Baby, Come Home
For the time being, anyway, it seemed as if her secrets were still safe.
The shrill ring of the phone on her desk broke into her thoughts. Amy crossed her fingers that the call was an offer for the reservoir job, then picked up the receiver.
“Amy Bradshaw.”
“Amy, hi,” a deep male voice sounded over the line. “This is Marcus Armstrong.”
Amy blinked in surprise, then found her voice. “Hello, Marcus. This is…unexpected. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”
“Fine,” she said automatically.
“Good. I assume you know my brothers and I are rebuilding Sweetness.”
She hesitated, her gaze falling on the ad in front of her. “Er, yes, I’m aware of your…project. A friend of mine moved there, and we stay in touch.”
“Dr. Salinger, yes, I know. She mentioned your name to Porter and he put two and two together as to why Kendall chose that particular town to run the ad.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she remained silent.
Marcus cleared his voice. “Look, I’ll get right to the point. I’m calling with a proposition.”
Wary, Amy sat forward in her chair. “I’m listening.”
“We need a bridge designed to replace the old covered bridge over Timber Creek.”
A picture of the splendid Evermore Bridge came to her clearly. Lovingly constructed from original stand timber—wood from old-growth forests—and painted a rustic red, the old landmark had been a faithful steward of the safety of all those who had crossed it. How many times had she and Kendall walked there, hand in hand, to stare up at the intricate ceiling trusses and dissect its construction?
“It didn’t survive the tornado?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not. It was blown away, like everything else. Only sections of the foundation remain, but I doubt if they’re salvageable.”
Amy pressed her lips together. “What does this have to do with me?”
“We need a structural engineer to design and oversee the construction. And I understand that’s your specialty.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She chose her words carefully. “How much do you know about my life, Marcus?”
“More than Kendall,” he said evenly.
Feeling light-headed, she sat there, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her.
“What I propose,” he continued in her silence, “is that you return to Sweetness…for the time it would take to rebuild our bridge.”
“A new covered bridge?”
“As close to the first Evermore Bridge as possible, considering the original blueprints no longer exist. We have a grant from a preservation society to offset some of the costs and they provided blueprints from a similar bridge in Ohio.” He gave her an overview of the project budget and the amount they could offer for her services. “Not a king’s ransom, I know,” he said.
“No, it sounds very fair,” she said, tightening her grip on the phone. Had Kendall told Marcus how much that bridge had meant to her? Rebuilding it would be a great personal achievement. “So…you’re offering me a temporary job?”
“That’s right. The way I see it, I need a bridge, and it would give you a chance to see if things have changed around here.”
If things had changed… He was alluding to Kendall and their old feelings for each other.
“Whose idea was this?” she asked.
“Mine. Kendall doesn’t know I’m making this call. As far as I know, he doesn’t even know you’re an engineer.”
Because he didn’t care enough to find out? But even as hurt squeezed her heart, she was grateful Kendall hadn’t delved deeper into her life. She wondered again how much Marcus knew.
“And if I say no, what then?” she asked.
There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. “Then nothing. No matter what I think, Amy, you have a right to your privacy.”
She exhaled. “Thank you, Marcus. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
“Then you’ll think about it?”
Amy’s mind swirled with the possible outcomes of returning to Sweetness. It had taken years for the sharp pain in her heart over Kendall to subside to a dull ache. If she returned now, there would be more at stake. Much more. And it was more than she was willing to gamble.
“I’m sorry,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster, “but I’m going to have to pass. I have commitments here that I can’t turn my back on.”
A regretful noise sounded on the line. “I’m disappointed, but I understand. It’s been nice talking with you. Call if you ever need anything.”
She smiled into the phone. “Thank you. Goodbye, Marcus.”
Amy set down the receiver and sank into her chair. That was close. She sat for a few moments, her mind traveling down the road not taken, wondering if her response would’ve been the same if Kendall had called instead.
She closed her eyes and conjured up his handsome face, his serious deep blue eyes, his intense approach to everything.
Including lovemaking, she remembered with a smile. He’d been her first lover and the only man who’d ever moved her. Every man in her life after Kendall had suffered in comparison to his strong body and keen intellect. If Kendall had been able to commit to her or had loved her enough to come looking for her, her life would’ve been so different.
Amy gave herself a mental shake. Luckily she had Tony in her life now…a different set of blue eyes to lose herself in. She’d learned long ago that nothing productive came from rehashing the past.
She reached for her computer mouse and returned to the CAD drawing she’d been working on before her chocolate attack, the addition of a wheelchair ramp to an existing structure. A worthwhile project, to be sure…but not very challenging. Even as she double-checked the fine details on the screen in front of her, her mind kept straying to her memories of the Evermore covered bridge over Timber Creek.
Always happy for a reason to get out of the cramped, tension-wrought house where she lived with an elderly aunt, Amy had thought the bridge was the most romantic place in Sweetness—the way it enveloped her and Kendall when they entered one arched portal to slowly walk or ride across the length of it, counting timbers as they went, their footsteps and voices echoing off the plank walls. She would pretend it was their home. They’d certainly shared a lot of intimate moments there, tucked out of sight in the dark corners of the supports, enjoying the vibration of their sandwiched bodies when cars rumbled past.
Unbidden, desire stabbed her midsection. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to think about the way Kendall had made her body come alive. In hindsight, the excitement of sexual discovery had clouded her judgment. It had made her believe that Kendall was in love with her, that they shared an unbreakable bond. She had been such a fool.
Still, Marcus had stirred her curiosity about the town’s progress. Nikki had mentioned a website, but Amy had purposely avoided it. Now, though, she found herself clicking away from her CAD drawing and on to a search engine. A few keystrokes later, she found the official website of Sweetness, Georgia, The Greenest Place on Earth.
Green enough on its own, she remembered, with trees as far as the eye could see. But the slogan was a play on the fact that the Armstrong brothers were rebuilding the town on the industries of recycling and alternative energies. She skimmed the pages of description. The pictures showing the devastation of the tornado still rocked her to the core—those were all places where she’d once walked. The “before” and “after” slide show featured pictures of the overgrown wasteland the town was when the Armstrong brothers had returned to reclaim it, and pictures of the progress that had been made. Nikki was in one of the photos, standing beside the sign for the Sweetness Family Medical Center, next to a short bespectacled man who, from his white lab coat, appeared also to be a doctor. Rachel Hutchins, the busty blonde who used to be the receptionist for the dermatologist Amy used in Broadway, was in several of the photos, flashing her Miss America smile. Nikki said the woman would probably be mayor when the first elections rolled around.
There was a Lost and Found page listing hundreds, maybe thousands of items that had been found after the tornado and warehoused until they could be returned to the rightful owners. Former residents of Sweetness were encouraged to sign up on an email list to be kept apprised of developments. A social network site for the town had also been established.
On the About page, Amy found what she’d been looking for. A picture of the three Armstrong brothers standing outside, dressed in dusty work clothes. Amy instantly recognized each one of them. Porter, always the ham, was grinning at the camera. Marcus, the stoic one, looked highly inconvenienced at having his picture taken. And Kendall…
Her heart stuttered. Kendall had grown from a beautiful boy into a devastatingly handsome man, his shoulders wide and muscled, his skin tanned, his brown hair streaked by the sun. He wasn’t quite smiling and he wasn’t quite scowling. As always, he was square in the middle of his brothers’ temperaments. He had the same deep blue eyes as Marcus and Porter, but where Marcus looked stern and Porter, mischievous, Kendall was the calm one.
The cautious one. The one who couldn’t commit.
With a sigh, she closed down the page and reopened the CAD drawing, hoping to lose herself in the details of the diagram. But her mind kept wandering and she kept making mistakes. Then she inadvertently pressed a key that undid an hour’s worth of work.
“Dammit!” she muttered.
The ring of the phone offered a welcome distraction from her burgeoning frustration. Out of habit from the past few weeks, she crossed her fingers and picked up the receiver.
“Amy Bradshaw.”
“Ms. Bradshaw, this is Michael Thoms from the Greater Michigan Water Commission.”
Her pulse spiked—the phone call she’d been waiting for. She strove for a calm tone. “Yes, Mr. Thoms…I’ve been expecting your call.”
“I have to apologize for the delay. Funding for the Peninsula Reservoir was held up in legislature, so we were holding off on filling positions on the project team.”
“I understand,” she said, her chest tightening with anticipation.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bradshaw. The project manager position went to another engineer who had slightly more experience.”
Her shoulders fell in disappointment, but she rallied her voice. “I understand.”
“If it’s any consolation, you were in the top three and the decision was close.”
She smiled. “That’s very kind of you to share, thank you.” After a few more minutes of small talk, Amy returned the receiver and tamped down the panic that licked at her. She’d been counting on that contract to stabilize her work hours and finances for the next two years. With the economy in the hard-hit manufacturing state still struggling to its feet, those kinds of public works projects were few and far between. She looked back to her computer screen. It would take a lot of wheelchair ramps to make up the difference.
Or you could go build a bridge, her mind whispered.
She pushed to her feet and walked over to a bin that held tubes of rolled up blueprints. She flipped through them until she located the cardboard tube she had in mind. It was soft and shopworn from so many moves over the years. She opened the tube and withdrew several yellowed pages, then unrolled them on a drawing table and used paperweights to hold down the curled edges.
Building plans for Evermore Bridge, Sweetness, Georgia, 1920. Official copy, do not remove. She had removed them from the courthouse, though…stolen them, to be more precise, as she was inclined to do in those days when something caught her fancy.
And now it seemed that things had come full circle. Amy released a bittersweet laugh. It seemed as if the universe was telling her she should go home to Sweetness.
Before she could change her mind, she picked up the phone and scrolled back to the number Marcus had called from, then pushed a button to connect the call. As the phone rang, she wondered nervously if Kendall would answer and if he did, what she might say.
But to her relief, Marcus’s voice came on the line. “Marcus Armstrong.”
“Marcus, this is Amy,” she began, but her voice petered out. She cleared her throat, then rushed ahead before she lost her nerve. “Is that offer of designing your new bridge still open?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then…I’ll take it.”
“Great. I’m glad you changed your mind. How soon can you get here?”
Tony would not be happy about her leaving. “Um, I need a week to tie up some loose ends. Will that work?”
“Sure. I guess I don’t have to tell you that you’ll be working with Kendall.”
She swallowed. “I assumed so.”
“Would you like to talk to him? He’s not here, but I can give you his cell phone number.”
“No, thanks,” she said. She needed to get her story straight before she faced Kendall Armstrong again. “I’ll see him soon enough.”
3
The more familiar the surroundings became, the tighter Amy’s hands gripped the steering wheel. The passenger seat of her SUV was littered with candy bar wrappers and an empty box of chocolate donuts. In hindsight, sugar and cocoa hadn’t been the wisest stimulant for the long drive. She was wired, and every sense seemed to be firing on all cylinders.
Despite the winter month, the north Georgia mountains were plenty colorful, with soaring evergreens thriving in red clay, and banks of snow high on rock ledges. Cottony clouds hung in a sky of the clearest, deepest blue…the color of Kendall Armstrong’s eyes.
She was, she conceded, a nervous wreck about seeing him again. For a week she’d been giving herself pep talks to steel herself against the onslaught of emotions she knew would hit her, but she wasn’t sure the mental gymnastics had done any good. Tony, as she’d expected, wasn’t happy about her leaving. Of course, he wasn’t happy about many things these days, so it was hard to pinpoint if she was the cause of his discontent or just a target.
When she turned off the state road onto the more narrow one that would take her to Sweetness, a hot flush climbed her neck. When she’d left this place, she hadn’t planned on ever coming back. Now, it felt as if the years away were collapsing. The landscape had changed somewhat, had suffered from the decade of neglect after the tornado. Kudzu vine encompassed entire copses of trees and hillsides. She knew from industry journals just how concerned civil engineers in the South were over the encroaching plant. It was referred to as the “mile-a-minute vine” that could consume bridges and overpasses in a matter of weeks.
But the surroundings became more cultivated as she entered the outskirts of the small town. The road was newly paved, she noticed, and wider than before. The fluorescent center and shoulder paint lines looked freshly applied. A low guardrail might seem unnecessary to newcomers, but she knew the railing would keep weeds at bay, and serve as a hindrance for wild animals to wander onto the road.
Her first sign of civilization was a car coming in the opposite direction. Once upon a time, she would’ve recognized not just the car, but the person driving it. The fact that she didn’t know either one made her feel like an outsider.
When she rounded the last curve before the straightaway into town, she glanced to the left for a glimpse of the Evermore Bridge that had always welcomed people into town. Marcus had told her it had blown away, but she wasn’t prepared for the sinking sensation in her stomach over the yawning gape in the landscape where the bridge had once stood. In fact, if a person didn’t know better, they might not know the fine landmark had ever existed. From an engineer’s point of view, she should be glad the demolition of the existing structure would be minimal, but it was alarming that something that had been so solid, so…steadfast could be there one minute, and gone the next.
Like Kendall…
The site where the mercantile had once stood was equally haunting. Once a hubbub of activity where farmers bought feed and lumber and women bought fabric and books, it was now an overgrown plateau covered with scrub brush and spindly saplings.
Just when she’d started to think she would recognize nothing about this place, Amy looked up to see the water tower perched high on a ridge and her heart unfurled. The inverted white capsule-shaped tank was topped by a pointed roof that resembled a hat. It looked like a stalwart soldier, standing watch and heralding, “Welcome to Sweetness.” When Nikki Salinger had relocated to the town, she’d called Amy from the water tower because it was the only place her phone could get cell service. As Amy drove closer, she could make out graffiti on the side of the tank—giant red letters that spelled out “I
Amy smiled. It looked as if Porter Armstrong had resumed the age-old tradition of proclaiming love publicly with a can of spray paint.
And apparently, it had worked. The last time she’d spoken with Nikki, her friend had sounded deliriously happy and in love. Amy felt guilty about not letting Nikki know she was coming, but honestly, she was afraid she might change her mind at the last moment. She’d sworn Marcus to secrecy.
The fact that the historically disagreeable man was being so accommodating only reinforced her belief that Marcus knew more about her life than he was letting on.
The approach into Sweetness was long and flat, giving her a few more moments to collect herself and figure out what to do when she arrived. She slowed as buildings came into view in the distance. To the right was a broken paved road that led up to Clover Ridge where the Armstrongs had lived. She’d spent many hours there with Kendall and, after he’d left to join the Air Force, visiting his mother, Emily. Her heart squeezed. Emily Armstrong was the mother she’d always wanted, kind and cheerful and loving. Amy had been loath to leave her company and go home to her aunt who was perennially bitter that Amy’s parents had died in a car accident when she was a toddler and left Amy for her to raise. Aunt Heddy always said that Kendall Armstrong only wanted one thing from a girl like her. In hindsight, she had been right.
After Amy left Sweetness, she’d wondered if Emily Armstrong had persuaded her son that Amy wasn’t the right girl for him, that she wasn’t good enough to be part of their family. Now, though, she conceded it had been a defense mechanism. If Kendall had rejected her because of her coarse upbringing, he had done it on his own.
She tapped the brake again as she approached what she presumed was the new downtown. The rise where their high school had once stood was now a windmill farm, the enormous white blades turning like a flower garden in motion. Amy kept driving, then squinted. The exterior of most of the buildings looked as if they’d been built with a patchwork of materials—a school, a General Store, a large structure with a wraparound porch that she surmised was the boardinghouse Nikki had mentioned, and other unidentifiable establishments that seemed to be bustling with activity. She stopped to allow a group of children to cross the road in front of her vehicle. From the armloads of books and sagging backpacks, it appeared that school had just let out. Amy smiled when they gawked—the town was obviously still small enough for everyone to recognize a stranger.
She’d dressed carefully in slacks and low-heeled leather boots, a tailored blouse and jacket. She’d had her unruly red curls tamed with a relaxer and wore it pulled back at the nape of her neck. When she’d left Sweetness, she’d been a ragamuffin tomboy. She was determined to return as a successful professional. A glance down at her collar elicited a moan—a smear of chocolate marred the look she’d so carefully orchestrated. So much for sophistication. Amy tucked the collar underneath the lapel of her jacket and gave a self-deprecating laugh.
You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.
Her fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as she pondered her next move. She was considering calling Marcus or Nikki when, up ahead, she spotted a familiar sign from the website— Sweetness Family Medical Center. Nikki would probably be there. She’d stop first to say hello to her friend…and buy more time before she had to face Kendall.
Kendall pushed back from his laptop, then walked over to a color laser printer in the corner of the new media room in the boardinghouse to pick up the aerial view printouts. The presentation for the Department of Energy representative had been tweaked and retweaked until it was damn near perfect.
But they were still waiting for the guy to arrive.
“Kendall?”
He turned to see Rachel Hutchins, the informal spokesperson for the original group of women who had arrived from Broadway, standing there in all her blondeness. She was a little flashy for his tastes, but a treat for the eyes, for sure, with her long legs and tight sweaters. It had been months since he’d place that ad—Amy obviously wasn’t coming home. Maybe he owed it to himself to start…looking.
He smiled. “Do you need something, Rachel?”
She dimpled. “A picture hung in my bedroom.”
He almost balked, then told himself he was over-reacting. “No problem. Let me shut down here.” He slid the color printouts into a folder, then stashed every thing in his laptop bag. Carrying the bag, he followed her through the hallway of the boardinghouse they’d built for the women they’d attracted with the promise of room and board for two years.
The atmosphere was slightly different now, though, since some of the women’s children had arrived. He stepped aside as two school-aged boys ran by, roughhousing and shouting. When school let out, the media room was usually packed with children playing video games and accessing social networking sites. It was a far cry from the way he and his brothers had spent their extra time.
He often wondered if he ever had children, would he even be able to relate to them. Even if they were raised here in his resurrected hometown, it was obvious their experience would be different from his own.
“Hello, Cupid,” Rachel cooed as she stopped to scratch the ears of the doe the woman had nursed back to health and domesticated, allowing it to roam free in the house. The animal was even housebroken. Scampering at its feet was Rachel’s black-faced pug. For some bizarre reason, the dog seemed enamored with the deer. Rachel crouched and made smooching noises. “Hello, Nigel, baby.” She straightened and looked at Kendall. “I think we should expand the pet section at the General Store. Our pet population is almost fifty, you know.”
He hadn’t known, but he nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Just talk to Molly.”
Rachel made a face. “Need I remind you that the Colonel doesn’t believe in having animals indoors? I don’t think she’s the best person to be in charge of ordering supplies anyway.”
It wasn’t the first time that girly girl Rachel and no-nonsense Colonel Molly had butted heads, but both women had proved their mettle by contributing countless hours and good ideas to the effort of rebuilding the town. The Armstrongs couldn’t afford to alienate either one of them.
Kendall offered a congenial smile. “But it makes sense because Molly’s ordering supplies for the dining hall anyway.”
Rachel sniffed and resumed walking. “We have to do something about that cafeteria, too. It’s depressing. When are we going to turn it into a restaurant?”
“It’s on the list,” he assured her. He indulged in watching her curvy behind sashay in front of him. Amy’s build was smaller, more athletic. And she’d had the most beautiful head of red hair.
“Here we are,” Rachel sang as she reached for the knob of a door and pushed it open.
Kendall hesitated, then guiltily glanced both ways down the hall to see if anyone was watching before stepping inside.