Liquid Wood
“Dang nabbit.”
I spent the morning catching up on work in bed. I had just closed my laptop when I heard banging. Rarely did such harsh words leave Rose’s mouth. I rushed into the kitchen to see her giving the evil eye to a cupboard door. I should have guessed she’d save such foul language for an inanimate object.
I sat down at the table, glancing at the open page of the town gazette. The front page featured a story about the upcoming Pride event, complete with a photo of the planning committee waving rainbow flags.
“Grammy, watch your tongue.”
She didn’t look away from her opponent. “It won’t shut.”
“Want me to look at it?”
She folded her arms, backing away. “Thank goodness nobody’s shown up for coffee this morning. They’d think my house was falling apart.”
Nobody in town would think that. At almost a hundred years old, this house had withstood harsh winters with nothing more than a missing slate shingle on the roof. If she served hot coffee and fresh bread, they’d sit at the table while the building burned around them.
“Let me fix it for you.”
I got up and inspected the damage. I thought a hinge screw might have come loose. A few turns of the screwdriver and I’d walk away—it was indeed the hinge. It had been torn clean from the wood inside the frame. I couldn’t imagine what mischief she had gotten up to that would have done this.
“Did you get into a fight with it?”
“I would have won,” she said, arms still crossed.
“If you want, I can try and—”
“I love you, but you’re not putting duct tape in my cupboards.”
There was no point in protesting, she knew me too well. If she needed a seam let out on her dress or a makeshift garter, I could make it happen. Hell, I once used pastel paints for makeup when my suitcase didn’t arrive at Drag Week. Simple handyman tasks? Duct tape solved every problem.
“Want me to call Bobby?”
She shook her head. “Last time that boy came into this house, he seduced our renter.”
I spun about, eyebrow cocked high. “I’m going to need you to tell me that story.”
“Tale as old as time.” She waved it off. We’d be revisiting this conversation even if I had to bribe it out of her with new skeins of yarn. “He’ll be working on his new house. Maybe Seamus? Logan?”
“My two favorite people.” Edward barreled into the kitchen, arms stretched. He wrapped one around me, dragging me along so he could kiss Rose on the side of the head. “Why so many sour faces?”
“Edward, our house is falling apart.”
“She ripped the door off,” I said. Rose’s lips pursed. “She’s a brute.”
“Share a bed with her. She’ll knock you to the floor for the blankets.”
“You won’t have to worry from the couch.”
It was easy to think they were the perfect couple. At this stage, they had an ebb and flow that had been rehearsed for decades. They hadn’t reached this point without their bumps and bruises. Despite the disagreements, every encounter came saturated with love.
“Don’t mess with the General,” I said. She tried frowning at her unofficial nickname, but it didn’t stick.
Edward left us staring at the door, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
He held up the Gazette. “Gladys called after the meeting.” That was how Rose knew what happened.
I prepared for the questions. Why did I not say yes?
Why did I run? Rose’s pep talk sent me to bed questioning my decision, but not enough to step out of retirement.
“She gave us our marching orders.” I should have assumed they’d be part of the festivities. “We’re manning the volunteer station.”
I realized I had tensed, preparing for a heartfelt discussion. I wanted to talk about it, and at the same time, had no idea what I’d say. For now, I dodged another confused conversation. I let out a sigh of relief.
Rose’s eyes lit up. “I need to start baking.”
Pushing me aside, she flung open the bottom cabinet. She hemmed and hawed as she took inventory of her cooking supplies. Meanwhile, I stared at the broken hinge. I imagined her swinging from the door as she searched the back for her favorite coffee cup.
“I need to go to the store.” She reached for a pad of paper and started scribbling. “The big store.” Big store meant heading to the city. “Edward, I’m going to get dressed. Be ready in ten.”
The anger about her broken door had all but faded, hidden behind the determination to feed every gay in the village. I’d never understand how so much personality could be crammed into such a small woman.
“You,” she pointed at me as she scribbled. “Fix my door.”
“Let me call Seamus, and—”
She shook her head. I could almost hear the order brewing.
“You’re in Firefly,” she said. “Texting is for coffee dates.”
Here it came.
“Put on your big boy pants and go see Seamus.”
Edward laughed. “The General has spoken.”
There was no point in arguing. With them out of the house, I’d have laid around the house sulking. I risked running into Gladys, but I’d prefer that over the voices in my head. There was also the chance I’d bump into a certain handsome bear. I’d take those odds.
“Fine.” Orders accepted.
Logan this required a professional.
I meandered to the back of the store and leaned on the counter. Growling came from the backroom, and I knew it’d only be a matter of time before my favorite gruff bear emerged. On the counter, I spun around the door handle like a dreidel. Before it toppled, Seamus stepped out.
“Sounds like you’re having a tough time back there.”
“Fixing Carla’s window screen.”
“You can fix those?”
His face remained slack, as if silence were a normal answer.
Thanks to Patrick’s stories, I felt as if I knew the man.
He’d stop by Spectrum on occasion, have his beer, and be on his way.
But if he thought I didn’t see him close his eyes and drown in the music, he underestimated my sense of observation.
I had been warned that to speak Seamus’s language, I had to read between the lines.
I gave the door handle another spin.
“Rose wants to know if you can—”
He pushed a small brown paper bag across the counter. He offered no words and yet, somehow, answered the question before I finished. I could get on stage and demand that everybody in the audience pay attention. Seamus did it with silence. I’d have to put that in my arsenal for the future.
“So, this is a me job?”
“I have faith.”
I reached inside and pulled out liquid wood and a new hinge complete with screws. Liquid wood? I strained to read the directions. I had a feeling I’d need to watch tutorials online to figure this out.
“Any chance you can—”
“Customer,” he said. He snatched the door handle. For a moment, I could swear the stoic facade faltered. Did Seamus’s lip turn up?
“Uh, hi.”
Oh. Shit.
I turned slowly, hoping my mind was playing tricks on me. Between the notes of sawdust and grease came the scent of vanilla. Still on my elbows, I spotted Sammy. Any reaction, a flinch or a smirk, and Seamus would read me like a book. The slightest tell, and he’d sense the tension.
“Oh, hey.” Measured. Casual. He never suspected a thing.
“Fancy bumping into you here.” He gave me a playful bump on the shoulder. I forced myself to meet Seamus’s eyes. He controlled every muscle in his face, as if he had been taught interrogation techniques. There were no twitches, no tells, just a blank expression I couldn’t see behind.
“You must be Seamus. I’m Sampson.” Sammy reached across the counter and offered a hand. Seamus gave it a firm shake and a grunt of confirmation.
“Funny story, I woke up this morning and the handle to my room had fallen off.” It had been intact when I last saw him. “Evelyn told me, ‘You break it, you fix it,’ and sent me here.”
Wait…
“Think you can help me out?”
I turned, half leaning on the counter. Sammy was even more handsome than I remembered.
His dark blue t-shirt had a simple “Breathe” across the chest. If I looked down to see if his socks still had kittens, it’d tip off Seamus.
Or would he notice my lack of checking out the cuddly man? Shit, I had already lost this game.
Seamus shoved the door handle across the counter. “I’ll put it on her tab.”
I eyed the brown paper bag for a second before glancing at the doorknob. They had been waiting, as if he knew we were going to come in. I believed Rose had called ahead to alert Seamus, but I found the timing suspect.
Sammy flipped it over in his hand. “I think I can handle this.”
“I wish Mike could say the same.”
I held up the bottle of liquid wood. “Did you know they can put wood in a tube?”
His eyes went from the bottle to me. “Do you seriously not know how to use liquid wood?” His chuckle took away the sound of judgment. “You just squeeze it and let it dry.”
“See,” Seamus said. “Sampson can help you.”
I pushed myself upright, eyes fixed on Seamus.
The coincidences had added up more than the universe should allow.
Firefly had swept in, determined to… what, I didn’t know.
The missing piece had been the conductor, the person moving the chess pieces along the board.
Seamus, the recluse who spent his time hiding away? He couldn’t have… could he?
“I’ve got work to do.” No farewell as he turned and walked into the back room. A second later, the door shut, leaving the store unattended except for two lone customers.
“He’s—”
“Evil,” I finished. Sammy raised his eyebrow. “I’ll explain it later.” Sammy had no idea that he was but a cog in the complex machine called Firefly Valley. His innocence made the whole thing even more charming. I’d be having a chat with Patrick later. This reeked of his persistence.
“About the other night,” I whispered.
Sammy’s eyes turned downward. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. I could have made a speech and talked about the fact that we had sex. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. It didn’t mean he deserved for me to end it how I did.
“I’m sorry for bolting.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be.” His words were barely audible.
We could go our separate ways, with this unsaid confusion still hanging between us.
It pained me to see him staring down. It was hard not to think of the mirror every morning as I brushed my teeth.
Rose had sidestepped the conversation, and somewhere in her story I felt safe.
Sammy didn’t need a confession, he needed space, but it didn’t mean he needed to be alone.
“Want to see something cool?”
I waited until his eyes lifted. I didn’t offer any more information until his eyebrow crept up his forehead. Rose had been right; a little patience made it even more dramatic. More than anything, Sammy needed a little Firefly magic.
He cracked. “Is it another rock?”
“Better,” I said. “The rock was just the warmup.” My smile bordered on sinister.
His lips thinned as he forced himself to nod. “You’ve set the bar pretty high.”
I gave him a pat on the back. I knew just the thing to insert some awe into his day. It was time to revisit the shenanigans of my youth.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”