Page 45 of Dove
Pillows can be used as bedding for animals.
I grew up so poor I rarely had more than one pair of shoes at a time, and I learned early on that everything, no matter how old or beat up, has a value.
Sometimes you just have to look to find it.
I leave the table I've just installed against the wall and take another box of blankets to the driveway, then pick up a box of blades and files to take back in, my mind moving through the layout of the place. I know Sammy had a plan but she doesn't always think of things the way I do, and her plan for my tools isn't going to work. I need them closer so I can grab whatever I want without having to leave the forge, which means changing the layout a little. If I put the forge in the corner, it'll eliminate some of the light but give me easier access to both walls.
Perfect.
Sammy'll hate it, of course, because it's not the version she has in her head.
But she's not in charge of the artwork. She's in charge of the money and the clients and contracts. She knows some of what I do but doesn't have the patience for it herself–shocking–and when it comes to the layout of the shop, I'm going to pull rank.
Though I'm looking forward the fight.
I'm just walking back through the door to the shop when a familiar voice pulls me up.
"Never in a million years thought I'd see you living inthishouse again."
"Well you know what they say," I reply without turning around. "When some guy who claims to be your dad moves back to town and starts ordering you around, the universe probably has a reason for it."
The voice is closer when it speaks again. "I mean, if the universe has decided to give you a shop twice as big as the one you used to have, that doesn't seem like the worst thing. Even if it means dealing with Bear for a couple months. We all know he's not going to stay long, anyhow."
I shout with laughter at that, unable to keep it in any longer, and drop the box in my hands as I spin, throwing my arms out a moment later. Gabe Hawke, my cousin, is standing so close that I nearly hit him, but he's laughing as well, big and broad and happy as I've ever seen him. He throws his arms around me–has to, as he's several inches taller than me–and squeezes a huff out of me.
"God, take it easy," I moan. "I don't spend all my time swinging axes, man."
He releases me and gives me a blue-eyed grin. "No, you've chosen a hammer instead." When his eyes turn to the shop behind me again, he shakes his head. "Want to tell me what's going on or shall we pretend it's nothing and get right to the point of my visit."
I pause for a moment, facts running through my head, and wonder whether I want to go through them all. Bear's sudden return to town after three years of absence. The attitude and arrogance of the man we haven't seen in years. His demands that we treat him with respect.
The predatory way he's been looking at my girl.
But I shake my head quickly. I don't know how I'd pack all of that into one sentence anyhow, and I'm too excited to see Gabe to try. My cousin is a couple years older than me but has always been a solid presence in my life, son of the de facto leader of the town and our resident lumberjack/artist/businessman. Three months ago he and my uncle nearly lost their business, courtesy of some bad decisions but Gunner, but were saved when a girl who had once been Gabe's step-sister–his ex step-sister?–came back to town and brought her intelligence with her. She saved the business, despite her mother trying to force her back to New York, and in the process fell in love with both Gabe and Gunner.
You know what, that's a complicated story as well, and I put it out of my mind nearly as quickly as I thought of it. The three of them are radiantly happy, and that's all that matters to me.
When I was young and needed a foundation, Gabe and Gunner provided it. And I've never lost the feeling that I can count on them regardless of what I'm asking for.
"Let's jump to why you're here," I say, reaching for the box again. "You can help me clean and unpack while you talk."
"Terrific," he grumbles. "That's exactly what I wanted to do."
I can hear the smile in his voice, though, and don't bother responding.
Gabe has never refused me in his life, and I don't think he's going to start now. Besides, if he's here with a plan, nothing will keep him from sharing it.
Even the prospect of having to clean.
Sammy
Ibend down and twist the last screw into place, shaking the table a bit to make sure it's secure, and then stand up and stare down at it, my mind a million miles away.
This table is one of the first pieces I bought when I had enough money. I'd been working with Byron for a year, learning how to bend metal to my will and give it a new life as horse shoes, light poles, or frames for houses, and my hands were rough and calloused with the work. Byron had given me the job as a favor, at first, courtesy of Sammy's friendship with his son, but within months he'd realized that I had more talent than he expected, and I'd thought I had found my calling in life. I spent entire days in front of the forge, hammering and shaping horse shoes for the farrier, and weekends working with the frames we built for houses. Byron himself had become like a second father to me, teaching me how to heat metal until it shone like the flames I was using and then hammer it on the forge, using the heavier piece to bend steel into the form I needed.
And while we worked, we'd talked. About school–which was so easy I barely had a need for it–and my friends–mostly nonexistent, thanks to my inability to speak to other people.But mostly about Sammy. Even at sixteen, the girl had been my everything, and I'd barely gone anywhere without her. She was the most popular girl in school, then, everyone's pet, and though no one had been able to understand how the two of us fit together, the truth was, we'd been like two peas in a pod.
If that pod only held two peas, and those peas somehow managed to lay together like puzzle pieces.
