Good Wood (Carved Hearts)

by L. G. Pace III

  “Hold on, I’ll show you.” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and found the pictures I took on my birthday. As he flipped through them, Mac’s expression was hard to read. The gravy was bubbling, and I moved to the stove to tend to it. When I turned back to him, he and my phone were gone.

  “Mason, come here. Look at this!” I heard him call, and I assumed he’d gone off for show and tell. A couple of minutes later Mac returned with Mason. They were both eyeing me as they mowed down the relish tray.

  I wiped my hands on the dish towel and glanced from Mac to Mason. “What?”

  “Nothin’. Here.’” Mason shrugged, handing me back my phone.

  The kids kept us entertained at the dinner table, knocking over glasses of juice and feeding food to the dog. Mac’s son was with his mother, who was on a rampage about Mac and Stacy. She was trying to take him back to court yet again to add a morality clause to the custody agreement. If it went through, Stacy couldn’t be at Mac’s from eight p.m. till six a.m. when Malcolm Jr. was over. I wondered if he’d counter-sue, since her bedroom may as well have had a drive-thru sign over the door.

  As strange as Stacy’s presence at Thanksgiving dinner was, it took a lot of heat off of me. Granny Hildebrandt had a field day pointing out the near ten year age difference between Mac and Stacy. I felt sorry for them. Granny loved to pick on the underdog and I was feeling pretty done with it. I tried to be respectful, but ended up dropping a couple of snarky remarks in regards to Daddy’s birthdate in relation to her wedding day to Grandaddy. Granny muttered something garbled and wandered off to smoke. Mac roared with laughter and Stacy shot me a look of gratitude.

  Over dessert, the twins prattled on about work. The hotel renovation was over halfway done, and Mac and Mason both were talking about taking a trip to Florida in January when it was all over. Mason and Robin wanted to take the kids and do Disney, but Mac and Stacy were pushing for Key West. When I boldly suggested Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum break up their lifelong bromance and take separate vacations, they both looked at me like I was insane. Then Robin suggested I come along.

  “Lay on the beach. Meet some cabana boys. Use poor judgment.” She suggested as she sipped her wine and Stacy nodded in fervent agreement. With the cold and wet weather that had recently reared its ugly head, it was tempting. But I shook my head. I just had way too much to do and the idea of being a fifth wheel gave me the blues.

  After we cleared the table and the dishwasher was loaded, Mom surprised us with a little slide show she’d thrown together. It seemed Robin had taught her about scanning photos when she’d bought her some scrapbooking software. Granny’s commentary about how pretty I used to be before the ‘defilement’ was annoying, but seeing all the old pictures touched me. When a photo of me at my wedding popped up, I sat back in surprise. It didn’t make me sad to see it, just a little embarrassed.

  “Bootiful!” my little nephew exclaimed, and I gave him a big kiss on the cheek.”

  “I wish we could have been there. Daddy would have loved to walk you down the aisle.” Mom murmured, and I felt crappy all over again for eloping.

  Even the twins got a little choked up at some of the pictures, mostly the ones of Dad. Time had worked over my memories of him, and seeing his wide grin on the big screen TV seared through my protective walls. When we got to one of him at the restaurant pretending to arm-wrestle Bobby Flay, we all laughed and it definitely lightened the mood.

  The next picture to pop up made my stomach hit the floor. It took me a second to understand exactly what I was seeing. Mason stood dressed in a tux raising a champagne flute. I saw Mac seated off to the left, a genuine grin on his face. Mason was turned away from Mac, toasting Joe and a beautiful fresh-faced blonde in a wedding gown. The happy couple smiled back at my brother. At first, I found it impossible to focus on anything but the bride. She was petite, with glowing skin and flawless features. Finally, I forced my eyes away from her to look at Joe. The joy emanating off of him was hard to witness. It hadn’t been my imagination after all; grief truly had transformed him into a different person. I immediately excused myself. Between Daddy and Joe, I needed some fresh air. It was dark out by then, so I started to pack up my knives.

  When I had all of my things together, I tossed on my thick hoodie and put up my hood. I was halfway out the door when Mom appeared in the kitchen door.

  “Don’t forget Joe’s pie!” She drawled, making her way to me. She handed me two of them. Mason turned up about that time.

  “I don’t have his address, Ma.” I shook my head and tried to give her back the pies.

  “Here, I’ll text it to you.” Mason had his phone out before I could open my mouth.

  “Where are you going?” Mac wandered in and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  “Joe’s. She’s taking him pie!” Mason snorted without looking up from his phone.

  “Like hell she is!” Mac gave me a look of warning. Mason turned to Mac and they had one of their weird silent psychic twin conversations. Apparently Mac won their debate, because Mason shrugged and shook his head. Mac turned back to me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I pulled an annoyed face and wondered exactly what Stacy had said to him. I knew it couldn’t have been much or he would have already given me the third degree.

  “You take them to him then.” I shot back, practically tossing them on the counter. “I just want to go home.”

  The clatter of Granny’s walker on the tile announced her presence before we saw her.

  “I’d take that boy some pie. Yes, indeed!” Granny called and Mac looked mortified.

  At that point I would have agreed to anything just to get away from Mac’s suspicious glances and Granny’s inappropriate comments. Reality hit a couple of minutes later when I realized I actually had to go to Joe’s. If I didn’t, my mother would find out and I was still trying to earn Brownie points with her. I knew the wedding dig was unintentional, but she had a PhD in Guilt Trips, and executed them effortlessly.

  The slick downtown streets were practically deserted at eight thirty. I wasn’t surprised; rain in Texas was often treated like a full blown blizzard. I had to pull over to put the address in my GPS for Joe’s place. I could have done it before I left but I didn’t want to chance someone flagging me down. The GPS was still doing its search when it was interrupted by my phone ringing. I was ready to send it to voicemail until I saw the caller ID- Dan Franklin.

  When I had to sell the restaurant and leave town, I had to leave all of my friends behind. The entire time I’d been back in Austin, not one of them had been in touch. Out of all of them, I’d been closest to Dan. He was the gay older brother I had always wanted. We’d bonded instantly, being that we were both southern transplants to the Pacific Northwest. Slipping my Bluetooth ear piece in, I clicked the button to answer the call.

  “Dan?”

  “Hey there, sugar! Happy Turkey Day! How you doin’?” His thick Louisiana accent was like a velour blanket on a chilly evening.

  “Good. I just got done with the family extravaganza. It makes me glad that we only do this kind of thing a few times a year.”

  “I hear ya. It’s a joy to get the whole family together, but I find myself needing a couple of bottles of wine during and a day or so of peace and quiet afterwards.” For the first time since leaving Seattle, I found myself nostalgic for the town. I missed the blue water of The Sound, the craziness of Pike’s Market, and Dan’s friendly face. The gentle lilt of his voice was like a balm on my jangled nerves.

  “How have things been out there?”

  “Good. I got a new job since I couldn’t stand being in the festering cesspool after you left. As a matter of fact, that is part of what I called you about. I have some good news and some distasteful news. Which would you like first?” Something about the way he said it filled me with dread.

  “Go ahead and give me the bad news, Dan.” My GPS beeped letting me know that I could start my journey. Pulling out into the light traffic I headed towards Joe’s.<
br />
  “Well, I think I’ll send you the bad news on an email, sweetie. It’s more of a visual that loses something in the translation. Besides, it’s a holiday. We should focus on the positive and honey, this is a big fat positive.” The grin I could hear in his voice lifted my heavy heart a bit.

  “Okay, lay it on me, Danny-boy.”

  “Well, you remember back when I brought my brother in to eat and he raved about your talent?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “He hasn’t stopped raving. He bought a restaurant down in Galveston and when I told him you sold out and moved back to Tejas, he totally flipped.”

  I smiled “Tell him to come check out my food truck if he loves me that much.”

  “Honey, you have no idea. He is willing to practically write you a blank check to get you to come cook for his new place. I told him that I would pass the word along.”

  I huffed with a smile. “Dan, that’s an amazing offer. But Galveston is a little far away from my family. The whole idea of moving back was for me to reconnect with them.”

  “I know, honey, I know. But I told him I would offer. He isn’t opening the place for a few months yet, so if anything changes just let me know. Okay?”

  As I crossed Lady Bird Lake, we caught up a bit and I promised to call him back soon so we could really dish the dirt.

  I pulled into the empty parking lot of the Sweetish Hill Bakery. The GPS said I’d reached my destination, but it was obviously wrong. I drove around back to turn around and I saw Joe’s truck parked underneath a carport a couple of buildings down. I parked and was about to get out of the car when my phone beeped.

  Is it possible for a phone beep to be ominous?

  Pulling up my email I saw the one I was waiting for at the top of the list.

  Sweetie, just keep in mind that everything happens for a reason. Love, Dan.

  Clicking on the link he had sent I skimmed through the story and studied the pictures over and over, acid rising in my throat. Smiling happily back at the camera wrapped in one another’s arms were my former sous chef, Elaine and my ex-husband. The article announced the wedding of the happy couple. The picture though…Dan hadn’t exaggerated that the picture told a story; a story that filled me with rage and despair. The very pregnant looking bride of my cheating bastard ex was positively glowing. The article laid out the details the picture didn’t tell.

  Math can be a really uncaring bitch. The happy couple would be welcoming a new arrival that only could have been conceived before I discovered the panties and my shaky marriage went completely to hell. And I had sold that soulless bitch my restaurant for a killer price. I’d gushed about how happy I was that she could keep things going and how much I trusted her to carry on without me. Elaine had just stood there, smiling, and letting it happen. It was a very good thing we were several states apart. Otherwise I might have ended up in the newspaper as well for beating a pregnant woman and her sleazy other half to death.

  I’m not sure how long I sat there, staring blankly out the window. There were a few angry tears but mostly I just felt numb. The last thing I wanted to do was deliver the damn pies. But I was already here, so I climbed out of my car. Yet again, I was going against my instincts which screamed ‘get back in and head home’.

  Keep it together, Molly. Tell him Happy Thanksgiving, hand him the pies, and leave.

  Seemed like a simple plan. I could do this.

  I wandered around to the front of the bakery and hurried two buildings over to the one that I’d deduced was his. A heavy metal security door was in place, locked in front of what looked like a vacant storefront. There was heavy paper covering the windows. There was no sign, so I assumed it had been vacant for a while. To the right was a single door with two mailboxes. The address on one matched Mason’s text, and was labeled J. Jensen.

  Faint music drifted down from the second floor. Heaving a reluctant sigh, I trudged up the stairs, taking care not to trip as I balanced both pies. When I reached the top of the landing, I saw two apartment doors. It was obvious that the music came from the door on the right. I adjusted the pies and was about to tap on the door. The slow, seductive beat of the music added to my growing discomfort. I heard no movement, and a horrifying thought occurred to me.

  What if he’s with someone?

  Once the insidious idea popped into my head, I couldn’t shake it. This day was bad enough without me having to deal with some hoochie mama. I would die of humiliation if a half-naked girl answered. I heard footsteps somewhere in the apartment and realized I needed to get the hell out of there. Looking around I saw no other option so I knelt to set the pies down on floor of the landing. That’s when the door swung open.

  Shit.

  Caught red-handed, I had no recourse but to look up at Joe. His expression of surprise would have been downright hilarious had he not been standing there shirtless. My stomach sank with dread, sure at any moment some female hand would wrap around him and drag him back inside. Then my brain registered that he was holding a paintbrush and that his faded jeans were randomly splotched with dark paint. I rose slowly, fighting to keep my eyes from dropping to the trail of soft hair that began just above the button of his jeans.

  The plan, Molly. Stick to the plan.

  Yeah. Whatever that was.

  After what seemed like an incredibly long trip back to standing, I was face to face with him.

  “Hi.” His eyes swept my face as if searching me for clues. He didn’t look angry, which was a decidedly good thing.

  “Hi.” I dragged the word out apologetically. “Sorry to just show up here. I didn’t think you were home. My mother insisted I bring you pie.”

  His gorgeous green eyes dropped to the two pie tins in my hands and swiftly returned to mine. The corners of his mouth curled in a smile just this side of naughty.

  Sweet mother of God.

  Within an instant of being in his presence, I was in serious danger of doing or saying something I’d regret. I recalled with perfect clarity just how good he felt inside me, and I craved that kind of raw comfort after the day I’d had. As always, Joe was almost too tempting to resist. It was time to go.

  I held out the aluminum wrapped pies and was about to blurt ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ when he stepped back and said “Come on in.”

  “Oh. Ummmm…O..okay.” Flustered, I stepped in after him. He sauntered to a ladder on the far side of the room and I couldn’t help but admire his broad, bare shoulders and the curve of his lower back as it branched out into that perfect denim-clad ass. He dropped his paintbrush into the tray on the ladder’s platform. He picked up a paint cloth and turned back in my direction as he wiped off his hands. The room was vacant except a TV stand that was draped with plastic. Before I’d interrupted him, he’d been touching up the dark trim. I realized he was watching me as I made my way into the kitchen. I took my time getting to the counter, dodging discarded paint cans and treading cautiously on the drop cloths. The last thing I wanted to do was mess up his hard work or knock paint over onto the wooden floors.

  The kitchen was beautiful, very modern, and he’d chosen similar materials to those that he used for Mom’s. Finding a safe spot to set the pies, I turned and saw Joe had followed me. Whether intentional or not, he had positioned himself between me and the exit.

  “I heard you were going out of town today. Did you ditch out?” I remarked. Between the newly remodeled truck and the do it yourself paint job, his incessant need to work made even me look like a slacker.

  “No.” He paused long enough that I wondered if he’d say anything else about it. “We got an early start. I stayed overnight last night and took my oldest niece out for a sunrise ride. My sister has horses.”

  “Oh.” Imagining Joe with his niece made me feel even lonelier. Perhaps it had something to do with the protruding baby bump in Draven’s wedding picture. Imagining Joe on horseback did little to dull the erotic ache he always brought out in me. I hadn’t realized just how badly I’d missed him until I
looked into his emerald eyes.

  “Are you coming back to work on Monday?” I fought hard not to sound eager.

  “Yep.” He folded his incredible arms and leaned on the doorframe which I hoped for his sake wasn’t still wet. His gaze seemed to scrutinize me, and I was just too emotional to keep a stiff upper lip much longer.

  I clasped my hand together and smiled uncomfortably. “Cool. Well, I guess I’ll see you then. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  I walked past him, wedging myself between him and the kitchen island as I made for the door. The awkwardness of my visit had me shaking my head when I felt him grasp my elbow. I quivered as the inevitable sparks shot through me.

  “Molly?” His voice had lost its edge and that somehow rooted me to the spot. I slowly pivoted toward him, and my eyes nervously went from his hand to his face. He released my arm, color rapidly rising in his cheeks. It seemed as if my apprehension wounded him somehow. He studied the floor, and then after some struggle, he forced his eyes to mine. His voice was a shy whisper. “Are you all right?”

  I’m pretty fucking far from all right.

  I wanted nothing more than to blurt it out loud and collapse in his arms like some Victorian heroine, but Joe had his own shit to deal with, and I fought to hold it all in long enough to get out of there with some small tatter of my dignity intact.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a very long day.” His eyes seemed to see into me. Cocking his head sideways, he gave me that small, sympathetic grin and I felt searing heat rush through me.

  “Bullshit.” He said it softly, his hold on my eyes anything but. “I know fine, Molly. You aren’t fine. Sit down and tell me about it.”

  As I looked up at him, I knew I was walking a tightrope and I knew with perfect clarity that I was about to fall. On one side I dissolved into a blubbering mess in front of this man, in another…

  I pushed him back against the wall, knocking random painting supplies out of our way in the process. My lips hungrily sought out his, and I nearly died when I felt him hesitate. My self-esteem was already at an all-time low, and the vulnerability Joe’s disinterest had always brought out in me threatened to consume me. I almost pulled away, but at that exact moment, he responded to me, enthusiastically… almost aggressively.