Page 41 of Second Start: Family
Puffs of air stirred her hair.
Each time his chest rose closer to her nose, she took in the scent of clean man starting to sweat.
That rise and fall of his chest mesmerized her. Not touching her, but close enough to it that she could almost feel the brush against her breasts, against her tightening nipples. If she leaned forward an inch, maybe two—
No.
“No,” he said, as if he knew her thoughts, her temptation.
But it wasn’t, of course.
He was repeating his instructions to her not to move, because where she was held the shelf in place just fine.
He drilled in repeatedly, securing the shelf.
“That’s done.” He backed up, leaving an opening for her to exit the closet.
She looked at a stack of shelves. “You need me to hold the others?”
“No. We’re going to use tracks so you can adjust the others.”
“I like that. More flexible.” With the extra space between them, she felt confident enough to grin at him.
He grinned back.
And suddenly it didn’t feel like there was any space between them at all.
“Glad you like it, because I could use someone to hold the tracks until I get the first screw in each.”
Back in the closet, she did her best to hold each metal track in place without contact with Hall.
Her best wasn’t good enough.
Everyone was working hard at improving the schoolhouse and she appreciated it. But she suffered for it, too.
*
Dan rode out on Buster.
No reason to ask for permission or anything that lame.
Gramps and Pauline were at the house to look after the little kids so nobody could yell about him going out.
He couldn’t have stayed another minute anyway. He couldn’t stand it when the twins asked Gramps about what Mom was like as a kid.
Who cared.
She wasn’t like that when she was his mom. And now she was gone. Forever.
He should have been there. He could have done something. Anything.
Maybe things would feel real now if he’d seen it. If he’d seen the moment when the life went out of her the way the little kids did.
He’d read up on aneurysms. He knew how they happened. But it didn’t seem possible. The blood building up inside her head. Then breaking through the weakened wall and flooding through her brain.
How could she not have known? How could she have been talking and making lunches like usual in the morning? How could she have waved as she sent him off to help his father after school? How could she have gotten the little kids in the truck and driven to the post office? All normal, all the same, all like every other day.
And then … nothing.
