Page 97 of Down Knot Out
We gather leftover wood from the cabin builds, an abundance of raw materials waiting to be transformed. The air fills with the sharp tang of sawdust and the dull thud of hammers as we sort through the possibilities. We pull Holden in on designing a nameplate for the door, wanting every member of the pack to touch this project.
As Nathaniel transfers Holden’s drawing to a long piece of wood, Quinn sneaks into the garage, her dark curls bouncing. “Can I help?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I catch her mid-leap and settle her on the workbench.
Her small hands reach for a carving tool, and I guide her fingers to safer options as Nathaniel setsaside the curved knife for me. Memories rise unbidden, flashes of my own small hands around tools far more dangerous than this, Sadie’s little face watching from the doorway as our father taught me the tools of his trade, but not her. Never her.
“Did Aunt Chloe ask what we’re working on?” I help Quinn steady her grip as she uses a file to round the edges of the first letters.
She giggles. “Nope. But she knows it’s a secret.”
“Good.” I help her through the outline of the next letter. “Let’s keep it that way.”
The sign takes shape slowly, the letters wobbly but legible.The Writer is In. Quinn helps with the simpler parts, her small fingers smudged with graphite as each word appears. The dedication in her expression steals my breath, the same focus she gave the notebook, and I force myself to look away before the tightness returns.
“We need an OUT side, too.” I set the simpler work aside to pick up my knife. “Think you can handle that one?”
The first letter cuts cleanly from the wood, and Quinn’s triumphant giggle warms me.
By the time the sun dips below the horizon, we’ve finished carving the letters. Sawdust catchesin my beard, the sap from fresh-cut cedar clinging to my skin. My tension unwinds as the project progresses, each stroke of the knife taking me further from Sadie’s demands and closer to something tangible.
Dominic hovers at my shoulder, supervising as I sand the sign to a smooth finish. “She’s going to love that.”
Quinn beams as she wipes excess dust from the table, her cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. “It’s going to be so pretty! Can I help paint it?”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her in, ignoring the pang threatening to undo me as she leans into my side. “We can do it after dinner.”
After dinner, Dominic helps Kyle bring up the recliner while Nathaniel works on the framing for the room. Meanwhile, Quinn paints the letters on the sign with the same focused concentration she showed copying Chloe’s notebook, her small tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth.
I finish the detail work and attach a chain while she chatters about our surprise, how she can’t wait to show Aunt Chloe, and how her glitter pens willbe perfect in the new writing room. She talks so fast that her words tangle together in a breathless blur of enthusiasm as vibrant as the pink paint she chooses for theOutside.
It leaves me dizzy with the joy of her unbroken world.
When we hang the sign to dry, I realize the night is slipping past with the kind of quickness reserved for the very young and the very old. For families who don’t count time by minutes, but by how much they can squeeze into each other before morning.
The shadows stretch long across the garage by the time we finish, and I carry Quinn inside before she gets too cold. Her small weight fits perfectly in my arms, and with my distraction of the day over, the memory of Sadie’s email returns, still waiting for an answer.
Quinn’s asleep before I tuck her into bed, not a care in the world, not a shadow in her room.
I’ll wait to talk to her later.
Two days later, Chloe follows us into the garage office, her steps light as Quinn tugs her toward the surprise.
The space holds the scent of cedar and fresh paint, and Quinn insisted we string fairy lights from the ceiling until everything glows. The nameplate hangs beside the door, its letters crisp in pink and purple.
Quinn bounces, full of pride. “I helped make that!”
“You did this for me?” Disbelief slackens Chloe’s face as she turns in a slow circle to take it all in.
My shoulders relax when I don't see even a hint of sadness at our present.
Dominic had lined the walls with bookshelves, filling half of one with an eclectic array of journals. When Chloe sees them, she laughs and smacks his arm, so it must be some inside joke they share.
“I can’t believe…” Chloe looks around again. “I didn’t need this. I have the desk in my room.”
Holden catches her in a hug. “You deserve a place to work where you don’t also sleep.”.
Quinn drags her back to the nameplate, showing how it can be turned over. “Pink is for theOutside. And purple is for theInside.”
