Nesting Page 8

  Hell, the kid couldn’t even get in the door. Kenny went over to give her a hand and realized he must have locked the door behind him.

  The girl wore baggy jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Hell, she looked like a dude.

  When Kenny started showing her around, Cam had her hands shoved down in her pockets. Kenny wanted to tell her cabinets wouldn’t get made like that, but he didn’t. He figured she didn’t know any better, yet.

  He kicked a two-inch scrap of oak out of his way. “Safety comes first—blah, blah, blah. When working the machines, no long sleeves and no rings or watches or anything. Obvious stuff.”

  He showed Cam the goggles, the first-aid kit, the eyewash station. He led her to a small closet. “And here’s where the broom’s kept. It ain’t real technical, but somebody’s got to sweep. Every couple of hours, you need to straighten up.” He smiled. “And it’ll be your job to gather the coffee mugs at the end of the day and make sure they at least get a rinsing.” He looked around. “You get on the broom, while I check some wood that’s just come in.”

  The shop used mostly poplar and maple, some alder, and oak on the pricier jobs. They didn’t use so much pine anymore. Cherry wasn’t bad, but maple was Kenny’s favorite. Maple always looked good, and damn it did smell nice.

  Cam was about done sweeping in the shop area when Kenny asked her if she had a boyfriend back in Maryland.

  “No,” she said.

  “Do you even like boys?” Kenny asked.

  “What?”

  Kenny was fixing to ask Cam if she was gay, like her aunt, but figured maybe he shouldn’t bring her up. Kenny hadn’t ever lost any family, but Dorianne had lost plenty, and he knew how hard that had been for her.

  “Miss Anna’s our receptionist. She comes in two or three days a week to do the books. She’s older than God now, so she ain’t expected to vacuum and clean up in the front office anymore.” Kenny pointed back at the closet. “The vacuum and cleaning stuff’s in there, too. Just do enough to make it look good if customers come in. All us employees come in and out the back door mostly, so keeping the front office looking okay ain’t so hard.”

  Kenny kept thinking that, at any second, Cam would say she wasn’t a maid at the Holiday Inn, but she didn’t. He was beginning to think training was pretty cool, seeing how much he hated cleaning.

  “Should I vacuum now?” Cam asked.

  “Yeah, why not.”

  When Kenny looked over a few minutes later to see how Cam was doing, he saw that the girl flitted around like a bird, especially the way she fiddled with the cord and pushed the vacuum around in jerky movements.

  Kenny drove home for lunch. He’d been doing his own driving. When they found out Dorianne needed surgery, he went and got his driver’s license. Even though he could have gotten it back awhile ago, he hadn’t bothered because Dori driving him around had gotten to be their normal way. And since neither of them minded, they figured if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

  But then it broke.

  Dorianne had been home from the hospital for a while, but she still wasn’t supposed to do a lot. Kenny put her under orders not to do anything until he got home for lunch, because he knew that girl would overdo it and end up hurting herself.

  Kenny got home and could tell she’d been crying. She went back and forth between sad and mad, before he finally got that it was about the laundry. He’d done some washing the day before, trying to help, and he guessed those clothes got all shrunk up.

  She’d sure been moody. He didn’t know if it was the surgery, a hormone thing, or the fact that she hadn’t had a cigarette since her hysterectomy. Probably all of the above. At least she wasn’t still mad at him for not realizing on his own that she’d quit smoking.

  Kenny slapped some ham and cheese between slices of white bread for himself. Dorianne wanted a Slim-Fast, so he shook one real good, the way she liked it, and poured it in a glass. She had this thing where she wouldn’t drink it right out of the can. He bitched a little that she needed to eat something more than that, but as usual, she didn’t listen.

  Dorianne sipped her lunch. “Have you talked to your Aunt Eileen lately?”

  “Yeah, yesterday.”

  “How’s my puppy doing?” she asked.

  Aunt Eileen and Uncle Russ had agreed to look after the new pup when Dori had the surgery. They still had her, since Dori wasn’t up to par yet.

  “The puppy’s fine,” Kenny said. “Jeremiah’s been staying with Aunt Eileen afternoons while his mama’s at work.” Kenny was careful not to say Macy’s name. He fidgeted with the crust of his sandwich. “Is it okay that Jeremiah named the puppy?”

  Dorianne looked up from her glass. “What’s he calling her?”

  “Bella.”

  “What kind of name is that? They want to keep her, don’t they?”

  He’d been wondering how to bring that up. “Yeah. They really like her, and she’s used to being over there now. And Jeremiah sure is attached to her.”

  What Kenny didn’t tell Dorianne was that Uncle Russ informed him, in his law-like way, that Bella would be staying there. Russ said Kenny and Dori could see the dog anytime they wanted, but that she needed to just stay put with them.

  “Okay, tell them they can keep her. At least I know they’ll take good care of her.”

  Smiling, Kenny gave Dorianne’s hand a little squeeze.

  “You know, it would make sense to have a blood relative carry our child,” Dori said.

  Kenny almost choked on his sandwich. When he’d brought up the surrogate thing, Dori had said she didn’t want to hear it. And that was without her knowing he’d gotten the idea from Macy.

  “We should ask Grace to be our surrogate,” Dorianne said.

  Kenny stared at her. “Dori, stop. Please.”

  “What? She’s my half-sister. Why wouldn’t I think of her?”

  He hated to do it, but he had no choice. “Because she don’t consider you kin.”

  “I found the truth online, Kenny. You saw it.” She pushed the half-finished Slim-Fast away from her.

  “I know.”

  “And soon I’ll be able to show her in writing.”

  Kenny walked over to stand behind her and kissed the top of her reddish head. Then he spoke into her darker roots, letting his words soften through her hair, “Baby, you can’t make people act like family.”

  When Kenny got back to work, he was more tired than he was before his break, but he wasn’t too tired to tease Cam while he showed her about putting up some tools.

  “People ever think you’re a dude?”

  Cam just stared at him.

  “Seriously, I’m curious. With your hair and the way you dress, I bet some people get mixed up. Does that bother you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Do people think you’re gay?”

  Cam looked away.

  “Are you? Gay, I mean?” Kenny noticed how red Cam was turning. “I mean, I don’t care if you are.”

  “Yes, I’m gay. Now can we just get back to work?”

  “No, not yet.” Kenny laughed. “Now you can teach me some things. You know, like how do you—”

  “Oh, hell no! We aren’t going there.”

  Kenny laughed harder. “What? I was just gonna ask you how you know if other chicks are like you.”

  Cam rolled her eyes.

  “Hell, you probably get more action than most of the guys you know.”

  Cam turned a darker shade of red.

  “That’s what I figured. Okay, back to training, stud.” Kenny realized then that before long, he’d probably just think of Cam as one of the guys. “Commercial shops like ours use pneumatic tools. They’ll outlast the electric ones as long as the oilers are full and the condensation’s drained.”

  Cam cocked her head to the side, and Kenny could tell she wasn’t getting any of it.

  Next Kenny showed her the table saw. Cam looked at it a bit nervous-like, but she’d get over that. She’d have to, because,
hell, if she couldn’t get on the saw, then she couldn’t do anything.

  Kenny wouldn’t have her working on the saw for a couple of days, but it was time to get her down to business. He showed her how to true-up material with the planer and noted Cam did okay with it, for a beginner and a girl.

  As Cam clumsily put the wood cup-side down on the planer, she reminded Kenny of a band geek in the pre-game show at a football game—the one dressed up in a big hat and blue polyester uniform, looking like a giant blue jay with a drum.

  Kenny went to the finishing room where he matched up some wood, making sure the grains came together just right. He was wanting to put the hardware on that job.

  Gary came in, took one look at the tool room where Cam had straightened up, and started cussing. “Now I won’t be able to find a goddamned thing. Do you even know what tools you stuck where? Hell, do you have any idea what any tool is?” His voice grew louder with each complaint.

  Kenny sighed. It was no secret Gary didn’t like change, unless the idea for it was his. Maybe Kenny shouldn’t have asked Cam to clean up in there.

  Gary was an installer and mostly worked on the road. In order to do that, he had to be able to do practically anything from scratch, which Gary pretty much could. He wasn’t as good as Kenny, but without a driver’s license all those years, working the road wasn’t an option for Kenny. But that was okay, too. Kenny was much more of a shop kind of guy anyway.

  Since Kenny had gotten his license, Martin had him doing deliveries and stuff when things got behind. In return, Martin let Kenny take a company truck home most nights. That was pretty cool.

  Gary marched up to Cam, a hammer in each hand. He held up one. “This is a claw hammer.” He held up the other. “And this is a straight claw hammer. They each have their right place. Got it?”

  The little hairs on Kenny’s neck got prickly, back where Dorianne tickled him with the clippers when she trimmed his hair. Cam didn’t remind him of a blue jay after all. No, the kid reminded him of a dove he’d seen once. Kenny had been cutting grass at the Johnson’s and scared three doves up onto the roof of the house next door. The whole way up, they made that whistling-whimper noise. They were just hanging out up there when—BOOM—a falcon swooped down and grabbed one in an explosion of feathers and perched right there on the roof and ate it. Cam reminded Kenny of a dove that didn’t know any better than to hang out on a roof.

  Gary had always been downright goofy, but Kenny didn’t remember him being such a prick. Not until after Kenny and Jack quit going fishing with him out near the clay mines when they were kids. Kenny couldn’t say exactly when Gary had changed, but it was sometime after that.

  Finally Grumpy Gary left for the day. Kenny could tell Cam relaxed once he’d gone. At least Gary was the only jerk working there. Tank, Eddie, and even Martin, were all decent.

  Putting away his tools, Kenny asked Cam, “So, how’s it going, staying with the doc?”

  “He’s pretty cool. He said I can stay with him as long as I need to. I’m gonna pay him some rent and save up for a car. I might even go to college. Eventually.”

  “That’s cool, if you’re into that.”

  “Macy took me out to the campus at Augusta State. She’s been showing me around town.”

  “Sounds cozy,” Kenny said, teasing.

  Cam blushed. “She’s got the prettiest eyes,” she muttered. “The darkest, most intense eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  As Kenny was fixing to lock down the electrical panels so they could call it a day, he saw Cam grab coffee mugs from the counter in the break room. He was impressed that the kid remembered to do that. She even washed them up with soap.

  Kenny had to admit Cam had done well. First, she caught on right away to the planer. Second, she made it until almost quitting time before bringing up how pretty Macy’s eyes were.

  †

  Macy hadn’t planned on going out, it just happened. J-man wanted to spend the night with his grandparents. Macy knew he liked staying over there, especially since Eileen started letting his dog, Bella, sleep in bed with him. She forced the thought of germs out of her head and let the boy be a boy.

  Next thing Macy knew, she found herself downtown at Whirligig’s. It was a new club, and she’d heard on the radio that they played good music. She leaned against the slick, wood bar with her beer and started contemplating possible adventures.

  Several young guys in Army fatigues stood by the door. They usually traveled in groups, but it was easy enough to cut one from the herd.

  Closest to the stage were two couples. Nothing there. To their left was someone more Macy’s type. His dark, rebellious hair reminded her of a South American soccer player, or Cat Stevens before his Muhammad days. She’d definitely keep that guy in mind.

  Macy’s scanning brought her gaze to the opposite end of the bar. She wasn’t going to allow herself to check out the trio of women, but before she could pan past them, Macy saw her: the short, light bob pushed behind her ears; the fine features; one very responsive eyebrow that seemed to rise up to ask questions on its own. It was Sharon, sitting at the bar with two women. Sharon saw her about the same time the soccer-playing Cat Stevens started walking her way.

  Macy glanced again at the man and knew that was not what she wanted. She almost tripped over her barstool hustling over to Sharon and her friends.

  Macy took a deep breath and smiled. “Hey, stranger, when did you get back?”

  Sharon looked at her watch. “About two hours ago.” She glanced over Macy’s shoulder. “Where’s Michael?”

  Heat rose on Macy’s cheeks. “He has an early appointment tomorrow, so he wanted to stay in tonight.” She punctuated the statement with a shrug. Macy had wanted—no, needed—to go out, so she told Michael she was going out with some girlfriends. He hadn’t noticed that she didn’t really have any.

  Sharon introduced Macy to her friends. Allie and Pat said hello and made the usual pleasantries. Pat mumbled something about kidnapping Sharon for the evening.

  When Pat and Allie excused themselves to go to the ladies’ room, Macy swiveled her barstool around to face Sharon. “You look good,” she said.

  “Liar. I look like hell.”

  Macy nodded and gave a little smile. “You’re allowed.”

  Sharon shrugged. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be at home, either.”

  Macy couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to go home and be that alone. It would be unbearable to lose the most important person in her life. The thought threatened to send Macy into a panic. She knew she’d never survive losing J-man. Wanting to wash away the very idea of it, she quaffed her beer.

  “Planning to get drunk tonight?”

  Macy looked at Sharon from behind her beer glass. She hadn’t realized she’d gulped so much. “No, I’m driving.”

  “Just remember, I don’t represent DUIs.”

  She tried to picture Sharon in the courtroom. It dawned on her that she didn’t know what kind of lawyer Sharon was. She was about to ask, when a familiar-looking man approached from the back of the room. He paused, almost like he was going to ask the time, but instead he lifted Macys hand, kissed the back of it, and walked away.

  “A friend of yours?” Sharon asked.

  Macy pretended to look over at him. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him before.” She didn’t look at Sharon as she lied.

  She thought about past decisions, about choosing adventures over friendship. It felt strange, looking back, that she was so afraid of the consequences of kissing one woman yet barely thought twice about doing a lot more with any man.

  Allie and Pat rejoined them. Macy placed her beer on a coaster and studied the neon orange lettering. Whirligig’s. She caught Sharon watching her, so she asked, “What is a whirligig anyway?”

  “Beats me,” Sharon answered.

  Pat picked up another coaster and looked at it. “Is a whirligig a something, or is it something you do?”


  “It’s possessive, a noun, so it’s a something,” Allie said.

  Pat laughed. “I think it’s a sexual position.”

  “Don’t go there,” Allie teased.

  “It can be a noun or a verb.” Sharon traced her finger over the letters.

  “A very active verb,” Allie said.

  Sharon smiled at Macy and nodded toward her friend. “Allie’s an English teacher. Can you tell?”

  The bartender brought Macy another beer, telling her it was from the gentleman at the end of the bar. Macy’s past adventure, the hand kisser, winked at her when she looked over at him.

  “I can’t accept this,” Macy said.

  “Yes, you can,” Allie said. “If you don’t drink it, Pat will.”

  Macy looked at Sharon. Sharon raised her glass and mouthed, “Cheers.”

  She prayed the guy wouldn’t expect conversation in return.

  “So,” Pat asked Sharon, “how do you two know each other?”

  “Macy dates my neighbor, Michael.”

  “The doctor?”

  Macy nodded. But she didn’t want to talk about Michael. Contemplating whirligigs and active verbs was more in line with her mood. That, and she wanted to know if Pat and Allie were lesbians, and if they could tell she had her own thoughts about women.

  Halfway through her beer, the idea of a past adventure clashing with the pleasure of spending time with these women became unacceptable to Macy. When the guy who’d bought her the beer left the end of the bar, she decided to make her getaway, preferring to leave rather than have him come back and maybe embarrass her in front of Sharon. She told Sharon and the others she was leaving.

  “Let one of us walk you out,” Sharon said.

  Macy shook her head. “That’s not necessary,” she said when Pat started to stand. “I’m parked right outside. I can manage on my own. Macy glanced one last time at the whirligig coaster, then squeezed Sharon’s hand. “It was good seeing you.”

  As she left, the door barely thumped shut, and something about the muffle of it told Macy to look behind her. The same discomfort kept her from turning around. She stared straight ahead, counting her steps. That made her think about Emma, and she wished she would find a sprig of cilantro on her windshield. Macy was almost to her car when her past adventure caught up to her.