Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
NATE
N ate strummed his fingers on the upholstered arm of the wingback chair, concentrating on the crackling logs in the hearth. To keep his mind from wandering to Juliet, tucked away in the study, he tried to conjure small talk with Frank. Tried and failed. The man had mastered a nonverbal language composed entirely of grunts, growls, and grumbles.
Nate breathed a sigh of relief when Beverly returned from the kitchen with a steaming cup of black coffee.
“There you are.” She handed him the stoneware mug. The smooth ceramic instantly warmed his hands. “I brought you a few cookies, too, in case you change your mind.” With a smile, she set the plate on a small side table. It wobbled with the added weight. “Oh, dear. I keep meaning to ask Luke to take a look at this rickety old thing.” She repositioned the plate until the tabletop balanced.
“Looks like a wonky leg,” Nate noted with an appraising glance. “I can fix that for you with the proper tools.” Turning to Frank, he asked, “Got any sandpaper or a file?”
“Out back, in the shed.”
“Oh, you don’t need to trouble yourself.” Beverly waved a hand. “You sit and relax.”
“It’s no trouble. It’ll take me two minutes.” He stood, eager to help out. “Would you mind holding on to this for me?” He passed back the coffee mug.
“Are you sure?” Beverly still didn’t look convinced.
“Honestly, I’d love to fix it for you. It’s the least I can do for all your hospitality.”
“But—”
“Let the boy help, Bevy,” Frank interjected, hobbling to his feet. “I’ll show you the shed.” He lifted the walking stick hanging off the back of his chair and gestured for Nate to tag along.
Nate moved the cookies to the coffee table, grabbed his new project, and followed Frank down the hall into the kitchen. Frank opened the back door, letting in a rush of cold, damp air and the loud rumble of raindrops. “You’ll find everything you need in there.” He pointed to an unassuming toolshed situated beside a large refurbished barn. “The shed, not the barn. The barn’s where we roast.”
“Got it.” Nate nodded, making a mental note to ask Frank for a tour of his roasting process at some point during his stay.
“There’s a light switch inside on the right. And here.” Frank removed an umbrella off a hook by the door. “Bevy would want me to give you this, even though a little rain never hurt anyone.”
Nate grinned. “I can make a run for it.”
Frank gave the same grunt of approval Nate heard when he’d asked for his coffee black and returned the umbrella to its resting place.
“I’ll be back soon.” With the table snug in his grasp, Nate darted down the porch steps, across the yard, and into the shed. He flipped on the light. A single overhead bulb flickered to life.
Raindrops tapped against the shingled roof as he searched for the proper supplies. Once he found a block plane and some sandpaper, he set to work, accompanied by the pleasant acoustics. Did Juliet enjoy writing in the rain? He imagined she did and pictured her typing away in the cozy ambiance of Frank’s study, surrounded by books. In his vision, her loose lock of hair fell across her face while she typed, and she gently brushed it aside before returning to her task, her graceful fingers flying across the keys.
Ugh. He had it bad. He needed to think about something else before his imagination got carried away. Determined to push all thoughts of Juliet out his mind, he slid out his phone and dialed the shelter. While it rang, he settled the cell between his chin and shoulder, sanding down the table leg while he waited.
“Forgotten Heroes.” Nate immediately recognized the familiar voice of the fresh-faced staff member who volunteered in addition to a full course load at the College of San Mateo.
“Hey, Trevor. It’s Nate. How’s it going?”
“Good, man. What’s up? Where ya been?”
“Visiting some new friends. Is Dozer around?” He’d dubbed his latest mentee Dozer—short for Bulldozer—because the bulky marine had the sort of broad, muscular build that could bust through a brick wall with minimal effort.
“Yeah, I just saw him in the cafeteria. Hang on.” He heard the telltale clunk of Trevor setting the phone on the desk, then a few minutes later, another, more gravelly voice filled the speaker.
“Hey.”
“Hey, D-man. Just calling to check in.” Dozer had been at the shelter for two weeks, struggling to stay sober. “How’s that book I loaned you?” He’d passed along Remarkably Bright Creatures when he’d finished it, hoping the themes of hope, belonging, and redemption resonated with his downtrodden friend.
“Dude, did you know the main character is an octopus?”
Nate stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”
“I thought it was weird at first, but it’s pretty cool, I guess.” After a short pause, he asked, “When are you coming back?”
“In a few days. So, don’t think you have time to sweet-talk yourself into becoming Hazel’s new favorite while I’m gone.” They had a running joke that the grandmotherly volunteer who worked the breakfast shift gave Nate extra bacon because she liked him the best.
“Oh, it’s already happening. This morning, she spread two scoops of jam on my toast. It won’t be long before that extra bacon is all mine.”
They bantered for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Nate hung up the phone, relieved Dozer didn’t sound as depressed as usual. He worried about the guy more often than not. In many ways, he reminded Nate of himself before he met Susan.
Setting the table down on the ground, he checked the wobbly leg. Perfectly balanced . Pleased with the improvement, he put the tools back where he found them, then braced himself for another sprint through the rain.
He’d call Dozer again in a day or two. He knew better than anyone the importance of having a support system. And when you didn’t have one, how dark and desolate the world could become.