by R. J. Sable
Chapter 17
“So this is why you smell like wood stain,” I murmur, more to myself than to Karl as he starts getting his supplies together
“Wood stain?” He frowns. “We haven't stained it yet. What are you on about?”
“Oh,” I cringe. “Nothing.” What sort of man naturally smells like wood stain? And why does he have to smell like something that I love so much?
Stupid man.
“How do you know what I smell like?” He grins wickedly.
“I noticed by accident,” I shrug.
“You turnip-ed me when I noticed what you smelt like!” He protests, tossing some overalls at me.
“You sniffed me!”
“What’s the difference?” He demands with a chuckle.
“You did it on purpose.”
“A man can’t be allowed an accidental sniff?” He feigns disappointment and I throw a sheet of sanding paper at him along with a semi-shouted “no” before I stomp out of the garage and wait for him.
“You sure you don't mind helping?” He prompts as we start work. “You can just sit and watch if you want.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “'Cos that sounds fascinating.”
“Suit yourself,” he smirks. “I gather you like woodwork then?”
I nod. “Been doing it for a few years.”
He nods with a subtle crinkle at the juncture of his brows.
“What?” I prompt.
“Nothing I can say without breaking the rules,” he winks. He knows he's goading me because he knows I want to know what he was thinking but I'm not falling for it.
“Okay,” I shrug. “How come you took woodworking?”
“Me and Matt figured we could help dad around the house a bit more if we got a bit better. It's a life skill,” he shrugs.
“Do you two do everything together?” I tease but it's a genuine question. I've rarely seen them apart and they only leave school separately when Matt is at his part-time job.
“Why wouldn't we?” He shrugs again like he can't understand why I would even ask that. “We have similar interests or we wouldn't be friends.”
“How did you two get to be friends?” I study him intently across the timber I'm sanding down. It's nice to have something to do with my hands whilst we talk. It feels less intimate and intimate is the last thing I need with Karl Carter.
“You don't remember?” He cocks his head at me curiously.
I just scowl at him because he knows that's breaking the rules. Honestly, all I remember was that, one day, Matt started turning up at the Carter house and he was almost always there from that day onwards.
“No, we met at a football match and you hate football so...” he looks up at me with a cheeky grin and since he's breaking the rule, I neglect to tell him that he has a massive smudge of wood stain on his forehead.
“It was one of the seven-a-side matches in the club Uncle Eric runs,” he continues. “Ian was playing on the other team and he fouled me so we ended up in a fight. I'd seen Matt before a few times and he knew we were the coach's nephews but we hadn't really spoken much. He was kind of quiet, believe it or not.” He smirks and I have to admit that it seems unlikely knowing him now but I remember how he used to be.
“Anyway, it pissed Matt off to no end that my big brother was giving me a hard time so he joined in and helped me team up on Ian.”
I laugh because I've seen those boys fight and, even in the old days, they were very, very good. I'm not sure I'd have been brave enough to get in the middle of them.
“Anyway, I thanked him and we chatted a bit after that. He didn't show up for a few weekends and the next time I saw him, some of the lads from another football club in Normanton were giving him shit about something.
It was four on one so, obviously, me and Ian helped him out. Turns out he'd been walking all the way to the matches every weekend because he had no other way of getting there. After that, we always went and picked him up and dropped him off and we just sort of ended up friends.
There aren't many people who would fight Ian for me,” he concludes with a grin and I have to agree. Ian is slightly scary if you piss him off.
I feel a bit bad for mocking Matt about football. He must have walked for over two hours just to get to the matches and then two hours back. It obviously meant something to him if he walked all that way. I make a mental note not to be so mean to him about it in future. If something is important to somebody, you should never ever belittle it, no matter how stupid you think it is personally.
“I didn't think you and Ian fought often,” I say, deciding that this doesn't break the rules because it's based on my observations over the recent weeks.
“Very rarely,” he agrees, looking at me like he's going to accuse me of rule breaking. “But it happens. If we argue, dad usually just sends us to the mats and we sweat it out.”
“Who wins on the mats?” I grin because they were always pretty evenly matched.
“Fifty-fifty,” Karl shrugs.
“Sixty-forty to me,” Ian's voice startles me but Karl seems to be used to his stealthy tendencies because he doesn't even blink.
Karl doesn't answer but his doubtful facial expression says it all.
“Wanna go a round now?” Ian challenges with his trademark smirk.
“Now, now, boys,” I caution with a grin because I have no interest in seeing them fight when there'll be pizza some time soon.
“You come to help?” Karl prompts, offering a paintbrush to Ian.
“No,” Ian scoffs. “You already have help, you lazy git.”
“She volunteered!” Karl insists.
“Sure,” Ian scoffs. “Nah, Grandma sent me out to tell you chef Jamie will have dinner ready in thirty minutes.”
“She's been promoted to chef already?” I laugh.
“We're fast learners,” Ian nods. “Gran's just sitting there and watching her. She's stood on a stool pouring god knows what into the pans.”
“Reckon dad'll let us have the day off if we have food poisoning?” Karl cringes.
“No,” Ian scoffs with a matching cringe. “He'll give us barf bags and send us on our way.”
“Seriously?” I laugh.
“He'd only give us the day off if we physically couldn't get out of bed,” Ian nods.
“Or if we were contagious,” Karl grins. “Jamie-Lea had chicken pox a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, bless her,” I frown in sympathy. Nobody deserves to suffer through chicken pox.
“It was hilarious,” Ian grins. “She usually does as she's told but she just wouldn't stop scratching.”
“Can't really blame her,” I frown.
Ian raises an eyebrow at me like he doesn't agree. “We told her not to scratch.”
“She was itchy!” I argue.
“We told her not to,” he repeats. “Anyway, we just taped up her hands in bubble wrap.”
“That's cruel!” I frown.
“It was for her own good,” Karl laughs. “She cheered up when we wrapped the twins' hands up too so they could box.”
“You let her box with the twins?” That sounds crazy unfair and slightly dangerous.
“Not for real,” Ian smirks. “They were on their knees and we only let them use one hand at a time.”
“She was giggling so at least it cheered her up a bit,” Karl adds.
That seems alright. I had images of a little girl crying with her hands taped up but at least they made it fun for her. I smile to myself because it was kind of a sweet thing to do.
We're done with the swing set and Karl seems pleased because it took far less time to finish than he thought it would. I help him put the tools and wood stain back in the garage and he smiles happily at me as he pulls the garage door closed.
“Want a tour?”
“Of the house?” I frown and he nods. We've been kept so busy with talking and working that I haven't given the house much thought but it seems stupid to have come this far and not see what's left of my old room.<
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“Okay,” I nod, fully aware that he can probably see my nerves on my face. Hopefully, he can see my resolve as well.
It turns out there's not much to see. He meant it when he said they gutted the whole place. None of the walls are in the same places and they've even relocated some of the windows. It must have been a massive undertaking.
“This was where your room was,” Karl says. His voice is soft again, the way it is when his brother's aren't around and he loses the façade. The real Karl.
“It's not here anymore,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
“We split it up into two rooms. Matt's and Jamie's.”
“Whose room is this?” I ask, stepping into the room. It's painted a pale green with movie posters all over.
“You can't tell?” Karl laughs.
I look around. There's nothing overtly feminine or masculine about the room. I expected Matt's room to have football posters but I would have expected Jamie's room to be a bit more well... pink. She's a little girl after all. What little girl doesn't have some pink somewhere in her room?
“This must be your sister’s,” I smile as I see the worn out cuddly elephant on the pillow. I can see Andrew is still enforcing the 'beds must be made' rule because there's not a crease in sight on her bed. The elephant has pride of place in the middle of the pillow.
“It is,” Karl nods. He's looking out the window and I follow his gaze to see our old tree. The tree that let him save me.
“She likes movies?” I ask because I don’t want to think about that tree too much.
“She likes watching them with us,” he nods. “She doesn’t talk much so it’s hard to do stuff with her sometimes but if we watch a film she’ll sit with us happily for a while.”
“She seems a bit shy,” I say because it’s not a traditional Carter trait as far as I’m aware.
“I’m not sure if she’s shy so much as cautious but she’s alright,” he shrugs. “Her and Jake fight something rotten though.”
“That’s what siblings do, I guess,” I sigh, remembering the many, many Carter disagreements I’ve been witness too.
He nods again in agreement and sits on the edge of the bed. I sit next to him because I’m quite enjoying Jamie-Lea’s room. It’s so clean and fresh and I love the idea that they’ve purified this place and made it into something nice again.
I feel like I can let go of the room I hate thinking of because it doesn’t exist any more and neither does the man I associate with it.
“So, you’ve met my whole family now. Does that mean we’re proper friends?” Karl interrupts my introspection.
“I don’t know,” I frown. Are we proper friends now? We’re sat alone in a bedroom and nothing feels awkward. I can hear the rabble of noise from the rest of the family downstairs but, up here, we’re slightly isolated and I can almost feel him in the air around me.
I can feel the way his eyes are penetrating me, feel the way his breath brushes over my cheeks as he shuffles closer. I can feel the way his thumb and finger gently nudge my chin so that my eyes meet his. I’ll never get over how blue his eyes are.
“Are we, Elise?” He prompts again. I’d almost forgotten he asked a question because my senses are overwhelmed by cinnamon, wood stain, and crystal clear blue. I try to draw my eyes away but they focus on the slight cleft of his chin instead so I push up to standing because this is all wrong. I shouldn’t be looking at anybody like this, least of all Karl.
“I guess so,” I begrudgingly admit because I need to stop staring at him and talking helps. “What does that mean anyway, being proper friends?”
“That we trust each other,” he answers immediately. “That you can talk to me about anything and everything without fear of judgment.”
Judgment. That word hurts because he’s already judged me once before and it almost broke me. My heckles rise because I kind of want to kick him in the balls.
“Oh really?” I snap.
He frowns like he wasn’t expecting me to react this way but he nods anyway, standing up opposite me.
“So we can talk about what I saw at the library?”
He immediately scowls and I can sense that he’s growing angry. I know it’s a sensitive area and I should have approached the issue more carefully but he made me see red and I retaliated without thinking.
“Is that what you want?” He approaches me with his shoulders set. “Want to make me feel like a fucking idiot? Point out that I can’t read as well as Craig even though he’s fucking eleven years old? Fine, Elise. Let’s hash this out.”
“Karl, that’s not-”
“No, come on, out with it. Just say whatever it is you want to say.”
Instead of feeling his presence, now I can feel his anger. The air is heavy with the intense emotion and it almost stings as it prickles my skin. I hate that I’ve made him feel this way.
I hate that he’s this way with me.
He’s the one that said we should be able to talk about anything and everything.
“I was only going to ask if it was something I could help with,” I frown. Friends help each other, that’s what having Becky Blossom in my life has taught me. If me and Karl are going to be friends, we should be there for one another, right?
“What?” He recoils as if I’ve slapped him.
“Like with the swing set,” I shrug. “We did it quicker because there were two of us.”
He’s still staring at me like I’m crazy so I push on.
“I know Ian and Matt help you but Matt has a job and Ian is always helping somebody. Sometimes he might not have time and I could help.”
“I’m not an idiot,” he snaps.
“I know that, Karl,” I slap his arm because he’s acting like one and he needs to wake up. “You’re clever, you always have been, but you just have a hard time reading, right? Are you dyslexic?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. He cracks his knuckles together and narrows his eyes at me. It’s not a threatening gesture. I mostly get the impression he’s stalling.
“Yes,” he grits. “How did you know?” He looks so distraught, so ashamed, and it kind of makes me want to slap him again.
“It was a guess,” I shrug. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, sitting back down on the bed. “I’ve heard it a million times. But that’s easy to say if you’re not being outdone by your kid brother. Hell, Jake and Jamie will overtake me soon.”
“Karl, the guy who invented the telephone was dyslexic,” I mock him with a grin.
Okay, so I may have done some research after I found out.
“Alexander Graham Bell?” Karl asks in shock.
“See, if you were an idiot, you wouldn’t know who that was,” I laugh at him, sitting down next to him again. “Albert Einstein and Da Vinci were too.”
“I’m good at remembering stuff because it’s easier than reading my notes,” he grumbles with a small smile. “When I read, things just sort of jump around and merge together. It’s not so bad with simple texts but even they take me forever.”
“Okay,” I nod. “So you’ll let me help you sometimes?”
“I’m not a charity case, Elise,” he grits.
“No, you’re my friend. But if it makes you feel better, I accept payment in Wagon Wheels.”
“Fucking Wagon Wheels,” he chuckles, his smile turning genuine.
I can see the appreciation in his eyes and, for the first time, when he turns to hug me, I don’t even think twice about returning it.
Just like before, I slot into place against him and – since he sniffed me earlier – I guiltlessly inhale and let his woody scent permeate my senses.
Chapter 18
“You sit here, Jamie-Lea,” Peter holds a chair out for the little girl.
“That’s your seat, Granddad,” Jamie shakes her head and takes a step back.
“Ah, but today you get to sit at the head of the table
because you’ve been such a good girl.”
Jamie’s face lights up happily but then she frowns. “But where will you sit, Granddad?”
“I’ll sit right next to you, princess,” he grins, lifting Jamie onto her chair.
This seems to placate her and she scrambles into place on the chair and Peter pushes it in for her before pulling out a chair for his wife.
“I’ve already eaten dinner, Peter. I need to lie down,” Grandma Carter frowns.
I see the uncomfortable expressions on the Carters’ faces and I can understand. She’s obviously lost weight since I knew her and she needs to eat but the Alzheimer’s is clearly playing havoc on her memory.
“Darling, you need to eat before you sleep,” Peter says gently.
“No, Peter. I’m tired and I’ve already eaten.”
I see Peter’s grimace before he exchanges a look with Andrew and takes his wife by the arm. He grabs a few slices of bread with his spare hand and guides her to the room in the hallway.
“Dad’s bedroom,” Karl explains as I follow their progress. “They sometimes stay over when Grandma’s having one of her bad days. She’s not always like this.”
I nod and smile sympathetically. It’s hard watching a loved one deteriorate day by day. It was torture with my mum but there’s no coming back from Alzheimer’s and it’s her mind that’s failing her more than her body.
“Right,” Andrew clears his throat and does his best to hide his pain from his children. “What have you made for us, Jamie-Lea?”
Jamie beams with pride as her father looks at her but I notice his eyes dart away to the food after just a few seconds.
“It’s stew. Grandma says we had to have lots of protein because we’re growing. And lots of potatoes too so our tummies get full.”
“What else did you put in it?” Ian asks, pulling out the seat to the right of his father.
“Grandma said I should keep the recipe a secret. She said we have to keep them secret because if we tell you, you’ll try and make it yourself and then you won’t let me make it again,” Jamie purses her lips, obviously determined to keep her secret.
“I see,” Ian chuckles, exchanging a look with Matt and the twins.