Dead Write Ch 02

Repost of an old romance story with a new edit.

***

Morning brought Sam a fresh perspective. His suspicion about Sharon's motives could be resolved with a phone call to the church's head Deacon, Jack Donegan -- affectionately known as the leader of the "God Squad". The church deacons' specialized in helping single women with their house and car repairs. If Sam could erase Sharon's repair needs, he'd be less skeptical about why she approached him. The plan had merit.

After the typical how-are-you-doing chitchat, Sam got to the point. "If the deacons are looking for a project, I know someone that could use their help. You know Sharon Walker? Well, her house is falling apart..."

Later that evening, Jack called him. "Let me tell you, Sam. Sharon is one proud lady. Initially, she refused our help. Said she didn't want to take us away from someone who really needed it. But I convinced her there was no one more deserving than she was. I told her she's done a marvelous job in the Sunday school program, and it would be an honor to help. Maybe she'll be able to sell the place for a profit when we're done."

"That's great."

"By the way, your name came up. She suspects you had something to do with this. You were the only one from church she could think of that had been to her house recently. I told her our sources remain confidential. For better or worse, she believes you are responsible. I wanted to give you fair warning."

"Thanks for letting me know. I'm grateful for the confidentiality."

"We're starting work on Saturday. If you want to lend a hand, be there around 9:00 am and stay as long as you want. Bring your own tools. We are painting the outside first. The deacon's fund is going to pay for a roofer, too much liability for us. The roof will get fixed in a couple of weeks."

"Okay, Jack. I'll be there. I thought I'd check out the plumbing, see if there are any more leaks."

"Fine with me. Just turn in your receipts. The church will reimburse you."

"Thanks again, have a good night."

On Saturday, the "God Squad" moved in, covering the house like a swarm of locusts, but in a good way. Sam and Chris arrived late. A dozen men were busy scraping away loose paint. Several wives had come to "supervise". They stood with Sharon and badgered the men good-naturedly about "missing spots". Sharon seemed subdued by the fuss. When the sound of their car door caught her attention she turned and waved.

"Hi, Ms. Walker!" Chris yelled, skipping to her.

"Hiya, Chris." Her demeanor changed from bubbly to one of quiet consternation as she approached Sam. Out of the Squad's hearing she said, "Hiya, Sam. I believe I owe thanks to you for all this attention."

"No thanks necessary, Sharon. We are just God's instruments trying to do His good works."

Her face softened. "It's hard to be the charitee instead of the charitor, but I guess I can learn to be humble and thankful for God's provision. What about you Sam? When was the last time anyone took care of you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "C'mon, Chris. Do you remember where the toys are?"

"You bet I do!"

As they raced to the door their laughter sang like wind chimes. Her wavy hair flared as she ran. The breeze teased his nose with her herbal scent. He recognized the fragrance now -- Jan's shampoo. Sam warmed to the idea Sharon might be pursuing him. Smiling, he watched them enter and noticed her backward glance.

'Was she looking to see if I was looking? God, you've made me a teenager again!' With renewed spirit, he joined the other men.

After an hour of scraping paint, Sam decided to check on Chris and start his plumbing inspection.

"Hello!" He yelled from just inside the entrance.

"In the kitchen. C'mon in."

Walking into the busy room, Sam found the women building a pyramid of sandwiches.

Sharon asked, "You think this is enough, Sam? I gotta keep'em fueled if I'm going to get my money's worth out of 'em." She winked and jabbed him in the stomach on her way to the refrigerator.

'Was that a sign of affection or is she just touchy-feely with everyone?'

Pulling out a pitcher of lemonade, she asked, "Would you grab the tray and carry it out for me, please?"

He gladly followed her, enjoying the view as she walked. The jeans weren't tight, just snug in the right places. And her smell... He asked, "What shampoo is that? I think Jan used it."

"I wouldn't be surprised. We were at a retreat and she forgot to bring hers, so she used mine and liked it. Yes, I remember. She liked how soft it made her hair and how it smelled. Its called Rain Forest."

"So, I have you to thank for that," he said, and remembered the pleasure of burying his face in the fragrant strands to nuzzle her ear. 'So it was Sharon's shampoo first, not Jan's. Sharon isn't using it to attract me after all,' a disappointing discovery.

"You're welcome." Sharon shook her head, creating a nebula of scent that Sam floated through. She looked back and smiled knowingly before stepping outside.

'Or maybe she is.'

The Squad huddled around a folding table, ready to eat. Jack prayed for the crew's health and safety. Then the food began to disappear. Sam secretly watched as Sharon acted the hostess, filling glasses, handing out plates. She appeared modest and reserved. However, around him, she behaved differently – almost brazen, flatteringly aggressive.

Sam grabbed food and drinks, and left to have lunch with Chris. He found him in the backyard, sprinkling water on flowers from a dented can.

"Chris, time for lunch, buddy."

"Sharon asked me to water her garden."

"It's nice to help her, isn't it?"

"Yup." Chris marched in and washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

They went out into the solitude of her backyard Eden and ate at the shady picnic table. Sam chewed without tasting. He hovered between depression and elation, and sought God's guidance about the pull of carnal desires. Glancing at the house, he spotted Sharon watching them through the screen door, and waved her out.

"Are you guys antisocial, or what?" She said, sauntering across the lawn. She plopped down across from Chris and next to Sam.

Sam was drawn to Sharon's friendliness like a drowning man to an island. A trait that made her an engaging schoolteacher for children, and for him, a phenomenal tease. He'd forgotten how to play the dating game, or maybe he just didn't want to play at all. Decisions, decisions.

He said, "We're just sitting here, appreciating your beautiful yard. You must have a green thumb."

"Actually", she put her hands on the table with thumbs up, "I have two." Shaking her head sadly, she added, "It is so hard to keep the flesh colored paint on them. I was teased horribly as a child."

Chris giggled. "You're silly."

"We won't hold it against you," said Sam, "as long as you don't mind that we have webbed feet. Right, buddy?"

Chris learned early how to play along with his parents. "Yeah, we swim like fish and have gills, so we can stay underwater."

"A couple of mermen, huh? Your secret is safe with me." She laid her delicate, hands atop theirs to seal the pact. They had joined forces without hesitation.

It was nice to have a woman on his side again, even in jest. Sam felt less pressure. "Well, I'd better get back to work. If I sit too long my flippers get stiff."

Chris giggled.

Was the twinkle in Sharon's eye caused by biting her tongue?

Sam stood up. "I want to check your bathrooms for more leaks. Is there one in the basement?"

"Yes, there's a small one hidden in the laundry room. Let me show you." As they left she said, "Chris, would you finish watering the garden for me, please?"

"Okay."

Sharon touched Sam's elbow, and said, "He is such a sweet kid."

"Give me time, I can fix that."

She laughed, and gave him a light shoulder check to the arm. "Very funny."

As he stepped into the bathroom, Sam noticed the toilet tank dripped with condensation, and he could hear the faint hiss of running water. He lifted the tank cover and set it aside. The water level was above the overflow pipe and ran continuously into the bowl. Pulling up on the float ball did nothing to stem the flow of water into the tank.

"Is there a problem?" Sharon asked, resting her hand on his back and peeking over his shoulder. In the narrow confines, her breast pressed against his arm while she leaned over to see.

Distracted by the touch, Sam spoke the plumber's term for the tank fill valve. "Yes, there is. You need a new ball cock."

Sharon backed away, laughing. After a brief silence, she said, "I've been thinking that myself, but I didn't realize it was so obvious. How did you know?"

Sam turned to read her face. It beamed with a devilish grin, cried out for an absurd rebuttal. He hadn't played the game of sexual innuendo for over a year. He missed it. He wanted to play along and couldn't resist the temptation.

"Well, the physical evidence was plain to see. First, I noticed the moisture when I entered." He wiped his finger across the tank surface and held the dewy digit up for examination. "Then, as I got closer to the fixture, I could hear the liquid flowing fast inside." Sam moved into Sharon's personal space. Reflexively, she backed into the wall. With a thud, she bumped her head. He put his ear close to her chest, listening.

Straightening up, he met her gaze, then closed his eyes and deeply inhaled. "I could smell the dampness and knew it was leaking."

Softly she asked, "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should get a new one."

"Is that a big job?"

"No, not really. I would be glad to provide that service for you," Sam offered, looking into her eyes, the pupils large in the dim light.

Her tiny voice puffed onto his face, "You would? What exactly would you do?"

"I would need your help too."

"What would I do?" she said, sounding pleasantly inexperienced.

"Let me go through the procedure step by step, so you understand the process. Then you can decide if I'm the man for the job."

Squirming a little, she finally said, "Okay."

"First, I would shut the water off at the house meter. The supply nipple, sticking out of the wall, looks like it needs some attention. I wouldn't want to break it and cause a flood." Sam looked down at her breasts and noticed two more nipples that he'd like to give some attention. "Do you have 3/8 inch, chrome-plated, brass nipples?"

Her lips made a crooked smile. "I don't think so. But I could show you where they are and you could look for yourself."

"When the time comes." He made a stern face, thinking about the next step.

Her eyes watched his mouth, fearful or anxious for more details, he couldn't tell.

"After the water's off, I'd come in here and take off the tank top."

She jumped and squeaked when his hands made a lifting motion that brushed up her sides, briefly dragging the shirt.

"Once the parts were exposed I'd have to drain the liquid and clean the interior, preferable with a soft sponge or cloth. I wouldn't want the china surface to get scratched or cut."

"No. Very thoughtful of you." Her eyes were closed, and he could imagine what she was seeing.

"At this point I'd require your help. I'd lie down on the floor and you would hold the old ball cock securely with both hands while I loosened the supply piping. Now, this could be tricky, because those components have not been disturbed in a long time. So, they may require a lot of fiddling and careful manipulation to free them without damaging the fixture. How many ball cocks have been in your fixture?"

Her eyes flashed open and he braced for a slap. Then her face softened, and she whispered. "Only the one since I've owned it."

He gave a reassuring smile. "I'd be extra careful then."

"I'm sure you would." She watched his lips again.

"Once the old ball cock is out of the way and the fixture is clean and ready, I'd ask you to gently place the new ball cock in the hole. This should be done slowly, so that I can guide the male shank into the female thread. Now, because of the tight fit, the female fitting may require a lubricant to ease the insertion process."

Sharon's forehead dropped against Sam's chest. "I doubt it, but I'd leave it to the expert."

Sam's right hand caressed the back of her neck, and massaged the skin under the hair. "Once the male shank is fully inserted in the female connection, the water can be turned on and the tank filled. Then, I'll adjust the lever to provide the appropriate depth. The tank will need to be drained and filled repeatedly until we are satisfied... that everything works."

Barely audible, Sharon mumbled, "I think you're the man for the job, Sam."

He lifted her face, and their eyes locked. "Don't decide now. Take your time and think it over. I have to go get the new parts." He patted her shoulder in a brotherly way and walked out.

"Saaam!"

He ignored her. Payback can be a bitch or a bastard.