Oliver's Furniture Store was one of the oldest family run businesses in Westacre proper, next to Nieman's Grocery and the R&R Cafe, all situated in the four block radius that made up town center.

The bell above the door rang pleasantly as River and Jilly walked into Oliver's. Without too much trouble, they settled on a small grey sectional with a chaise on one end, and some coordinating chairs, a nice round oak dining room table and chairs that would fit perfectly under the antique chandelier, and bedroom sets for each of them. Andrew, the lucky salesman who was making the commission of his lifetime, readied the paperwork and they settled on a delivery time for the next day at 10AM.

Satisfied with her purchases and feeling like they were on the right track, starting fresh, she led Jilly, who had reported that she was starving and if she didn't eat soon she'd blow away with the tumbleweeds, the two blocks to the R&R Cafe where they had an early lunch; a BLT and fries for her, and a burger deluxe with onion rings for Jilly. It was delicious, as was everything they managed to cook up at R&R. Nothing changed there.

A short stop at Nieman's for groceries and they had officially managed to spend an entire morning without running into anyone she knew. Which was a small miracle in itself. They headed the three minute drive back to Brickbauer Lane, and she was surprised to see an Oliver's delivery truck sitting in the street outside the house.

She pulled in the drive and they climbed out.

The delivery driver rounded the back of the truck and greeted them at the front walk. "Afternoon," he tipped the bill of his faded blue baseball cap emblazoned with the logo of the furniture store, still looking down at the clipboard in his hands.

"Hi," she said, curious as to why they were here already. "There must be some kind of mix-up, we're not on the delivery schedule until tomorrow morning."

He marked off a couple of things on his sheet. "No ma'am no mixup. We had somebody reschedule so I moved you up, figured why not get you set up so you can sleep in your new beds tonight."

"Oh, well that's awfully nice..." The rest of the words stuck in her throat when he looked up from his paperwork with a smile and her eyes connected with his. If she didn't know better, she'd have liked what she saw. 

There were crows feet around his dusty blue eyes but overall, the years had treated him well. Same tall muscular build. If she'd have seen him on the street and didn't know him, she'd think him friendly. But all she saw was what he was; jock, bully, womanizer. Reckless and irresponsible. Jackson Powers.

He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, glancing down at his feet then back at her again. "Nice to see you, River."

She flipped her keys around in her hand nervously. Let's just get this over with. "Jackson," she nodded.

"Do you have my princess bed in that big truck?" Jilly piped up from beside her, arm linked around hers.

He looked down at her and smiled widely. "Yes I do," he said tapping his clipboard.

"Jilly, why don't you go inside and make sure your boxes are moved out of the way so Mr. Jackson here can get your furniture into your room."

Jilly ran off inside. River's feet felt like they were stuck in the cement of the walk and she was becoming increasingly aware of the silence that was ensuing.

"Well, I spose I should get started then." He cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms. "If you want to just let me know where you want things as I bring them in, I'd be happy to get you all situated."

"That would be great, thanks." She walked up onto the porch and bent to adjust the mechanism on the screen door so it would stay open. Something shot off and pieces and parts ended up hanging and falling off. She picked them up and fumbled with them, put them back together, then straightened with a triumphant smile, only to have it all fall apart again. 

"Shit," she muttered under her breath and started picking up the bits again as Jackson's booted footsteps sounded on the porch behind her.

"Here let me help you with that," he said, setting down a dining room chair he was carrying. He bent next to her, helping pick up the parts and held out his hand for the rest.

Reluctantly, she dropped them into his open palm. "Thanks," she said again and propped her hands on her hips, watching him as he slapped things here and there and had it put back together and propped open in no time. Show off.

"There. Good as new," he said, dusting his hands off and straightening, smiling.

Maverick wandered out the door and gave Jackson a sniff, then lay down under the porch swing.

"That's a heck of a guard dog you've got there," Jackson laughed, picking the chair up again and walking into the house.

She glared at Maverick and his sudden inability to sense total and complete jerk. Then felt bad. After all, the man had just fixed her door. Maybe she was the jerk.

Maverick lifted his head and snorted at her.

"Traitor," she said, and walked about two steps inside before Jilly nearly trampled her.

"Mom!"

"Yes, sweets, what is it?"

"I want a snack," she said, teetering back and forth from one foot to another.

"Oh crap! The groceries!"

"Oh crap! You said oh crap!" Jilly said, and slapped a hand over her own mouth.

Jackson walked past with a grin on his face.

She shot Jilly a look. "Come help me carry the bags."

With Jilly situated at a makeshift box table with her snack, River began putting away the groceries. She stopped and stood for a moment, looking around the room, deciding on where to keep things and wondering where in the tower of boxes her pots and pans were.

Jackson popped his head around the kitchen doorway. "I've got your butcher block," he said, wheeling the portable block around the corner and into the center of the small room.

Jilly ran through with the garbage from her snack, tossed it into the garbage sack hanging on the back door, and ran back the direction she came.

Jackson let out a chuckle. "She's great," he commented. "She's gotta be, what, six?"

"Seven actually," she corrected, not sure how she felt about discussing her child with someone who used to pummel other kids in school every chance he got.

"So she'll be in second grade this fall, right?"

"...ya." She started deconstructing her box tower looking for the one labeled pots and pans.

"My daughter'll be in second grade too. Stella."

"That's nice," she said, continuing her search in hopes that he'd take the hint and get back to work.

"Whatchya looking for?" he asked.

She slapped one of the boxes down on the floor a little too hard.

"Sorry, I'll just get back to it," he said and exited the room quickly before she could say anything else.

Heat rose into her cheeks. What is wrong with you River? Just because he's a jerk didn't mean she had to be. Jackson continued to carry, cart, and wheel things in from the truck. About an hour later, the beds were assembled, and the rest of the furniture was in place.

He walked back into the house a final time with his clipboard, followed by Maverick, who sat down next to him. "If I can just get you to sign this, I'll get out of your hair," he said politely, but she could see an edge behind his smile as his eyes shifted to look around the room.

"I'm sorry if I was a bit short, it's just been a long day. Well, a long couple weeks actually," she explained, not sure if she was trying to make herself feel better or him. He nodded and she took the pen from his calloused hand and signed, handed it back to him.

"Okay, then, see you around," he said and turned to leave. One hand on the open screen door, he stopped and looked back.

Jilly bounced into the room and grabbed a couple of her Barbies off the floor, then bounced away, Maverick following.

He smiled and closed the door, remaining inside. His gears were turning too, she could tell, and he seemed to be struggling to find the words. He tucked the clipboard under his arm and leaned back against the door, adjusting his hat. "You know, I always wished that you'd come back someday."

"What?" she asked, taken aback. "Why?"

He fidgeted with the gloves in his hand and stuffed them into his back pocket. "So I could thank you."

Her gut churned, instinct screaming that this was a setup. "Thank me? What on earth would you need to thank me for?"

He examined his hands and kicked at the floor, taking a deep breath. "Well the last time we spoke wasn't exactly pleasant."

She scoffed, remembering exactly what he was referring to. They were 18 and newly graduated. It was the night he'd nearly drowned her cousin Ben when he pushed him off Bleak Creek Bridge and she had laid into him. 

You're nothing but a bully, Jackson Powers! You feel so bad about yourself that you got to treat everyone else like dirt! Well guess what? You'll get yours someday. And I hope for you that it isn't near as bad as what you've dished out, because there's not a soul on earth that deserves that sort of treatment. Not even you.

"It was all true, and I deserved every bit of it," his deep voice snapped her back, as if he'd been reliving it in his own head too. "Hell, I deserved way worse than what anybody could have ever given me. Even if you said I didn't." He straightened and crossed his arms over himself, frowning. "Thing is, after that night, you kind of became the voice in my head. Nobody had ever stared me down the way you did; called me out on my bullshit. I'll never forget the look in your eyes." He paused and raised his eyes from the floor.

She shifted uncomfortably, as it dawned on her how many times he might have practiced this speech should he ever see her again.

"It took a while to sink in all the way. But even before it did, every time, I always heard you."

She crossed her arms over her chest, not sure what to say. Was this really happening? Jackson all presumably reformed and in her living room, pouring out his—well—whatever it was— to her.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know that." He uncrossed his tanned arms and pulled the clipboard out again. "Thank you." He turned back to the door and it let out a squeak as it opened and shut with a whoosh.

She stood at the screen, still dumbfounded as he trotted down the steps and headed towards his truck. "Hey, Jackson," she called out hesitantly and he stopped and turned. "See you around." She tried the words out and they didn't sting as much as she thought they would. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He waved his clipboard in the air. "That you will," he said and a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Welcome home, River."