Unspoken
Cooper took one look at the basket of peaches on the table and scoured the yard for a safer bet. He strolled up to Quinn’s grandpa, who seemed to be manning an empty grill. “How we doing today?”
“Less drafty.” Her grandpa whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand and motioned to his zipper, which Cooper ardently avoided veering his focus to at all costs. “Eh? You remember?”
“Sure do.” Unfortunately. He took a swig of his sweet tea and stared aimlessly until his line of sight grazed across something stuck in her grandpa’s overgrown mustache. Cooper rubbed his chin. “You, uh, have a little something . . .”
He followed Cooper’s finger toward a crumb caught in his ’stache. He plucked it out, sniffed it, and popped it in his mouth. “Paula’s fried okra. The best you’ll ever have.”
“Uh-huh.” Cooper took another sip of tea and eyed her grandpa’s grease-covered fingers. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll remember to avoid that dish at dinner.” No doubt, he’d blame the raccoons again for rummaging through the food while no one was looking.
Her grandpa smiled widely, clearly missing the joke along with a handful of teeth.
“I should probably go check on Brayden.” Cooper clapped him on the shoulder. “Good talking with ya.”
Halfway across the yard to the picnic table, Cooper peered behind him toward the sound of her grandpa’s delayed reaction.
“Avoid that dish,” he mimicked through a raspy laugh. “You’re a fast one, son.”
Not fast enough, or he wouldn’t be left speechless half the time he was around Quinn. Though, maybe it was better that way. Less chance of digging his hole any deeper.
When he caught Brayden stretching out his arms toward him, his chest constricted without warning.
“Nothing beats a boy loving his daddy,” Loraine said as Brayden wiggled from her arms into Cooper’s.
He latched on to the rim of Cooper’s hat and smiled like he was in the safest place in the world.
Seeing his own eyes looking back at him was hard enough. Seeing Brayden trust him, even love him? It was too much, too raw. His throat tensed until the grip matched the unrelenting grasp Brayden had on his hat.
Ginny sauntered by the table. Brayden took one look at her long brown hair and reached for her instead.
“Oh, I see how it is.” Laughing, Cooper held him out for Quinn’s cousin. “Only loved till someone who smells better comes along.”
“A boy after your own heart, huh?” Loraine dished a knowing grin at him while Ginny and Brayden made their way toward the sprinkler.
Cooper stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “Meaning?” Like he had to ask. He already knew what most people thought of him and his perceived lifestyle.
“Even out in the country, people hear things, darlin’.”
His jaw ticked. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” She dragged the basket of peaches across the table and brought one to her nose. “I prefer to believe what I see.”
“And what’s that?”
“A guy lucky to have found a girl to change his mind.”
Cooper pulled his hands free and leaned one on the table. Why he was following this loaded conversation, he had no idea, but the responses came out on their own. “Change his mind about what?”
Loraine rose and patted the top of his hand. “Everything.”
Before Cooper’s defiant jaw could draw him farther down this dead-end road, Nurse Murphy sailed around the corner of the house with a stack of foil-wrapped trays.
“Let me help you with those.” He took the top two and set them on the table.
“Thanks.” She wiped her brow with her sleeve.
“You all right, dear?” Loraine asked.
“Fine. Long day is all.”
“Your mama?”
Head down, Nurse Murphy re-secured the foil that’d come loose on a corner of one of the dishes. “The hurtful words . . . I know it’s not really her saying them, but sometimes . . .” She swallowed.
A crash from inside the house whipped all their attention toward the kitchen window. “Loraine? I could use a hand,” Mrs. Thompson called through the screen.
Loraine brandished a teasing expression toward them. “She’d never survive without me.” She squeezed Nurse Murphy’s arm and smiled warmly before trekking off to the kitchen toward whatever catastrophe there was to clean up after.
Nurse Murphy set a thatched bag on the bench and withdrew a group of serving utensils. “My mom has Alzheimer’s,” she said in response to Cooper’s unspoken question.
“I’m so sorry.” He cast a glance behind him toward the barn. “It must be hard coming here to work with Mr. Thompson too.”
“Actually, it helps.” She laid a wooden serving spoon across each of the covered trays. “This family gives me a lot of strength. All the families I work with do. It’s one of the reasons I switched from Cardiac Care to Geriatrics.”
Cooper picked up his glass of tea. “To better help your mom?”
“In a way.” She leaned against the table edge. “When I was in nursing school, I fell in love with this one blog. I don’t know, maybe I just needed some distraction from all the pressure of school, but it became a little safe haven for me. A reminder of what was important.”
Staring off into the field opposite them, she must’ve been peering into memories vivid enough to relive. “Every week, the author shared a recipe along with the funniest family stories.” She laughed. “I don’t know who they were, but I tell ya what. They sounded almost as entertaining as this bunch. The blog even had ‘crazy’ in the title.”
Cooper cut a glance at her, perception zeroing in on that last part. She didn’t mean . . .
Her amusement gave way to a sense of gravity, reverence. “But no matter how crazy things got, they always came back to each other. They never lost sight of the importance of taking care of family, you know? Of nurturing those bonds, no matter how much circumstances strain them sometimes.” She straightened. “I realized that was something worth dedicating my life to.”
“Sounds like that author made a real impact on you.”
Her eyes warmed as she turned toward the table and tapped the dish closest to her. “Taught me a few good recipes too.”
“I’m sure she did.” Cooper couldn’t help grinning.
“It’s too bad she stayed anonymous. It would’ve been nice to tell her the difference she made.”
The back screen door squeaked open from across the yard. Quinn shuffled down the steps, carrying a small ceramic bowl. She stopped at the sight of him taking her in but then continued slow strides toward them.
Cooper looked at Nurse Murphy. “Maybe you’ll still get the chance to thank her one day.”
“I hope so.” After greeting Quinn, she gestured toward the house. “I better go see if your mom needs any more help.”
“Enter at your own risk,” Quinn called after her.
Left alone, a round of uncomfortable silence settled between them.
She set the bowl down and nodded to the glazed topping inside it. “Can’t have peaches unless they’re drizzled in sugar.”
“Lost that battle, huh?”
“Always do.”
“Yet you never give up.” He returned his glass to the table. “Real trooper, right there.”
A laugh snuck through her lips.
Man, that smile. He ran his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if that’d keep him from reciprocating. He should know better. He obviously couldn’t stay upset with her if he tried.
“It’s kind of hard to be a trooper when I’m acting like an angsty teenager.” Her smile waned. “I’m really sorry, Cooper. Truth is, Livy showing up sort of brought out some insecurities I thought I’d laid to rest a long time ago.”
He stared at her. “Livy?”
She pitched a brow at him. “And you say I’m blind.”
That’s what all this was about? Amusement dismantled any attempt to keep a straight face. He edged in. “You weren’t jealous, were you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, I think it’s too late for that.” Giving his smile free reign, he inched a step closer.
“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath. Apparently, I’m pretty good at dishing out insults too.” Though pained, her smile held a smidge of humor in it. “A girl of many talents. What can I say.”
“Mm.” He looked her up and down. “Too bad wrestling isn’t one of those talents.” He swooped her over his shoulder before she could respond.
Caught between laughing and yelling, Quinn fought to escape. He secured her by the legs before he ended up with an unpleasant knee jab and started for the sprinkler.
“If you don’t want to die, you better put me down.”
“You’re the one who said you needed to cool off, right?”
She slapped his back. “Don’t you dare.”
The sight of Mr. Thompson coming out of the barn jerked him to a stop. Quinn slid down the front of him, but Cooper grabbed her waist before she fell to the grass. Just centimeters away, she lifted her fiercely gorgeous eyes at him. And for an isolated second, he forgot where he was. Along with who was watching.
The minute it reregistered, he flung his hands free from Quinn’s waist like she had the plague. Way to make it worse, Coop.
Each step bringing her father toward them seemed to echo across the open yard.
Or maybe that was just his pulse. Cooper leveled his shoulders and nodded. “Mr. Thompson. Good to see you.”
Without releasing Cooper from an intense gaze, he wiped his hands on a faded rag.
Nothing like being transported back to high school on prom night.
Quinn slipped through the invisible tension line between them and wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck. “Are you sure you should be back in your workshop so soon after the hospital?”
“Hospital?” He waved it off. “I haven’t been in a hospital for over fifteen years.”
Quinn stepped back slowly. “No, Daddy. You fell off the back steps and had to spend the night at Community Memorial. Don’t you remember?” She searched his eyes. If she was looking for humor, she would’ve been disappointed.
A pained sense of confusion streaked his face as though he were seeing the effects of his illness reflected in his daughter’s eyes. “Is that so?” He toyed with his rag. “Well, I’m just fine now, aren’t I? But I could use a hand on something before dinner.” He redirected his attention to Cooper. “Son?”
He shot an uncertain glance at Quinn, who mouthed, “Trooper.”
No getting out of it now.
With a little more trepidation than he wanted anyone to sense, he followed Mr. Thompson over to the barn. Chase and Livy passed them on their way out.
Cooper made a face at him. “Get lost?”
“Nope.” Chase flaunted a grin right back.
Livy ignored them both. “You have a fantastic shop, Mr. Thompson.”
“Thank you . . .”
“Livy,” she reminded him.
Chase landed a hand to the top of his shoulder. “Dinner should be about ready, Pops.”
“We’ll be along in a minute.” He shuffled toward the back of the barn.
Cooper sent off one last silent flare for intervention, which Chase obviously found as amusing as Quinn had.
Chase patted him on the back. “Whatever he gives you, just keep sanding it,” he whispered.
“Wait, what?” What the heck did that mean?
Instead of an answer, a laugh trailed them as they rounded the barn door and disappeared into the yard.
So much for being bros. Cooper turned to find Mr. Thompson had already reached the far end of an otherwise mostly empty barn. He hustled to meet up with him.
At a workbench, her dad turned the rod handle on a mechanical vise ’round and ’round.
Cooper surveyed the spread of tools—some old and well scuffed, others still carrying the shine of little use. “This is a great setup you have here, sir.”
The slow squeak of the vise’s jaw opening served as the only response.
Did Mr. Thompson forget he was there? Based on what he’d seen so far, his coherence seemed to come and go.
Cooper ran a finger along the beveled edges of a carved rail slat that looked halfway finished. Maybe he should let himself out, give her dad some time alone doing what he loved. This was obviously a special place for him.
He turned, ready to bail. But instead of a clear escape route, a scrap of sandpaper waved in his path.
Mr. Thompson kept his hand out, waiting.
Cooper looked from the paper to the rail he’d been admiring. Just keep sanding, right. He took the paper from him and started in on the slat.
“You know what I like about wood?” Mr. Thompson’s low, calm voice reverberated throughout the quiet barn.
Cooper faced him. “What’s that, sir?”
He picked up a small block of wood, maple from the looks of it, and gave it a rap with his knuckle. “It’s sturdy, durable.” He set it in the vise and began rotating the handle again until the jaws clamped securely around it. “But just ’cause it can handle pressure doesn’t mean it can’t break.” The squeaky rod strained as Mr. Thompson circled it yet another time.
Good thing he had a block of wood in that jaw instead of Cooper’s hand. Though, something gave him the impression he wouldn’t have minded demonstrating on the latter.
When he looked up, Mr. Thompson stood right in front of him. Cooper tried not to flinch as he helped him sand the rail along the grains of wood in slow, graceful movements.
“Even with the right tools, nurturing wood takes care and patience. You have to respect its natural beauty while drawing out its potential to build something that’ll last a lifetime.”
Mr. Thompson returned to his workbench and loosened the vise. “But you have to be careful.” He removed the block, gave it to Cooper, and tapped a weathered palm over his hand. “Without boundaries, that pressure can leave marks forever.”
Cooper stroked a fingertip over the grooves burrowed into the grains by the vise’s clamp. When he met Mr. Thompson’s gray eyes, there was no second-guessing his lucidity. Same way there was no questioning what they were really talking about here.
Loraine obviously wasn’t the only one who saw things. Even someone only half cognizant could see Cooper would eventually hurt Quinn in the end.
Indignation flared until a slow burn eroded behind the truth left in its place. Resenting assumptions didn’t make them wrong.
Before he could summon a response, a shriek from outside shuddered into the barn. Cooper dropped the wood without thinking. Quinn.