Page 9 of Begin Again
“Don’t hurt yourself, son.” Joseph lifts both hands, dropping his copy of theBezer Timeson the table. “I just meant that most people who know that sort of thing are usually familiar with the mountains.” He offers me a smile before he turns to his daughter. “Charlie, why don’t you make a fresh pot so Xavier has something to keep him warm out there?”
She looks up from her crossword again with a glare. “He knows where it is.”
“Actually—”
Her glare turns on me when I try to refute her argument. I don’t know where it is, the coffee had already been brewed when I got up this morning. The pot was one of the only modern things Joseph had around here. It was one of those programmable coffee pots you can set to brew at a certain time.
“C’mon, Char, make your ol’ dad a pot, will ya?” Joseph pushes.
Charlie stares at her father for a moment longer before she sighs, rolling her eyes. The chair’s feet scrape against the wood floor as she pushes back from the table, not bothering to push it back in. She begins grabbing items to make the fresh pot from various cabinets and I step up beside her, looking over her shoulder as she prepares the ingredients.
Charlie’s movements pause briefly, and she glances at me from the corner of her eye. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I figured I’d better watch…You said I knew where everything was, so I’m making sure you do it right.”
The wooden coffee spoon clatters from her hands onto the counter and she spins on her heel to give her dad the mostare you fucking kidding melook I’ve ever seen. Joseph laughs, shaking his head as he returns to the newspaper in his hands.
“You seem to have this under control,” I say, and I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash from how quickly she turns back around. I watch her frustration grow at the smirk on my lips. “Am I good to run upstairs real quick or do you need me to make sure you got it?”
“You’re an ass.”
I shrug and walk backward until I’m out of the kitchen. I can hear her slam the cabinet with a frustrated growl as I climb the stairs to change.
After tightening the nut and bolt that bolsters the final board of the door, I use the drill to add a final screw in each joist. I run my hand over the board, noting where it still feels a little coarse to the touch, and wipe the dust off on my jeans. While the main boards of each door are in place, I still have to add the diagonal pieces that will add extra support to the joists on each one. Grabbing one of the boards meant for that exact purpose, I place it on the makeshift table saw comprised of a larger piece of plywood and two sawhorses.
Footsteps walk up the gravel leading from the house to the barn, but they’re not heavy enough to be Joseph, which means it’s the only other person here. When I came downstairs earlier, she was nowhere to be seen, but my tumbler had been filled and resealed, ready and waiting on the counter.
My suspicions are confirmed when I look over my shoulder. She’s dressed now, no longer in her sweats and loose-fitting sweater from earlier, with a windbreaker over her shoulders and her auburn hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head, stuck through a fleece headband that covers her ears. It’s gotten colder in the last few hours, especially now that the sun has started to set. I had hoped to finish the door and siding today, but the door has taken a little longer than anticipated. However, it felt like the most important thing to finish. I couldn’t leave the barn wide open with two horses inside.
Charlie stops about five feet from me, arms crossed over her chest.
“Something you need?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything, continuing to stand there.
“Dad said to tell you dinner is ready.” Her lips pull into a firm line. “I yelled, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
Did she really? I don’t remember hearing anything and it’s not like there’s much noise out here that would drown her out. Then again…I do have the radio playing.
“You didn’t need to trek out here to tell me that,” I say.
“I don’t need another lecture from my dad, so yeah, I kind of did.”
I laugh and motion to the board that I was about to cut before she showed up. “I need to finish these doors and then I’ll head in.”
Charlie nods and turns to go back inside. As I’m about to push the saw blade through the red-marked line on the board, I realize she’s still standing there. I glance over my shoulderagain to find her staring straight at me. More specifically, at my arms. Unlike Charlie, I had shed my layers—even after changing earlier—because I was burning up from the constant motion.
“Need something else?” I ask.
Charlie rips her gaze from my arms as if my words break her trance and she shakes her head vigorously.
“It’ll go faster if I have some help. Hold this up for me?”
“Big strong man can’t hold up his wood?”
I roll my eyes but motion for her to come closer before finishing the cuts to make the diagonal boards. Charlie’s steps are hesitant, still maintaining distance between us.
“Hold this here.” I show her where to place her hands on the board so that it rests at an angle between the two joists on the front of the door.
She’s standing so close now that I can feel the cold clinging to her jacket against my bare arm. Her gaze is on me instead of the task at hand, and when I turn to tell her to focus, the words get lost when I look into her eyes. From this distance, I notice the specks of gold hidden within her forest-green orbs. They’re pretty—really pretty.
