She complained. “I thought we were doing tile! I thought I was helping.”
Shaking his head he responded. “We’re doing the floor. I told the tile guy to leave us the floor. I figured that was the place we could do the least amount of damage.”
She sighed. “Well this won’t take long. Then what am I supposed to do with the rest of my night.” She studied the floor and realized that the lines were already on the floor. “I do like the diamond pattern. Have you ever laid tile that way?”
He shrugged. “How hard can it be? The lines are already there.” He could see that she wore an uncertain look on her face. He laughed. “Come on. This floor isn’t going to tile itself.”
After just a few hours it was good and dark. The floor was as finished as it could be until the thin set had dried and they would be able to grout it. The grouting was a much faster process.
She glanced at the time on her phone. “Nine o’clock,” she mourned. “Great.” And she started toward her vehicle.
“You want to come over, sit by the bonfire, and have a drink?’ He had already walked in that direction.
“I know I don’t have to go far, but I really shouldn’t drink and drive.” She shrugged.
“Well, I was going to offer a hot chocolate…” He smiled at her and soon discovered that she had caught up to him and was walking companionably beside him.
Since he had started logs and everything was stacked and ready to start the fire, he showed Marti to the kitchen to see if she could get the hot chocolate started. She had happily set to work on it. And before long there were two mugs of hot chocolate and one roaring fire with a big blanket spread out on the damp grass. He sat beside her and took one of the mugs she offered.
“This is really nice back here,” she commented. “Have you lived here long?”
Smirking, he said, “I can tell you are working at making conversation.” He winked at her. “This was my father’s house. I inherited it and all the problems along with it. This house was never my dream, but sometimes it’s nice to have a fallback. And I’m working on a ten year plan. Then I’m out of here.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “I guess not everyone comes here on purpose.”
“Why did you come here? Lose a bet? Think that you had a shot at Mayberry? I’m baffled.” He stared closely at her while he waited for her answer.
Marti took a deep swig of the hot chocolate. He could see that she was hesitant about sharing what was going on in that mysterious complicated mind of hers. Slowly, however, she began to open up. “Well, I had a miscarriage…”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” If there was anyone who looked like mother material, it was her. Just something about her seemed like she was meant to have a baby riding her hip and a toddler playing around her feet. He leaned back. Where that image came from was beyond him.
“Yes, well these things happen. Only, most of the time when these things happen, the husband is by his wife’s side, I’ve heard.” She shrugged.
“He wasn’t?” He could feel the twitching start in his eye. It was impossible for him, as protective as he was, to imagine that there was any man who would let his wife or girlfriend go through that alone. He didn’t. Not even when it was Finn’s fault. And then, when it was obvious that the experience hadn’t affected her like it had him…well, then he left, but never before.
“No. He didn’t visit or send flowers or even try to keep up appearances at the hospital he had surgical privileges at.” She sighed and drank some more of the sweet warm liquid. “I checked myself out, drove myself home, and announced when he finally returned for a moment days later that I wanted to move south.” She looked up at him and even in the dark the sadness was obvious on her face.
“And I guess the divorce came as a shock?” He pulled her head so that it was resting on his shoulder. He leaned his head on hers and tried to offer some sense of comfort as they spoke about some of the most intimate details of their lives.
“Losing the marriage…that doesn’t really bother me. I haven’t loved him for quite some time. I was pretty much over that before