by Carol James
The bricks were all painted. She stood and moved back to view her handiwork. While none of hers were quite as good as Jake’s examples and the sample they’d made together, the effect was amazing. In the dark, under subdued outdoor lighting, they would look unbelievably real.
She walked further down toward Jake. Kneeling, he was putting the finishing touches on his patches of rock on the inn. He had drawn black lines on the gray granite swirl to look like irregular stone shapes. He’d even painted some with delicate branching lines to resemble cracks in the faux stone. “Wow, Jake. It’s beautiful.”
He stood. “Thanks. How did yours...?”
Diane exploded through the door. “We have a real problem. We...Oh, my. How beautiful the buildings look!” Suddenly silent, she absorbed their handiwork. “Nicely done.”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest obviously waiting for Diane to finish surveying the buildings and then continue with her breaking news report. After a few seconds, he spoke “So, you were saying we have a problem?”
“Problem? Oh, yes. The problem.” She opened her eyes wide and sighed. “Mary broke her leg.”
Mary looked down at her leg. It looked fine to her.
“Not this Mary, but Lexie, who’s playing Mary.” Diane raced on, the speed increasing with each word. “I’ve called everyone I could think of to stand in, but no one’s available. Or at least no one who fits the part. Now tell me, how can someone with a broken leg ride a donkey? But we can’t cancel. The ads have already begun, and you two have worked so hard. And—”
“You’ll find someone,” Jake assured her.
“But it can’t be just anyone. She has to look the part. You know, dark eyes, long brown hair. She...” As Diane stared at them, the torrent of words stopped, and she smiled. “Yes, I believe I will.”
~*~
The last few minutes before Mary had left the gym were a blur. She couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, but Diane had been distressed, and now Mary was playing Mary in the live nativity.
Laptop in hand, she snuggled back into the billowy comfort of Dad’s recliner and took a deep breath. She’d been waiting years to receive this e-mail from Barbara, and when she’d first seen it in the kitchen, she couldn’t make herself open it. All she had been able to do was stare at the title. “Job Status.”
Riley strolled over and curled up at her feet.
“Well, here we go, Ri. Keep your paws crossed.”
When she’d moved to Atlanta, Drew had suggested, no insisted, that she apply to work at Yorkminster School. It was the most prestigious private school in North Atlanta, certainly the best place for the administrator-wife of a successful attorney to work. If that wife insisted on working. Which she had.
But administrator jobs there were virtually impossible to get. Turnover was almost nonexistent. So, Barbara had suggested she take a job teaching, and when an administrative position became available, Barbara would hire her.
And now, her persistence was finally going to pay off. She’d taught for over three years waiting for this one job. Primary school principal. She slowly opened the computer, but as she stared at the title of the e-mail, an unexplainable sense of foreboding overcame her. No need stalling any longer. She took a deep breath and clicked on the e-mail.
There’s been a change of plans. Even though she’d been talking about retirement for months, Leslie had changed her mind and decided to wait one more year. And Barbara was asking Mary to wait that one more year as well. But she couldn’t. She’d already waited almost four, and there was no guarantee Leslie wouldn’t change her mind next year.
As she closed her eyes and pressed her head back against the cushions, the spicy scent of Dad’s cologne embraced her, and she was a little girl sitting in his lap. He could solve any problems she had and make everything right.
But not tonight. Drew was gone. Her job was gone. Her parents were gone. She was alone.
The stacked boxes of Christmas decorations, once symbols of joy, now mocked her from the far corner. If only she hadn’t gotten them out last night. She felt about as Christmassy right now as she did in June at the beach. Tomorrow morning, they were going back in the closet.
Riley nuzzled her hand.
“You did your best, but it wasn’t the news we were hoping for, buddy.”
He jumped up, wagged his tail, and ran to the kitchen. Sharp raps rang out against the wood panel, and then the back door slowly creaked open. “Hello. Anybody home?”
She took a deep breath, plastered on an unfelt smile, and walked into the kitchen. “Hi.”
Jake looked way too energetic for this late in the day.
“I was wondering if I could borrow Riley again tonight. I’ll bring him back by bedtime.”
She really didn’t want to be alone again this evening. The house was much too big and much too quiet. “I was kind of planning on an early night. I even thought I might give him his Christmas bath this evening.” Not true. She took a deep breath. “Actually, I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Sure. I get it.” Jake jammed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I’ve been inconsiderate.”
She shook her head no. “Where do you take him, anyway?”
A smile spread across Jake’s face. “Why don’t you come and find out?”
6
Jake was surprised she agreed to come. Surprised, but glad. Sometimes being alone was relaxing, but if he wasn’t in the mood, it could be depressing. And that had been the frame of mind she’d broadcast when she’d entered the kitchen.
She’d been quiet, withdrawn, since they’d left the house, and driving in silence, he’d respected the invisible boundaries. Her face was angled toward the passenger window, but he could still see her eyes whenever his truck passed through the yellow pools from the streetlights. He recognized their far-off look. They were staring but obviously not seeing, occasionally glimmering with what could only be tears. But not from anything she could see outside her window or in the car, for that matter. Her heart was far away.
A soft electronic melody rose from her purse, but the music didn’t break her trance.
“Is that your phone?”
Looking toward him, she returned to the present. “Oh, yeah. Thanks, I didn’t hear it.” She pulled it out of her purse and glanced at the screen. “It’s my parents.”
The initial lack of excitement in her voice puzzled him.
“Hello...”
Only her tone, not the expression her face wore, became more upbeat as she answered.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad...Miss you, too...Good. How about you?...I’m not in Aspen...I’m at home...No, Drew’s in Aspen. I really don’t want to talk about it right now, OK?...Yes. I’ve met him...Everything’s fine. Really. So, tell me about your trip. Is it as wonderful as you imagined?”
Although he could hear only one side of the conversation, it didn’t take a genius to fill in the missing pieces. They had expected her to be in Aspen with this guy Drew, probably her fiancé, and for some reason, she wasn’t. He glanced at her left hand. The ring was still gone.
She hung up the phone. “My parents said to tell you hi.”
“Hi, Mary’s parents.” Now that she was back in the present, he’d try to keep her there. “So, how’s their trip going?”
“Great. They’ll spend Christmas in London, and then they’ll head home from there.” She turned back toward the window.
“So, you were supposed to be in Aspen right now?”
“I changed my mind.” Defensiveness underscored her reply. “People do that all the time, you know. It’s no crime.”
“Didn’t say it was.” Enough of that tactic. Back to silence.
She turned toward him, her voice soft. “Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, I’m here if you ever want to unload any of it.”
As he turned the truck into the parking lot, Riley began to gyrate and whimper in the back seat. “We’re here.”
She turned
toward the old warehouse and read the sign aloud, “Reclaimed. What’s that?”
By now, Riley had transitioned into full-fledged excitement mode. If they didn’t get him out of the truck soon, he might bolt right through the window. “You’ll see.”
~*~
They couldn’t walk fast enough for Riley. He ran back and forth between the closed warehouse door and Jake and herself, nosing, shepherding them toward the entrance. The closed door dampened the electronic squeals and buzzes she’d awakened to many Saturday mornings. Woodworking equipment. This was some sort of carpentry shop.
When they reached the door, Jake held out his hand to her. “You might want these. It can get pretty loud in here.”
Earplugs.
As he pulled opened the door for her and she walked into the old warehouse, the spicy potpourri of friction-warmed wood greeted her. Numerous pieces of woodworking equipment, some of which she recognized from Dad’s small shop, filled the cavernous room. Table saws, jigsaws, routers, orbital sanders, vises. None of the other items looked familiar.
Several men were scattered around the room, each stationed at a different piece of equipment. Old, ragged, reclaimed wood was stacked on one side of the room, waiting to be transformed, to receive a new life. Reclaimed. She got it.
Even though they wore street-clothes, she recognized the two men who seemed to play some sort of supervisory role. Officer Jenkins and the other policeman who had commanded her to drop her tennis racket that first night home. She’d been so frazzled, she hadn’t even gotten his name.
One by one, each man turned off his piece of equipment and made his way to a circle of chairs in the far corner. Someone’s attempt at some holiday decor—a small artificial Christmas tree—stood on a table in the corner. Feeble or not, it was more decorations than she would put up this holiday.
Stationing himself in the center of the circle, Riley greeted the men as they came over and circulated among them as they sat down. Too bad he was a dog. He would have made an excellent politician.
“C’mon,” Jake said. “There’s plenty of chairs.”
She was an intruder. “I think I’ll stay back here if that’s OK.”
As if he’d read her mind, he nodded and smiled. “Sure. No problem.”
Joining the circle, Jake greeted each man by name, shook their hands or clapped them on the back, and then sat down. Officer Jenkins opened a Bible and read that verse in Galatians about doing everything as unto the Lord, and then as he began leading the men in some sort of discussion, Mary quietly made her way toward the opposite side of the room. Even though it was December, an exhaust fan hummed and rattled in the back corner, helping clear the air and inadvertently providing enough ambient noise to give the men some privacy for their meeting.
Jake had invited her, and she had come. But she shouldn’t have. She was out of place—that one white bulb stuck in the string of colored Christmas lights on the little tree in the corner—and she wanted to be home. Just not home by herself where there were no distractions to keep her thoughts away. So out of self-preservation she’d accepted Jake’s invitation and come.
Woodworking projects in various states of production waited at each station for the next step. A couple of small occasional tables, the two pieces that were nearest completion, stood in the back corner. One of them had straight, simple lines. Dad would have called it “Shaker” style. That something so simple could be so beautiful seemed impossible, but the straight lines of the piece only enhanced the workmanship and beauty of the wood. Cherry, she was pretty sure.
Beside the Shaker piece was a small irregularly shaped table. Mimicking marble, the top was some variety of burl wood. The curved lines of the design complemented the swirls in the wood slab. She’d never seen anything like this.
The wood called to her, drew her toward it, almost as if it possessed magnetic power.
She gently placed her fingers on the top and softly traced the swirl design. The wood was silken, and it wasn’t even finished yet.
“What do you think?” Jake startled her.
Slowly the sounds of the saws drifted into her awareness. The men were back at work, and she hadn’t even noticed. “It’s beautiful, Jake. Is it yours?”
“Yeah. You really like it? It didn’t turn out quite like I’d envisioned.”
She traced the burl design with her fingers again. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s a work of art.”
“Well, if it isn’t Crescent Bluff’s most wanted intruder.”
She jumped and turned toward the voice.
Officer Jenkins extended his hand. “Ted Jenkins. Nice to meet you in an unofficial capacity.”
She shook the officer’s hand.
“And I’m Sam Caldwell. I’m guessing ol’ Jake was able to set everything straight the other night.”
She forced a smile. “Yes, he was. Nice to meet you both without any weapons involved.”
“Make yourself at home,” Ted said, as he handed her a pair of safety glasses. “Feel free to walk around, and check out what’s going on here. Just make sure you’re careful about approaching someone when they’re using the equipment.”
“So,” Jake said as the other two left, “have you figured out the name?”
“Reclaimed. I saw the stacks of old wood over there. What a great idea to take old wood and give it new life.”
Jake smiled. “You’re partially right, but it’s not only the wood. It’s the men. Some of these guys lost their jobs and want to learn a new skill. Others made bad decisions and ended up doing some jail time. And see the man over by the circle of chairs?”
He stood out from the others. Shorter, darker.
“He and his family are refugees from Syria. He’s a doctor, but he can’t practice here, so he needs some training to get a new job.”
This was how he and Ri had been spending their evenings. Reclaiming wood, reclaiming lives. Discovering and revealing the inherent, hidden beauty in something mankind often ignored or rejected and giving it value again.
If only reclaiming her life would be as easy as putting her hands to a saw or smoothing away roughness with some sandpaper.
~*~
By the time they got home, it was almost midnight. Probably the same time Jake and Riley got home every night this week. Mary had always been in bed asleep, so she didn’t really know.
Jake was outside brushing the sawdust residue from Riley’s coat. Tonight explained the woodsy aroma Riley had sported when he returned home after these mysterious outings with Jake.
Going had been a distraction, but it had only put off the inevitable. Being alone with her thoughts and memories. Her chest ached as her heart began to race. The idea of being by herself sounded even less appealing now than it had hours ago, yet she couldn’t ask him to stay. He’d given her his cell number the other night and told her to call if she needed anything, but many people said that simply to be nice. He wouldn’t really expect her to take him up on his offer.
She needed an excuse. She grabbed the bag of decaf coffee, quickly measured enough for a small pot into the coffeemaker, and poured the water into the reservoir.
As the steaming liquid dripped into the carafe and she got down two mugs, Jake and Riley bounded through the kitchen door. “All better. Y’all sleep—”
“I made us a pot of decaf,” she blurted out around the knot in her throat.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “It’s kinda late, and we’ve got a couple of busy days coming up.”
As her eyes burned, she turned away. “Sure. Of course.” A whisper was all she could manage.
“But...I’ve never been able to pass up a good cup of coffee, no matter what time, night or day.”
When she turned back, his gaze was warm. Fighting the urge to pull him close and bury her head in his shoulder, she filled the two mugs instead. A “thank you” was the only response she could muster.
They sat across from each other at the table. No words passed between them
as he patiently waited for her to speak.
He was a safe person to unload on. He didn’t know her, didn’t know Drew. He was in a relationship. But best of all, in a few days, she’d be back in Atlanta away from him. She took a deep breath. “I know you heard the conversation with my parents in the truck.”
He sipped his coffee. “I, uh, tried not to listen, but we were only about two feet apart.”
“I was supposed to spend Christmas in Aspen with Drew. He is—was—my fiancé.” The story gushed forth like a waterfall. Drew, their breakups, Lindsay, Mary’s lost job. She licked the salty tears from the corners of her mouth.
Slowly, Jake scooted his chair around next to hers, and tonight he, not she, took a napkin and gently dabbed her cheeks. “Shhhhh. I know it’s hard. I’m sorry you’re going through all this.”
Right now, she needed someone who loved her to hold her close and tell her everything would be all right. But her parents were on a cruise ship headed toward England, her friends were gone home for the holidays, and Drew? Well, Drew was a big part of the problem.
As some universal bond drew her to him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, and his arm encircled her, the quiet between them broken only by her uneven breathing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, deep, resonating in his chest. “Burl wood is an interesting thing—beautiful and strong. A burl’s caused by stress to the tree. It might be disease, an injury. But instead of giving in and dying, the tree fights back, and the portion that was affected becomes twisted and interlocked—stronger than the part of the tree that never underwent adversity. And more beautiful and valuable than wood that has never undergone any sort of attack.”
She pictured the lovely burl tabletop she’d seen tonight. As his embrace tightened, she placed both her arms around his waist and pulled him close. More than anything, she wanted to place a kiss of gratitude on his cheek, as if he were the brother she’d never had. But she couldn’t. They were barely even friends yet. And he had a girlfriend.