Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 33474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
He tugs my sleeve as he sits on the grass in front of the bark and the fir. “Sit, I haven’t seen you all week. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
I look down at him, to the space he’s patting, and drop to his side, loosely hugging my legs. “What have I been up to?” I repeat, staring at the fir. “Just busy. Getting myself all grubby, as you can see.”
Robin takes in my soil-stained T-shirt and work pants. “You know,” he says, and then, as if he thinks better of it, zips up.
“What?”
He looks away from me, to the fir. “The tree looks healthy.” He peers at it some more as he plucks at the grass between us. The side of his hand accidentally brushes mine; I jerk, breaking the contact—and immediately wish I hadn’t. Robin doesn’t seem to care, or even notice.
I force myself to look away from his hand as he rubs his jeans at the knee. I try to think of something to say. Actually, if the shivers would stop running rampant around my gut—and lower—I might actually be smiling right now.
“Just keep telling it truths,” I say, “and come Christmas, it’ll be ready.”
He smirks and leans forward towards the tree. “My neighbour’s a pain in the arse.”
“Is that what I am? Only a neighbour?” I feign being kicked in the stomach and laugh.
“When you annoy me, yes.” He picks himself up off the ground and extends an arm to me. I stare at it blankly, and just as Robin looks ready to drop the offer, I snap to my wits and clap his hand to pull myself up. “Lucky for you, you rarely annoy me.”
“And when I don’t annoy you, what am I?”
His turquoise gaze sparks as he shrugs. “My friend.”
“Well, better than ‘neighbour’. What did I do to annoy you?”
He turns back to me and then to the fir, and the fun leaves his voice. “You don’t listen. Swimming is a great skill. If only a great way to wash off after a hard day’s work.”
I rub at the dirt on my arms. “It’s not about not hearing you.”
“Then what is it?”
I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Panic rises up my throat and my heart hammers. I slam my eyes shut. Learning to swim would make the water safer. If I’d known how back then, maybe . . . The logical side of me gets it, but the illogical side . . .
I swallow, look away. “I’ll . . . think about it.”
“You will?” His voice is bright, eager. I like it and hate it.
“I can’t take lessons from you. Or your friends.” I can’t have him knowing how much the water frightens me. How much I panic.
I only just keep myself together seeing Scott in the water.
Robin frowns. “I’d do a decent job. Or Lyle, if—”
I let out a breath. “I can’t take lessons from either of you, okay?”
Robin frowns. He doesn’t look too happy, but he nods. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
It’s nine o’clock in the morning and Robin is at work. In the two weeks since his birthday, I’ve become very familiar with his timetable; I know when I can make these swaps safely. Sometimes the dead of night works best, but I’m no machine, and I need to sleep as well.
I pour bark around the base of the tree as Mr Cole shakes his head and rubs Tool’s ears. He’s driven over with the next Douglas in his trailer.
“Aren’t you lucky you can use trees from the garden centre?”
I smirk at him as I pack up my duffel bag and place the old fir in the bucket. “Promise they won’t get damaged. I’ll pay for any that do.”
He shakes his head. “You do know the best time to transplant firs is in winter, right?”
I nod. I know the basics about transplanting. “Most of them will stay in their pots. Until the very end. It shouldn’t hurt them.”
“Youth,” Mr Cole laughs. “The crazy things you do for love.”
He follows me back to my truck, bucket at his hip. “Look,” he says, resting against the side of the deck as I drop in my duffel bag, “about that job that kid offered you—”
I twist sharply. “Lyle?” I suddenly know what Mr Cole is going to say, and I wish I’d never told him—ranted, perhaps?—about my ‘competition’.
“Yeah, look, I have a couple of smaller stints I’ll be working on over the next couple of months but not much.” He shrugs. “Tough economy. It could tide you over until I have something bigger for the both of us.”
I rest my back against the truck and fold my arms. “I said we were busy for the next few months.”
Mr Cole shrugs. “Tell him you managed to squeeze some time in to help him out.”