Page 109 of The Lies I've Told
“In the heat?” She adamantly shook her head. “I’ve seen how much you sweat and believe me, I’m already hot enough out here as it is. Besides,” she said, looking around with a certain gleam in her eye, “this is romantic, which is kind of perfect because, after our lesson, I have something pretty exciting to tell you.”
My interest piqued, something she’d obviously counted on. “Then why not just tell me now?”
“Because someone promised me a carving lesson,” she countered.
My hand reached out, pushing back a tendril of light-blonde hair from her face. I would never be able to say no to her.
I’d forever be trying to give her the world for the rest of my life.
“Okay,” I said, making her lip twitch. “I mean, righto, miss.”
She rolled her eyes as I bent down and grabbed a chisel and hammer before handing it to her.
“Is this all we need? Don’t I need that mask thingy you usually wear?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “That mask thingy is called a respirator and protects my lungs from the dust, but for what little we’re doing, I don’t think it’s necessary.” I paused, remembering her first comment. “And what else do you think we need?” I asked.
Turning toward the granite, her gaze traveling the length of it, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would require more things. Doesn’t look very hard.”
My brow lifted. “You think more tools equates the level of difficulty?”
“I don’t know. It just seems so simplistic.”
A tiny smirk played upon her lips. She was goading me.
Time to give her the first lesson.
“Grab your chisel,” I instructed. “And place it here.” I pointed with my finger to a location I’d been working on earlier in the day.
“Oh, I like it when you’re bossy.” She batted her eyes, the smirk on her face widening.
“I know,” I replied, giving her a wicked grin in return.
She did as I’d told her, placing the chisel against the stone. “Here?” she asked.
I nodded, leaning in real close to double-check one last time. I adjusted it slightly to make sure the angle was correct, so the impact of the hammer would take off just the right amount of granite in the right direction.
“Now, grab your hammer.”
She did, holding it high in the air, like she was ready to ward off an intruder.
“Closer,” I said, my voice deep as I guided her, wrapping my own hand around the tool and closing the gap. “Not too far, but not too close. You need to make sure the impact is with purpose but not out of control. Ready?”
“Oh crap, I’m nervous.”
“I’m going to step back now.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“It’s going to take more than a tap to get through that granite, love.”
“Right. Okay.” She looked terrified.
Honestly, I was a little terrified myself. But I trusted her.
And, even if she messed it up a little, I was early enough into the piece that I could always fix it.
Hopefully.
