Reconstructing Roman

By Sandra S. Kerns

Peace is a gift you sometimes have to walk through fire to receive.

Roman Smirnosky wants nothing more than to work and be left alone. After years of being on his own and building a business, he thinks he's finally found peace. All that changes with a single phone call informing him his brother is in the hospital and his parents are dead, murdered. Returning to the town he left behind sixteen years ago, he soon realizes, helping his brother is the easy part of returning. Someone has moved into the old Beecher place. A female someone. He figures if nothing else, offering to help with repairs on the Beecher house while he attends to his brother's farm during his recovery will provide a welcome distraction from the nightmarish memories that haunt him since his return home. He quickly realizes he couldn't be more wrong when accidents and threatening phone calls start to plague the young woman. He’s definitely no hero, but walking away from a fight isn't his way either. It doesn't hurt that her determination and strength tempt him to distraction and his quiet, solitary life is about to be thrown into chaos.

Kaia Beecher’s inheritance is a mixed blessing. It means the parents she adored are gone and she’s heartbroken. However, it also gives her the opportunity to change the direction of her life. After breaking off her engagement and losing a job her heart wasn't really into, she decides to return to the one place she can where she has happy memories, her grandparents' farm in Colorado. The farm couldn’t be more different from the high-pressure life of her criminal defense career in New York. Packing the few things she wants to keep and her dog Copernicus, she heads west in search of peace.

What she finds instead is fear, distrust, and threats. Even the handsome man offering to help her repair the farmhouse tells her she should leave. If people hate her family so much, why didn’t her father sell the farm? Why is everyone determined to run her off her property? She's determined to find out why someone wants her gone and she won't leave until she has the answers. She's also determined to break down the walls Roman has built around his heart and help him stop living in the past. She only hopes that her inquisitive nature along with pure stubbornness will help her find the answers. Or, will her caller take her chance at love away before it has a chance?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra S. Kerns
• Release date: Jun 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311218988

Sandra S. Kerns

Sandra writes romantic suspense. She enjoys speaking to writer's groups as well as libraries and reader groups. An award-winning author, she has no time to rest on her laurels. To keep her readers happy she tries to publish at least 4 novels each year and usually another Christmas novella at the end of the year. For inspiration she looks out at the Rocky Mountains from her back patio or watches the waves when she visits Cocoa Beach, Florida.

Book preview

Reconstructing Roman

Colorado Dreams and Desires

by

Sandra S. Kerns

Published by Sandra S. Kerns, LLC at Smashwords

Editor: Joy Clintsman, Big Sister Edits

Copyright 2015 Sandra S. Kerns

Cover design by: Itsy Designs

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored into any information storage and retrieval system now known whether mechanical or electronic, or hereinafter invented without permission from the author, except for excerpts used in reviews. To request permission please contact the author at sandrakerns.com. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Dear Reader,

Even in thoroughly proofed and meticulously edited books, errors and typos can slip through. If you find an error in my book, please feel free to send a personal note to me at sandrakerns.com. I endeavor to give you the best book possible and am always interested in your comments.

Happy reading,

Sandra

Find more titles by Sandra S. Kerns at Smashwords.com.

Check out her Author page at Smashwords.

Connect with Me Online

Website: http://sandrakerns.com

Facebook: Sandra S Kerns Facebook

Twitter: @SandraSKerns

Blog: Ramblings & Reviews

LinkedIn: Sandra on LinkedIn

Pinterest: Sandra S. Kerns on Pinterest

Goodreads: Author Sandra S Kerns

Smashwords: Sandra's Smashwords Author Page

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my daughter-in-law Samantha.

Her cheerful attitude while helping me prepare

for conferences and book launches has

been a true blessing.

~~~

Prologue

A chill danced over Roman’s bare, sweat-slicked skin as he slid the planer over the old banister again. When he extended as far as he could with steady pressure, he pulled it back. Blowing the dust off the wood, he grinned as Miss Hattie’s image popped into his head. She would call the chill a bad omen since the air in the room was still. The room’s temperature hovered at eighty even though it was after ten o’clock at night as well. He shook his head as he stroked a hand over the smooth wood and chuckled at the old woman’s fanciful beliefs.

Positioning the tool for another pass, he started to push it forward. Before the planer moved a foot, the phone in his tool belt rang. The sound in the otherwise silent room made his hands stop mid-slide. Only bad news came with calls this late at night.

He lifted the planer from the banister with one hand and set it on the floor as he grabbed the phone from his tool belt with the other. Roman looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was all too familiar. Might as well get it over with. He pushed accept.

Smirnosky.

Roman Smirnosky?

Wiping the sweat dripping from his hair with his forearm, he affirmed his identity.

This is Sheriff Davis from Beechbrook, Colorado. I’m afraid I have some bad news.

Roman’s body had tensed with the sheriff’s introduction. His knees started to buckle with the last statement. He grabbed hold of the banister. Adam?

Your brother’s on his way to the hospital. I’m calling about your parents. I hate to tell you like this, but they were murdered earlier today.

His concern about Adam being taken to the hospital almost made him miss the other information. When it sunk in, he swore his heart stopped for just a moment.

Mom’s dead? Murdered?

It wasn’t hard to accept someone had killed his father. Silas Smirnosky loved to fight. After he’d kicked his favorite punching bag out, Rooster’s Bar had been where he picked most of them. Roman had expected him to pick one fight to many there. However, someone killing his mother as well didn’t make sense. Silas didn’t take Mom to the bar. The closest thing to socializing he allowed her was grocery shopping and Silas took her to town to do it. Why would anyone kill her, he wondered for a moment, but Adam on his way to the hospital popped back to the front of his mind.

What about Adam?

He’s still in rough shape, but most of that’s from yesterday. I’m more concerned with his mental state. It seems he--

You cannot believe Adam killed them. Roman barely got the words out as the thought alone stole his breath.

I don’t know enough to believe anything more than I’ve told you. I’m concerned because Adam found the bodies. Well, your mother’s body anyway. I’m not sure he even knows your father is dead.

Relief had him leaning against the banister for support. The guilt for once again not being there for his little brother, sent him to his knees. Adam should not have to deal with this. I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance.

You still there, son? The sheriff’s voice broke into Roman’s self-recrimination.

Son? He was nobody’s son. Not since his father beat the crap out of him before kicking him out. He’d threatened to finish the job if Roman ever set foot in the house again. The only reason the threat kept him away was his father had never hit Adam or their mother. Silas had preferred psychological abuse over violence with them. Roman knew it wasn’t less damaging, but he knew his mother would never leave. Thanks to Miss Hattie, Roman had stayed in touch with Adam and done his best to reverse as much of the mind games as he could.

Get your head on straight, man. This is no time for wallowing in pity. Adam needs you.

A question popped into his head as he pulled himself back to his feet and started to remove his tool belt.

Why don’t you think Adam knows about Silas?

He called the station. He was crying so hard all the dispatcher understood was that your mother was dead. When we arrived, I found Adam’s truck parked in their driveway, not his. He’d parked by the side door, so that’s where we entered. There was . . . are you sure you want me to tell you this over the phone?

Roman took a moment to pull his T-shirt over his head before answering.

Yes. I’m on my way, but I need to know what’s going on and why, he said as he grabbed his keys from beside his toolbox before walking out the door.

I understand, the sheriff said. Okay, there was a lot of blood. Your brother had stepped in some and we followed his tracks to your mother’s body in the dining room. We found him sitting on the floor holding her as he rocked back and forth.

The image the sheriff’s words brought to mind was like a punch to Roman’s gut. It started him down the guilt road again. Thankfully, the sheriff continued to talk and Roman forced himself to focus on the man’s voice.

He was mumbling something that sounded like he should have stopped him. That’s why I’m not ready to charge him with anything yet.

The yet concerned him. If Adam had killed their father . . . no, he couldn’t go there.

We found your father upstairs in bed. He was dead, but Adam’s boot prints didn’t lead up or down the stairs. As much blood as there was in both rooms, there would have been a trail if he had found your father.

Reaching his truck, he climbed inside, slammed the door, and turned the key in the ignition. Looking out the rear window, he pressed the accelerator to the floor, sending dirt and rocks flying as he backed out of the driveway. As soon as the front tires hit pavement, he shifted gears and sped down the road.

Pain burned in his chest for what Adam must have endured. His brother was a gentler soul than Roman could ever hope to be. Roman preferred to face things head-on no matter the consequence. Being raised by a bully had left its mark on him. He never backed down from a fight, though he didn’t use his fists anymore. That thought reminded him of the sheriff’s earlier comment.

You said Adam’s in rough shape. What happened?

He and your father got into it yesterday outside Rooster’s Bar. It got so bad someone called my office. My deputy had a hard time breaking it up.

I find that hard to believe. Adam doesn’t like fighting.

I guess he reached his limit this time. He said your father hit your mother and he wanted Silas arrested. When I spoke to her later, she wouldn’t verify it, so there was nothing I could do, the sheriff said. I’m on my way to the hospital to see if Adam can explain what happened tonight.

Roman turned onto I25 heading north. I’ll be there within a couple of hours.

After he disconnected from the sheriff, he called Miss Hattie.

I’ve been expecting your call, Roman. I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot now. What do you need me to do?

If the situation weren’t so serious, he’d laugh. Miss Hattie always knew what was going on. At seventy-one, she was sharper than most young people were nowadays.

Get a lawyer for Adam. The sheriff is on his way to question him. From what the sheriff said about his condition, I don’t want Adam saying a word to him.

I’ll take care of it. You’re on your way? You know you’re the only one who will be able to handle Adam. He won’t trust anyone else.

Roman wondered if that was really true, or she was trying to make him feel good.

I’m already on the road. I’ll be there soon barring any speeding tickets.

Be careful. I don’t want to have to take care of both of you while you heal.

Memories of the older woman taking him in after the beating by his father almost blinded him. He shook it off seconds before cutting off an SUV pulling a trailer. A horn blared. The last thing he needed was to cause an accident, he thought glancing in the rearview mirror at the other driver. In the glow of the SUV’s dashboard lights, he could see a young woman holding up one hand and leaning forward as if asking him why. He figured he was lucky she wasn’t flipping him off. Roman turned his attention back to Miss Hattie.

No, ma’am. I’ll be careful. Thanks, I’ll see you soon, he said and disconnected. Wishing his truck were a plane, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The 75 mph speed limit sign he passed barely registered as the needle on his speedometer hit 90.

Chapter One

Roman pushed the lawn mower over the last row of tall dry weeds. The swish of the blades on the old push lawnmower was the only sound that disturbed the early morning air. When he reached the fence, he turned and looked over his work. It didn’t look much better. Maybe if he fixed up the old rusted fencing. He shook his head as he dragged the old push mower behind him to load back in his truck.

Like mowing weeds and fixing the fence will make a difference.

His thoughts continued down the depressing road. The people in the Bury Patch didn’t care what it looked like. They were dead. The people of Beechbrook clearly didn’t care. No one had taken the time to mow the place in ages. This cemetery held the remains of people the town preferred to forget. People buried here weren’t considered good enough for the church cemetery. That thought pulled his gaze to the last headstones he had helped place.

The Beecher’s. One of the most respected families in the middle-of-nowhere Colorado town. Their unexplained and horrendous deaths scared the town’s people silly. Roman remembered the day the pastor had told Old Mr. Beecher’s son they were worried about vandalism if they buried his parents in the church’s cemetery. It seemed money didn’t buy much once you were dead, Roman thought, and then he remembered how Mr. Beecher’s son reacted. He’d smiled. Kyle Beecher had smiled at the man and shook his head. He’d told him not to worry because he didn’t want his parents buried there anyway. They would rest beside people they respected. Honest, hard-working people, who didn’t judge others. Roman’s respect for the man grew astronomically that day. He even told Kyle he would take care of the cemetery property.

It wasn’t a hard promise and he’d kept it until he left town. Roman had fond memories of the little cemetery. He looked back at the mound of dirt sitting next to an empty grave in front of an old dead tree. His mother used to sit under the tree and read. Back then, there’d been something almost magical about the Bury Patch. He remembered coming with her and listening to stories about the people buried here. They weren’t scary stories of ghosts and demons. Actually, they weren’t stories at all, but the history of hard-working people. He’d loved those times. Unfortunately, his gaze moved to the far side of the cemetery where another hole waited. His eyes narrowed and his chest tightened.

I should have put you down before I left. He spat on the ground. Just thinking about his father left a bad taste in his mouth.

Slamming the truck’s gate closed, he pulled the T-shirt from his waistband. After wiping his face and dusting off his shoulders, he pulled it over his head. His gaze found the place waiting for his mother’s body. He should feel sad. This was the mother he’d loved enough to die for. Sixteen years hadn’t dulled the pain of her betrayal. His brother’s current condition had ripped that wound wide open and poured in fresh salt.

Damn it! he pounded his fist into the side of the truck. His eyes burned. Breathing hurt. Damn it.

He stood ramrod straight, with his eyes closed and every muscle in his body tensed and strained. If he were a bomb, he’d explode.

Losing control won’t help. Take control. Breathe.

A minute later, he shook off the last of the anger. He fell back against the side of his truck. He needed a little mindless time before going back.

From here, he could see for miles. The Rocky Mountains were to his right, the plains to his left, and nothing but blue sky and sunshine over his head.

So why do I feel like a hailstorm is about to hit? he said out loud. Then his gaze continued south and he saw a bank of clouds. Great. It will probably hit when the funeral starts. That’s fitting.

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t change the weather, so he stayed there to enjoy the quiet and the sun on his face for a bit. When he opened his eyes, he saw a vehicle turn onto the dirt road leading up to the cemetery. It wasn’t Miss Hattie, Adam, or the sheriff. Roman couldn’t think of anyone else with a reason to be here. It was obvious no one ever came up here. Whoever it was didn’t seem in a hurry, so hopefully it wasn’t someone with more bad news. He watched without moving until they parked a few feet behind his truck. When the driver’s door opened, he pushed off from the truck and turned.

One sneakered foot, attached to a feminine ankle and trim calf, slid to the ground. Its mate joined it, but the owner of the feet turned back inside the vehicle. He heard the woman talking to someone, but didn’t see anyone else in the vehicle. She must have picked up flowers because he could see some over the top of the door. Then she talked some more before stepping back and pushing the door closed with one foot.

Hi. Her voice made the simple word sound like soft wind chimes. The sound of the small furry missile that launched itself from her arms was an intense contrast.

Hey, Cujo. Take it easy.

Copernicus, down. I’m so sorry.

He bent down and picked up the wriggling mass of fur. Holding it out in front of him, he considered the animal then looked back at the woman. He couldn’t help himself. Copernicus?

She laughed and shrugged when he handed the dog back to her. After the Polish astronomer. My dad and I were big star gazers.

So, he gets loose and you run around town calling Copernicus? Roman was shocked when he heard himself teasing her. Then again, it was that or be jealous of the dog now cuddled up next to the woman’s chin.

No, she laughed. I call him Nicky most of the time. It’s Copernicus when he’s naughty.

The glare she attempted to aim at the dog bordered on hysterical. Obviously, the dog’s owner rarely reprimanded him. Of course, he wasn’t big enough to get in much trouble from Roman’s point of view. He would be a tasty little appetizer for a wild animal though. Glancing at the woman’s vehicle again, he noted the New York plates.

Well, be sure not to let him get loose out here. You’ll want to keep him on a leash when he’s outside. I don’t mean to scare you, but coyotes are pretty common out here.

Thanks for the reminder. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. You forget about things like that.

The comment had him shuffling through memories trying to place her. You’ve been gone sixteen years, chances are good you never knew her.

She juggled the dog and flowers to one arm and held out her hand to him. I’m Kaia Beecher.

Beecher? Whoa, that was weird since he’d just been thinking about her . . . father?

Yes. I came to put flowers on my grandparents’ graves. I’m afraid no one has been back in so long they probably need some serious work. She held her hand out again. And you are?

Roman wiped his hand on his jeans before grasping her hand. Roman.

Are you the grounds keeper for the cemetery, Mr. Roman?

He cocked his head wondering where she thought she was, and then he remembered the lawn mower in his truck.

No. There is no groundskeeper here. I was up here the other day. When I realized how unkempt it was, I decided to mow it before the funeral later today. I’ll leave you to your visit.

That’s okay. I haven’t been back since I was ten or so. Gran and Gramps have waited almost twenty years. I doubt they’ll mind a few more minutes, though I should get busy so I’m out of the way before the funeral starts.

Reminded of what the rest of his day held, Roman nodded. You’ve got a couple of hours before that, but the rain might get here sooner.

Rain? It’s gorgeous today.

For the moment. It’s going to change soon, he said, with a wave and climbed into his truck.

As he drove away, he watched her in his rearview mirror. A Beecher back in town. That was almost as amazing as his return. He wondered why she was back. Maybe the family had finally decided to sell the old place. He wished them luck. With that farm’s history, it would be a hard sell.

# # #

Kaia pulled into the rutted driveway and parked in front of the trailer she’d unhooked earlier. She’d stopped at a grocery store and bought flowers for the cemetery before she even reached Beechbrook. It seemed right to her that she should pay her respects to them before entering their home. With the gray clouds gathering overhead, she was second-guessing her decision.

Nicky jumped in her lap from the console, his body shaking with excitement at all the new smells, or maybe he needed to pee. It had surprised her how quiet he became when they had walked through the old rusted gate of the little cemetery. It had felt like he knew it was a special place and didn’t want to be disrespectful. She shook her head at the odd thoughts and hugged the dog.

It’s official. I have gone off the deep end.

He licked her face and she laughed.

Okay, boy. What do you think of your new home? He yipped as if answering. You’re right. New is a misnomer, but it is ours.

For a minute, despite Nicky’s encouragement otherwise, Kaia sat and stared at the old farmhouse. This farm was the only connection she had left to her family. Well, if you didn’t count the boxes she’d shipped to a storage facility and the trailer full of belongings parked by the house. Other than needing a coat of paint, it didn’t appear to have changed much in the seventeen years since she’d been here as a child. She still couldn’t believe it was hers. Couldn’t believe her father hadn’t sold it after his parents died. Then she realized it was the one remaining connection to his parents. Maybe he simply couldn’t let it go. After all, his grandfather had built it. She smiled remembering how proud he and his father were of that fact.

Her smile wavered remembering the argument with the executor of her parents’ will. He’d been a long time family friend. Even more than that, he was her ex-fiancé’s father for heaven’s sake. The day she had told him she planned to move here, everything changed. He had ordered her to sell the property.

Daniel had given her some reasonable arguments. She didn’t know anyone out there. She would be alone with no protection. She didn’t have a job. Grant loved her and needed her. Then the last ditch effort, she was family. He knew her parents would want him to look after her. He could do that better if she stayed in New York rather than if she was halfway across the country.

Yes, they’d been reasonable, if Daniel was a normal caring person, which he wasn’t. Yes, Grant loved her, but as a friend. It hadn’t taken long for them to figure out they were not couple material. Then Daniel had made his last attempt to keep her in New York. When he’d said she was family and he wanted to look after her, she’d gotten a chill. He was trying to sound loving and comforting, attributes she’d never associated with him. Instead it felt more like he wanted to control her. The uncomfortable thought gave her another chill. Why is it so important to him to keep me there?

She shook her head at the question she had asked herself a hundred times. Now that she was here, it didn’t matter. No one was controlling her destiny but herself.

Obviously, the man never really knew me if he thought I would sell the only tangible memory I have left of my family.

Nicky yipped and she looked at the darkening sky in the rearview mirror. I think Mr. Roman was right. It looks-- Deep booming thunder shook the car. And sounds like rain. Guess we better get a move on.

Clipping the leash on his collar, she climbed out of the car and set him on the ground. In a flash, he had the leash pulled to the limit. He definitely had a terrier’s curiosity. As a rule, she would have made him walk properly, but he’d been cooped up for a week. He deserved some time just to be a dog. She wasn’t stupid, though. She remembered Mr. Roman’s warning about coyotes. Nicky’s leash remained securely in her hand.

She grabbed her backpack from the floorboard and slipped it over her shoulders before lifting out the cooler. When lightning cracked again, she took a step toward the house. Then she remembered her coffee. Turning back to the car, she grabbed her travel mug. If she could only make one trip before the rain started, she wanted to have her caffeine available. Thankfully, the cooler was on wheels. She adjusted her load and walked toward the house.

When the rain hit, thanks to his extra-long leash, Nicky was already dancing on the old covered porch. Kaia hadn’t been as lucky. Huge, fat, cold raindrops poured down on her head as if someone had split the sky open. She dashed for the porch, banging the reluctant cooler up the creaky, old, wooden steps.

Once under cover of the front porch, she stood back and looked out across the plains. Probably half a mile away it wasn’t even raining. She could still see the sun bouncing off the clouds. A sudden wind blew rain onto the porch, startling her. It might not be raining to the east, but glancing to the west it looked like it would rain here for a while. She shivered thinking of the funeral scheduled at the little cemetery. Maybe they would postpone it. She hoped the people wouldn’t have to deal with this while they said goodbye to their loved ones. After sending up a prayer of comfort for those dealing with loss, she reached in her back pocket for the key.

Okay, boy, time to see if this old key works. Knowing Mr. Wentworth, he could have given me the wrong key just to be difficult, she said setting her cup on the porch beside the door. I don’t know what his problem is with me living here.

Nicky barked a few times and Kaia sighed.

You’re right. I do know what his problem is, but it’s his problem. Grant and I broke off the engagement because we knew it was a mistake. We’re fine being friends, better actually. His father just needs to get over it. Shrugging her shoulder, she dropped the backpack on top of the cooler like an exclamation point to the thought.

Pulling the screen door open, she held it with her hip and tried to fit the key into the hole. A rusty squeak greeted her ears before the key wouldn’t go any further.

I did not drive 1700 miles to be locked out of my house, she said. She looked over her shoulder toward the car. Her mind tried to remember where she’d put the box with the WD40. Not that she planned on getting drenched to find it. She wiggled the key some more, but it wouldn’t give. She tried to think of something else that might lubricate the mechanism. Pulling the key out, she knelt next to the cooler and lifted the backpack off. Nicky immediately sat and lifted his paw expecting an ice cube for a paw shake. The wind had picked up and Kaia didn’t even want to dig through the ice let alone handle any, but she tossed him one anyway.

After pushing a few items around, her eyes found something that gave her hope. Mayonnaise. That could work.

Grabbing the jar, she opened it, scooped some out with a finger and rubbed it on the key. Maybe not her best idea, or recommended by a locksmith, but if it worked, she might send it in to one of those your best idea columns.

Cross your paws, Nic.

Kaia inserted the key again then closed her eyes before turning it.

Please let it work, Gran, she whispered. One more breath and then she wiggled it. The squeak wasn’t quite as sharp. She wiggled it again then applied a little more pressure with her next twist. It resisted but then popped.

She smiled at her ingenuity or maybe Gran had helped. Kaia wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. It was one more hurdle she’d overcome on the way to her new