Page 91 of Knot By Design
I grab the coffee pot, pour myself a cup, and take a slow sip. The warmth runs down, steadying the restlessness coiling in me.
“Should I ask what’s going on?” I say, nodding toward the paper.
Jude shakes his head, grinning faintly. “I think Maisie needs glasses,” he says, like it’s a revelation. “I just realized it when I saw her straining to watch the TV this morning.”
I sip again, letting the heat slide down my throat. “Is there an optometrist open?”
Jude shakes his head. “I’ve got mine. I’ll take her there, and then we can head to the community hall to work.”
I tilt my head at him. His gaze flicks to me, concern lining his features.
“You okay? You look like you haven’t slept much.”
“I’m doing great,” I say, trying to sound casual, trying to convince myself of it.
Jude nods, satisfied, and moves toward Maisie. “I’ve had a hell of a time doing her hair in braids. Can you help?”
Maisie beams, all toothy and enthusiastic, and skips over with the comb. I gesture toward the table.
“Sit,” I tell her. She climbs up, legs swinging, and I start working, trying to separate strands and weave them into something resembling order.
The strands twist and pull, knotting faster than I can manage. My hands move clumsily, fumbling, tugging a little too hard, trying to follow the rhythm I’ve seen Jude use a dozen times.
Maisie hums happily, but every so often she winces, tugging a little at her hair. My patience frays, but I keep going, trying not to show it, trying to get it right.
Twenty minutes pass, and I haven’t made much progress. My shoulders ache from leaning over, my fingers sore from trying to manipulate the stubborn strands, and Maisie’s laughter bubbles through the room again.
I sigh, pushing the last loose strand down and shaking my head. “I’ve failed,” I tell her.
Maisie shrugs, still laughing. “It’s okay,” she says, her grin bright enough to make the frustration slip off me like water.
Jude comes back then, and I’m still hunched over, running my fingers through the last stubborn strand. He stops, hands on his hips, watching me for a beat. “I thought you’d at least be better at it than I was.”
“Same.”
“Damn! Okay, I guess I’ll watch some YouTube videos and try to figure it out. I’ll take her to see the optometrist now,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Then I’ll meet you at the site after.”
He pauses, and his gaze sweeps over me again, sharper this time. Concern is etched across his face, faint lines at the corners of his eyes.
“You’re okay?” he asks again, slower now, as if he doesn’t quite believe my previous words.
I straighten up, brushing imaginary dust from my jeans, and nod firmly. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Maisie tugs on my flannel, grinning mischievously. “Can we try again tomorrow?” she says, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Sure,” I tell her, but inside I know my skills won’t magically improve overnight. Still, her bright little smile makes the clumsy effort worth it.
I guess I’ll be watching YouTube videos as well.
“Have you walked the dog?” I ask.
My best friend nods. “Uh-huh. Just leave him something to chew on, and he’ll be okay.”
Jude steps toward the door, Maisie bouncing happily behind him, the air full of the soft clatter of her shoes on the wood floor.
“See you at the site,” Jude says over his shoulder, eyes flicking toward me once more. The concern doesn’t fade, but he trusts my words, I think.
At least for now.
