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Gillian's Heart

By B.J. Bassett

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Chapter One


Baggy pink sweats concealed Gillian Grant’s ninety pound skeletal body as she tramped through the wet grass to the edge of the cliff. She raised the American flag just as her grandmother had done every morning since the Vietnam War. Gillian had taken on the flag raising ritual after Gram’s passing. She gazed over the Pacific through the June fog. It cloaked the majestic ocean like Gillian’s fears ensconced her heart.
Her grandmother’s Cape Cod style beach cottage on Cliff Drive in Reagan Beach was once a well-kept home. Now it was weathered from the hot southern California sun. The home had been in the Stewart family since 1958, and it needed as much tenderness as the family itself.
Gillian trudged over the dew covered lawn and climbed the rickety stairs to the apartment above the detached garage. She walked through the bedroom, bath, and combination living room and kitchen, giving the apartment one last inspection. Not bad if I do say so myself. She grabbed the caddy with rags, brushes and cleaning solvents. In the other hand she carried a bottle of bleach, and descended the stairs. She stowed the cleaning supplies in the laundry room of the main house and entered the kitchen.
Samantha, Gillian’s best friend, sat at the kitchen table.
Gillian poured a cup of hot water, slipped a chamomile tea bag in it, and joined Samantha in the little kitchenette with the large window overlooking the Pacific. “The apartment is finally ready.” Gillian sighed.
Samantha shivered in her white t-shirt and red plaid Joe Boxers. She tightened her grip on the mug of hazelnut coffee and flexed her feet in the fluffy pink slippers. “When are Josh and his friend supposed to get here?” She yawned.
“Any time.”
Samantha cocked her head. “Did Josh say anything more about his friend?”
“His name is Dusty and he met him in Santa Cruz.”
Gillian sipped her tea, remembering the aroma of mornings with Gram. She sighed. “I can’t believe it’s been three months since Gram died.” She nibbled at a bran muffin, digging the raisins out and lining them in a row like they were playing follow the leader. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing . . . renting the apartment to a stranger? Gram was always so careful about who she rented to.”
Samantha smiled. “Josh isn’t a stranger. He’s more like a brother.”
“He’s bringing a stranger with him. What if?”
Samantha flipped her hair behind her ear. “Look, Gilly, the only way you can afford this place is to rent the apartment. Have you forgotten you need the money? I’m sure Josh’s friend isn’t an ax murderer, or rapist, or stalker, or whatever. Give Josh some credit.”
“I know, I guess I’m being paranoid.” She looked out the kitchenette window at the ocean. “You’re right. Besides the income for the property taxes, the house needs so much work. I need to remind myself why I decided not to teach summer school. I have to put Gram’s affairs in order and repair the house.”
“With me renting your spare room and Josh and his friend renting the apartment, you’re becoming a regular landlord.” She leaned across the table towards Gillian and whispered, “You know I’ve always had a crush on Josh.”
Gillian grinned. “Who don’t you have a crush on?”
“What can I say? It’s who I am.”
They sipped their warm drinks.
“Cleaning the apartment last night wiped me out,” Gillian said. “I think I’m going to relax today.”
“While you’re lounging around, I’ll head over to Mom and Dad’s to pack the rest of my stuff.”
“Great.” Without the rent money from Sam I could lose Gram’s house.
The faint rattle of an old vehicle grew louder as it came closer to the weed-lined driveway.
Samantha jumped from her seat, almost spilling her coffee. “They’re here! I better get presentable.”
When she returned, they peeked out from behind the white sheer Priscilla crisscrossed curtains.
Behind Josh’s old Honda stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with curly hair, too long for Gillian’s taste.
“He must be Dusty,” Gillian whispered. He came around to the front of a red ’65 Mustang with several surfboards on top, and towing a small U-Haul trailer. His worn tank top, faded cut offs, and frayed flip flops meant one thing.
“Oh great, a surfer,” Gillian said, then added under her breath, “I wonder how much work I’ll get out of him?” A lump caught in her throat. What am I getting myself into? She straightened and untwisted her grimace. “Let’s go meet my new handyman, Sam.”
They went outside to greet the new renters.
Standing in the middle of the driveway, Josh, a stocky redhead with freckles, enveloped Gillian in a bear hug. His strength made her sigh with the relief. Before releasing her he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
With her arms still around his neck, incessant tears puddled her eyes. “Thanks.” She pressed down the despair. She knew when her chest tightened and her breath quickened, she must push it away like the waves expel rocks.
Josh released Gillian. “Hey Sam, long time no see.”
“Hi, Josh.” Samantha clasped her hands behind her. She swayed from side to side.
“Gillian Grant and Samantha Peterson meet Dusty Bradshaw.” Josh patted Dusty on the back.
Dusty grinned. “What a great place.”
Gillian stared. The purr of his voice and gentleness of his eyes don’t do a thing for me. He’s just another surfer.
“It needs a lot of work,” Gillian said. “My grandmother couldn’t afford to keep the place maintained, so almost everything needs repairs.” There was an awkward silence, and then Gillian said, “Would you like to see the apartment?”
“You bet.” Dusty clapped his hands like a boy ready to get into the game.
Gillian led the way to the stairs on the outside of the garage. “I’ve been cleaning.” They strolled through the combination living room and kitchen to the hall. Dusty poked his head into the bedroom.
“It’s only a one bedroom,” Gillian apologized, as she pushed a stray strand of hair off her forehead.
Josh peered over Dusty’s shoulder into the bedroom. “At least it has twin beds.” He nodded toward Dusty. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed with him.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” Dusty grinned
Gillian laughed. “Do you want to see the beach?”
“Just what Dusty’s been waiting for.” Josh rubbed his hands together appearing eager to get going.
They descended the sagging wooden stairs to the beach.
Josh held his hands out as he gazed at the beach. “Didn’t I tell you this was a surfer’s paradise?”
“I’m sold.” Dusty smiled at Gillian.
She returned his smile knowing it wasn’t genuine, but more like the indifference of an economics professor.
“Josh said you have experience in construction and you’d be willing to do the necessary repairs around here in exchange for your share of the rent.”
“Yeah, I can help you out,” Dusty said.
Gillian bristled at his words. Help me out? I’m not a charity case. “I’ll show you what needs to be done. And you can tell me if you can do them.”
“Lead the way.” Dusty bowed and gestured with his arm like she was royalty.
Could he be any more annoying? Gillian chafed. I’ll show him whose boss.
They climbed the stairs from the beach as Gillian laid everything out. “As you can see, the stairs going down to the beach need repair…and there’s the gardening. Everything needs pruning, and the drive way needs to be replaced or resurfaced.” She nodded toward the peeling paint. “The house needs to be painted. I’ll paint the inside, but the exterior needs paint too.” Gillian took a breath. It was unnerving her to recount all the jobs and avoid Dusty’s eyes at the same time. “Come on in the house.”
They sat in the kitchen. Gillian placed a renter’s agreement on the table in front of them. “I’ve already explained the agreement to Josh. I’ll rent the apartment at a reduced rate in exchange for repairs done to the property. Your half of the rent will be waived as long as you’re working on the house. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Can you do the work?” She indicated to Dusty with the end of her pen.
“Sure can. I’ve been working in construction for the last several years.”
“Do you have references?”
Dusty reached in his back pocket and pulled out a worn paper. Placing it on the table in front of her, he smoothed out the folds. “I thought you’d ask.”
Gillian eyed the crumpled resume’. “I’ll be calling them.”
Dusty grinned. “I’m sure you will.”
“School starts in two and a half months and I’d like most of the work done by then. Is it possible?” Gillian asked.
“I don’t see why not.”
Josh had sat patiently during the discourse between the two and eagerly nodded. He put his hand on Dusty’s shoulder. “So what do you think?”
Gillian felt Dusty’s penetrating hazel eyes on her.
“Is the use of the beach part of the deal?” Dusty asked.
“Yes.”
Dusty reached for a pen. “You’ve got a deal. Where do I sign?”
After Dusty and Josh signed the rental agreement, Josh handed Gillian his portion of the rent in cash. “When can we move in?”
“Now, if you want,” Gillian said.
Josh shoved back the maple kitchen chair from the table. “Then let’s get started. Welcome to Reagan Beach, Dusty.” He stood. “Hey. I’ve got a great idea! How about going out for pizza tonight?”
Samantha looked at Gillian. “Sounds good to me.”
“I’m in.” Dusty said.
Gillian thought a moment. “I don’t know . . . I have to go over my Sunday school lesson for tomorrow.”
“Come on, Gilly. Don’t be a party pooper—” Samantha’s eyebrows arched in appeal.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
Gillian and Samantha ushered Dusty and Josh to the front door.
Dusty stopped and turned to Gillian. “Can I store my surfboards in the garage?”
“Okay.”
“Me too?” Josh asked.
“Of course.”
Samantha laughed. “Just another perk of living here.”
“What a great landlord.” Josh brushed a kiss across Gillian’s cheek. “Pick you up at six.”
Josh and Dusty headed toward their vehicles to unload and move in.
Gillian and Samantha returned to the kitchenette. Soon the fog dissolved, and Gillian felt the warm sun caress her back as it streamed through the window.
Samantha smiled. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
Samantha wadded up a napkin and threw it at Gillian. “Not what. Who, silly. What do you think of Dusty?”
“He seems too…”
“Too what?”
“Sure of himself.”
“What’s wrong with being confident?” Samantha cocked her head to one side.
Gillian was more concerned about the arrangements she had made with a perfect stranger than discussing him. Sure Dusty was tall, tanned, and muscular. And his curly dark hair reminded her of what Samson in the Bible must have looked like. She saw the man all the girls undoubtedly swooned over, but thought he’d probably be a big disappointment. Was brawn and looks all there was to him?
Gillian’s silence did not deter Samantha. “Some people don’t make good first impressions.”
“Well, Dusty Bradshaw didn’t make a good first impression on me.”
“He did me.”
Gillian poured another cup of tea. “He’s okay, I guess.”
“What do you mean, okay? You’ve got to be kidding! He’s gorgeous. His eyes. His muscles. His tan. His smile. I’m in love.” Samantha left the kitchen waltzed into the living room and collapsed on the sofa.
“You sound like a teenager.”
Samantha closed her eyes. “I don’t care what I sound like. I’m definitely looking forward to tonight.”
Gillian sipped her tea. Oh, Samantha, what fantasies are whirling around in your mind?

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