He was giving orders by five this morning and I followed every last one, slipping into amusement tour mode, doing what we do best. It's only when I make up my own mind that it gets me into so much trouble, if I just let him keep running this show we'll do better than ever.
I was ordered to put on jeans and a flannel shirt and a jacket and to grab gloves. At least Loch asked if I would make the coffee. He could have just told me to do it. And then out in the dark because the big woodpile has got to be moved, divided and restacked at the foot of the driveway. The rest will go beside the garage. None of it remains here at the end of the orchard. If it does it will never dry.
He pours the coffee into two thermal mugs and off we go, hand in hand in gloves. Once down by the orchard I realize this is the mother of invention, not necessity. The wood is fine here. He just wants to talk and so we're going to move it anyway.
So we talk. About his fears and shortcomings. About my needs and grand plans. About us. About Ben. About Henry. About Sam. About how Caleb is going to keep me under his thumb right up until the day Henry moves out and then Caleb won't have any way to keep me here anymore. How he understands now that Caleb is going to do just that and anything I try to do in return is going to come back on me tenfold. That's why it was so easy for Caleb to remind everyone that I came to him, that I asked him for his time, that I asked him for his brother. That he's making me look worse than bad. That my integrity is so questionable right now it's a wonder no one has switched allegiance against me. That Loch knows what I feel, he knows the lengths I'll go to and he knows how my brain betrays me even as my heart digs in. That he isn't mad, he just feels so helpless.
But eventually we ran out of coffee and then words too but not wood and so we kept working until almost nine, when it was time for the kids to go to school and then after we saw them off we kept on working until the rumblings of my stomach told me it was almost lunchtime and Lochlan started throwing around the idea of me making my world-famous grilled cheese sandwiches because he could really use one and he stopped finally and smiled at me somewhat desperately and downright adorably and asked me if I could just, well, if I wouldn't mind just sticking close again. Like I used to. Because as old as we've grown and as much as we've been through together one thing hasn't changed, and that's the stark fact that I need to stay inside this pool of lightness, with him. It's safer that way. That I can just ask him for anything I need and he'll do his best but I'm not to set foot in the dark again.
