The Christmas Blanket

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before they found mine, and then he plastered on the fakest smile I’d ever seen. “Thank you, Eliza, for decorating when I didn’t ask you to.”

“And for doing it quietly, as requested,” I added. “You’re welcome.”

River made a noise under his breath, piling up his own plate as we both made our way over to the table he’d been reading at the night before. The metal of the folding chair was cold, even through my sweatpants, but the coffee was still hot enough to help when I took another sip, and Moose curled up right on top of my feet to help the cause — though I was pretty sure he just wanted some bacon.

Which, of course, I slipped to him under the table when River wasn’t looking.

River stopped long enough to pull on a long-sleeve thermal before joining me at the table, and I was thankful for his new muscles being covered again. I found them far too distracting — though I’d never admit that to him.

“So,” I said after a stretch of silence. “What’s that you’re working on?”

I nodded toward the mess of saw dust and wood in the middle of the cabin over by the bookshelves.

“Boot barn,” he said, shoveling a heap of eggs into his mouth. He washed it down with a big pull of coffee. “Making it for Mrs. Owens. She’s giving it to her son as a wedding gift.”

“I really like the color of the wood.”

“Cedar.”

I nodded, sipping my coffee with my eyes on the project. “So, is that what you’re doing now? Woodwork?”

River shrugged. “Sometimes. More of a hobby than anything.”

Of course, I thought. He’d been that way ever since I’d known him. River hated school, hated tests, hated anything that required studying or long-term dedication. He was smart as hell, and skilled, but when it came to applying himself… well… he just didn’t. He preferred one-off projects that he could do in a day or two and be done with.

“I guess as long as it pays the bills, right?” I said.

Another shrug. “It doesn’t.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a hobby, like I said. I’m doing it as a favor to Mrs. Owens.”

I shook my head. “River, you should charge for work like that. It’s… I mean, the materials alone have got to be expensive.”

“Mrs. Owens has done a lot for me through the years,” he said, his eyes finding mine. “For us, if you remember.”

I shut up at that, because I did remember. Leila Owens was the one who gave me the job down at the supermarket fresh out of high school, and she’d let me take home “expired” food more times than I could count, knowing that River and I didn’t have much.

“Besides, I make plenty to cover the bills working for Skidder.”

I frowned. “Skidder? I thought he said he wouldn’t hire you unless you got your journeyman certificate.”

“He did say that.”

I blinked. “Okay, so… then… how are you working for him, exactly?”

“I got my certificate.”

He said the words casually, as if it were obvious, as if that test wasn’t extremely difficult and required months of studying to pass. Plus, you had to do a certain amount of hours as an apprentice on top of it.

I’d pushed him to go for it more times than I could count when we were together, and he’d dug his heels in every time, saying he didn’t need a piece of paper to get by.

River picked up a piece of bacon, crunching on it while he looked at my expression with a slight amusement in his eyes.

“You… you did it? You got your journeyman’s?”

He nodded.

“River… that’s amazing! I mean…” I shook my head, mouth still hanging open. “I always knew you could do it, I just…”

“You never thought I actually would.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I never did either. But, well...” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Let’s just say I had time on my hands. I figured I might as well use it constructively.”

A long silence passed between us, and I ate my last piece of bacon, chewing more on what he’d just told me than the meat itself.

“So, you’re working for Skidder now. And what do you do?”

“A little of everything. Electrician work, plumbing, welding, carpentry… whatever he needs.”

“How many hours have you put in with him so far?”

River shrugged. “Not sure. It’s been about two years.”

I must have looked like a trout trophy on the wall for the way my mouth was hanging open.

“I’m so proud of you,” I managed to say.

River’s eyes found mine, and there was something there that I couldn’t quite decipher — a longing, or perhaps a deep pain disguised as longing.

I couldn’t put a name to it.

All I knew was that I felt it, too.