Tilsy & Hank

By Carol Jean

A COMPLETE WORK: Tilsy spent thirty-nine years of her life in a loveless, abusive marriage. Now that he’s dead her life can begin for real. Her only priority is to do things that feel good and make her happy. A pretty little house all her own in a new town seemed like a perfect match. Then Hank comes into her life promising a loving and hopeful future. He takes her hand as they walk and talk at sunset. It feels good. But his wife’s mysterious death and his confusing and mixed signals send Tilsy running, roaming the country looking for the perfect place to call home. She’s not running from, she’s running toward she tries to tell herself.
From Virginia to Florida to Dallas and on, Tilsy drives her 1998 Cadillac she named Delbert with Oliver at her side. A silver toy Schnauzer and her best friend, she and Oliver search for the one place where happiness and feeling good coexist--Home.
Their adventure turns tragic when a gunman runs into her and everything changes. Until then she didn't realize how vulnerable and unprepared she is to handle unknown places and people who don’t keep their promises.
And now she and Oliver are homeless for real and there’s nothing in her future but endless highways, an frozen heart, and no one who cares whether she lives or dies. Home is a place she may never find.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Jean
• Release date: Apr 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311100757

Carol Jean

New to the exciting world of fiction Carol Jean finds the experience more than fun, better than thrilling, and greater than awesome. Her only motivation is to have her readers wish her books wouldn't end.Carol Jean lives on the eastern edge of the Blue Ridge in Roanoke, Virginia. A published writer, author, news reporter, copywriter and editor since the age of fourteen, she spends twelve hours a day writing or thinking about writing.Samuel, Karlee, Miranda, Jacob and Kell are the darlings of her life, as well as her Schnauzers Bridger and Ozzie.

Book preview

By Carol Jean

Copyright 2015 SK Publishing

ISBN: 9781311100757

Smashwords Edition

Dedication

To Darlene Tabor who was the first person to ever read one of my books. She liked it and bothered to tell me. A person, a real live intelligent, wonderful person read my book. I had a smile on my face for days. My dream to write good, exciting and enjoyable stories that people like to read was a reality. I can do it. I didn’t have to quit.

Since TRIGGER, I’ve released the epic novel BRANCHES. Tilsy & Hank is my newest. If you enjoy these books, please join me in thanking Darlene Tabor.

Tilsy & Hank

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Comments and questions regarding this book or the author are welcome and appreciated. I will respond in a timely manner to each message or inquiry.

Thank you for reading--Carol Jean

Contact [e-mail]

Title Page

Dedication

Rights

Table of Contents

Book 1 Tilsy

Book 2 Hank

Book 3 Tilsy & Hank

Thank You for Reading

A Special Thank You

About Carol Jean

Other Books by Carol Jean

Tilsy Book 1

Lorraine Andrea Tilsy Tilson (Straight)

Date of Birth: June 15, 1958

Married 1976:

Jeffery Edgar Straight

Widowed: 2014

Two sons:

Brandon Allen Straight

Andrew David Straight

Book 1 Tilsy

Standing in front of the full length mirror that hangs on her bedroom closet door, Tilsy straightens her sweater over her jeans but doesn’t turn to check her backside in the mirror. At her age, she’d rather not look. If she doesn’t look at it she doesn’t have to worry about it.

She runs her fingers through her dark curly hair and ignores the gray hairs she knows are there. A quick check of her smile that she’s always thought was pretty and she’s out the door.

The best part of leaving her little house is that she doesn’t have to ask anyone or leave a note or explain where she’s going or when she’ll be back. She’s taking Oliver with her and everything will be just as she left it when they get back.

It’s a comforting thought. Tilsy raises her face to the sun, closes her eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath of sweet, crisp late winter air as she patiently waits for Oliver to finish wetting the bush.

All done? Let’s go. Her voice is a happy voice and it makes Oliver happy. His cute toy Schnauzer butt bounces with excitement as he leads the way to her car.

We’re going to the home store, so please promise to behave. Okay?

Oliver happily promises as he watches her talk to him. He’s in his favorite car place standing on the arm rest between the two front seats. He likes it there because he’s nearly eye-to-eye with his best friend, plus he doesn’t miss any of the adventure.

A pretty shade of pink semi-gloss paint, brushes, new rollers, and a gallon of bright white high-gloss paint for the trim and doors and her excitement builds.

Tilsy has always wanted a pink bedroom. Never happened, It’s going to be so beautiful. Are you excited Oliver? I am.

Oliver lies down in the shotgun seat for the return trip home. Tired? Tilsy laughs at him as he barely lifts his head.

They spent more than forty minutes longer in the store because everyone that passed Oliver sitting in the shopping cart just had to stop and pet him and talk about their dogs. He had a great time. So did Tilsy. She didn’t have to rush or look at her cell phone for the time or messages of where in the Hell was she? She was allowed to enjoy the experience as much as Oliver.

We forgot the light bulbs. Shoot. Oliver lifts his head and puts it back down. Wimp. So that means you aren’t going to go back?

It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow will be another wonderful day. They can go back tomorrow if they want to. She can light the lavender scented candle she hasn’t used. It’ll be a special treat on the dinner table tonight.

Book 1 Tilsy

Oliver! No!

Tilsy jumps from the ladder as her roller covered in pretty pink paint drops to the floor. Her only thought is to rescue Oliver from the mostly full gallon of pink paint he’s drenched in.

Oh my God!

Head to toe his silver Schnauzer coat is now pink. His eyes, his ears, his mouth are covered and Oliver is making struggling noises. Fear that he’ll breathe in or swallow the paint is her first reaction. She wants to panic but that won’t help Oliver.

Trying to hold him in the bathtub and the handheld shower head at the same time, she frantically hoses his face to clear away the paint and follows with a towel to clear it of paint and water so he can breathe. She’s sure a pink bubble just floated out of his nose.

With most of the paint off his face, Tilsy wraps the remainder of his little body in a towel and heads for the kitchen. Help. She needs help. Who?

You’re open?

A laugh and a man’s deep voice, I answered the phone. He sounds so calm it’s maddening.

Oliver is covered in paint . . . pink. He’s making funny sounds. I don’t think he can breathe or it’s going to get in his lungs!

Where are you?

Home.

Another laugh.

Uh. Tilsy can’t remember her address. Breeze Street something. Oliver is now squirming to get down. 6910 Breeze Street. Where are you?

Here, he laughs.

This isn’t funny? The number on my cell phone says you’re the emergency vet service?

Latex? His tone changes from amused to serious.

Latex what!

Paint.

Yes. Semi-gloss.

He laughs. I’m on my way. Five minutes.

The line goes dead. Oliver you are in so much trouble. She groans with a quick glance of her destroyed bedroom but doesn’t slow her pace to the bathroom.

Oliver is seriously fighting her now, but she’s managed to get most of the paint off. At least the water is starting to run clear more than pink. Oliver on the other hand is still a shade of pretty bedroom pink.

Dawn detergent is okay for dogs, Oliver. Maybe it’ll get the paint out of your hair.

Wrapped in another towel, Oliver isn’t sure he wants a soapy bath in dish detergent and is struggling when she hears the doorbell.

Without a thought as to who is ringing the bell, Tilsy flings the door open and wide. Oliver senses an escape route and leaps from her hold.

Hey there, little man. Not so fast.

Quicker than Tilsy could follow the action, a man at the door is holding Oliver out and away from his clothes. Oliver isn’t fighting. He’s given up and accepted his fate.

Kitchen or bathroom?

Huh?

Where do you want him?

Bathroom’s already trashed. She says and waves her hand in futility.

Sandy hair, laughing eyes, laughing at her, he’s a tall man, with broad shoulders and looks very fit. Oliver looks so small and forlorn in his large hands. Which way?

Tilsy takes off and she can feel the man following her. Pink is everywhere, floors, walls, tub, curtain, toilet, sink and her best towels that she doesn’t even use. She keeps them out because they’re pretty and much nicer than the others. She likes looking at the pretty, thick white towels with the rose edge.

Oh they’re ruined. She groans.

No, it’ll wear out, the man laughs, puts Oliver in the tub and turns on the water.

Not Oliver, my good towels.

Ignoring her bereavement for her expensive and plush bath towels, Got any Dawn? The man asks without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. She figures he doesn’t have any really nice towels at his house, so he probably doesn’t understand how devastated she is.

She passes the spilled paint all over her bedroom carpet and tries not to step in it. Her fear for Oliver overrides that disaster. Oh, my God. If he lives, I’m going to kill him.

Snuggled in a warm, dry but not so nice towel, the man–a veterinarian who says his name is Hank–examines Oliver. Tilsy watches wringing her hands. She doesn’t want to talk and interrupt his examination. He’s focused and appears to be thorough.

He’ll be all right. I can’t say the same about your bedroom and bathroom. He laughs.

You’re sure?

He laughs again. I’m sure Oliver will be okay and I’m sure he’ll be pink for a while. And I’m sure your bedroom and bathroom will need some serious cleaning.

I always wanted a pink bedroom. She hears the moan in her voice. Stick a fork in me. I’m done. She says.

Suddenly Hank the vet looks up. His bright blue eyes look concerned. It’ll be all right. Soft, comforting and it feels like he’s treating her, as well as Oliver. Got any wine or other spirits?

White. In the refrigerator. Why?

Thought we’d have a glass, while I make a call and get you some help?

Oliver licks Hank’s hand, closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

Us who? Oliver doesn’t drink wine. Whatever, Tilsy doesn’t even know how to begin cleaning up the mess. She’s trying to come up with a plan but can’t quite figure out where to start. Bathroom? Carpet? Which first? What should she use? Use the good towels, they’re already ruined. She groans because she really loved those towels.

On second thought, you might want to change before you sit or touch anything. Hank’s voice is quiet like he doesn’t want to disturb Oliver’s nap because as a vet he understands how exhausted Oliver is from his trip to mayhem.

She looks down. Her oldest jeans and floppy shirt she put on for painting are covered with wet paint. Her favorite Keds are worse off than her towels. She’ll never get the paint off of her hands and from under her finger nails. Oh God.

Take a shower. I left the Dawn in the bathroom.

Tilsy hears him snicker, but ignores it. What’s to lose at this point?

At least she was able to clean the tub as she showered. Dawn wasn’t really bad as personal bath soap. It smells good and sure does soap up well. Pink foam is up to her ankles.

Comfortable sweats and old slippers, she heads back to the kitchen/living room/dining room.

Hank is on the sofa holding Oliver and two other men are sitting at the table.

What? She went to shower not even concerned that a stranger . . . strangers are her home?

Apparently, Hank the Vet noticed that she was startled. That’s Howard and that handsome young man is my son, Patrick. He indicates the younger man, who looks a lot like Hank. Maybe nineteen, he looks like a college kid. Her boys used to look like that–all fresh and full of energy and fun--before they got all grownup and full of self-importance.

Holding two large rolls of white plastic they nod at her in a smirking fun way that clearly says they want to break out in hilarity but have been taught better manners.

They’ve come to help clean up the paint before it dries. Hank says with a grin. You sit and hold Oliver.

Better than any plan she’s come up with, she sits and Hank places the cuddly warm sleeping Oliver in her arms.

I’ll get you a glass of wine.

Tilsy drank the whole glass and then closed her eyes to enjoy the rush that will hopefully ease the waves of fear and tension away. She snuggles Oliver closer, and lays her head back against the wing chair.

Carpet’s toast, Patrick’s voice is loud and startles her from a moment of calm.

Her eyes fly open to see him and Howard carry out a large roll of almost white carpet.

It’s good though. There are beautiful oak floors underneath.

They didn’t even ask her what to do. Her mouth falls open in protest. No. You’re wrong. I just had the new carpet put in two weeks ago.

Doesn’t matter. It just got painted an hour ago and it can’t be saved. It’s a goner. If we leave it, it will ruin the wood.

He, Howard and my bedroom carpet disappear out the front door.

Tilsy feels tears rush to her eyes. She’s always wanted thick carpet in her pink bedroom. Getting out of bed during the night or in the morning with the friendly, warm, cushy carpet under her bare feet was also part of her dream. Tilsy feels anger and doesn’t even try to hide it.

I don’t know you. I don’t know them. Do they know what they’re doing? She glares at Hank the vet.

My son is starting up a design and remodeling company. He has a degree in architecture and he’s worked construction and remodeling since he was a kid. I’d bet my bedroom carpet on him.

She has no control. This was not what her new life was supposed to be. Well damn. I’ll just sit here then while he tears my house apart!

She looks up into the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. Patrick looks like he’s been slapped, hard. She is being mean. He came on a moment’s notice to help her. I’m sorry. It’s just . . .

I understand Ma’am. I’ve called a friend and he’s delivering your new carpet in an hour. It will give me enough time to finish painting before the carpet is laid. Painting first is always a good idea. Howard and I can do it half the time it would take you to do it alone. Don’t worry about it.

That’s not the point! She’s always wanted to paint her bedroom pink. Oliver senses her distress. He wakes up enough to lift his head, look at her and crock his head.

Don’t look at me like that. You know whose fault this is! Don’t you?

He wisely lies back down resting his little chin on her hand.

You and Oliver get along really well. Hank’s voice is interestingly playful. A lot of people get a dog, but not every person has an affinity for a good relationship with animals. It’s always nice to see two of God’s creatures get along so well.

I’ve always wanted a dog. Oliver and I have been together six months. He was a year old two months ago.

He’s your first dog?

Yes.

That’s a shame. But what you just said about you and Oliver being together. Most people just say they got a dog six months ago.

She shrugs. It’s just how she feels about Oliver. They kind of found each other and chose to live together, like friends or partners.

You and Oliver got along really good, too. I’ve never seen him give in so quickly.

Hank throws his head back and laughs. I am a vet.

It’s a full hearted laugh that makes her smile for the first time since this disaster happened. He runs his hand through his thick hair. He’s really very handsome. Perfect white teeth, a strong jaw and beautiful bright blue eyes like Patrick’s, she barely noticed him until now.

I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from work?

I was just getting off duty, when your call came in. I volunteer at the emergency animal clinic as much as possible. I’m okay here.

He smiles at her and she feels a blush. She didn’t know she remembered how. She used to blush a lot when she was a girl, but that was a long time ago.

Let’s start over. I’m Hank Witcher, veterinarian and owner of Valley Animal Clinic. You are?

He smiles and Tilsy notices a dimple in his left cheek. It’s charming and adds to his nice and friendly persona. She blushes.

Lorraine Tilson, but everyone calls me Tilsy. When I was eight or so, an incorrigible and hateful neighbor boy used to tease me all the time and call me Tilsy. It stuck. Thank you for coming to help us and for calling your son to put my home in order. I’m sorry, I sounded so ungrateful. It just wasn’t how I saw today happening.

So the pink bedroom is a big deal for you?

Sounds childish, I know.

Not at all. I like pink too. His voice is smooth and rich like honey.

Right on cue she blushes.

Patrick and Howard have been running back and forth carrying this and bringing in that. She and Hank have been talking about nothing and haven’t been paying any attention. It’s been a pleasant conversation though her heart hasn’t really been into it.

Room’s painted. Justin is here. After he lays the carpet, I’ll finish the trim. I like your paint selection. It’s very classy shade of pink and fits the room well. Come and see.

Patrick smiles like his Dad, except he’s got a dimple in both cheeks.

It’s beautiful. The paint color is perfect was perfectly applied with a sprayer, not a roller like she was using. Not a drop of paint or drip or run.

Oh my, this is exactly how I saw it in my head. Thank you so much. She means it with her whole heart. It’s perfect.

Thumps and bumps at the front door.

Carpet, Patrick says and squeezes by her and Hank.

Come on Tilsy let’s get out of the way. Oliver could probably use a walk.

The sun is just beginning to set with a soft winter blush. Oliver is thrilled to get outside and down and has figured out that he’ll live to see tomorrow. He’s peeing on every bush he passes, just in case.

Talking with Hank feels like talking with a long lost friend. He’s been alone for twenty years and raised three boys on his own. Patrick is his youngest and the only son still at home. Hank loves animals and while most vets specialize in small or large animals, Hank takes care of both, including exotics. He never wanted to do anything else.

I love it all, but I’m troubled when humans decide to get an exotic–a monkey, jaguar, lion or boa and the like. It’s just not right. One of my customers keeps a rhino. At least they care and do a lot to make him happy and safe, but still it’s not good for the animal.

She didn’t notice, but Hank did. You shivered. The sun is down and you don’t even have a jacket. Let’s get back.

Hank takes her hand like it’s the most natural and right thing to do. Tilsy is startled. No one has held her hand since her grandmother when Tilsy was maybe five. It feels good. She reminds herself that her only priority is to do things that feel good. Hank’s hand feels good. Tilsy relaxes and lets Hank hold her hand.

When her little house comes into view, Hank suddenly stops and turns to her, I’ve spent this whole time talking about myself. That’s a shame. I wanted to know about you, Tilsy. I find you very interesting.

She shrugs. What’s to know? She was a wife, mother and had a boring job at an insurance company.

You know everything about me that’s important. My best friend is Oliver and I like pink bedrooms. Tilsy laughs and Hank’s laughter merges with hers. It feels good.

An hour later her bedroom is finished. She’d planned two days for the project but it’s done and the bathroom is spotless.

Can’t do anything about the pretty towels and shower curtain, you’ll have to get new ones, Patrick says and gives her a looks that says he let her down somehow.

You’re amazing, Patrick. Thank you. I really didn’t have a clue about what to do with that mess. You’ve saved me.

Hey, I’m the one who called him? Hank says.

That goes for you too. Thank you. All of you.

She pays for the carpet and hands over a generous hourly rate for Patrick and Howard. It feels good to pay and she’s grateful for their quick response and exceptional work.

I’m thinking of a kitchen remodel. Is it too small a job for you? Tilsy glances at her tiny kitchen that has about four feet of prep space.

No ma’am. I’ll call you for an appointment and we can go over some ideas. He leaves and she, Oliver and Hank are alone with just a hint of paint smell in her pretty little house. She’s opening a couple windows and Oliver is knocking his dinner bowl around the kitchen.

I guess Oliver is trying to tell you something. I’ll leave you two to dinner. He says quietly.

He hands her his business card. Bring Oliver in tomorrow or call me if you see him in distress before then. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but we should check him out.

Hank looks like he doesn’t want to go. She wouldn’t mind if he stayed but maybe this is for the best.

Saying thank you doesn’t feel like enough for all you’ve done for a stranger. Thank you. Oliver and I will see you tomorrow?

He pats Oliver, smiles at her and he’s gone.

Now that’s a real man, Oliver. I hope you were paying attention to Hank. If you see a pretty toy Schnauzer girl you want to impress, you should remember how a real man treats a woman.

Book 1 Tilsy

Hank’s office is pleasant and surprising. The girls in light blue scrubs with a puppy pattern top welcome her and Oliver by name.

You look good in pink, Oliver. The girl with Gretchen embroidered on her scrub top reaches for him and he gladly goes to her. Did you have a bad day yesterday? You poor little thing, it’ll be all right, she kisses his nose and he licks her. Two other girls join the Oliver love fest.

Dr. Witcher was called out on a horse down. He should be back in a few minutes. You can sit in the waiting room, or there is a puppy play area through there. It’s fun.

Tilsy opts for the waiting room. Full front windows with lots of light, nicely upholstered furniture, fireplace and very nice Persian rugs, it’s very homey. Not the clinical environment she expected.

As soon as she sits down, Oliver squeezes out of her arms and jumps in the matching chair next to hers. A couple circles and he plops down.

That’s so cute! A blonde, dressed in blue scrubs with a kitten pattern top calls out from the reception dlesk. Oliver you are a real gentleman.

A pink little gentleman for sure and he’s likely to be pink for a while. The groomer is our next stop, but Jane wasn’t sure she would be able to do much about it. She talked about shaving him to the skin, but clearly didn’t like the idea.

Tilsy feels relaxed here. It’s a new feeling to be relaxed. The first time she felt it was two weeks after Jeff died. They had two sons, a four-bedroom ranch and a tense relationship for thirty nine years. As the boys got older, they always took Jeff’s side on everything. Other than throwing things at her, he wasn’t physically