"But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?"
Albert Camus
Red looked around with a frown on her face as we pulled into the Hallow Property. "Is this...this is..." She blinked. "Is this where...where the fire was?"
"Yep," I pocketed the keys, pushing my door open. The sky over head was clear, solid blue, and if the wind nipped coolly at our skin, the sun was warm. "Looks different, huh?"
Sliding out of the truck with a snort, she let her door slam shut. "Well yeah. For one it's not on fire."
The Ephraim Hallow had been cleared of all it's rubble. The charred stumps of trees had been pulled away, and what was left of the house torn away with painful ease. Clean and fresh as it was, the property was beautiful, a wide, round shaped clearing tucked away in the trees near enough to the cliff that you could smell the ocean water and hear the waves crashing. Months had passed since the fire, and patches of fresh grass had since pushed their way through the dirt.
In the center stood a house, a modest, narrow two-story cottage, still quite naked and unfinished. "What do you think?" I tugged the tail gate down, pulling the big buckets of unmixed grout closer to the edge.
"I've never really seen anything you've built," Red blinked, and then frowned. "Well, I mean I must have right? Besides the cabin, I mean."
She hadn't seen anything I had built, except for the cabin, and maybe some furniture here and there. "I don't get the chance to built on the Rez often. Mostly we just do fix-it stuff around here. Do some occasional remodeling."
"Why don't you build on the Rez?"
The answer was blunt. "They can't afford me. We mostly build yuppie vacation homes along the coast. I do what I can around here though, without stepping on anyone's pride. Money's a rough subject on the Rez." I did what I could on that front too, though my options were limited. As Chief, it had been one of my first priorities. I couldn't stand to watch my generation struggle, impoverished, as those before me had. If I had work, I shared it.
She smiled, as if reading my thoughts. "You're very good to your tribe, Sam. And the cottage is beautiful. Even unfinished, I can tell. Your crew must be amazing to have gotten so much done so fast."
"I'll tell the pack you said that." The Pack had been the only men to touch the Ephraim Hallow. It was a side project, after all; an after thought compared to the real work.
Her eyes widened in surprise. "They did all this? Wow. I had no idea they were so...so-"
"Talented?" I grinned. It was easy to underestimate a bunch of big, underage high-school drop outs. "They really are. Come on, we're working in the kitchen today." I jiggled my keys, tossing them to her."It's the brass looking one." I threw the tool belt over my shoulder, and lifted the heavy buckets with ease.
"I can't believe this is the same Hallow I burnt down," Red breathed, jamming the key into the lock. "It seemed...I don't know, sort of sad then. Buried away and just...dead."
"The fire took out a lot of the trees around the property," I explained, and caught her flinch."It was actually a good thing. We would have pulled a lot of them out anyway. It let's more sun in this way."
"It really is brighter." She looked up to the blue sky out the front bay window, sunlight painting her in soft colors. "I hadn't even realized some one might buy it. It looks so different without the shack. Less gloomy." She gave me a wistful smile. "This looks like something out of a story book."
"Right after the fire actually." I set the buckets by the archway dividing the dining room and the living room, both brightly lit with sun. "It's the perfect reparation for you. You're going to rebuild what you burnt down. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. The tribe will love it too. I know a lot of the Elders hated how Billy let the hallow go. It's been in the Chief's line forever."
Giving me an absurd look, she scoffed. "I can't build a house! Sam, my dad won't even let me operate a hair dryer, and you want to give me a hammer? Do you want me to break shit? I don't need weapons to do damage! I do fine all by myself." She was mostly right of course, but I didn't think it would hurt to let her try.
I rolled my eyes, and looped my tool belt around my waist. I'd be working in the kitchen, where I could keep an eye on her. "I'm not asking you to build a damn staircase. You're going to install tile. It's very simple. The ceramic is already fitted and cut; Embry did that last night. The floor is marked, and the tiles don't need matching-up. Really, the only tool you get is a trowel. It's no different then a spatula with grooves; you can't possibly hurt yourself on it." I paused. "Of course, that's not a challenge."
"I'm going to fuck it up," she groused, nervously plucking at the sleeve of her shirt. "Seriously, I don't know. I mean, I don't want to make more work for you. Or do it wrong or something."
"Hey, you wanted a reparation, you got one. But seriously, it's just like doing a really big puzzle. Except stickier and more permanent. I'll show you how to spread the grout on and then you're good to go. Really, the only way you can do this wrong is if you like...put the tile face-down."
"Sam..."
"It's outside your comfort zone, I know. But you're good for more then making dinner and cleaning house, you know? It's a learning experience." Huffing, I tipped her chin up with a fingertip. "I'm right here. I won't let you fuck up. You're just laying tile. I wouldn't ask you to do anything I didn't think you couldn't do. I'm not cruel." I nearly winced; Ihad been cruel to her, and not so long ago.
Red merely sighed, leaning into my chest. "I know you're not. Come on then, show me how to do this grout shit."
We mixed the grout together, before I handed her the trowel, and pulled her to her knees on the unfinished kitchen floor. "Okay, so when you lay tile, you start from the middle out." I took her hand, dipping the trowel into the bucket and slopping the grout onto the floor. "You want it about a eighth-of-an-inch thick. See the white lines on the floor? Those are your tile lines. Once you get the first few tiles laid down, it's easier to follow them. You grout the floor, and then you grout the tile." Reaching behind me, I pulled a tile from the box I'd placed behind us.
"Some of the newer tiles come per-corrugated; these are older, so they're flat. You grout the tile the opposite way you grouted the floor." Slopping the grout on the tile, I smoothed it across the tile in three swift motions. "That causes-"
"An air lock?" She finished pressing the tile down, hand beside mine. "Do I do the grout different ways with each tile? Like this one is up to down, so the next would be left to right?"
"Yep, exactly. Think you can handle it?" I nudged her with my shoulder, teasing. "There are rags and a spray-bottle in the box to wipe up any extra grout, and a leveler. You'll want to use that a lot, make sure all your tiles are straight. What do you think? You want an easier reparation? You could hunt dust bunnies, or maybe go pick some flowers."
"Shut up. Yeah, I think I can do this, " she huffed, smiling. Taking the trowel, she dipped it into bucket, slopping the grout onto the floor. "These tiles are really pretty. I like the orange and blue together."
"If you look closely, it's actually more of a red. Like a coral red, or something. I don't know." I sort of knew she'd like them from the moment I'd opened the box, with their bright, violent shades and wild patterns. On their own, each tile was a mess of tangled colors, but once together, there was so much more to them. "They're antique Turkish tiles. The guy that bought the lot found them cheap in an old warehouse sale in Port Angelas. They're probably from the mid 1930's. They were kind of a splurge, but since the kitchen is actually pretty small, they didn't take many. He couldn't pass them up. When you lay them out, there's actually several different patterns than the one you're seeing now. All those tiny details come into one."
"The Cullen's would have hated that; to much to look at, you know?" She had a quiet distant look. "I love it." She smiled to herself, grouting the tile and laying it town with a firm press of her hand. I handed her the leveler, and let her be.
Red came to Ephraim Hallow once or twice a week after that, when her work schedule allowed. The house grew closer to finished, and she and I simply grew closer. She'd done the tiles in the kitchen, moving wordlessly to the bathroom, and then onto cobble the front path. With every job, Red grew a little bit more confident, stepping outside her comfort zone. She perfectly installed trim, side-boards, and wainscoting with lip-biting determination. She wasn't the fastest worker, but she was so damned determined to do her best, I couldn't spite her for her lack of speed. Plus, her work was always perfect.
I was proud of her.
The Pack worked with her as well, patiently teaching her the tricks of the trade. She was by no means a handy-man, but she learned well enough, never got in the way, and swore like a sailor. In short, she fit right in. Plus, she often brought food, and well. No one would spite her for that.
She stayed at my place those days, usually to tired to drive back to Forks. She'd fall into bed, sweaty and exhausted, sprawled out across my bed shamelessly. I'd wake with her hair splayed across my face, her face tucked into my neck, snuffling against my skin. She was so different from the girl I'd met on the side of the road, and yet, not so different at all. She was still all fight and fire, but her passion burned quieter now. Instead of wasting herself in a sea of self-loathing and hate, she poured herself into helping the Pack, and writing her journals, and whatever else she saw fit to do. The Pack loved her, Momma loved her, the Rez loved her.
My life had some how found synergy while I wasn't looking; when had that happened?
"So who bought the lot anyway?" Red asked one day, as she passed out sandwiches to Jacob on their lunch break, sprawled out on the freshly finished back porch. I couldn't see them, but their voices carried easily through the open window above the counter. I was laid out beneath the kitchen sink, adjusting the plumbing for the dishwasher and garbage disposal.
"Dunno." Jacob made a gruff sound, and swallowed whatever he was chewing loudly. "Dad didn't say. I guess some guy called him up just after the fire and hard-balled him into selling. I mean, not that it was any hardship for Dad. The place was falling apart, and Dad never came by much, even before his accident. Mom and him use to live here, you know? With Grandpa Black. I think he just wanted to keep the memories happy."
"Oh." Red frowned, voice sagging with guilt. I could have smacked Jacob, but he seemed to catch his mistake, quickly back peddling.
"He said it's better off now," Jacob insisted quickly. "Whoever bought it deserved it, I guess. I always thought he'd would shove it at me, you know? Keep it in the Alpha line. But I don't know...I don't think I'd want to live that far from Dad. Though I guess he really beat dad's ass about the price."
"He tried to rip your dad off?" Red's voice went hard instantly. "I cannot believe-"
"No no, of course not. I mean, he's some one on the Rez, he has to be, doesn't he? No one would try to rip my dad off. The guy actually insisted on paying more then what Dad initially asked. A lot more, if the renovations going on at our house are any indication. Dad re-did the whole kitchen. He lowered the counters so much I have to squat to sit on them, but it's a lot easier on him. Had me tear out the bathtub and put in a huge ass shower too. I certainly won't complain about that."
"But he didn't say who bought it?" Red pressed, with her usually endless wells of curiosity. I knew without a doubt Jacob didn't know who bought out the place; none of the boys save maybe Embry paid any mind to the books. I was the only man in the company to ever really deal with the clients.
"Never really came up. Why do you want to know?"
She sighed. "I don't know. Sam said the house was a side-project, that the guy was just paying as he could or something. I just thought whoever was putting all this money and stuff into the house would actually want to come and see it."
"There aren't many people on the Rez who could afford a place like this, even on a lay-away plan or whatever. But Sam said the guy brought in a lot of his own materials. We salvaged most the wood and stones from the lot too, like the the alder wood for the floors and stuff." Jacob made a thoughtful noise. "They usually do visit though, but not until the house is almost finished. We're nearly there."
"Really?" Red seemed surprised. I was surprised too.
Sitting up, I looked around the finished kitchen, it's appliances black and gleaming against the alder wood of the cupboards. They were built out of trees salvaged from the fire, and Red had stained them herself. The floors were finished, hand cut wood planks stained to a rich, cherry-brown. It blended nicely with the pale reds in the kitchen tiles. The living room was painted a Mediterranean blue with dark-stained Victorian molding and matching wainscoting.
The bedrooms were all fitted with matching flooring, their walls primed but unpainted. Light fixtures had been installed, outlets placed, cable lines laid. The bathrooms were finished, all two and a half of them, including the master-suit with it's salvaged claw-foot bathtub. There was really very little left to be done.
"Really," Jacob insisted. "Good timing too. It's getting colder. If the guy starts moving his shit in now, he can probably be set up before the first snow."
Red made an inconsequential noise. "It seems like a lot of work for Sam though. He's always so tired. I hate seeming him wear himself out on something that doesn't really have much of a pay off."
"I don't think it's about money. I mean, Sam's never had a chance to build anything on the Rez. And you know, outside of the Pack, construction is what he does. It's how he makes his mark. It's his thing. And he's really good. His name is pretty well known up the coast. He'd be rolling in the cash, but he splits it evenly through the crew, himself included. I think he likes to know he'll be leaving something behind on the Rez, something he did that wasn't about the Pack or his chief duties. Something purely Sam."
"Then I'm glad I could help. I love the Rez. I'd like to live here one day." My heart fluttered in my chest at that, and I heard Jacob chuckle quietly. Bastard. "Of course I couldn't decorate myself out of a paper bag. It's a wonder my socks match. When I remember to wear socks. I'd like to meet who ever bought this damn house if only to get some pointers. He's got really good taste."
It took all I had not to laugh at that.
tbc