Broad Street Goddesses

  Broad Street Goddesses

  DeAnna Carol Williams

  Broad Street Goddesses

  Copyright © 2013 DeAnna Carol Williams

  All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the Author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Deanna-williams@comcast.net

  ISBN-13: 978-1481960892

  This book is dedicated to the women in my life who have shaped and inspired me… questioning my sanity,

  but never my integrity.

  Mom, Mamo, Gimmy, Nainy, Auntie Nancy,

  Launa, Brenda, Jeani, Lisa, Gloria

  and my beautiful daughters,

  Megan and Emily

  You will find yourselves sprinkled through these pages and rooted firmly in my heart

  ~ Always~

  Acknowledgements

  This novel would not have been written without the endless patience extended to me by my husband, Billy, who shoved sandwiches and chocolate under the office door

  and fiercely protected my work space.

  Jeani Ambrose, you are an incredible sage and an irreplaceable voice of reason. Thank you for your editing of content and attitude.

  Lisa Huntzinger, you inspired me to the finish line.

  Thank you for the final edits.

  Charlene, I appreciate your support more than words can ever say.

  CHAPTER 1

  Paige stumbled and fell into the comfort of an overstuffed chair and reached for a cocktail glass in the dark. She slopped the remains of the cheap fruit flavored vodka over the rim and cringed with the burn in the back of her throat. She intended to drown out the gnawing clench of failure or at the very least kill the brain cells that cared about it. A seductive ache lured her with the bliss of going to sleep and never waking up. In the depth of her downward thoughts, she wished for her final breath, which in her opinion couldn’t come soon enough.

  She spied a bright orange carton cutter teetering on the last box she’d packed. Grabbing the unlikely weapon, she sized up the razor’s edge in the light of the moon shining through her bare window. She placed the blade to her wrist and pushed till it hurt. The harsh reality of how she’d be found flashed in her mind like a crime scene photo. Paige sucked in a sharp breath. Her lungs burned as she hung onto betrayal and heartbreak until it came gushing out of her in a howl that should have been heard on the moon. She flung the blade across the room to bury it deep into the lath and plaster wall with a dull thunk.

  The truth was she couldn’t bear the thought of bleeding out on her travertine floor tiles. She hadn’t sealed them in over eighteen months, six months past their due date. Being a naturally porous stone, travertine required the care she hadn’t supplied. Her tragedy would not leave the stains of desperation on her greatest creation. That was one exit strategy she simply could not die with.

  ~

  “Truck’s ready to go,” a man’s voiced boomed into the emptiness. There was no response. He lumbered past her delicately carved Victorian screen door searching for its occupant. The ominous sensation of gloom crept into his lungs and stopped him cold. Waiting, his ears perked for any sound of her. He braced himself and tentatively stepped into the light filled cottage.

  He called into the vacant spaces of the house, “Paige.” Holding his breath, he searched the room looking for a sign that she was still there. The rhythmic thumping of his own heart pounded in his head as he took a few more steps and called out in a panic, “PAIGE!” Soft rustling sounds off in the distance and moving closer created a flutter in his chest, thank God.

  Sam had been dodging the pangs of guilt for weeks. Avoiding Paige, his old friend, his first love, felt like self preservation. The anticipation of seeing her before she left town had kept him up most of the night. She sauntered into the foyer carefully examining the empty rooms through her dark glasses. Seeing Sam, she slid the glasses up into a pile of curly auburn hair on top of her head and squinted toward his face. He couldn’t help but notice the deep worry around her beautiful green eyes. In her face he recognized dread, fear and the threat of tears. Desperately trying to avoid the latter, he disregarded his official capacity, “What’s in Nevada City?”

  Paige threw her shoulders back, meeting his compassionate eyes, “Distance, Sammy.”

  Masking the gut kick to his ego, he forced a smile and nodded. Feisty, she’d always been feisty. Even if she didn’t recognize the power of her own resilience at that moment, Sammy did and he knew she’d be alright.

  “Just need a signature here.” Sammy held out paperwork for her to sign.

  “And that’s it?” she breathed out numbly.

  He nodded, “Any questions can be directed to Carl.”

  Her mouth pinched a firm line, nostrils flaring to hide the ache of hearing his name. He reached out to retrieve his pen, impulsively grasping her hand. Warmly, she squeezed back. Sam swallowed years of missed opportunities to tell her how he felt about her. He looked at her signature and then back to her face feeling his last chance was right in front of him. The sweetness of her smile and the wild tendrils of auburn hair that had been the star of all his dreams were right in front of him with undivided attention. He’d rehearsed all night what he’d say in these final moments. He sucked up a huge breath of courage and felt a twinge of panic in his heart that stopped him cold. His brain took over, “You sure that truck’s had a safety check?”

  She laughed nervously, “I’ll be fine, Sam,” and pulled her hand back quickly brushing away the hair that had fallen into her eye.

  “Be safe, Paige.” He let himself out, disappointed in his habitual lack of courage where his feelings for Paige were concerned. He whispered quietly to any omnipotent force that may be listening, “Be happy, Paige.” Sam’s prayer silently wafted inside and circled around her. She looked out the door as Sam turned the corner and smiled after him. He’d been a good friend.

  Fanning herself with the roadmap she looked around her sweet cottage. It appeared so much bigger without her belongings. Not a box, bag or dust bunny left anywhere. Her pride didn’t allow her the satisfaction of leaving anything stripped of its value or untidy in any way. Every corner had been cleaned and polished while she’d been intoxicated the night before; Quite an act of futility knowing that her cottage would be demolished in less than a week. It was a pride thing.

  A tangle of sadness lingered thick in her throat as she stood in the middle of her emptiness. Every color, fixture and fancy thing was her vision. From the neighborhood eyesore with boarded up windows, she’d gutted disgusting bathrooms, pulled off splintering siding and bled for days after wrestling blackberry bushes to get to the bones of the house. Completed now for years, she’d lovingly selected stained glass dormers and marigold carnival glass light fixtures. Paige was solely responsible for every amazing detail. It stood as a testament of her dedication to the intrinsic value of the past and of course an epic stubborn streak.

  She eyed the map in her hand and wondered what kind of crazy person buys an old house, sight unseen from the internet in a town over six hundred miles away. Against the advice of her friends and family Paige was moving to Nevada City, California with no plans to return. Ever. Paige was convinced the life she’d been trying desperately to create was gathering for her over six hundred miles away. She could see it unfolding in her dreams at night as she walked through the mansion she’
d only seen through internet photos. In her desperate attempt to outrun bad decisions Paige was convinced the move was exactly what she needed. No old flames around every corner, only hard work to restore a great old house. One more failure was not an option. Her new adventure may kill her but she would not allow it to be a mistake.

  Slapping the map against her leg, “It’s off to Nevada City,” she stated loudly and listened to the echo of her voice bounce around the empty room. Maybe it was her imagination, but Paige felt lighter for the first time in months.

  Wally protested from the cat carrier with an angry MEOWWW prompting Paige to speak, “I know you think this is cat abuse.” Picking up her long haired black and white roommate she headed for the door. The tick tock of her heels resonated from the floor as she made her way through the foyer. Without the self indulgence of a look over her shoulder into her heart’s work, Paige allowed the bright red wooden screen door to slap shut. She was too pissed off to cry about it.

  With Wally loaded in the passenger seat, she hefted herself up into the driver seat of the humongous moving van. Adjusting the rearview mirror and the stereo, she lowered her sunglasses over aching eyes. Annie Lennox sang, “No more I love you’s”. Paige cranked the volume and raised her voice to match Annie in melody as Wally wailed out a helpless cry from his cage.

  Perfect.

  She grinded the truck into 1st gear rolling away from her failed life.

  After nine hours on the road, Paige wiggled uneasily in her seat. She’d stretched her legs at three gas stations along the way, but with a foggy hangover head and her tingling butt waking up from the last leg of the journey, Paige wanted to be there already. She peeked in to see Wally lying sprawled out to allow maximum air coverage on his body. “Soon, Sass-Master, we’ll be there.”

  ~

  Turning into the foothills of California, the landscape transformed from crowded and dirty to the eerily familiar sight of a forested winding road. She cracked the windows to breathe it in. Her stomach lurched with the uncertainty of what lay down the road. Impatient to blow her anxiety away, Paige rescued her unruly auburn hair into a clip on top of her head and rolled both windows completely down. The scent of pine and blooming dogwood landed on her tongue with the sweetness of Christmas and cotton candy. The flavors poured into her like an elixir soothing the sting of her disillusioned life.

  Once in Nevada City, Broad Street was steep and led straight up through the middle of town. Long standing buildings with hand painted signs and bay windows displaying, candies, bakery goods, books and clothing lined both sides of the street. Paige could feel every building bursting with a story untold from over a hundred and sixty years of time in the same spot. Nevada City was in integral part of the California gold rush. Images of miners and madams swirled though her head as she looked in her rearview mirror at the perfectly preserved historic city bustling with modern day people. Squinting to read her map, she rolled along looking for the turn toward her destiny on the impossibly cramped street. One tight three point turn and a block up the road, she cautiously maneuvered the moving truck along streets originally created for a horse and buggy. The truck moaned to a lumbering stop as she examined the address on a mail box. Paige held her breath until she realized it matched what she held in her hands.

  Dumbfounded, she looked up to the top of the four story turret all the way down to the wraparound porch with its carved trims. She was humbled by the magnitude of the house. It wasn’t a house, it was a mansion. Her mansion… something she’d never imagined as part of her vocabulary, not even in her wild imagination.

  She scanned the painfully impossible ribbon of a driveway to find a place to park the moving truck. Paige tried to back down the drive to get the truck out of the street. Several attempts with jerky stops and starts produced the heart stopping cringe of metal on metal. Dollar signs flashed in her head as she recalled refusing the additional insurance from the truck rental place. She shook off a niggle of dread and focused on seeing her future for the first time. Slowly she rolled down the drive, resolutely checking the side mirrors. Finally she set the brake, grabbed Wally and hopped down out of the cab.

  From the cool shade of the back of her mansion, imperfections were quickly apparent. Big cracks in the concrete stairs had settled into deep crevasses. Tired shutters hung askew. Grey lap board siding clung to shards of peeling white paint that was quickly flaking into drifts along the foundation. Walking all the way around to the front of her mansion, things only got worse. Stopping at the base of the eight foot wide stairway leading to the expansive front porch she looked up to the highest peak of the roof and back down to the crumbling walkway under her feet. Paige was instantly in love.

  And that was always the problem… Paige fell in love.

  CHAPTER 2

  Hidden beneath the overgrowth of snarled climbing roses and craggy wisteria, one porch post teetered, barely attached and several ballasts were missing. Paige precariously climbed up the creaking stairs and made it to the door without falling through the rickety boards. The rusty mail slot promptly fell off in her hand as soon as it was touched. The hidden key bounced on the porch teetering between two boards, balanced, but poised to fall clean through. Instantly, Paige imagined what was under the porch; spiders, dust, dead things and overgrown brambles. She cringed at the thought of crawling through it to retrieve her only key.

  “This is why I didn’t tell anyone...” Paige flopped down onto the top step. Wally groomed himself, unconcerned. “Typical, you let me worry about everything.” She reached to feel the comfort of his fur under her hand, while she eyed the key perched on the edge of falling into a nasty abyss.

  “I don’t recommend it as a pastime.” A deep friendly voice startled her.

  “Excuse me?” She looked up to see him sitting on a bicycle.

  “I mean worry, I don’t recommend it. Something I can do to help?” Very blue, earnest eyes and dark blond hair curling around the edges made her heart ache. His muscular legs looked like biking was his mode of transportation and the sight of him made her decision to give up men suddenly the most foolish notion of her life. The last thing she needed now was a gorgeous man. Stop it, Paige, her head screamed to her heart. Dimples, he had dimples.

  Paige blinked from his tanned muscular legs back to his face. “I’m new.” Her mind moved slowly, “I…I…I’m Paige.” She stuttered. Standing up to clear her head, “And this is Wally.” Introducing the cat with a wave of her hand she felt ridiculous but kept her head high in spite of her failing composure.

  He was off the bike and halfway up the stairs extending his hand, “Jake Jenkins. Welcome to Nevada City. It’ll be nice… someone living here.” Genuine kindness could be felt in the warmth of his firm hand. Humor, sunshine and time showed in the crinkles turned up on the outside edges of his eyes. He was possibly the sexiest man she’d ever met in person.

  “I broke it before I even got inside.” She held up the rusty mail slot with her free hand, gently retrieving her other hand from his friendly hold.

  “Ah, the ole’ key behind the mail slot trick…” He bent down and picked up the key, handing it to her with none of the drama she’d conjured up.

  She stared at the key in her hand, “Thanks, I think I’m overwhelmed. Things will look better in the morning.” She looked at the old wooden screen door drooping from a broken hinge, “Maybe,” she forced a smile and blew at the wild tangle of hair hanging over one eye.

  “Well Paige, we’re a friendly bunch here; A little odd, but always helpful. The old dudes are crusty at first, but they always warm up to a pretty face. Wally fits right in.” His smile slipped into a lopsided grin as he watched the cat stalk a blue belly lizard.

  “Thanks for the welcome, Jake.” She was breathing easier.

  “Do you need anything? It’ll be dark in a few hours. Power turned on?”

  “Oh.” She grimaced, looking at the key in her hand, kicking herself for not thinking ahead. Electricity wasn’t at the top of her list. S
he’d had a lot on her mind.

  “I’ll give you the number for the power company. My best girl, Betty should be able to fix you up today.” He wrote a number on the back of his business card, handing it to her.

  He had a girl. Paige felt a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment as Jake continued, “Be sure to tell her you’re a friend of mine. Hey look, Wally’s got dinner covered.” He called over his shoulder referring to the dead lizard on the stoop. Paige watched as his manly strut moved his fabulously firm behind away from her. She was mesmerized by his easy nature and incredible good looks. Before Paige realized she’d been standing there brainlessly soaking up his essence he was on his bike and gone. With a disgusted sigh, she tried to shake off the feeling of fascination he’d sparked in her. She clenched the key tightly in her hand and looked at the leaded glass door. “Well Wally, here we go…” Paige pulled the screen door from its resting place and the scream of deteriorating metal hinges shot painfully through her aching head.

  The key slipped solidly into the lock, it was the door that wobbled and then stuck tight. She shoved her hip into the ancient slab of a door which released, flinging her into a whiff of musty dust swirling into her sinuses. Pursing her lips and wrinkling her nose she mentally prepared for what she was about to find. With eyes adjusting in the darkness, she slowly moved into the foyer. The banister and stairs looked intact and passed the wiggle test. Pale ghosts where pictures once hung lined the walls. The allure of the parlor’s rounded turret of float glass windows pulled her closer to examine the rare find. Through tiny bubbles and water-like waves in the glass Paige looked out onto the front of yard. A blur of pale blue slipped into and then out of her peripheral vision. When she turned to look there was only Wally blinking lazily at her. Tingles of cool air covered her neck. Rubbing her arms against the unsettling sensation, Paige cursed her hangover.