I Picked You Page 6

  As Linc walked out the front doors, Raina rushed in the side door and leaned on the counter where Oliver had yet to jump off of.

  “Hey there, young man! I’m wondering if I could get some 2x4s and a load of sheet metal?”

  “Mom,” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Do you even know what a 2x4 is?” The combination of her light headed good mood and Oliver’s perfect use of superior tone and body language, had her bursting with a feeling she hadn’t felt in too long; thankful joy.

  “I sure do! You know it wasn’t too long ago that I got to work behind that desk.”

  She scooped him into her arms, kissed his cheeks and squeezed. “Have I told you lately how incredibly cool you are?”

  Oliver rolled his eyes again as Raina tweaked his nose. She leaned over and kissed her Dad on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy, for having Oliver.”

  “Anytime! He’s a natural.”

  “Let’s go, Monkey. I have a surprise for you!”

  “What kind of surprise?” he asked, as he hopped off the counter and grabbed his backpack.

  “If I told you it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”

  Martin watched them walk out the side door hand in hand. When they were out of sight, he picked up the phone and called his wife at work. He didn’t say hello when he heard her answer, instead, he got right down to business.

  “Raina was just here.”

  “I imagine she was. Is everything alright?”

  “I’d say she was more than alright. Grace, I haven’t seen her like that in a long, long time.”

  “Oh?”

  “She flew in here, and she was flying before she saw, Ollie.”

  “Well.” Grace sounded interested, but not completely as shocked as Martin himself felt.

  “I’ve got work to do, maybe you could find out why later. Love you!”

  He replaced the receiver and went to find an assortment of door knob brochures for Linc.

  Chapter Eleven

  The late summer evenings had changed. Everything down to the air was different and Linc loved it. The promise of cool evenings, the turning leaves, the smell of burning logs and being warmed by a fire, the tourists packing up their things to head back to work for the winter. There was nothing he didn’t love about autumn.

  Night had fallen and it had been one incredibly productive day which came at the heels of an equally productive week. He’d earned this treat and so had the crew surrounding him. They were all reclining in the fabulous chairs he’d made with a drink in hand watching the fire dance between them. His eyes scanned each of them. First, the beautiful woman on his right to whom he owed the world. Second, the work horse on his left for whom he was thankful to have won over at an early age, and not just because he was bigger or stronger, but because the man could fight dirty. And last but certainly not least, sandwiched between the two was the architect, who was always willing to learn and wasn’t afraid to hammer his fingers in the process.

  His family had gifts, and as they had grown and were encouraged to discover them, they learned how to thrive by using them.

  From where he sat, he could see each of their gifts being brought to life and living in the new extension they’d built onto the house that week. Though it wouldn’t be finished for a while, he could visualize the finished product.

  His brother-in-law had drawn the plans and worked with the engineer. His brother had sweat, bled, and pushed his muscles to help him erect the walls and giant timbers. And when it was time to finish and add the shine, he’d place the project in his mother’s hands. She would use the furniture he’d built for himself and add more to bring it to life.

  Inwardly he smiled smugly, and thought it was ultimately pretty darn handy that their gifts worked well together. But the week had gone by too fast, and though they’d accomplished all he’d hoped and more, he would be sad to see them go in the morning. Their company, though he hadn’t thought he’d missed it, had been almost more welcome than their help. He would miss them he realized, and right then and there he promised himself to make a bigger effort to visit, to be open, and to make sure they knew they were loved and appreciated.

  “You know, Linc, if you could have dragged yourself away from your project for a couple hours today, I think you would have enjoyed the market I stumbled upon. You might even have had the pleasure to have met the lovely lady I ran into at lunch.”

  “As soon as I get this addition done, Mom, I’ll spend all my spare time at the markets, wooing young ladies back to my fabulous abode!” he rose, kissed his mother’s cheek and walked into the garage where his refrigerator had taken up residence. He opened the door, took a look at its contents and poked his head back outside of the garage.

  “Anyone else want one of these obscenely delicious cookies?”

  He heard someone say yep, so he figured if he brought what was left in the bag, he’d at least get two. He took one out and ate it on the walk back to the fire pit. He tossed the bag to his big brother and his hand was reaching in the bag before Linc had settled back into his seat.

  “Don’t be a gluttonous fool over those cookies, Chris, pass them over!”

  “Yes, Diane!” he answered with a mouthful, and he tossed her the bag of cookies, or what was left in the bag. She pulled out one of the chewy, chocolatey wonders and passed the bag to Dale, who grabbed one and threw the bag back over to Linc.

  “These certainly are a treat! The cute little doll that made them was something too!”

  If Linc knew his mother, he knew she wasn’t going to drop it. He looked at her as he popped the last bite of his first cookie in his mouth, and he thought he’d indulge her. The last two years had been hard on her too, and her intentions were good. He knew with complete certainty that she loved him and that when his heart had hurt; hers had bled alongside his own.

  “So did this doll have a name?” He smiled at his mother as the flame danced shadows over her face.

  “I’m sure she does, but I didn’t have a chance to ask. She had to rush away and I was too distracted by her eyes and the menu, and they were both highly memorable. It did catch my attention that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring!”

  He laughed now, good and hearty. She hated the thought that he was alone, and since his decision to move, she worried he’d become a lonely recluse that spoke to his tools the way he would his children.

  “Well, I’d better stay away from that one then. You know my propensity to be reeled in by my stomach. Phew, and the absence of jeweled fingers; bring me the chains!” They all laughed and Linc had a single, fleeting image of the first girl he’d ever loved. Cindy: with all her innocent, and eager, wide-eyed, world at her feet ambition. He laughed again, to shake off the image. She had gutted him completely, and the moment she’d broken his heart he’d changed his course and the sort of woman he chose to date, but that hadn’t worked out so well for him either.

  It was at that moment Chris felt the need to get in a dig at his little brother. “Linc, when have you ever brought home that kind of girl? You go for the done-up, high as her heels, high maintenance type. And the long line of them you’ve paraded through the doors has been entertaining.”

  “True enough,” he grimaced at that. That’s who he had been, no question. But things change, he certainly had.

  “All right, boys. Diane,” Dale nodded. “I’m calling it a day.” Standing, he turned with the flick of his wrist and walked towards the house. Chris wasn’t far behind.

  “Me too. Good night, man,” he said, as he leaned into Linc and punched his arm good and hard.

  “Thanks guys,” Linc offered, as he rubbed the raw spot on his arm.

  Diane had watched her boys without interjecting. It had not slipped her notice to see that Linc definitely seemed in his element here. She had observed him all week and though he had always lived on his own terms, there was a new settled peace about him that she’d never seen before. It pleased her heart to see him finally embrace it. The constant pulse and flash of the life he�
�d attempted to forge was never him. He looked over at her now and she smiled.

  “What, no more subtle nudges?”

  “Oh, sweetie, we both know there is nothing subtle about my nudges!”

  “True enough, though I appreciate the concern, and your attempt to play cupid. I really am doing alright, more than it actually.”

  “I can see that. It suits you; being out here, and I see no fault in the where, the why and the how of it. I only wish it wasn’t a three hour commute and that you’d make more of an effort to be social. I’d hate to see you lock yourself away.” She stayed reclined as she sipped her wine from a fine plastic cup.

  He looked around at his property. It was drawing closer to a new day and the stars and moonlight dropped a filtered glow on both the house and the barn. He kicked out his long legs and breathed in air scented with dew and smoke and the woods that surrounded them.

  “You know, Mom, for the first time in years I feel free. Like, I can breathe. I’ve been more productive in the last few months than I have been in a long time. Long, before Sophia anyway. And you know what else? I love it again. I look forward to tomorrow and its possibilities.”

  “That answer will send me away tomorrow with less worry in my heart, Lincoln Nathaniel Morrow.” She reached out her hand and he gave it a squeeze, and they sat by the flickering fire in silence for a while longer.

  They understood each other. She understood him more than she did her older two, which was maybe why she felt so much more protective. Or maybe because he was still her baby, and though his younger years had been hard for them all, especially after their father left, she still missed holding him in her arms.

  A few miles down the road, Raina was passed out cold on the couch. Her plan had gone over fabulously. She’d picked up Oliver, and during their suspense filled drive home she’d managed to avoid his frenzy of questions.

  She could hardly contain her own excitement so she couldn’t help but bubble over when his exploded. They’d picked up cousin Brady from Abby’s, made pizza, watched movies, devoured a giant bowl of popcorn while she worked on planning Oliver’s fifth birthday party.

  By 11:45, after checking on the boys one last time and seeing them strewn recklessly across the bedroom floor, she’d kicked her feet up on the couch. She thought she would allow herself two minutes to rest her aching feet before she’d get up and clean up the mess they’d made of the kitchen. Two minutes to catch her breath, she thought. She stretched out her legs, leaned her head over the arm of the sofa, and fell asleep with one final and heavily relieved thought; I don’t have to work tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  The bakery had never been open on Tuesdays. It was the slowest day of the week and it allowed everyone to recharge, and more importantly, it gave her a day to catch up.

  Today was an exception to her Tuesday schedule; her day was jammed full. After cleaning up after the sleepover, she delivered Oliver to her Dad at work, and left the two boys with the task of delivering the birthday invitations, which wasn’t a big deal because only family was invited. Next, she ran to the grocery store and raced back over to the bakery where she’d gathered everyone for an impromptu staff meeting.

  Even as she began to make lunch for everyone, she laughed at herself thinking. I’ve done this to myself; creating work when I should be making it a whole lot simpler. Only the more frightening thought, the thought she had become apt at avoiding altogether was, if she didn’t keep myself busy, where would that lead her?

  The thinking never stopped. It especially didn’t stop when she had a bit of spare time on her hands, which explained why she continued to load her plate with extras.

  “Ollie, let’s go!” Martin called from the passenger side of the delivery truck, and laughed when Oliver scrambled up onto the seat.

  The kid had non-stop pestered him from the moment he’d arrived about when they could go visit, Mr. Linc. Relenting, Martin made the called and it worked, so they were on their way.

  Oliver’s usually energetic chatter rarely faltered but today he sat, neat and quiet next to him as he stared out the window. When they pulled into the drive, Martin gave Oliver one warning reminder.

  “No running, Ollie, and do not touch anything, okay?” He nodded in answer and Martin shifted his attention to the house that sat in front of him.

  He’d been prepared to see changes, had figured after researching Lincoln online and seeing some photos that he would do a good job at restoring the old house, but he hadn’t been prepared for what lay before him.

  A substantial addition had been erected just off of what had been the kitchen, and to the left, the barn had clearly been overhauled as well. Martin couldn’t wait to get inside and have a look.

  Linc thought that this visit couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. Seeing his family off over the weekend had affected him more than he’d thought it would, and he had very little motivation to walk around the place alone trying to get work done. It had also been a long week of working well into the dark hours of the night, so he thought even a bit of paperwork would seem relaxing.

  He’d been sitting on the porch with his laptop answering emails and looking over order requests when they pulled up. He rose to his feet and walked over to the truck, opened the door and swung Oliver down to the ground. He bent down to one knee when he saw the brochures in Oliver’s hand.

  “Those for me, Buddy?”

  “Yup!” Oliver answered, pushing the brochures into Linc’s hand; there was nothing fun about them.

  “Thanks for remembering! So what do you want to see first?” he asked, as he tucked the papers in his back pocket. When Oliver pointed towards the barn it came as no surprise, and it pleased him that the boy would want to head straight for the good stuff. He held out his hand instinctively, the way he did with his nieces and nephews, and they walked to the barn.

  “You’ve been busy, Linc,” commented Martin, as he followed the two.

  Linc looked over at Martin and shrugged at the comment. He knew he did good, solid work and had absolute confidence in the fact. What he’d always struggled to receive was the praise that ultimately followed alongside it. He thought of it as humility, but his mother often chastised and accused him of false modesty.

  He smiled politely and tried to down play his efforts. “I had some family out last week and I put them to work.”

  “You didn’t do all of this in one week. Take the compliment, son,” he said sternly, as he trailed an appreciative hand around one of the windows Linc had replaced. He’d have to swing by here sometime with Matthew, he thought.

  “Yes, Sir,” Linc replied, with an inward laugh, ushering the two into his shop and both man and boy’s eyes lit up with delight.

  He kept a tidy work station, without fail sweeping up and replacing his tools when he was through with them. He appreciated efficiency as much he did a beautiful dining table, intricately carved doors, or a simple bookcase; therefore, everything had its proper home. Tools were hung on a wall of pegboard, and it seemed there were hundreds of jars of different screws, nails, or hardware lining two tidy shelves.

  Oliver’s fingers itched to use the tools, but he wasn’t supposed to touch.

  “Hey, Buddy, think you could give me a hand with this?” Linc asked, pointing to some boards that were laid across two sawhorses.

  He’d been unable to sleep the night before and had wandered out onto the porch. He’d sat down and kicked his feet up onto the rail and been struck by how pretty the spot was in the moonlight, and feeling struck with the idea of romance as the stars twinkled above, he’d wandered over to the shop to take a look at the scrap wood he had lying around.

  He blamed his mother for stirring the soft side of him with her talk of matchmaking. But when he sat alone in the night air, on the porch that was designed to make the least romantic of hearts turn to fanciful thoughts in the moonlight, he felt obliged to finish creating the mood. If he couldn’t get his mind to shut down and sleep, he may as well use
his creative flare to his advantage, which obviously meant answering the call to build a porch swing to complete the whimsical picture he had conjured.

  Martin’s phone rang as Oliver approached the boards; he excused himself and walked outside where he could watch the two from the new large windows.

  Oliver looked up at Linc, “Do you have those funny glasses? Uncle Matthew says you need them to be safe.”

  “I sure do, Buddy!” he said flashing a smile, again impressed with the kid’s smarts. He grabbed a pair of protective eyewear from the board and placed them on Oliver whose smile beamed. “There you go, all set! Now here’s what you need to do. See this sandpaper? We are going to rub it back and forth along the wood, the long way.”

  Linc circled to the other side of the boards and made quick work of smoothing the board, Oliver watched and then with his mouth formed in sheer concentration, he applied his own skills.

  When Martin joined them, Linc took the two upstairs to have a look at the loft. Oliver skipped around the big empty space before he walked over to a large magnetic board that held all of Linc’s current sketches. When Martin casually glanced over them, Oliver stood and stared.

  “Are those for coloring?” he asked, as he pointed at the drawings. He loved coloring and he thought he could make the pictures look even better, because he could color inside the lines and everything.

  Linc walked over and slipped a sketch of a glider from under a magnet. He looked at the picture and felt satisfied that the final product would exceed his expectations.

  “Sometimes I color them, it depends what they are. You can take this and color it if you want. The chair is downstairs if you want to have a look; I just have to pick the color. That’s what I need paint for, once I decide.” The glider was built and waiting to be painted. He’d made it for Chris and his wife as a gift for the birth of their first child.

  “Cool, I’m good at coloring, Linc! You could even put the picture on your fridge.”