15. Madeleine #2
He sat on a stool at the front of the stage.
“My grandfather taught me this party trick. Some of you’ve heard me go on about him.
” He opened the roll to reveal small knives, a few tools, and worn wooden handles.
“We’d spend Sundays together when I was young.
After church, we’d sit outside on his porch with a glass of sweet tea and a scrap of wood.
I wasn’t good at it for a long time, but, like the guitar, I kept at it.
At first it was just to please Gramps but, when my skills grew, so did my love for it.
I find it relaxing. A good thing to do on our bus, for example, when we’re on the road.
” He turned the wood in his fingers, found his angle, and started with long, easy, curling strokes, a thin ribbon of wood peeling away.
“Now you don’t want to rush it or force it too hard.
Like seeing the shooting stars last night, you kind of need to relax, not focus too much on finding one.
Let them find you, right? That’s what this is like.
Lean into it and whatever the piece of wood’s supposed to be emerges after a time.
Kind of like a good song.” He looked up from his work, smiling.
“Obviously I’m not going to bore you by actually carving it in front of you.
Instead I brought one I made while I was laid up with my sprained ankle.
” He set down the block of wood and his knife to reach into his shirt pocket.
“This here’s a Christmas tree ornament.”
He held it up for us to see. “It’s my cabin. But I’ll send it around so you can all see it close up.”
Even from here I could see the pitch of the roof, the door, and the two front windows. The way he’d carved the window, actual light came through, so it looked like someone was home in that cabin. I could almost see Knox’s hat hanging by the door.
“I made this one for my next door neighbor here in Montana,” Knox said, winking at me. “For your tree, Madeleine. I hope it brings back happy memories whenever you hang it.”
He handed it first to Ivy, who declared it adorable. Everyone had a turn looking at it before it was given to me. I held it in my hand, running my thumb over the tiny, perfect cabin.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, smiling at Knox.
But inside I was unsettled. Part of it was how public he’d just made it all.
Saying he’d made it for his neighbor might be interpreted as benign.
On the other hand, everyone might read into it, and they’d be right.
Knox was reaching out to me, making a statement.
A man made a whittled ornament for someone they loved. Not their sworn enemy.
He’d made it for me, a tiny cabin for a Christmas tree in my future. I couldn’t imagine hanging it anywhere but here where it belonged. Just like my time with Knox, I had a feeling it would stay here, protected from the real world instead of going home with me to Nashville.
Was that what I wanted? A part of me longed for the simplicity of my life at home, without this messy entanglement with Knox. The other part of me longed to climb into the bed in his cabin and never leave.
After the show was over and most everyone had drifted off to the bar, Knox pulled me into a dark corner of the barn. “Hey, you okay? Did I overstep with the ornament?”
“No, it’s wonderful. I’m just … worried what everyone thought.”
His face fell. “Oh. Okay.”
I glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot, but it looked like we were alone, other than staff who were taking down the stage.
“Let’s go back to my cabin,” I said. “We can talk without anyone interrupting.” Or overhearing us. God forbid Blake got us on tape canoodling in the barn.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
I could see the hurt in his eyes, so I gave him my hand. “Come on. We’ll take it slow so you don’t hurt your ankle.”
We walked out of the barn hand in hand. He walked gingerly because of his ankle, and I was cold by the time we got to my cabin.
Once inside, I lit the fire that one of the staff had laid out for me.
All the while, the ornament was like a heavy stone in my pocket until I placed it on the mantel where it stared at me through its tiny windows.
Knox sat in one of the chairs by the fire and I joined him, the flames already starting to warm the room. I grabbed him an IPA from the mini-fridge and opened it for him without asking him if he wanted it. I poured wine for myself.
“Are we having a hard conversation?” Knox asked, taking the beer from me.
“No, I just felt like a drink, and you usually like one this time of night.”
I sat next to him, but didn’t look at him. What was going on with me? I wasn’t at all sure, other than the night had been a bit overwhelming.
“Thank you for the beer, but I’d like something else at the moment.” He hauled me onto his lap and kissed me, which swiped all coherent thought from my mind. A few minutes later, we parted and I slipped back into my own chair.