CHAPTER TEN SAWYER #3
He glances up at the sky and then down to his watch. “Plenty more time in the day to get these done.”
Yeah, but after using every ounce of strength I had to consume that breakfast and then trying not to throw up while I whipped the wheelbarrow around the property, I’m completely toast.
“Not sure I have much left in the tank,” I say.
Sully’s eyes narrow. “Balderdash. You’re young, now get to work. I’m not paying you to sit around.”
Technically, you’re not paying me at all.
Which doesn’t matter to me. Not in the slightest. I’ve enjoyed keeping my hands busy.
It’s kept my mind off the negative press—just this morning, before breakfast, Roarick sent me an article claiming I’d been plotting to ruin Annalisa and Simon’s wedding for the entire engagement.
If that were the case, I’d at least have had a confetti cannon in my back pocket, ready to shoot off as I peaced out.
And even though I’m grateful to focus on something other than the wedding and my screenplay, I’m ready to pass out.
Last night’s hard work, accompanied by a hellish breakfast and hard labor this morning. .. I’m toasted.
But I can sense that Sully is not going to let up, so I get up and walk over to the wood pile. I let out a deep breath. “What kind of benches are you thinking?”
“A bench, what is there to think about? You sit on it, there is a back. Simple.”
I nod. “Okay, so like the ones around the lake.”
“Yes,” he says, and then the gruffness eases up as he adds, “like the bench my Joan and I sit on.”
“Not a problem,” I answer. “Do you, uh... do you want to help?”
He glances at the wood and then back at me. I can see some confusion in his eyes, but then he clears his throat. “I’ll supervise and assist when needed.”
Sully is a proud man, and I can sense that he wants to do this, to build, to work with his hands, but I also think he’s confused and doesn’t remember exactly what to do. I need to guide him but at the same time convince him that he’s the one guiding me.
“Okay, so six feet long, correct?”
Sully lifts his chin. “That’s correct.”
“Okay, cool.” I squat down to the wood and start moving the pieces around, then take out my measuring tape and start to measure the length.
To my surprise, Sully gets down on the grass with me, and he holds the tape measure at one end.
We spend the next few minutes measuring everything out before I pull out my trusty handheld saw and start cutting, my muscles aching the entire time.
“Joan helped me build a bench once,” Sully says. “It was the first fight we ever had.”
I chuckle. “Were you dating then?”
Sully shakes his head. “She was still with Earl at the time, but she was up in Canoodle, helping with some furniture. I asked her to help me with a bench, and she obliged. She thought I meant moving it, not building it. She was upset because it was a bench in one of the cabins, and she wondered why I didn’t just buy it from her. ”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because.” He smiles. “I thought that it could be a good project to do with her, something that would help us get closer.” He chuckles. “I’ve never seen her so red in the cheeks, frustrated with me because I wouldn’t let her do any of the cutting.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it was with a saw just like that.” He points to my saw.
“She was wearing a dress, and I didn’t want her to get all sweaty.
I knew she had a date later that night with Earl.
Even though I really liked her, I respected her relationship and knew she’d be upset if she wasn’t perfect for her date. ”
“So, you told her she wasn’t allowed to use the saw, I’m guessing.”
He nods and looks out toward the trees, his eyes wistful, daydreaming.
“She was furious with me. Asked if I thought a woman couldn’t handle a saw.”
“What did you say? Did you tread carefully?”
“Do I look like a man who treads carefully?”
I laugh. “No, but I wasn’t sure if you eased up for Joan.”
“I did not. I told her a woman like herself couldn’t handle the saw.”
“I can’t imagine that went over well.”
I finish cutting the last board and hand Sully a piece of sandpaper. Together, we sand down the raw edges of the wood.
“It didn’t. She stormed away, and I chased after her. I apologized and told her I was protecting her. She shot back that she didn’t need my protection, and I realized she really didn’t. She is a very strong woman, you know.”
He talks about her in the present tense, and it punctures my soul.
I can’t imagine living day in and day out, thinking the love of your life is still alive, only to find out she isn’t.
It would be devastating. Especially for Fallon, who has to break the news to him.
Talk about a strong woman. Fallon must have learned it from Grandma Joan.
“She’s very much like Fallon,” Sully says, as if reading my thoughts. “You’ve met my granddaughter, right?”
Boy, have I.
I met her when I was not in the right mindset.
I was reacquainted with her when I was absolutely wasted.
And last night, I finally was able to converse with her, unguarded, without Jaz tormenting me.
I got to experience a true moment with Fallon, and ever since I said good night to her—an awkward wave as I strode out back to my cabin—all I can think about is the dreamy smirk she wore when I told her about Wilson Phillips, or the gentle way she asked if I wanted to share the pizza that Jaz had delivered, or her genuine laugh that still seems to ring through my ears when the breeze dies down and the trees around me still their rustling branches.
I nod. “I have met her. She is very headstrong, determined.”
Funny.
Loving.
An old soul.
“And beautiful.” Sully looks up at me.
I swallow hard. “Yes, beautiful.”
Really fucking beautiful. And that’s not a lie.
Fallon is quite beautiful. A natural beauty with her flawless skin and pouty pink lips that turn down when she’s irritated, upset, or just thinking.
But her looks aren’t the only thing that make her beautiful in my eyes—it’s her endless bravery for taking on the daunting task of redoing the cabins while caring for her ailing grandfather.
“You should ask her out on a date,” Sully says.
I sputter out a cough.
“Um, she has a boyfriend—Peter.”
Sully pauses, his eyes moving back and forth. “Ah, right. Peter,” he says, and it’s almost convincing.
After my first interaction with Sully, I fell down the internet rabbit hole, and from what I’ve read, people with Alzheimer’s will at times pretend to know something, just to avoid the confusion, but they really have no idea what’s going on.
From Sully’s reaction, I can gather that’s what’s happening.
“They’ve been dating for a bit?” he asks.
“Uh, I think so.” I shrug. “Not sure of the details.”
He nods. “Well, if they break up, you should ask her out.”
“Not sure I’m her type.” I pick up another board and start to sand the edges.
Sully looks up at me and tilts his head to the side. “You might be right. Your crooked nose might not be what she’s looking for.”
It’s not that fucking crooked. Jesus!
In Hollywood, they call it character. Haven’t they heard of Owen Wilson?
Not everyone can be perfect.
I take a deep breath. “Well, good thing she has Peter then, huh?”
“I guess so. Although...” Sully nudges me with a piece of wood. “I do find you entertaining. I very well might like you better.”
That puts a smile on my face.
I like you too, Sully.
I like you very much.