I turned on the lights and let the somewhat warmer air loosen my shoulders. “Give me a minute to find it. It’s hard to keep things organized in here.”
I turned in a circle to remind myself where to begin. Picture books, chapter books, school supplies, and heaps of colorful yarn took up every available space in the trailer.
When I spotted the book I was looking for, I extracted it carefully from its cubby. A zipper pouch of Magic Markerstumbled to the table below, knocking a stack of math worksheets to the ground.
“Gracious gravy. Sorry! One of these days, I’ll find the right organization system.” I rolled my eyes. “Or, you know, manage to part with some of my teaching materials.”
I’d done as much as I could to spruce up the camper with a gallon of paint and a bunch of bins and bags from the dollar store, but it was a constant fight to keep the place from looking like a refugee from Hoarders: School Supply Edition.
Murray’s big body nearly knocked me sideways as he passed me in the narrow walkway between the sofa and banquette. “I recognize this. It’s Olin’s, right?”
“Yup!” I smiled at the stick drawing of Olin, Aiden, Olin’s brothers and sisters, and the dog that was taller than all of them put together. “When I was out sick a few weeks ago, the substitute had the students draw me pictures to cheer me up. Olin said his dog always makes him smile. I told him now his dog would make me smile, too.”
Murray hummed and took the offered book from my hands. “Must be working. You sure do smile a lot, Mr.… um, Luke.”
I laughed. “Sometimes you’ve gotta smile, Murray, or you’d cry your eyes out. In fact, the best time to smile is when things are at their roughest. Find something to be grateful for, and fake it until you make it.”
“I s’pose. Or you could just… do something to make yourself happier, right? Like, I told Webb he oughta get a puppy for Aiden to cheer him up. Poor kid’s had it rough, missing his mom and all.”
Thinking about Webb Sunday again made my stomach flip over, a kind of painful yearning-frustrated ache that got worse when I tried to push it away.
“They already have a dog, though,” I said without thinking.
“Yeah, but Sally Ann’s getting up there. If they get a pup now, she can train him up, and it won’t be so hard on Aiden when she passes.” He shrugged. “But what do I know? Webb knows best.”
I felt my smile slip before I caught it.
Webb didn’t know everything.
He didn’t know me, or how much I liked this town, or that I wanted to be a friend to him, if he’d let me…
Wow, yeah, great job of putting that situation behind you and staying positive, Williams.
“Anyway. I best get going so I can pick up Aiden and make it home in time to watch the boys while my folks go to the town meeting. You going? Aw, you should,” he said when I shook my head. “Big developer wants to build a vacation resort up on Fogg Peak—” He pointed somewhere vaguely north of the barn where my sheep were nestled down for the night. “Dad says half the town’s gonna lose their minds if Mayor York lets it happen, and the other half’ll lose their minds if he doesn’t. Gonna be a doozy.”
“Wrestlemania, but Little Pippin Hollow style?”
Murray snicker-snorted. “Kinda. And afterward, folks’ll end up at the Bugle to drink Rusty Spikes and watch hockey.”
“Rusty Spikes?”
“Mmm. They’re whiskey and… something that tastes like fruit punch. My dad says they’ll make you forget your troubles. My mom says they’ll make you forget your name.” He grinned. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t wanna, though. You can just go for the hockey. That’s what my mom does.”
“Ah, well, I don’t know a thing about hockey either, so…”
“Wait. You mean you don’t know how to play hockey? Or you… you don’t follow the NHL?”
“Uh… both?”
“Oh, my God, Mr. Luke.” Murray’s eyes went round and shiny in the near-darkness. “You poor thing. Nobody ever taught you?”
I ran a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. Murray didn’t seem to pity me for the bomb crater in my farmhouse living room, but the fact that I didn’t understand the intricacies of strapping knives on your feet and heaving yourself around an ice field was enough to bring him to tears.
“I’m afraid it’s not on the curriculum in North Carolina,” I admitted.
“It’s the best thing in the world, Mr. Williams,” he said in a hushed voice. “You gotta get somebody to teach you.”
I liked how he thought the streets were crowded with people just dying to teach a man hockey…
