“It’s a hobby,” he clarified and then took a sip of his coffee. “Nothing special. I’m out of practice anyway.”
“Too busy with that bar,” Lia murmured. Her comment had the smooth edges of an old argument. Something that had been sanded down with time and regularity.
Jack stiffened, and I could sense the conversation wandering into a hornet’s nest.
That, too, was familiar. Conversations that repeated due to family members who wanted the best for one another, but maybe didn’t quite know how to make that happen. So they just said it louder and more often.
Before the silence could stretch uncomfortably, I steered us to safer waters. “Okay, but back to the carpentry thing. What else have you made?" I asked Jack.
But it was Lia who answered, the note of pride in her tone obvious. “Oh, lots of things over the years. Shelves and cabinets.Mailboxes. Coffee tables. And the prettiest garden bench you’ve ever seen. I’ll show it to you before you leave.”
I was watching Jack as his grandmother spoke, so I witnessed the slow climb of pink into his cheeks. My heart—big and clumsy in the face of that blush—took a tumble over the sweetness.
Then something occurred to me. “The picture frames,” I said softly and looked to Lia.
“That was how it started,” she confirmed. “I took a painting class and asked Jack if he could make a frame for me. He’d had some experience from his woodshop class back in high school.”
Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, like the memory was right there in the room with us. The firm line of her brow softened when she spoke next. “The first few frames weren’t anything to write home about, but neither were my paintings. So we made a fine pair.” Then she directed her attention back to Jack and smiled, her weathered cheeks creasing in new, unfamiliar lines. “But his craftsmanship improved.”
“And so did her artwork,” Jack added.
I grinned. “I’ve seen some. Of the paintings,” I clarified. “In Jack’s apartment. They’re everywhere.”
Two matching pairs of hazel eyes snapped to me.
“Is that so?” Lia asked.
Worry descended. Fear that I’d revealed a secret that wasn’t mine.
At my panicked expression, Lia’s gaze warmed, and she explained, “It’s been a while since I’ve been over there. Jack usually visits me here.”
“Oh,” I said, then looked at Jack.
If he was upset, he didn’t show it. Just calmly sipped his coffee while I fought the urge to backtrack or placate.
Instead, I stood and gathered the plates. “I’ll help with the dishes, then you can show me that bench.”
Lia rose as well. Nodding, she offered, “I’ll wash and you dry. And then I’ll show you my whole garden.”
After breakfast and my tour of Lia’s property, Jack drove me home.
Part of me thought he might want some space after sharing so much of himself with me, but to my surprise, he’d parked his truck in the driveway and turned to face me, asking, “How would you feel about learning to drive my bike? It’s going to be chilly today, but the sun is shining. We could give it a try if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested,” I replied, perhaps a little too eagerly, but I didn’t care. I did want to learn. I loved riding with Jack, but it would feel good to do something myself for a change.
He nodded. “Want to go in and change into something warm? I can check on Oreo.”
I ignored the way my stomach somersaulted and replied simply, “That sounds great.”
And that was how we spent the afternoon. In the empty parking lot at the community college with Jack instructing me how to drive a motorcycle.
I could remember helping Danny install a ceiling fan in our bedroom years ago. As he’d strained to hold the motor and screw everything into place, he’d gotten so irritated at me, snapping out instructions before finally telling me just to leave if I couldn’t be of any help.
But Jack was so patient, even when I got frustrated or needed another moment to practice with the clutch. He explained things simply and took the time to make sure I understood. Jack encouraged me to ask questions. Then he trusted me to be able to handle the bike on my own. He’d never once seemed nervous about me damaging his vehicle.
I hadn’t expected it, but I could see now that Jack would make a good teacher.
And it was a nice feeling, realizing someone had more than a little faith in you.
