by J C Hartung
“He was screaming at you and his words were more suited to a back-alley brawl than a classy restaurant, or any restaurant for that matter. He towered over you and while he was yelling, you didn’t slow in your work. You bit your lip in what I thought was an attempt to stop it from trembling.” Dave shifted in his chair and leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. He had a way of conveying the most important points of any argument.
“When he walked away from you your hands kept moving, they didn’t flinch. I thought you were going to fall apart and turn into a puddle at your feet. But you kept working and your eyes came up to look out at the tables, and do you remember what you did?” he asked as he took her hand.
She shook her head, she didn’t remember.
“You smiled. I couldn’t believe it, there was a smile on your face. When you saw me watching you, you nodded your head, gave a wink, and smiled brighter. He couldn’t touch you, you told me that clearly.”
Raina smiled now, not because she remembered that moment, but because whatever that moment held for Dave, it was the start of the life she knew.
“Rae, your eyes shone brighter than your smile and there was such determination in them. That is why I brought Trish back the next day. Honey, where did that light go? The light that said, you can throw anything you want my way, but you can’t touch me.”
He let go of her hand and leaned back into his lounger, obviously feeling he’d made his point as he closed his eyes to the sun. She knew he didn’t want an answer or for her to respond in any way; his question was enough for her to think of, never mind need to defend.
They sat in silence for a long while. She was the first to make a move. She took her full cup and rose slowly. She walked past Dave and on impulse turned back, kissed his cheek and made her way up to the house where the little ones were beginning to stir.
Raina left Ollie with the family by mid-afternoon the next day. She had a full week of work ahead and needed to head home early to prepare, or that was her excuse anyway. She’d see some of them when she met them to pick up Oliver the next weekend, the rest she would see in a few weeks for the birthday party.
It had been a surprisingly relaxing weekend but she was tired. Emotional instability combined with staying up late and listening to all the details of teen romance and friendships were exhaustive tasks she was not conditioned for.
As she drove home, she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Shanna’s description of the boy she was desperately in love with, the boy who had held her hand and walked her home on the last day of school. It was all so sweet and innocent, and oh, how her bones ached for that simple, carefree sort of rush. According to Shana, he was a perfect blend of the most famous boy band star and the current teen movie heart throb. What could be more exciting, Raina wondered, with a surprising giggle! She wondered if Shanna, like herself when she was younger, had the ability to fall in and out of love with the smallest hint of encouragement.
She walked in the house around four o’clock and instead of sliding onto the sofa and drifting into immediate sleep she hauled her stuff up to her room and got to work at scrubbing every room from top to bottom. Like the least cool one of them all she felt there was something immensely rewarding in being able to walk through the house for more than an hour before disaster ensues.
She would revel in cleanliness for a week. There would be no random cars or Lego pieces to step on and curse at while hopping on one foot. There would be nothing sticky to stumble upon at the most inopportune moment. There would be one less thing to do for the week.
Two hours of intensive work later, she sunk into a chair and stared out the window.
Now what?
She looked absently around the room. Every piece of her former life had been transplanted here, simply picked up and placed into this new world. The pictures that lined the shelves, took their place to remind Oliver where he came from; to remind her of where they used to be, and to keep Mark a part of it.
It was so quiet; the only sounds available were her own thoughts, and that wasn’t necessarily a productive sound to call upon. She could also hear Dave asking, where’d the light go? The one that said, you can’t touch me?
Only she wasn’t ready to ask herself that yet. She wasn’t ready to know if it was really gone, or how hard it would be to fight to find it. Who was Raina Joy Sawyer? Who had she been? And bigger still, who could she be? That was the hard one…..where would she have to start to figure out who she could be?
She didn’t want to think about it, not yet. So she made a decision. Instead of steeping herself in the woes of life, and allowing herself if only briefly, to be lost in the hollows of loneliness, she changed her shoes and headed into the garage where she prepped for the morning’s work.
Chapter Six
The stool was in just the right spot. Now I won’t miss anything and I can help, he thought with satisfaction. That’s what he loved to do; figure stuff out and help. Helping was one of his favorites!
Climbing onto the stool by the counter gave a new perspective. He could see different things and he felt different; just a bit more important and useful. He could see a long line of tools with chords, but those he wasn’t allowed to touch. Behind that were the hammers and other funny looking things. On the other side was a row of metal bendy things that he thought smelled a little bit like Granddad when he came home from work.
There was a tall man walking towards him. He didn’t want to be noticed, so he hopped down from the stool and snuck around the corner of the desk so he could see, but not be seen.
The man stopped every now and then to look at something down one of the aisles, or to pick up one of the products on the shelves at the end that everyone always seemed to be fussing over. The man scrunched his nose and absently put a bottle back on the shelf. He’d seen that look before; it was the one his mom made when she thought something wasn’t important.
He kept coming towards the desk and looking around at everything. The closer he got the taller he grew. He was wearing jeans with rips and dark stains on them, kinda like the ones Uncle Dave wore the day he fixed the shed at the cottage. Only Uncle Dave’s had green and purple paint on them from when he painted Stephie’s bedroom. Maybe the tall man knows Uncle Dave, he wondered.
The man was only steps from the desk now, and as hidden as he thought he was, he knew he’d been discovered.
There was nothing left to do but get back on the stool and help the man.
“What can I help you with?”
It was his turn to scrunch his nose as he concentrated. He knew that was what to say from the hundreds of times he’d heard Granddad say it. He smiled, thinking there was also another thing Granddad did when he was helping someone….what was it?
Oh, yeah!
He was always tapping a pen on the counter, one he’d pulled from the pocket in the back of his pants.
The man smiled warmly, obviously intrigued, but Oliver missed it while he reached for a pen and paper from a shelf under the counter.
Pen in hand and pad of paper on the counter; he wondered what to do next. The man still hadn’t said anything and he was looking around, probably looking for another grown-up. Grown-ups always thought other grown-ups could do things better than kids.
“What’s your name, sir?” he asked, while soaking up all the man’s interesting grown-up details. The man smiled again. The boy tipped his head and thought, he looks nice and his eyes scrunch like Uncle Matthew’s.
“I’m Linc, what’s your name?”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Linc, I’m Oliver,” he said, as he extended his hand to shake, because that’s what grown-up people do.
Linc smiled big again, and because they’d shaken hands and smiled at each other, Oliver felt like they were friends. He turned the pad of paper around and asked his new friend. “Could you write your name on here please, that way I’ll remember.”
While Linc wrote his name in big bold letters, the boy asked another question. “What do you ne
ed today, Mr. Linc?”
Linc smiled again and made another big circle around the store with his eyes. There was still no sign of any staff, but his view didn’t reach to the corners or to the warehouse area. Since he wasn’t in a hurry and this conversation was likely to be the only interaction he’d enjoy of the world on that particular day, he thought, why not? It was never a hardship to spend a bit of time in a hardware store; he felt he could indulge himself and his new little friend.
He didn’t really need anything apart from the special order he’d been told would be ready that day. But the kid was crazy cute and had already proved to be entertaining, plus he looked so eager to help. How could he refuse?
“I’m looking for some glue and some wood.”
Oliver’s eyes lit up bright and he smiled. Two deeply carved notches jumped to life; one on each of his cheeks. He looked the perfect picture of delight, Linc thought. “Do you know where I could find that?”
“I sure do, sir. Follow me!” He grabbed the pen and paper and hopped off the stool.
Surprised laughter rumbled its way to Linc’s lips and he thought, what do you know; the kid took me straight to it! He reached for one of the bottles that lined the shelf, and then he turned back to the kid.
“You know where everything is around this place?” he asked, watching the seriousness in the kid’s expression.
“Not everything, but I helped to line these up nice and straight before we had coffee break.”
“Huh! What did you have for coffee break?” Linc asked, as they walked back to the desk. He looked over his shoulder and down the aisles as they went. There was still no one else around.
“Granddad brought donuts and he shared, but don’t worry.” The boy’s hands came up as if to say, hold on, or stop, here’s the most important part! “I ate my apples first,” he assured, as he scrambled back onto the stool and Linc leaned over the counter setting the glue next to the computer.
“You got any donuts left back there?” Linc asked, as he leaned well over the other side of the counter.
“No, sir. We ate in the coffee room, and I ate the last one!” Oliver giggled when Linc rubbed his stomach and looked disappointed. He thought the tall man was funny and he wished that he had a donut to share. Not all grown-ups were fun to talk to, but he liked this one. He was still giggling when Martin rounded the desk to join them.
“Afternoon, Linc. Sorry for the wait, that wood you ordered is in the warehouse. If you want to drive around to the back, the boys will get you loaded.”
“I didn’t have to wait at all, Oliver here helped me find the glue!” he explained, with a wink at the kid, who in turned beamed with pride for getting the job done.
“Is that so? Well, good job, Ollie!”
“I’d say the kid could put you out of a job!”
Linc paid for the glue, though he had a case at home. It was fun to give the kid purpose.
“It was nice to meet you, Oliver. Are you going to be helping out here all summer?”
Oliver looked over at Martin for the answer. “He’ll be around for sure on Mondays and Thursdays.”
Oliver smiled and Linc returned one as he leaned on the counter and spoke directly to the kid. “I’ll see you next time, Oliver. I’ll probably need a bunch of sandpaper and paint.” Then he ruffled the kid’s hair.
His eyes lit up and Linc knew the kid would make sure he knew exactly where to find it. He grabbed his lone bottle of glue and the bill for his wood, and as he strolled away feeling satisfied he’d made the kid’s day, he heard Oliver volley his question at Martin.
“Granddad, can you show me where the sandpaper is, and how to make paint?”
He couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter Seven
The screen door slammed at his back, he crossed the gravel drive carrying a mug of coffee, and after twenty or so paces, opened the door to his office. The pure, cleansing aroma of wood hit him first.
He took a good long look around the barn he’d converted into a shop and he felt good, really good. When he looked at his house, he saw a goldmine of potential, but this space was the portion of the property that tipped the scale for him the first time he saw it. It hadn’t been used to hold any variety of livestock for a long while, so the alterations it required him to make were mostly cosmetic.
A good pass at the building with a pressure washer and for self-indulgence, he’d knocked out the old, small windows, expanded the opening, and dropped in large picture windows. Up in the loft he’d added four large dormers which gave him a nice view of the property’s entrance from the desk he’d built and left next to one facing the long curling driveway. The barn was now a big, bright, open space, top and bottom.
He’d need to spend a bit more time and effort on the bathroom though. Especially if the teardown and reno of the house didn’t go as planned. He would need a functional space to crash while he got the house back into a livable state, which was another reason he’d made sure the barn’s loft had proper insulation and a heating system. There was no telling how long it would take to make the house livable once he started.
It pleased him tremendously to see his tools set in place and the jobs he’d begun in their varying stages nearing completion.
Only a few months away from city life and he felt like a new man. He liked how he felt. More importantly he liked living on his own terms and on his own schedule, with very few distractions.
His list of jobs was long. He would have enough on the go to keep him busy for a good part of the winter, and that wasn’t taking into consideration all the work he had planned for his own house, or the clientele he hoped to build here at the lake. Throughout the winter if things got too lean or his budget took any unexpected turns, he could always pick up a few extra jobs in the city, though he didn’t think it would come to that.
This was his home now and though he liked having the freedom to head into the city, he didn’t want to feel tied to it in any way, not anymore. If they wanted his work in the city, they could come to him. He’d earned that, and he believed that because they did want his work bad enough, they would come.
He felt his stomach grumble and groan with hunger and he did admit to himself that he missed the easy access to good restaurants. That had been the biggest adjustment, especially since his kitchen stood stripped to the studs, the floor left bare and the space was without an operational appliance. The kitchen, which he felt was the heart of the home had been the first room he’d torn apart, leaving him to produce nourishment from a small hotplate and giant BBQ in the garage. He had survived mostly on all things grilled, frozen pizza, cans of soup, toast, eggs and bacon these past two months. He was fine with that, he certainly wasn’t suffering, and it beat the alternative. Going into town meant he’d have to meet people, maybe even mingle, which would also mean that people would be interested in what was going on with the guy who bought the Gardner’s old farm. They would come by eventually, but at the moment he wasn’t quite ready for curious passersby to snoop around. He had a lot more work yet to do. If some of the town’s people saw the state of the house today, they might write him off before they had a chance to see what he would make of it.
In contrast to the city’s pace and attitude of indifference, he always thought people in smaller towns were often chatty, intrigued by newcomers, and they tended to remember, especially if they thought there was nothing wrong with the way things were. He’d already made fast work out of fixing the barn, and his plans for the house were lofty, but he knew if he could keep the curious folks at bay long enough, they would see it close to how he pictured it in his mind. Their word would spread from there.
But for now if he wanted conversation or needed to get out of his countryside refuge, he’d swing by the hardware store for a little shop talk. That had proved wildly entertaining the other day. Or he could show his face back at the bar and hope he’d run across that redhead in need of a rescue.
She’d said he’d see her around but he hadn’t, nor ha
d he been looking all that closely. She would likely prove to be a distraction and that was not what he needed. But he would admit to himself she had got his attention, and that in itself was a bit stupefying as she was far from what his brother would consider his type. This made him think of her, and the why behind it even more. It pleased him to think of her, or maybe just the idea of her, and it had been a while since thinking of a woman had made him smile.
He enjoyed the pace here, but now that the barn was in satisfactory shape he’d have to make a bit more of a food effort. He’d have to track down a proper butcher and grocery store, especially before the end of next week. He wasn’t ready to share his new place with company, but he knew better than most; you don’t always get what you want, and in this instance, company was six extra hands to help get some work done.
He turned back towards the house where just off the kitchen a giant cement slab had been poured earlier in the week. Big plans he thought again, but for now he had a lot of prep work to do on the timbers he’d found for the house. If he would have help for a few days he’d make certain he used it wisely.
Chapter Eight
“One, two, three, four, five….ready or not, here I come!”
Trish and Dave had made good on their promise to visit. A month after she’d picked Oliver up from the cottage they were here, sitting with her in her house, all five and a half of them.
Raina smiled from the three season porch as she, Trish, and Dave sat on the lounge chairs with a cup of tea, while beyond the glass walls a Saturday afternoon summer storm was sliding slowly from down pour to a melodic consistent beat on the tin roof.
She loved this spot, and had since she’d been a young girl. As a child it had been decorated to her Grandparents taste. The house had gone to her Mom when they passed away and now, though she paid rent, she thought of it as hers, and had been given free rein to transform its style. She had done just that too. Her family had all chipped in their time and efforts to ready the house for her and Ollie.
