Page 72 of Kindling
He kissed the crease between her brows gently. “Who else would have forced me into this?”
She slapped his arm lightly, feigning offence. “I did no such thing! I just… nudged.”
“Aggressively.”
“Attentively,” she corrected.
“Annoyingly.”
“Adorably.”
They paused for a beat, exchanging soft expressions of amusement. He felt energised, as he often did with her, but something more, too. Today felt like a new beginning. Of course, he was terrified of showing his work to the town, his mum, and his sisters, but he was excited, too. He’d been hiding this part of himself for too long.
“I’m just beginning to think maybe you miss your career,” he said, opening the lid on his crate and beginning to unload his figurines from their protective paper. “You came here for a holiday,but you’re still using your expertise to help the rest of us. That boss of yours must have been a wee shitebag to let you go.”
He waited for a witty response, or at least something to acknowledge she’d heard him.
But she offered nothing. When he turned around, she was focused intently on readjusting the pile of business cards on the side, though they’d already been stacked neatly.
He frowned. “Harp?”
“What?!” shrieked a voice outside the stall. Fraser held his breath. He didn’t need to look to know who it belonged to. “No. Way!”
When he turned, Cam was already dashing over to them, gasping at the rows of figurines. She wore her blue Raindrop Café apron, having complained the evening before over dinner at her house that Alice was putting her “out on the street” to man their coffee stand. Afterwards, Fraser had babysat while she and Sorcha ventured out on their first date since Archie’s arrival. If he hadn’t forced her to hand the baby over, she never would have gone, but he knew how important it was that they step away. After Sorcha had birthed Isla, Fraser had watched a disconnect grow in their marriage that had almost devastated Cam beyond words, and he didn’t want that again.
“Morning, Cam.” He sighed now, rubbing his eyes. He loved her. He really did. But out of everyone in his family, she was the loudest, and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet. She was also the most unpredictable, so he had no idea what she’d be loudly saying next.
“I can’t believe this!” she shouted shrilly. “It wasyou! You made the ornaments on the Fairy Trail!”
“Surprise.” He waggled his fingers unenthusiastically, nerves drawing tight beneath his skin.
“How could you not say something sooner? The kids would have lost their shit if they knew!” She picked up the fairy closest to her, inspecting the wings of the boy he’d chiselled. He’d used Sky as inspiration for that one, with the red tones in his floppy hair – Sky hated haircuts, so Eiley let him grow it as long as he wanted – and loose green clothes to match his nephew’s favourite Peter Pan pyjamas. Cam shifted her keen gaze from the figurine to Harper. “Didyouknow?”
Harper seesawed her hand. “A little bit. Not when he took me to the trail, though.”
“Sneaky, sneaky bastard,” Cam uttered. “My brother is a liar!”
“A very talented liar,” said Harper.
Fraser winced. He didn’t want to be branded as that.
“Look. This one’s for you.” Nervously, he grabbed the auburn-haired fairy with tattoos and forced it into Cam’s hands. “And Sorcha.” The one with brown skin and dark clothes came next. He’d also made one each for the kids – and almost one for everybody in the village, he’d realised only after he’d finished carving them. All of his inspiration came from the faces he saw every day, and not only that, but he’d wanted to make sure that even strangers found themselves in the collection. Some were seated in moss-covered wheelchairs, or used crutches like his mum.Some were plus-size like Harper, and some were androgynous like Andy. He’d fashioned hijabs from recycled fabric and included stretch marks and scars like the ones he loved to explore on Harper’s body. After seeing how happy the bisexual colours on her writing desk had made Harper, he even hoped to create a Pride collection in time for Belbarrow’s small parade the coming summer.
As predicted, Cam softened as she faced the fairy version of herself, tracing the outline of her miniature fringe and pierced button nose, as well as the roundness of her stomach. She sniffed when she picked up Sorcha’s piece. If he knew his sister, she was probably trying to force her tears to crawl back deep, deep inside. Cam wasn’t a crier. “Can’t you let me be mad at you for a minute?”
“No.” Relief washed over Fraser, and he pinched his mouth between his fingers to keep from grinning.
“Does Mum know?”
“No. I’d like to surprise her and Eiley when they come later.”
Cam set the figures down and reached across the table, grabbing Fraser’s head between her heavy hands so she could squeeze his cheeks together. He groaned, ignoring Harper’s laughs at his expense. “She’s going to be ever so proud of little Frasy Baby,” she cooed like he was ten years old.
“Get off me, you daft sod.” He slapped her off finally, but not before she pinched his nose.
Then, she turned to Harper. “Are you sure you have to leave Belbarrow? You’ve only been here a month, and my brother’s already spilling his deepest, darkest secrets.”
Harper’s mouth opened, then closed. For once, she didn’t seem to have anything to say.
