Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Both Hannah and Kola were a bit hurt over not being called, but when I reminded them that there was nothing they could have done, and that Jake’s math was, as usual, on point, and he was already with me, they both agreed that I was, for once, being completely logical. I didn’t know how I felt about that comment.
A bit about my new stove/oven. The top is now black glass ceramic, and I love it. No more food falling around the burners, which I hate. Everything stays perfectly clean. It’s beautiful. Her name is Lucinda Darkly, from the book by the same name I read years ago, and because she is mysterious—I still haven’t figured out all the features—and sleek and deep midnight blue inside. She is, in a word, magnificent.
I know you’re all thinking, really, Jory? We needed to hear all that first? Well, yes. These updates are about us, all together as a family, not simply the state of Hannah’s love life. But I know you’re all concerned, which I appreciate.
I will say, since my daughter and the man she loves hit pause on their relationship in June, life has been different. It probably wouldn’t feel quite so strange if Sam and I were not smack-dab in the middle of it all. I told my husband that no matter who was living with us, Hannah or Jake, that it would be the same, but with it being Jake, I think it’s actually somewhat easier. My son has reported that at their house, Hannah is like a dark rain cloud of sadness and regret. For our part, neither one of us see Jake enough for that to be the case. And while he is quieter than normal, not as quick to smile, and looks utterly wrung out, that could also be because he’s so busy.
July basically came and went with projects. The list thus far of things that have been accomplished in my house with Jake living with us have been, in no particular order, the installation of my new oven. The stacking and labeling of all my ornaments. There is no more guesswork of what is in a certain box. A complete stranger could come in and pull down everything needed for any holiday, from St. Patrick’s Day through Christmas. They would know which box holds fake painted eggs, patchwork gourds, and the family of autumn foxes. The kugels are now easily accessed, as well as stockings, festive winter animals, snow people and, of course, the many, many wreaths. There’s even a schematic on the wall, when you climb up into the attic, that shows you what boxes are in what area. It’s crazy.
Next, he and Sam built shelves in the basement, put up a needed wall to hang extension cords, lights, and various other things. They redid the stairs leading from the laundry/mudroom down into the recesses of our home. The new additions were so needed, and the overhauled stairs are wider, not as steep, and solid. Plus, they’re now stained a beautiful warm mahogany color. When I asked Sam if he was going to have a contractor come out and inspect everything before he and Jake hung new drywall and painted, he turned to me and told me that Jake got his certifications to be a licensed contractor a year ago. He didn’t tell anyone, but he got it done through his dad’s business, and he could put his name on Google and take on clients if he wanted.
“Does Kola know?”
He shook his head. “He hasn’t told anyone but me, and of course, his father knows.”
I was quiet a moment.
“What?”
“Feeling pretty special right this second, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I’m gonna say yes.”
I smiled at him.
Finally, Jake built me a new feeder for the birds, installed the birdbath/fountain I always wanted that wouldn’t freeze in the winter, and made me a better squirrel house. I hugged him really tight when he showed me everything.
He made certain that Hannah’s herb garden did not suffer, or her gourds that she would need for Samhain later in the year.
Of course, when the kids came over, Jake was never there. At the end of July, Kola wanted to know whose motorcycle was sitting under the tarp beside the garage, and I explained that it was Jake’s.
“No,” Hannah gasped. “I forbade him from getting a—oh.”
“As motorcycles go, it’s a safe one, with an anti-lock braking system,” I said, repeating what Sam had told me. “It’s a Honda Rebel 300, and it was more fuel efficient than his very old car that he got rid of, and he always wears a helmet if he’s getting on the expressway.”
Hannah shuddered. “I hate that.”
“It’s a nice bike,” Sam assured her, “and he’s good on it.”
She said nothing.
When the kids all came over for dinner on the second Sunday in August—Dane and Aja and their offspring weren’t there yet—Jake happened to be on his way out, tool belt in one hand, hoodie tied around his waist, baseball hat and aviators on, when they all met in the kitchen. I had packed Jake’s lunch, and he was hugging me goodbye.