially felt drawn to his striking good looks, it was his heart that had captured hers.
She could still envision his easy grin and the way his greenish-gray eyes lit whenever they landed on hers.
Had he changed much over the years?
Harper waited until CJ and his customer’s conversation and footfalls receded, then slipped out from behind the pillar. Curiosity and something she couldn’t name drew her in the direction of their voices. Second to the last aisle to the end, she paused, pulse quickened, and slowly peered around the corner.
CJ stood with his back to her, talking to a short lady with long silver hair and a boxy torso. His faded blue jeans complemented his muscular frame, and his broad shoulders seemed to strain against the cotton of his teal T-shirt. He wore his hair shorter than he had in high school. The blond locks that used to curl up from under his cowboy hat were not presently visible.
He laughed at something the woman said—Harper couldn’t quite make it out.
“Well, now, we can’t let that happen.” He handed his customer a roll of Bubble Wrap and a stack of large flattened boxes. “My folks would never let me hear the end of it. Anything else you need?”
She shook her head and the two turned in Harper’s direction—CJ’s widening eyes landing on her before she could dart out of sight. Thick brows pinched together, he frowned, seeming at a loss for words. But then he gave a quick firm nod she’d seen him greet others with numerous times before.
The steady thud of his boots matched the loud pounding of her heart as, expression tense, he strolled toward her. “Harper.”
“Hey, CJ.” Her voice came out squeaky.
The customer followed his eyes, and a look of curiosity flashed across her face. She offered Harper a smile and thanked CJ for his help. “I best get back home to wrap those gnomes I told you about.”
His chuckle sounded forced. “You do that. And don’t forget to call Pastor Roger to ask about borrowing Trinity Faith’s cargo trailer. He’d be thrilled to know it was being put to good use, as long as he hasn’t already promised it to someone else that day.”
“I’ll do that.” The woman walked away with a wiggly fingered wave.
CJ’s jaw muscle twitched as he faced Harper, his cedar-citrus aroma scenting the space between them. “You need help with something?” His tone carried an edge.
Although they’d seen one another around town about half a dozen times since she’d returned to Sage Creek, they’d managed to avoid each other until now. The downward slant of his flattened lips verified he wasn’t any happier to break that trend than she was.
She rubbed the back of her arm. Clearly, Nancy wasn’t the most challenging Jenkins family member to have this conversation with. “Do you work here?” If so, they’d be spending a great deal of time together.
Just how badly did she need this job?
Unfortunately, very.
The crevice between his brows deepened. Jutting his chin, he nodded. “No surprise there, huh?”
She winced inwardly, thinking about the words she’d spoken the night they broke up—how she’d told him that she wanted more, thereby implying that he, and the life he’d offered her, wasn’t enough.
He studied her, a shadow of sorrow softening his glare. “I need to get back to work.” He turned to leave.
“Wait.” She grabbed his wrist, and a familiar shiver shot through her.
His frown returned. “What do you need, Harper?”
She couldn’t remember him ever having spoken to her so harshly. Much had changed—because of her.
“I...” She pushed at her thumb cuticle. “Are your parents still hiring?”
“Why? You know of someone looking for a job?”
“Yeah. Me.” She spoke quickly, before she could chicken out.
His eyebrows shot up, and he gave his head a slight shake, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “Aren’t you working at the library?”
“I am, but they cut my hours.” She’d been part-time since Christmas.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, probably contemplating the most professional way to brush her off. “Applications are in the office. Come on.” He made a sweeping motion with his arm.
Sucking in a breath to still her jittery stomach, she followed him past a bin of screws, a ladder attached to a ceiling rail, like one might see in old libraries, and a large yellow barrel filled with rakes, prongs up.
At the back of the store, she lingered in the short hallway, beside a corkboard covered with community event posters and various flyers. Someone had German shepherd puppies for sale. Someone else was offering housecleaning services. Tomorrow, the church was hosting a craft bazaar and family carnival event to fund a youth-group mission trip. According to the thumbtacked page, the activities included face painting, a clown making balloon animals, a petting zoo and a bounce house, among other things.
CJ nudged a plastic cooler out of his way to reach a metal filing cabinet. The top drawer opened with a screech. He handed her a printed application. “You can fill this out now or take it home and bring it back.”
Focused on the paper, she nodded. “Thank you.” The question was, if she left, would she have the courage to return?
Christopher James Jenkins’s steps felt stiff as he walked Harper to the break room. His gut was filled with the same ache he’d experienced the night she’d shattered his heart. Apparently, he hadn’t healed as much as he’d thought in the five years since. That also meant her working here was a bad idea.
But he couldn’t just turn her away without at least glancing at her application. He wasn’t an expert in civil law, but it seemed that would qualify as job discrimination or something.
He motioned for her to sit at the scratched and wobbly table centering the space. “Can I get you a water or cup of coffee?”
She perched on the edge of a folding chair. “I’m fine, but thank you.”
Lingering a few feet away, he watched as she leaned over the page. Her dark, wavy hair spilled forward, exposing the gentle curve of her slender neck. Her trim dancer’s build from high school had filled out and softened in all the right ways.
He still caught his breath when her blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, latched on to his. The vulnerability her nervous posture and heart-shaped face had displayed moments ago stirred emotions within him he’d thought had long died.
That she triggered a reaction at all, especially since she’d made it clear how little she’d thought of him, caused his teeth to clench.
Why was she here? Clearly, the life in the big city she’d left him for hadn’t been enough to keep her attention, either.
Was it wrong that the thought gave him a measure of satisfaction?
With a mental shake, he crossed to the counter, gathered three days’ worth of dirty mugs and tidied up the napkins and creamers. He picked up a damp rag next to the sink and wiped a splotch of ketchup from the countertop.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. “My folks can’t pay much more than minimum wage. And they’re looking for someone able to work evenings and weekends.” He figured that alone would deter her.
She met his gaze. “I understand.”
Hadn’t that been one of her biggest fears? That she’d end up chained to this place—the store and town—forever? At least, that’s how Trisha had later relayed it. She’d said Harper couldn’t marry a man with zero ambition.
“CJ?” His mom’s voice preceded her. “Harper.” She stood in the doorway, her tone as cold as her expression. She moved to the table and glanced at the application. Her eyebrows plummeted. “You’re looking for work?”
Harper’s pen paused midstroke. “Yes, ma’am. If you and Mr. Jenkins will have me.” Her voice trembled slightly.
His mom’s gaze shot to CJ, her expression clouded, before landing back on Harper. “I see.” She hesitated, as if contemplating saying more.
Remembering how stirred up his mother had been when he’d told her of the breakup, he hoped she wouldn’t. His mom was anything but even-tempered, especially when someone hurt those she loved. And her stony expression suggested bitterness from that day still lingered.
He understood that. Whoever’d said time healed all wounds had never loved, and lost, a woman like Harper. The years had merely tamed the ache—a hurt he had no intentions of experiencing again.
Making eye contact, his mom tilted her head toward the door.
He nodded and followed her into the hall.
Arms crossed, Nancy stood with her back to the long plastic PVC sheets from the loading area entrance. “What’s this about?”
“Don’t know. Maybe she saw the Help Wanted sign in the window.”
“We don’t need help that badly.”
“I agree.”
Her gaze flicked back to the break room, and she frowned. “But she must be really struggling financially to come in here. And she does have a kid. That matters, regardless of how we all feel about her.”
CJ’s gut sank. “What are you saying?”
“That we need to pray on this some.”
He didn’t want to hear any talk about loving his enemies or giving them the shirt off his back. Harper had already taken too much.
His mom’s phone chimed a text, and she glanced at the screen then at CJ. “Dad’s asking for more information on those website plug-ins you told us about.”
“Meant to work on that this morning.” He’d poked around on a few websites but preferred to speak with an actual person. “I got sidetracked helping a gal find a tool for her father’s birthday.” If they wanted the store to survive this internet era, where folks were used to doing most of their shopping with a click, they’d need to provide online ordering options.
His folks disagreed, but they were willing to hear him out. They probably understood that he had additional reasons for wanting to expand their online presence. He needed to find a way to increase his exposure as an artist if he wanted to turn what his father called a “hobby” into a viable career. He wouldn’t abandon his parents to run this place on their own. But adding another worker would allow him to reduce his hours since they hadn’t yet been able to convince their part-time guy to increase his.
A steady crew would help his parents to maintain a more reasonable schedule as well. Their aging bodies wouldn’t keep up with their seventy-plus-hour, highly physical workweeks forever. The way CJ saw it, every win for the store was a win for him, and vice versa.
But he’d much rather hire someone—anyone—other than Harper.
“I best go water our spring flowers.” His mom bit off a hangnail. “When the ballerina princess is finished with her application, place it on my desk. Then walk her out.”
“Okay.”
He returned to the break room to find Harper waiting where he’d left her, typing on her phone.
She sprang to her feet when he entered. “Here.” She handed him her completed paper.
He skimmed her work history with a raised brow. So, she had found her big break, after all. She’d worked for some Seattle-based dance company for just under a year. Why had she left? Had they cut her loose once she became pregnant? He doubted that was legal.
“Everything look okay?”
CJ glanced up to find her watching him with a wrinkled brow. “Yeah. This is great.” He motioned to the door then followed her out.
“When do you think y’all will make a decision?” Her tone conveyed a hint of anxiety.
“Soon. We’re heading into our busy season.” The uptick should have started with the coming of spring. But while their sales numbers had increased, it had not been by as much as his parents had hoped. They feared they were losing people to a new chain that had popped up in the next county. CJ doubted locals would drive that far for lumber and nails. Contractors, however, were another matter. Still, he had to believe the fact that they’d always charged fair prices would count for something.
“Oh, wow.” Harper stopped in front of a section his dad had allowed CJ to use to display some of his chain-saw carvings. He’d marked off the corner area using a wooden arch made of two thick trunks, bark shining with finishing wax. She gazed up at his name burned into the sign attached to the tops by adjacent chains. “Are these yours?”
Did he detect a note of admiration in her voice? Standing a mite taller, he nodded. “It relaxes me.”
“Do you mind?” She stepped toward his designs.
“Not at all.” He followed as she approached a carving of three bear cubs climbing a stripped branch.
“This is amazing.”
CJ hated that her praise still affected him. “Thank you.” He lingered in the center of the circular rug bearing a red Texas star as she moved from one carving to the next.
“I had no idea you were so creative.” She paused in front of a baby fox standing in the center of a hollowed-out stump. “How long have you been doing this?”
About a year after Harper had left, CJ had learned from Trisha that his supposed lack of ambition had played a significant role in their breakup. Seeing him now, working in the same place that he always had, as she’d predicted, had probably confirmed her assessment.
She’d be wrong.
But...would Harper view his newfound passion for carving as him chasing a fantasy or an attainable dream?
Her opinion shouldn’t matter.
He shifted his weight to his other foot. “A while.”
He straightened a stack of promotional cards printed on glossy card stock. “Got into it a couple years ago after watching a demonstration in Branson.”
He’d gone camping with some buddies shortly after his and Harper’s breakup, devasted and forced to rethink how he’d envisioned the rest of his life playing out. For a while, he’d floundered without motivation for much of anything. When he’d learned how Harper had felt regarding his so-called lack of drive, his low aspirations had felt like a personal defect.
He now knew he simply hadn’t yet discovered the thing that made him feel most alive.
CJ rested a hand on his belt buckle. “The town was hosting a Timber festival, with activities, live music, and various artists and craftsmen, chain-saw carvers included.”
“Interesting.”
“It was.” He chuckled, remembering one man in particular dressed in jeans and a plaid flannel, his long, black hair pulled into one of those messy man-buns folks used to make social media memes out of. “About half the guys looked like they’d come from a remote mountain somewhere—with their wild eyebrows curling every which way and their mouths hidden behind bushy mustaches and beards.”
“Not exactly the standard image of an artist, huh?”
“True.” That was probably why those men had made such an impact. They’d helped him see that a guy could be creative and masculine. In this, they’d given him permission to explore an outlet he’d never previously considered. That experience had awakened a part of him he hadn’t known existed. A love that felt so inherent to his being, he’d found himself wanting to downplay its intensity to shield himself from further rejection.
Shoulders stiff, he watched Harper peruse each item, a hint of a smile emerging as she paused over some of his most complex pieces.
And if her estimation of him had changed?
His heart squeezed, threatening to unleash emotions he’d spent the past five years fighting against. What was that saying about falling into the same trap twice?
But what if the sense of adventure that attracted her to Seattle had left her disappointed? What if she’d realized all that was lost the day she’d left, with the wisdom that can only come from shattered expectations, and had returned for good?
