Good Work

Good Work


Scott wore the carpenter’s belt well. Low on the hip, hammer in the loop. Tape measure in the little pouch. He was eye candy and I was glad I’d hired him to fix the problem on the porch.

John walked out and interrupted my interlude. “Whatcha’ doing?”

“Supervising Scott.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I know. I just thought I’d be here, in case he drops a nail or something.”

Hubby always could do the eye roll really well. “Whatever. Call me when he’s done so I can write the check.”

“Sure enough John.” I watched as he went back in the house. I settled into the lawn chair.

Now Scott was down on one knee, nailing down some floor boards.

“Do you need me to move?”

“Nope, you’re fine. Stay right there. I’ll work around you.” He continued his work, around me.

The lawn chair reclined and I took a little snooze. Hammering continued as I dozed and dreamed of Scott and I on a desert island. He was making a little hut for the two of us out of a palm tree and his carpenter’s belt. The little hut took shape. Scott and I laid down inside and…. Suddenly John paddled up in a dug-out canoe and shouted, “You two need some help? I can help.”

That woke me from that wonderful little interlude with a smile on my face. Standing over me was John.

“Need some help with that chair? You were trying to get the chair up, it seems.” John’s hand on mine was warm, like the sun in my dream.

“What? Where’s Scott?”

“He’s finished. He’s gone. Job’s all done. And it looks pretty good.”

I grinned. Yes, he does good work.

W/C 287