A Daddy For Christmas. Linda Ford
patted his arm. “Libby will be sure and straighten you out if your language gets too rough.” She laughed, a sound so pure and sweet he could only stare.
He quickly came to his senses. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.” He tried his best to sound aggrieved.
“Sorry. But the look on your face was priceless.”
It was time to get things back to order. He hunkered down in front of the sections of a pew he’d cut. “This is what I have so far. The wood is oak. One of the finest woods they make, in my opinion. Look at the beautiful grain.”
She ran her fingers over the wood. “It is nice.”
“Nice?” He took a beat of silence. Did he expect her to see the beauty of the wood just because he did? “Of course, it isn’t finished yet. By the time I run my plane over it a few times, it will be so smooth you won’t believe it.”
Libby squatted at his side. “Like Mama’s skin?”
Clara blushed bright red.
Blue grinned. It was her turn to have Libby cause her problems. “You keep your mama on her toes, don’t you?”
Libby studied her mother’s feet. “No. She’s not on her toes.”
Eleanor sighed. “Lib, it’s a saying. It means you make her pay attention.”
“To what?”
“To what you are going to say or do next.”
Libby stood up and held her hands in the air in a gesture of confusion. “But how can she know? Even I don’t know.”
Clara rolled her head back and forth. “And that’s a good portion of the problem.”
Blue returned to his full height. His eyes caught hers, and they laughed as they silently acknowledged how this child had embarrassed them both by turn.
She’d done something more, he realized. She’d put them both a bit more at ease.
But was that a good thing or not?
He jerked away and led Clara to the sawhorses. “You can help me measure each piece.” He showed her the plans he’d drawn. “This is what we’re going to make.”
She studied the drawings, then nodded. “Looks simple enough.”
“It is. All I have to do is make sure each cut is exact, the grain is always going the right direction and everything fits together perfectly.”
“Don’t you mean all we have to do?”
“We’ll see.” He had a whole wagonload of doubts about how much help she’d be.
His plans seemed a vague dream at the moment.
He positioned a length of lumber on the sawhorses. “First, we measure. Hold the end of the tape there.” He showed her and took the first measurement. “Hold it firmly. Even a fraction of an inch can have a bearing on the finished product.”
“I have it.”
The girls stood close by, watching.
He measured several different places where he would have to cut. “Now I’ll measure again and make sure they’re all correct.”
“Again? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, but the rule is measure twice, cut once. It’s the safest way.”
“Hmm.” She held the tape as he repeated the process.
“Okay.” He rolled the tape and stuck it in his pocket. “Now I’ll cut.” With long steady strokes, he cut the pieces for the end of the pew. Two for each pew and one for the middle.
Patiently, he allowed her to help him measure each piece needed for the rest of the pew. “Now I need to plane them smooth.”
She blushed as if remembering Libby’s earlier remarks.
Ignoring her reaction, he slid the planer over the wood. Paper-thin curls of wood peeled off.
The girls knelt beside him. “Can we have those?” They pointed at the curls.
“Don’t see why not.”
They gathered up the bits and carried them to the corner, where they were soon busy playing some game.
Blue returned to the task, concentrating on the sound of the blade and his movements.
“Can I do that?” Clara’s voice startled him from his thoughts. “It looks like fun.”
He stared at the planer. He enjoyed the work. But if he didn’t let her do enough to qualify as help in her eyes, who knew what she’d do? He turned over the piece meant to be the seat so she could work on the bottom, where her mistakes wouldn’t show. “Push down just enough to start it shaving. Then keep the pressure firm and continue clear through to the end.” He let her take the planer.
It caught. It stuttered. There would be cross lines at every stop.
“You made it look so easy.” She sounded annoyed, as if she blamed him for her failures. Then she clenched her teeth and started again. Stalled again.
He saw her problem. “Steady pressure. Like this.” And before he could think to stop himself, he placed his hand over hers on the planer and showed her how to do it. A thousand sensations rushed through him. They threatened the boundaries he had so carefully and solidly built. And yet there was something about them that filled him with comfort.
He jerked back and let her do it herself.
She grinned as the shavings peeled from the wood.
For some strange reason, he grinned, too, pleased at her success.
Then he wrenched his attention away. He had work to do here and put his mind to building pews until the morning passed.
“It’s time for dinner.” He grabbed his coat and was halfway out the door before he stopped himself. Like it or hate it, he couldn’t hurry away and leave them to walk across on their own.
* * *
Clara fairly bubbled with excitement as she traipsed across to the Mortons’ for dinner. She’d never seen a piece of furniture under construction before, never dreamed she might have a part in the process. Yes, it was a small part. But hopefully one the Mortons would deem worthy of a meal for her and the girls.
Bonnie flew to Clara’s side as they entered the room. “I was worried about you. I went over to invite you to join me here. I know the shack is small and thought you might like to visit. But when you weren’t there...” She fluttered her hands.
“I’m helping at the church.”
Bonnie stared at her. Claude came to her side. “Are you helping Blue?”
“Yes.”
“Why, I think that’s a great idea.” Claude squeezed his wife’s shoulders, and they gave each other a glance that seemed full of secrets.
Clara wouldn’t look at Blue to see his reaction. But she sensed if he thought the pair saw romance budding between them he would run for the hills and never return. But he needn’t worry. One thing she did not want or need in her life was a man. And she meant to prove it. To her father, to anyone who might voice a concern and most of all to herself.
She wondered how to broach the subject of receiving the meals in exchange for help at the church when Claude spoke up.
“Our contribution is to provide meals to those who work on the church. Clara, that includes you, so sit down and enjoy the food Bonnie has prepared.”
“Thank you.” For the first time since she’d stepped off the stagecoach at Edendale, she felt as though she could achieve at least part of her goal. Why, was that just yesterday? It seemed so much longer.
God