Page 12 of Saved By Noel
“Yes, right, that’s how I would do it too,” I say with a nod, as though I’ve replaced hundreds of doors in my life. The corners of Clark’s lips fight a smile, but he doesn’t point out how obviously untrue my insinuation is.
I appreciate the shift of muscles in Clark’s back as he lifts the door onto the hinges. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to notice. But what choice do I have when those muscles are right there in front of me?
“Moment of truth,” Clark says, moving to close the door.
“Wait!” I call out, putting my hand out to stop him. We both glance down to where my hand clasps his biceps. “Um, maybe one of us should be on the other side of the door before you close it, just in case?”
He tilts his head. “Let’s take our chances.” Clark doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he pushes the door closed. I find myself irrationally hoping Clark is horrible at this handyman gig and the door is still broken.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asks, gesturing to the doorknob and taking a step backward.
I breathlessly step past him, that first-sip-of-coffee warmth spreading from my head to my toes even without any physical contact. I reach out and turn the handle. The door pops open just like it’s meant to.Darn.
“Amazing!” I say aloud, smiling over my shoulder at Clark. I step out into the hallway as he gathers up the old hardware and his toolbox. As he follows me out to the living room, I ask, “How much do I owe you for coming out? Do you take payment via Venmo?”
He appears caught off guard. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything—it really wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was a big deal to me,” I answer, and I swear his breath catches the same way mine does. “I mean, I’m grateful for the help. At least let me pay you for the new hardware.”
Clark holds up his hands and responds, “Seriously, no need. Consider it a welcome-to-your-new-second-home gift.”
I laugh, which brings the slightest of smiles to his face again. “In some ways, this cabin is nicer than my apartment back home.” Reaching for a way to stretch his time here with me, I offer, “Are you sure you don’t want coffee or anything before you go?”
The flecks of gold in his eyes catch the sunlight from the window as he studies me for a beat. “I guess I could—”
His answer is cut off by the loud ring of my phone. I jump at the sound, fumbling to pull my phone out of my leggings pocket, mumbling apologies. My mom’s smiling face lights up the screen. I tell Clark, “Just one second, it’s my mom, and she’s been sick. Let me answer really quick.”
“Hey Mom! Doing any better today?” I ask with more cheer in my voice than I feel about her interrupting this moment.
“Clara, honey, it’s not good,” my mom says. My body freezes in response.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” I ask, voice now laced with concern.
“Your father tripped down the stairs and broke his ankle. They’re taking him back to surgery shortly,” she responds withtears. “But I’m still running a fever from the flu, so the hospital won’t let me in to see him.”
“I’ll be right there, Mom. I’ll leave right now,” I say, already darting around the room to gather my shoes and purse.
“I’m so sorry, honey; I know you just made it to your cabin. I feel terrible pulling you away, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“Mom, don’t feel bad. I want to be there—you and Dad will always come before the cabin. I’ll drive straight to the hospital and call you when I get there.” I awkwardly try to pull on one shoe while holding the phone with my shoulder. Clark reaches out to steady my elbow, and I glance up at him with appreciative eyes.
My mom gives me the information to the hospital and apologizes twice more before we hang up. I stand up straight and meet Clark’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I have to go. My dad broke his ankle and is heading into surgery, but my mom is sick and isn’t allowed to see him. I have to get home.”
Clark nods at me. “Of course. Anything I can do?”
“No, but thank you.” I give a disappointed glance around the cabin. “I guess settling in will have to wait.” Clark leads the way out the front door, and I’m about to hit the lock button on the keypad when a realization hits me.
“Wait! My baby!” I rush back inside to get my new rubber tree plant from the sunroom. Clark is still waiting on the porch when I come back outside, shifting the planter to my hip so I can lock the door.
“A plant?” Clark raises an eyebrow.
“Not justaplant—my brand-new Ficus Tineke that I’ve been wanting forever and now finally have enough sunlight to keep alive,” I tell him. “But I have no idea how long I’ll be gone, so I can’t leave her here alone. She’ll have to survive on the minimal sunlight in my apartment for a while.”
I turn back to lock the door, but the weight of the plant lifts from my hip.
“I’ll keep it for you. My house has lots of light,” Clark says.
