Forbidden Falls

She peered at him, lifting a corner of her mouth and an eyebrow at the same time. “That bouncer? He’s a friend. I babysat for him and his wife a couple of times. He’d come out here and scare the bejesus out of that imbecile if I asked him to. But before we even get to that, Mr. Nick has a date with my knee. And I know how to do that.”

Noah just chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want that room. It’s the best room I’ve ever seen. My gramma and I slept on a pullout sofa together my whole life. The only thing that could make that room prettier would be if my kids came with it.”

Noah sobered. Two sentences hit him in the gut—she slept on a pullout sofa bed her entire life? With her grandmother? They must have lived in one room. And her kids? It must have been so traumatic to leave her children with a guy she knew didn’t love them. When they got better acquainted, he meant to ask more about that. “So,” he said. “When will you move in?”

“Oh, right away. I’ll bring money and my stuff tomorrow. It’ll just take one trip. Can I have a little time in the morning to unload the car? I’d like to do it when Mr. Hands is at work. I plan to avoid him.”

“What about the duplex?” he asked.

“That nice lady next door owns it. She’ll let me go without a problem. She understands my situation. She’s on my side.”

“You can move in one trip?” he asked, looking at her car.

She turned to look at him. “Noah, the kids have their clothes and toys with them. I have very little to move. Believe me, I live a one-trip existence.”

“My car is full of stuff,” Ellie said to Noah when she arrived at the church the next morning. Then she crouched in front of Lucy, grabbed her head in her hands and kissed her snout, receiving a lick in return. “Morning, girlfriend. You’re looking better every day.” Then to Noah, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take an hour to tote it up the stairs to my new residence. I just want to wait until Mr. Fitch has gone to work.”

“Ellie,” he asked, “did you leave anything behind? Or in storage somewhere?”

“Nah, that’s it. I travel light. So, what’s on the schedule for today?”

He tried not to let it show that he felt something cinch in his chest at the very idea she could fit all her worldly goods in the little PT Cruiser she drove. Up until he married, while working and going to school, he’d had next to nothing, but that was different. He liked having a light load; it was all part of the changes he wanted to make in his life. But Ellie had a family! What about her grandmother’s house, her grandmother’s furniture—the pullout sofa and piano? But asking about that would have to wait. He said, “Well, I’d like you to get started painting the bathrooms today, if you think you can do it.”

“Of course I can do it. I should probably change clothes. Around nine, I’ll go move my stuff, but I’ll wait till later to put it away. I’ll grab something old and ratty to put on and get started. You have the paint?”

“Some yellow, some white, some blue. Can you work with that?”

She made a face. “How were you planning to use them? One blue bathroom, one yellow, white trim? Because that’s very boring.”

He looked at her long fingernails. Today was hot pink with sparkles. He looked down—she was wearing tennis shoes, but somehow he knew her toes matched her nails. Against his better judgment he said, “Use it any way you like.”

“Good deal. Do you have any masking tape? Any caulking?”

“Yes, why?”

“Straight lines and edges. Just out of curiosity, how’d you settle on those colors?”

“They were on sale,” he said.

She shifted her weight to one foot. “Have you ever actually had a church before?”

“Not exactly.”

“Listen, I’ll make something work with those colors. Even though they’re pretty dorky colors….”

He had a fleeting thought that this was not the woman to be lecturing him about good taste in anything. “Aren’t you the least bit afraid I might take that personally? Maybe I’m sensitive about the colors I picked.”

“No,” she said, tilting her head and peering at him. “You’re not gay.”

He smiled at her. “You sure about that?”

And she smiled, her hands on her hips. “Obviously. Or you’d have chosen more interesting colors.”

He sighed heavily. He watched her walk toward the upstairs bathroom in her shrink-wrap jeans. He squinted. He followed, Lucy ever at his side. She had a tattoo peeking out of the back of her low-rise jeans, right in the small of her back. “I … ah … have an old painting shirt you can throw over your clothes, if you’d like. Would that help?”

“Sure, thanks. After I get my stuff out of the car, I’ll put on my old sweats. You have all the supplies for me to get started?”

“Stacked outside the bathroom in the hall.”

“Super. I’ll start up here and, when I’m done, I can move it downstairs. Let me check it out, make sure you have everything I’ll need.” She knelt on one knee, checking out the supplies, showing more of that tattoo, but he still wasn’t able to make out what it was. She looked over her shoulder. “Noah, can you round up the masking tape and caulk? And get me a screwdriver and hammer, please?”

“Screwdriver? Hammer?”

“I’m going to take the door and mirror off. Open paint cans.”

“By yourself?” he asked. “Want me to help with that?”

“No. Just get me what I need.”

“Sure,” he said. But he stood there, his eyes riveted on that tattoo.

She looked over her shoulder again. “It’s called a tramp stamp,” she said. “I got it when I was fifteen, to be cool.”

“I know what it’s called. I just can’t make out what it is.”

“It’s vines in the shape of my name, and I’m not showing you any more of it. Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

“Right,” he said, going off to his toolbox. And he thought, I’m taking orders from her. Why am I not the least bit surprised?

After he delivered what she asked for, she completely ignored him, so he took Lucy to his office. He heard Ellie humming, moving around the drop cloth, pounding at the hinges to remove the door. She didn’t ask questions, nor did she need any help with the heavy door or with the mirror over the sink. He could hear her peeling off strips of masking tape for the borders. Completely self-sufficient and low maintenance. That’s what a good pastor’s assistant was, whether painting or managing the office. Now, that did surprise him.

Before sitting down to make a renovation list, Noah decided to tour the old building once more. The church was large but simple. Upstairs was a sanctuary that could hold about three hundred people. There were large double doors at the east end of the church that opened onto a foyer. From here, four wide stairs led up to the sanctuary level and a wider foyer—wide enough for a staging area, as for the gathering of a bridal party. Large interior double doors opened to the aisle, which led toward the stained-glass window, then two more steps led up to a deep stage that had room for the altar, the pulpit, a couple of choir pews. Up here Noah would find room for the piano that had been Merry’s.

There were doors to the right and left at the front of the church. To the left was the pastor’s office—a room large enough for his desk, shelves and filing cabinets plus a big round table for meetings. Outside that office, the stairs led down to the basement and a side exit door. On the other side of the sanctuary was another room of equal size that could serve as a secretary’s office and library. Right next to that room was the upstairs bathroom. Just a sink and toilet, of course, but it had taken the strain off his RV bath facilities. They seemed to be in perfect working order, even though they hadn’t been used in years. And that was it—no classrooms. But the basement could be divided with movable panels.

Noah went to his office and set about making a list of things to talk about with the local builder. Paul Haggerty was a friend of Jack’s and was going to work on the remodel. That big basement room with a kitchen would make a great community hall, once finished. Right now the walls were plain cinder block and needed texturing. The ceiling was stained from mystery leaks that should be checked out before new ceiling panels were hung. The floor was hard, cold concrete and could use a sub-floor covered in tile.

The sanctuary was in pretty good shape, if a little beat up. If he rented a sander, he could finish the hardwood floors himself, but the ceiling was much too high and would require scaffolding.

He had ordered pews, an altar, a pulpit, a baptistery and a new desk for his office. The pews were an extravagance—they could make do with folding chairs. But the pews would be beautiful; he wanted them and there was enough money. Once done, the sanctuary would be breathtaking. And while Noah would enjoy doing all the work himself, it was his mission to get the church open for business as soon as possible. Paul could undoubtedly help with that.

Maybe while Paul was handling the walls and ceiling of the sanctuary, he could be painting the offices. He and Ellie, he thought. He heard her faint humming. She seemed completely capable. If the bathroom didn’t end up painted in stripes or polka dots, he might ask for her input on colors for the offices.

She popped her head into his office. “I’m going to run home, unload the car, change into painting clothes and come back. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that offer of your old shirt.”

“You bet. I’ll have it here when you get back.”