Mia Ross - A Gift of Family

The face reflected in the glass looked petrified, and he let out a disgusted sigh. It was a hardware store in a Podunk little town, run by a friend of Aunt Ruth’s. Thinking of her gave Seth’s confidence a much-needed boost. Honest errand or sham, she believed he could manage this, or she wouldn’t have sent him. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. Once his heart had settled into an uneasy trot, he reached for the handle again.

As he opened the door and stepped back for Lisa to go through, the bell overhead chimed in welcome.

“Is that Lisa Sawyer?” The gray-haired man behind the counter gaped in obvious disbelief. “Never thought I’d be seeing you in here, princess.”

“My nickname,” she muttered to Seth. “My big brothers think it’s hysterical.”

“Is it accurate?”

“What do you think?” she demanded in a haughty tone he thought matched her nickname pretty well.

“I think I’d rather not know.”

“Smart man.” As they reached the counter, she greeted the owner. “You should be nice to me, Gus. I brought you someone to talk shop with. Seth Hansen, Gus Williams. Seth is Ruth’s nephew.”

As the two men shook hands, Seth noticed the Semper Fi tattoo on Gus’s forearm. Faded but still clear, he could tell it had been there a long time.

“I’m not much for tools and such,” Lisa announced, wrinkling her cute little nose in distaste. “I’ll be in the decorating section.”

She went left, looking up at the aisle markers as she went. Gus chuckled and called out, “Head to your right, you’ll find that stuff in the back.”

With a melodramatic sigh, she changed direction and turned down an aisle advertising window treatments. Turning back to Gus, Seth was surprised to find the man smiling at him.

“Marines,” he said proudly. “How ’bout you?”

Gus’s quick assessment kicked his pulse up again, and Seth waited a beat to make sure he spoke normally. “How’d you know?”

“Son, it’s written all over you.”

Feeling awkward, Seth ran a hand over his crew cut. Maybe if he let his hair grow out, people wouldn’t peg him quite so easily. Sure, and he could get an earring, too. His mother would love that.

“Oh, it ain’t just the hair,” Gus told him. Leaning in, he added, “It’ll get easier, I promise.”

Inexplicably, Seth blurted out, “It’s been almost two years.”

“Some recover quicker’n others.” Gus frowned. “Some come home but never quite make it back, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Seth had seen a few of them when he was in the hospital. Staring vacantly at nothing, muttering to themselves, imprisoned by memories that might never let them go. Watching them had been the motivation he’d needed to push himself hard every single day, even when his body had protested. With relentless determination, he’d whipped through his rehab in record time.

However difficult normal life was for him, it was a cakewalk compared to others.

“I pray for ’em every day,” Gus confided. “Those poor souls need all the help they can get.”

Seth was careful to keep his expression neutral. While he respected everyone’s right to worship, his own faith in God had withered under the brutal desert sun. The horrible things he’d experienced had convinced him that if there was a divine presence watching over the earth, He was far from the compassionate, omnipotent being he’d learned about in Sunday school. That God would have ended all the wars and restored peace.

Since that had yet to happen, Seth figured the whole thing was nothing more than a nice story aimed at teaching people how they should behave. If the Golden Rule were the law of the land, the world would be a much better place.

Gus seemed to take Seth’s silence for agreement, and he smiled. “If you ever want to jaw with a fellow soldier, I’m a real good listener.”

While most people’s sympathy made him stiffen up defensively, Seth understood that the old Marine empathized with what he was going through. He wondered if his aunt had sent him here hoping he and Gus would hit it off. Knowing her penchant for aiding folks in need, Seth certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

Accepting help was tough for him, but he acknowledged the generous offer with what he hoped came across as a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Gus rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Now, what can I get for you?”

“Aunt Ruth jammed something in the disposal.”

“Again? That woman sure is tough on her equipment.” Chuckling, he lifted the hinged butcher block to step out from behind the counter. “My professional plumbing stuff’s out back. Have a look around while I fetch it for you.”

“Thanks.”

Whistling along with the power tools’ version of “Deck the Halls,” Gus headed through a door sporting a sign that read No Customers—This Means You. While he waited, Seth cruised the well-stocked store. Neatly arranged shelves and hooks held everything from plumbing and electrical parts to livestock supplies. There was even a section of sturdy work clothes. Several versions of the denim shirt Gus wore hung on a rack beside jeans and steel-toed boots. The prices were reasonable, which told Seth the owner recognized how much money his customers had to work with and made sure they could afford to shop in his store.

“Browsing?” Lisa asked from behind him. When Seth turned, she laughed. “Please don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking of buying clothes here.”

“Maybe.”

“We have some nice stores in town,” she went on. “Just wander up and down Main Street and you’ll find pretty much everything you need.”

Seth looked at the racks, then back at her. “Jeans, shirts, boots. What else is there?”

She groaned. “You sound like my brothers.”

“Is that bad?”

“Mostly.”

When she smiled, he realized she was teasing him, and he felt himself loosen up a little. Apparently, she’d gotten past her earlier frustration with him. While he didn’t do it on purpose, he knew his reticence made it impossible for strangers to warm up to him. He appreciated her cutting him some slack.

“They sound like my kinda guys.” He put a little extra emotion into the comment so she’d know he wasn’t a robot. He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, but it did.

“Oh, you’d love them,” she assured him. “And my brother-in-law, too. Men’s men, straight through every strand of their mulishly stubborn Y chromosomes.”

Seth laughed. The way she rolled her eyes was so cute, he couldn’t help it. The wattage on her smile actually increased, and he had a tough time paying attention to what she was saying to him.

“...actual shoes, shirts made of something besides denim, a sweater or two,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “You know, things to wear when you’re not working.”

Seth couldn’t recall the last time he’d chosen his own clothes. When he was younger, Mom took care of all that. Then he’d worn one type of uniform after another. Lately, it was Mom again, because he didn’t have the inclination to do any more than reach into a drawer for something old and comfortable to wear.

Until today, he hadn’t cared much whether they even fit or not. He wasn’t sure why it mattered all of a sudden, and he decided it was best not to examine it too closely.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, steering her away from the clothing.

While his very entertaining companion chattered on about designer wallpaper borders, Seth hummed over the price of a new table saw. Not bad. Maybe he could barter some handyman help to Gus and get a discount. Then once he got settled somewhere, he could set up a carpentry shop and start making things again.