AN: Hello dear readers, thank you all for your wonderful reviews and follows. Here's a new chapter for you to enjoy.
ANII: Okay, I'm not crazy and I know it's really impossible to do what Wade's doing in this chapter, nut this is the wonderful world of fiction, in which anything's possible, right? So just go along, please?
Disclaimer: As much as I wanted the Easter Bunny to be original and bring me Wilson Bethel with (only) a bow on him, I just got chocolate eggs, as usual. very good eggs, though, so I'll forgive him. in the meantime, I don't own Wilson, or Wad, or any other part of Hart of Dixie. Oh wel...on with the story...
Chapter 2
"Wade Kinsella, what are you doing here?"
"I need your help."
The blonde belle looks at him incredulously. Sure, she likes Wade well enough, knows him pretty well too, having grown up with him, but she cannot approve of his behavior. The news he cheated on Dr. Hart and subsequently chased her out of town spread like wildfire in the days following and got everyone in a frenzy of anger, directed at the bartender. And while Zoe may not be her favorite person, Lemon still believed she didn't deserve Wade's infidelity. Plus, with her gone, her dad has been swamped and irritable these past weeks. So no, Wade is definitely neither an expected nor a welcome visitor.
"What for? And why would I want to help you?"
She sizes him up as if he is no more than a cockroach trapped under her shoe.
"I know you don't like me a lot right now, nobody really does, but it's not for myself, not really anyway. It's for Zoe. And Lavon technically. I want to renovate the carriage house. I need money to do that. There's no bank in the world that'll give me a loan and the insurance company isn't exactly generous either, so I figured we could do something with the town pitching in. Organize a fund raiser or something. And that's where you come in. You're great at organizing events like this. You do it all the time. Please, Lemon, I know you never cared for Zoe and you really don't care for me either right now, but don't know who else to turn to!"
She regards him closely as he stands in her doorway. Never in all the years she's known him has Lemon Breeland seen Wade Kinsella looking this vulnerable. He's a sad, defeated shadow of the charming, devil-may-care guy he has always pretends to be. It's clear that the day he lost Zoe due to his own idiocy, he lost a vital part of himself too. The hurt and desperation are his almost palpable companions these days.
And this little fundraiser thing he's come up with is a way of redemption. Never one to express his feelings in a vocal way, he is now trying to do so with actions. And that in itself is so sweet that Lemon knows she can't possible deny his request.
She steps aside to let him in. He follows her wordlessly and she points to a couch to indicate he should sit down. Leaving him in her living room, she quickly hops into the kitchen to get some tea and cookies for refreshment. On her way back, she grabs her phone and laptop.
"All set, now let's start planning this little happening."
It's amazing to watch Lemon Breeland at work. With her laptop open on the coffee table in front of them and her phone in hand, she sweet talks, bribes or bullies all people whose input is required until everyone is ready to do her bidding and even be grateful to do so.
She's a force to be reckoned with and Wade is mighty glad to have touched upon her kind side. Flipping her pen, she's checking off the many items on their to-do list.
"Okay. We have the town square booked. Agnes will make her tea, you'll look into a band we can book and please no more Lilly-Anne Lonergan!"
He gives a wan smile at that.
"We got AB's help with organizing a bake-sale and a games centre for the kids. This should be fun."
"I hope fun enough to raise the money we need."
"You do know hiring a contractor will cost a fortune, right?"
"Yeah…I'm not gonna do that."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not hiring a contractor. The structure of the building is sound, the foundations are strong enough, the plumbing is all intact. It'll be mostly replacing the woodwork, some stucco, some rewiring and finding new furniture. Give it a coat of paint of course. I might need some help with the wiring, but the rest is on me."
"You're going to do this all by yourself? Wade, that's madness!"
"Is it? There's nothing I can't do myself. Plus, I need to do this."
"For her."
"Yes. But also for me. Even if she won't come running back to me and I don't expect her to, I want to take this chance to show her that I can make a grand gesture, that I do want to better myself."
The hand on his arm is warm and firm and strangely encouraging.
"I'm sure you'll turn it into a real little palace."
"Let's get the cash first."
"Oh don't worry. We'll shake the good people of Bluebell out of all their spare change and then some. I can be very…persuasive, you know."
"Lemon Breeland, I had no idea."
How right she turned out to be. The day of the fundraising the weather is perfect, the drinks are nice and sweet, the band he's managed to book (and gets to play with!) is awesome and the money is really pouring in.
At the end of the day, Lemon starts counting the notes and the coins at the corner table of the Rammer Jammer, Wade hovering nearby, anxious to know if it will be enough to fulfill his plans. Finally, she punches in some last numbers on her calculator and tallies it up. Then gasps.
"What? Is it…enough?"
"This is…Wade, unless you want to build the Taj Mahal, this is, damn!"
"Lemon Breeland, did you just swear?"
Without acknowledging his question, she scribbles a number on a piece of paper and hands it to him. He takes it and looks.
"Lemon…are you sure you didn't misplace the decimal point?"
"Yes. I checked it twice. This is for real. Some of these donations are pretty spectacular!"
"It's…damn!"
"That's what I said."
"Yeah and you were right! Triple damn! Who here in Bluebell has this kind of money lying around?"
She just shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't think we should find out. Let's just be grateful."
Forgetting himself for a moment, he bends over and kisses her cheek.
"You are a trooper, Lemon. Thanks a million! Next weeks, all your drinks are on me. Let's start now. What's your poison?"
They share a drink in companiable silence, before Lemon gives him an awkward, yet well meant hug and leaves to go home. Wade's got the small cash box, now locked, with the key tucked away in his wallet, so he can take it to the bank the next morning. When the money is safely transferred onto his account, he can start his plan to turn Zoe Hart's home into a real home again.
Lavon Hayes is worried. A month has gone by since he's given his permission and help for the fundraiser and for seven days a week almost 24 hours a day, Wade Kinsella has been running himself ragged. He's working late shifts at the Rammer Jammer and during the day, he's either at the building site, on the road to order or pick up supplies, on the phone bullying people (lessons learned from one miss Breeland) or in a comatose like sleep for perhaps a total of four hours after coming home in the middle of the night. He regularly forgets to eat unless Lavon forces a sandwich down his throat, stinks like a skunk with a mixture of cement, paint and sweat and has so far warded off every offer to lift his burden.
There's nothing he can do for his friend. Though he keeps a close eye on him, Lavon knows this is something Wade needs to do. With every plank sawed and hammered in place, with every tile carved and glued, with every stroke of paint, he is redeeming himself, fighting for forgiveness, whose is irrelevant, proving he is worth more than anyone's disapproval.
Like Noah building his arch, he feels that this is the task he's been given to set the record straight. And it is truly amazing to watch the progress he is making.
For Wade himself, this feels cathartic. He's really doing this. He can see the results immediately and they get more visible every day. Though he did get the original building plans from the town archive and hire an architect to come up with the reconstruction plan and drawings, it really was all the help he got.
It might be hard to explain to others what's going on inside his head, though he thinks Lavon gets it for the most part, but he knows what he's doing and why.
Every time he puts op another wall on the house, a wall in his heart comes tumbling down. For the first time in his life, Wade allows himself to feel, really feel everything, as if airing out the stuffed closet in his brain and laying the skeletons to rest.
There's his anger and pain of losing his mom. As he shouts his accusations to the open skies, (to her for losing the fight, to God for not helping her) he finds release as he hammers away, not caring if he's cursing or crying or muttering in himself since he's alone in his part of the world.
All his insecurities about being a good son, a good brother, a good boyfriend and a good man in general come pouring out of his pores while he lifts heavy objects. His self-loathing must be giving him some kind of super power and he's planning on using it all up, until he no longer has to look in the mirror and see his own weaknesses reflected and enhanced.
Whether the relentless sun is bearing down on him or the rain is coming down hard, he's there. Sometimes he switches on the radio, mostly he prefers the silence, purposefully letting all the previously untouched thoughts come and go.
He watches himself from a distance as he sings his drunken father from the edge of the roof of the hardware store, the town watching as they always do; it's their monthly Bluebell soap opera. Is he a good son for doing this, or a bad one for letting it happen over and over and over again? Should he have had Earl committed years ago?
The rain whispers it's not his fault. His sweat washes away the guilt. The cement covers the pain. What remains is silence. And forgiveness. He's only one man and he's trying, doing the best he can.
He watches himself once more as he entertains a myriad of women. They all merge into one unidentifiable being. Is he a good man for showing them a good time, or a bad one for never really caring (much) for any one of them? Then again, do they care anything about him?
The nails he hammers in the wooded panels pound it into him. He concludes he's neither to blame nor to be applauded for the way he's been living his life so far. It is however time to let the uselessness of this lifestyle go. Another picture forms in his mind. A clear image of the one he wants. He hits the last nail on the head.
She's the kind of person he needs. Not yet who he deserves, but one day, he'll make himself worthy.
He thinks about Jesse. He needs to be a better brother to him. So what if he got away and made something of himself? It wasn't him who appointed Wade to stay at home and be their father's babysitter. He could have gotten out too. It was his own choice for not doing so. The resentment needs to go.
So he lets it go. Late one evening, still tired and smelly from today's labor, he calls his brother and if Jesse's surprised, his voice doesn't reveal it. Hesitantly, then gaining courage and memento, Wade starts talking. Like, really talking. About what he's doing and why. About trying to become a better person and how that includes making amends with Jesse.
He even admits to missing him, which he truly does. They were close once and he's honest and open about needing it back. In reaction to his openness, Jesse opens up too, genuine emotions now all too clear in the slight waver in his voice and the choice of his words. Not everything gets said, but they make an appointment to see each other soon and for the first time in years, when he ends the call, Wade feels the familiar bond they shared before their mother died and he revels in it.
Every evening as he crawls (sometimes literally) into bed, the man in the mirror, though exhausted and filthy, looks a bit more empowered. Calmer. Grown-up and reliable. Someone to be proud of. He likes the change. Who knew aching muscles could feel so good?
A week before Zoe is due to come back, Wade calls in the fire department again to check upon his work, making sure it's habitable and in compliance with all safety rules again. To his relief and pride; all reports come out solid. Zoe's carriage house is deemed safe and sound. And ready, except for her stuff.
Now the fun part can begin. And he actually does need some help with that. Never an expert on girlie things and needs, he charters Rose and AB and drives the girls to Mobile. With an intimate knowledge of Zoe's taste and a quite solid memory of what her place looked like before the fire, the three of them spend an entire weekend picking out furniture, bed linens and accessories. During the day, they haunt the many shops. In the evening, they order whatever they couldn't find in the city online.
In an antique shop, they find some pretty framed pictures of Bluebell during the Civil War and actually some of pre-war New York too. They get both.
On they go. Getting soft carpets for the wooden floor, drapes and blinds for the curtains, bathroom supplies and other stuff. Whatever they can't take with them will be delivered in the next few days.
Zoe has let Lavon know she'll be back on Tuesday and all stuff makes it to the carriage house by Friday morning, giving them four days to decorate the place.
It really is fun. Rose has started to call Wade 'Ty Pennington', a reference he silently takes offense to as he considers the presenter a sissy and the show a sham, with most people still having to put their homes up for foreclosure because someone forgot to tell them about the ridiculous increase in taxes. But hey, she means it as a compliment (he assumes) and she's not a bad kid and an incredible help, so he lets it slide.
More helping hands are arriving by the hour and now that the real hard constructive work is done, Wade takes it, though it's clear to all he is still in charge.
Lavon and George are putting together Zoe's new bookcases and wardrobe. He himself is assembling the antique, handcrafted four poster bed he's found online, ironically thinking this may be the closest he would ever get to her bed again. Oh well, that is not the issue now.
The girls are busying themselves with the less physically demanding jobs like unpacking the vases, statues and smaller items and placing them all around to create a warm feeling of homeliness. Center piece is a framed group picture of all of them in front of the renovated house, with their signatures and some well wishes underneath.
Monday evening rolls around and everything is done. Lavon holds a spontaneous party at the main house, where the entire town drops in to congratulate Wade on the accomplishment of the Herculean task.
Nobody but Lavon can tell how nervous he is. Tomorrow, Zoe will be back. Tomorrow, there's no hiding behind hard helmets and steel boots.
What if she doesn't like it? What if he's gotten it all wrong? What if she calls at the very last moment to tell them she's not coming back after all? What if she is still so angry and disappointed in him that all of his hard work still doesn't matter?
What if she doesn't believe it has been all him in the first place?
Someone hands him a drink and when he looks up, it's to find Lemon looking down on him.
"It's perfect, Wade. A real palace, like I said. And I'm sure she'll see it for what it is. And if she doesn't, I'll just have to move in myself!"
The mere thought of having Lemon as a neighbor makes him choke, but she's not the least bit insulted. Though the house is picture perfect, its location leaves somewhat to be desired, as far as she's concerned. Being wedged in between Wade Kinsella and her ex-fling Lavon Hayes, whom she's not sure she's forgotten all about yet, and owing him rent? No, thanks. She'd rather feed her fingers, one by one, to Burt.
It was meant to get the nervous, fidgety Wade out of his runt and it worked.
"So…you have any idea what time she'll be here tomorrow?"
He shrugs. Of course he knows her flight number and time of arrival by heart.
"Lavon's picking her up in Mobile at ten. So they should be here around eleven, I guess."
"Good. Oh, I can't imagine her reaction when she sees the house. Bet you can't wait."
"I won't be here."
"What? Wade, you of all people need to be here! This is all your work. You got to take the credit for it too!"
"I can't, Lemon. I can't do it. I've been living and breathing this house for months, but now it has to be hers again. And if she wants to thank me, or yell at me, or even simply ignore me, I don't want her to have to do it in front of half the town, because you know people will show up to watch her reaction. I'll go fishing. Be back in the evening."
"But Wade…"
"Don't try to make me change my mind, Lemon. I didn't do this for the glory of it."
"I thought you did this to get her back."
He smiles again, before taking another sip of his drink. How to explain?
"I thought so too when I started. Now, I'm not so sure. I mean, of course I want her back and if making this grand gesture does the trick, I'll be happier than a piglet upon finding a mud pool, but if not…than I've still given myself something even more valuable. The one thing that never should have been solely dependent on Zoe Hart in the first place."
"What's that?"
"Pride."
With a nod, he kisses her cheek again and leaves her standing there. He doesn't notice the look of admiration and indeed pride in her eyes.
At around midnight, he leaves the dwindling crowd and heads back to his own house, passing the gleaming carriage house on the way. The smell of wet paint still hangs in the air, or perhaps it's in him, embedded in his skin, like a permanent perfume. It's not so bad, though.
He was surprised at what he said to Lemon, but he knows he was right. He needed to build himself a backbone, some self esteem. A rite of passage or something like that. During the many hard labor hours, he's come to understand he has never given himself the chance to see something through, always ready to assume he would fail anyway.
Looking back, he doesn't know if he's given up on himself first or if it was the people around him, but it hardly matters. Setting the bar low for yourself, just because nobody has ever been bothered to set it higher is a lame excuse. It's a cop-out. It's a coward's way. And he's decided to stop being that cowardice man. From now on, whatever he wants to do, he'll go ahead and do it. Accomplish it. Achieve it. He might stumble and fall along the way, but he'll just have to learn to crawl up, dust off and keep going.
Hopefully with Zoe at his side, but she's become more of a catalyst than a goal on itself. He wants her back, but more than that, he wants to be able to move on with his head held high regardless of whether or not that's in the stars.
Because it can only be in the stars if she sees the change in him. Sees it, accepts it and changes right along with him. There will be no more 'casual sex' or 'casually monogamous' mind games. No more bringing books to dates because she thinks they have too little in common to make it through one bloody picnic. No more parading George Tuckers, Jesse Kinsella's or Judsons in front of him as if to illustrate what she wants him to become.
Wade Kinsella is Wade Kinsella and though he's upgraded his version and user friendliness, he's finally reached a point where he's built enough self-esteem not to be bothered by their non-existent superiority. So if that's still what she wants or expects him to be, than at least he'll be able to walk away without being crushed. He'll be sad, but he'll live.
It's in this state of mind that he packs his fishing gear and drives of early in the morning, taking one last glance at the carriage house before hitting the gas.
Next installment...Zoe comes home...
Reviews still welcome. I love them.