Page 42 of Snow Blind

*

***

FOUR HOURS WAS A LONGtime to relive watching a corpse getting set on fire or hearing the sound of a hammer against enamel. Crafting was her safe place. It was what she did in moments of stress. Her crafting page was still up on the Craftwithme site with instant downloads and offered a trickle of income to a pre-paid card account. She hadn't checked it in a while and on a pit stop for snacks, she jumped at the amount.

"I am definitely going shopping," she said, searching for a second-hand furniture store.

Helen located a store on her way home as well as a sewing center. She stopped at both places, spent entirely too much money, and had armloads of fabrics with embellishments. There was enough time to make gifts for the people in her man's office, the family, and something special for Cherry's new baby. She had time.

She arrived home, waving at the cameras, knowing Mustang would see the notice on his phone of her coming through the main gate. Her man would also see her bring in the two office desks, used but perfect for holding her new sewing machine on one and the new embroidery machine on the other. The bookcase, although not very heavy, was the perfect height to hold the new cutting machine, stacks of neatly cut fabric in 1-yard cuts, bags of scraps for embroidery projects, and fat eight stacks perfect for mug rugs would be the ideal Christmas gift for Mustang's co-workers. At the sewing center, she had purchased software and when she looked at her total, her credit card was going to hate her, but the family would be happy with the new gifts. She even made a quick stop at the craft store to buy a mug press for sublimations.

"The mugs can match the rugs," she said with a false sense of accomplishment.

In between setting up the machines and organizing her craft room, the meatloaf would have been easier, but chicken seemed like a lighter fare. She sauteed chicken, boiled pasta, and prepared a quick salad. By the time her hunky hubby came home, she would toss the chicken and pasta in pesto, and dinner would be served. Helen took a look around the home she shared with Mustang. He had strong masculine styles with bold chunky pieces of furniture which she had softened with the rugs and curtains.

The embroidery machine was pretty much the same as the one at her house in Kentucky that Cherry gave her, but a bit of an upgrade. At the store, she’d purchased blank kitchen towels that were loaded in the quilting hoop and ten minutes later, the first one read “Neary” surrounded by laurel wreaths.

"I like," she said, loading the second kitchen towel into the machine.

By the time her husband came through the back door, she'd completed kitchen towels and embroidered a very large N in the bathroom guest towels. She smiled at Mustang and offered him a kiss.

"You're home," he said, "and dinner smells wonderful."

He took note of the kitchen towels which bore their last name, the dinner on the table, and the sound of a machine running in the other room. He pointed, walking in the direction of the noise.

"Okay and wow," he said, staring into the space that had been empty when he left this morning. Now, it was a functional craft room with two workstations and a flip up cutting table mounted to the wall. "You've been busy."

"Yes, I have some time off until the first Monday of the New Year," she told him. "I'm looking forward to the downtime to get holiday gifts done."

"That is some craft room set up," he said, returning to the kitchen, looking at his wife. She didn't need to say it. He knew. A bad thing happened. He could see a bad thing had occurred in her training program, and she wasn't okay. "Is crafting how you deal with stress?"

"Yup. And I'm going to craft the hell out of some presents for Christmas and put your Mamma to shame," she told him. "Also, I need the names of your coworkers so I can craft a few mug rugs with tea and cocoa goodies for them. When is your last day at work before the holidays?"

"We are off on the twentieth," he said. "Helen, do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope," she said. "I'm going to make cute shit, love all over you, cook some amazing meals, and show up at your job with cookies, brownies, and cupcakes. Everyone in your office is going to be like, ‘Oh wow, Neary, you're so lucky.’”

"That I am," Mustang commented. "Helen, we can discuss it if you want. I know that some parts of what is done as a Technician you will take to your grave. A solo Technician has to carry that sweetheart, but you don't."

"I do. I have to carry the reality of what it is I signed up to do," she said. "I can't be the protector and defender of the women and children of Indiana without facing down the ugly habits of men. Three weeks is what I have to decide if I will continue or re-open my online craft business and make cute shit for money."

"Helen, if you want to stay home, I can more than easily take care of you," he told her.

"I know, but I have something, Jay. There is a skill in me to do good. I know things and understand issues on a deeper level. So much information came at me that time is needed to sort through all of it. I was given so much information in a large brain dump that I need a moment to sort through it all. Crafting helps me think," she said. "Who is the Technician for Georgia?"

"Huh?"

"The Technician for Georgia, do you know him?"

"I've come in contact with him once, didn't make it long. He's not a friendly fella and he doesn't like people," Mustang said. "Any reason why?"

"His father is Kurtzwilde," she replied.

"Yes. It is a well-known fact."

"Kurtzwilde is Imperial of the Chrysalis," she told Jay, looking at his face. "He's also Passion Fruit's father. Oh, by your face, you didn't know that. Well, hold on to your hat, Trooper Neary; he's also Morgan's father on your former team as well as Thunder and Elm."

"Say what?"

---