by Joan Kilby
To the right were a kitchenette and a sitting area with a battered couch, an area rug and a wood-burning heater. At the back of the shed was a half-finished ultralight aircraft, a reminder of everything he’d abandoned. The three-wheeled chassis and cockpit were intact, but the struts and the wings were stacked behind it on the floor. After the crash he hadn’t been able to complete the machine, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of it, either. Sort of like the GPS he’d invented.
Later that afternoon, Jack was sawing a sheet of transparent yellow resin into strips he could file down for the body and legs of a robot dog when he heard the knock at the open door. He glanced over his shoulder and did a double take. “Come in.”
Sienna’s bright hair was tied back, but tendrils escaped and curled around her high cheekbones. Her slim square shoulders and narrow waist were defined by a tailored white blouse and a dark pencil skirt. He shouldn’t be interested. He wasn’t interested. But despite what his head said, his heart beat a jig.
With her was a gangly teenager he recognized from a recent school presentation. Jack remembered the boy because he’d asked a lot of questions and he seemed bright. Ah, yes, he was carrying the computer-disk robot Jack had shown the Year 9 class how to build.
“Hi.” Sienna approached slowly, glancing around. “This is Oliver, my son. He’s been raving about your visit to his science class.”
“I didn’t rave,” Oliver muttered. His face turned bright red but he gave Jack an awkward wave. “Hey.”
“Nice to see you again, Oliver.” Giving him some space to recover his composure, Jack turned to Sienna. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Your father was in to see me today,” she began.
“How is he?” Jack said. “Is there anything wrong?”
Sienna’s mouth shut abruptly. After a moment’s hesitation she said, “He’s getting some blood tests done—nothing unusual for a man of his age. The reason I mentioned him is that he represents a more general problem many men in the community face.”
She started spreading printouts from the internet over his bench. Oliver drifted toward the ultralight. “Don’t touch anything, Olly,” she warned, clearly one of those mothers with eyes in the back of her head.
“He can’t hurt anything.” Jack looked over her shoulder at the brochures and breathed in the smell of her hair. The print blurred. Pineapple. He loved pineapple.
“The government provides start-up funding, but once the shed is running it’s like a small business. It needs a source of income to be self-sustaining.”
She was so eager to get her message across, her words tumbled out. “You can make toys for a child-care center or benches for the park. The projects you choose depend on what your group is skilled at. The main thing is it’s a place for men like your dad to connect and engage in productive activities.” She stopped for breath and looked at him, her eyes shining. “What do you think?”
“I know about Men’s Sheds,” Jack said. “But what do they have to do with me?”
“I’m talking about you starting up a Men’s Shed, here.” She glanced around at the interior, as big as three double garages. “You can get funding to upgrade the facilities if necessary. I’ve even thought of a first project for your group—making toys to raffle off at the high school’s Trivia Night. They’re raising funds for better sporting facilities. You would appreciate that. As the leader you get a salary—”
“Whoa! Stop right there.” Jack put his hands up to halt the flow of what she clearly thought was a brilliant idea. “I’m not leading anything.”
“But you’re perfect for the job.” Sienna blinked, bewildered. “You’ve got the skills, the time—”
“That’s my time,” Jack said, cutting her off again. “To pursue my interests.” Jeez, but he sounded selfish when he put it that way. And considering how hard he’d found it to get out of bed this morning, he probably ought to do it. But he just couldn’t. Softening his tone, he added, “I’ve never been good at sticking to someone else’s schedule. That’s why I used to have my own business.”
Sienna’s face cleared. “From what the head of the Men’s Shed Association told me, each shed sets their own agenda—”
“You already talked to the head of the association? I hope you didn’t mention my name.”
Guilt all over her face, she glanced away. Then she turned to him again, her small, pointed jaw determined. “I just wanted to have all the facts for when I talked to you. Nothing’s carved in stone.”
“Good, because it’s not going to happen. At least not in my shed, run by me.” He started to shift her papers off his robot parts.
“Your father is bored and lonely. He’s—” Again she stopped abruptly. “He needs an active interest. There are a lot of men like him out there.”
“Look, I’m more than happy for Dad or Oliver or anyone to come and have a cup of coffee or potter with my tools. But I don’t want to be tied to a schedule or held accountable by community organizations.”
“You might—”
“No, I won’t.”
“Let me finish!”
He crossed his arms and fixed her with a stare. “You might enjoy it. You might get something out of it yourself.” Barely audible, she added, “A purpose in life.”
He’d hoped she might be different. But no, she was just another do-gooder bent on saving him from himself. Something she seemed to need more than he did. So what if he had a bad day once in a while? “I have a purpose to my life. To get as much pleasure out of it as I possibly can.”
“I refuse to believe you’re that…hedonistic,” she said, shaking her head.
“Don’t go thinking there’s some deep side to me,” he snapped. “I’m totally out for myself.”
“I know that’s not true,” she said. “You got Olly and his classmates interested in electronics. I happen to know you didn’t get paid for that.”
Jack waved that off. “Money isn’t an issue. I don’t like being responsible for others.”
“Okay.” She held her hands up, surrendering. “I just thought you might enjoy it. I apologize for putting you on the spot.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t have a problem saying no.”
She walked back to the workbench and started stacking her brochures and papers, tapping them down into alignment. “Olly wanted to ask you something.”
Jack walked over to the boy, who was peering into the cockpit of the ultralight.
“Did you build this?” Oliver asked, awestruck.
“I’m in the process of it.” Not wanting to explain why three years had passed since he’d done a lick of work on it, Jack gestured to the CD Oliver was holding. “How’s your robot working?”
“I’d like to make it go in reverse. Can you show me how?”
“I’ve got a gizmo that should do the trick. Come with me.” Jack led the way to a spot farther down the workbench from where Sienna waited. He searched through a large plastic container whose many compartments held wheels, gears, levers, cogs and miscellaneous parts for robotic applications. Finally he found what he was looking for.
“Take off the original motor and we’ll install this one,” he told Oliver. “It’s got gears and it’s bigger, so you’ll be able to move this baby faster. See this slide switch? You push it back to put it in reverse.”
Oliver unwired the gearbox from the disk, his blond head bent over the task. “Would wheels work on this instead of the rubber legs?”
“Sure. If you’ve got any old toy cars lying around, pull them off and attach them. Just make sure they’re on an axle so they’ll spin freely.” Jack handed the new gearbox to Oliver. “You put it on.”
Oliver maneuvered the parts into position, his face turning red from being watched.
“That’s right,” Jack said. “You’ve got it.”
“Does this wire go here?” Olly looked to Jack for confirmation.
Jack nodded. “Make sure you get a tight contact.”
Oliver got the robot moving forward, then flipped the switch into reverse. The disk tottered backward. He shot Jack a wide grin. “I did it!”
“Excellent work.” Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Oliver pushed the switch again, sending the robot forward. Leaving him to play with it, Jack crossed the few steps to Sienna. “He’s quick on the uptake, more so than most of the kids in his class.”
“He’s a smart boy,” Sienna said, watching her son.
Jack leaned against the wooden bench. He didn’t know why he should care what she thought, but something made him ask, “Are you annoyed because I won’t fall in with your Men’s Shed plans?”
“Look, I’ll admit I’m disappointed,” she added. “I thought my idea would be perfect for you, your father and the community at large and I really wanted it to work. But I’ll get over it.” Her sigh was so slight it was barely perceptible. Then she glanced at her watch and called to her son. “Olly, are you finished?”
“In a minute.” He reversed the robot and watched it totter back across the bench.
“Now, Olly.”
“Okay, okay.” Oliver picked up his robot, his eyes bright. “This is so cool,” he said to Jack. “Thanks.”
“Any time. Drop by after school and I’ll show you some more stuff.” He raised an eyebrow at Sienna. “If it’s okay with your mother, that is.”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with his schoolwork,” she said. “Again, I’m sorry I was so pushy earlier. Thank you for being so generous with your time.”
Her gratitude had the effect of making him feel small. Which irritated him. Who was she to come in here and expect him to follow her whims?
Then as she walked out the door Jack’s gaze dropped to her legs. A shaft of sunlight illuminated a small shell tattooed on her shapely ankle.
Damn, but he was in trouble.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SIENNA.” BEV POKED her head into the staff room where Sienna, between patients, leaned against the counter eating a sandwich. “Renita Thatcher is here.”
“Coming.” Sienna swallowed the last bite of turkey and lettuce and washed it down with coffee. She’d been a bit surprised to see Renita’s name on her list today until Bev told her that Renita usually saw Phillip Boucher, who was on holiday.
Jack’s younger sister’s taupe suit fit snugly over her ample bust and hips. It was a far cry from the casual dress Sienna had seen on her last Saturday.
Smiling, she said, “Renita? Would you like to come in now?” She led the way back down the hall.
“Have a seat.” Sienna gestured to the chair next to her desk and sank onto her exercise ball. “How’ve you been?”
“I think I have a sinus infection.” Renita’s voice was clogged and nasal. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Thanks for seeing me. Is it okay that I came to you, I mean since we’re friends?”
“If you’re comfortable with it, I’m fine.” Sienna warmed inside at Renita considering her a friend so quickly. She rose and went to the cabinet for her otoscope. “Are your sinuses hurting?”
Renita nodded. “It started Sunday morning. I thought at first it was just a cold, but the pain is bad all around my eyes and nose. I can hardly breathe.”
Sienna pulled up a chair, pushed Renita’s hair back and inserted the instrument to examine her eardrum. It was red and swollen. “Any fever? Yellow or green nasal discharge?”
“Yes to fever and yellow discharge.”
Sienna took routine blood pressure and heart rate measurements and tapped her observations into her computer. “I’ll give you a prescription for antibiotics. Take an antihistamine as well to dry it up. You should start to feel better in a few days.”
“Jack mentioned you asked him to start up a Men’s Shed.”
Ah. She’d wondered if he would mention it to his sister. “Has he changed his mind?”
“No. May I?” Renita reached for a tissue from the box on Sienna’s desk and blew her nose. “I just hope you don’t think badly of him for refusing.”
The printer started to spit out the prescription. “It’s not up to me to tell him what to do. He’s obviously got his life figured out.”
“He went through a really rough time after his wife, Leanne, died. He hasn’t gotten over it. He doesn’t like talking about it.”
“I’m very sorry,” Sienna said quietly. “The Men’s Shed might take his mind off his loss.”
“Jack’s fine.” Renita shrugged, balling her tissue in her fist.
Sienna hesitated. “Do you really believe that?” When Renita glanced away, she couldn’t help pursuing the point. “I don’t mean to be judgmental, but I can’t imagine not having a purpose in life. The philosophy of living purely for today makes no sense.”
Renita offered her a sad smile. “When your past has been wiped out and you can’t bear the thought of the future, the present is all you have.”
Sienna was silenced momentarily at the thought of Jack’s grief. Then she said, “You just have to pick yourself up and keep going.”
“That’s what he’s doing,” Renita replied.
Sienna bit her lip. She should just butt out. This was not professional. Her mother always told her to remember she was a doctor, not a friend or a therapist or a relative. Jack wasn’t even her patient. “Look, I’m sorry. This is none of my business. Forget I said anything.”
Renita twisted the sodden tissue. “This might be premature, but Lexie and I were hoping that you and he might get together…”
That such a gorgeous man came with two cool sisters was a bonus. But in spite of her strong attraction to Jack she knew that in the long term she couldn’t be happy with anyone so aimless.
Your standards are too high for ordinary mortals to live up to. Anthony had said that the night she’d confronted him about his affair with Erica. It had stung. Until she remembered that Anthony was defending his weakness and deceit. High standards were good.
“Jack and I aren’t right for each other, I’m afraid.” Sienna rose and handed Renita the prescription. “If you’re not starting to feel better in a few days, come see me again.”
SMEDLEY RACED INTO THE SHED, darted over to Jack for a quick sniff, then dashed to Bogie, who was crashed out on the floor by the couch. Bogie lifted his shaggy golden head as Smedley bounced twice on all four legs, a clear invitation to play.
“Hey, Dad,” Jack said, seeing Steve’s bulky form outlined in the bright light of the doorway. “Come on in.”
“I brought some cinnamon buns.” Steve took the bag to the kitchen. “I’ll put coffee on.”
“Go ahead.” Jack’s fingers were greasy from the lawn mower engine he was overhauling for his father. He’d removed the handle and had the base overturned on the benchtop. “I’ve almost got this finished.”
“No rush.” Steve plugged in the kettle. “Take a break.”
Jack ignored the suggestion. Although Sienna’s attitude toward his lifestyle rankled, since her visit he’d decided to tackle a few projects he’d been putting off. When he looked back over the past year he hadn’t accomplished half of what he had in the first two years after his “early retirement.” Once he’d recovered from his injuries and got his strength back he’d done heaps of things—painted his entire house and Lexie’s, landscaped Renita’s garden, organized the sale of his parents’ farm and machinery, helped a friend at his winery…and much more.
This year, not so much. Parkinson’s Law, “work expands to fill the time allotted,” seemed to hold true for him. Never mind. Once he got these few tasks out of the way he’d go back to enjoying life.
Steve got himself a cinnamon bun and wandered over to the ultralight, a natural draw for everyone, it seemed. “It’s been a while since you’ve flown.”
Three years, two months and one week. Of course, Steve didn’t mean the ultralight—that was just a toy—but a real plane like the Cessna 172 Jack used to charter out. He fitted the rotary blade to the motor. “Your lawn must be a mile
high now.”
“I should get a sheep. It’d be easier.” Steve wiggled the joystick. “Seems a shame you gave it all up. Don’t you miss it?”
Jack tightened the screws on the blade, hiding the sharp ache tugging at his insides. Yeah, he missed flying. He missed the surge of power at liftoff and the weightless feeling that followed. He missed the buffeting wind and the exhilaration of soaring through the wide-open sky. He missed the quiet satisfaction of a safe landing and a hot cup of coffee afterward. Keeping the ultralight in the shed was a peculiar form of self-torture. Flying had once been his greatest joy.
“I’ve got my hands full with this and that.” He turned the lawn mower over and wiped it down with a rag. Glancing up, he saw Steve wince and hold his stomach. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Steve grimaced again. “I think the meat pie I had for dinner last night was a bit dodgy.”
“Jeez, Dad, what are you doing eating meat pies that have gone off? Come over to my place for dinner.”
“Your meals are too spicy for my poor stomach.” He lumbered over to the couch and sat down heavily.
“So I’ll make you roast lamb. When’s Mum coming home?”
“Dunno,” Steve said with a gloomy scowl. “I thought when we retired we’d travel around the country together. But no, she’d rather go on an inner journey by herself.”
“She’s found something that makes her happy.” Jack defended his mother. Even so, he felt sorry for his father, who’d been left behind.
“We should never have sold the farm,” Steve complained, rubbing a hand across his thigh. “She wouldn’t have gotten all enlightened and I would have chores to do.”
Jack set about reattaching the handle to the base of the lawn mower. “You should make some friends in Summerside,” he said, fitting a bolt. “Join the lawn bowling club.”
“You sound like the doctor,” Steve grumbled. “Killing time, I call those sorts of activities. Give me something worth doing and I’d do it.”