“I can do it.”
“Okay, after lunch.”
We ate in silence. I scarfed down my food, not having realized how hungry I was.
Kellen ate more slowly.
“You okay?”
“Sure. Just, uh, wondering where the axe is.”
“There’s a woodshed with a bunch of tools. You know what an axe looks like?”
He glared.
I yanked my keys out from my pocket and showed him which one it was.
“Dad’s worried about theft?”
“Your father’s worried about bears burrowing into the shed and scaring the crap out of any human who might wander by.”
“They’re able to open the door?”
“Yep.”
“They’re able to close the door?”
The quick response died on my lips. “Well, possibly not. But the wind might blow it closed. The point is you don’t want critters hunkering down in the shed.”
“Right.”
When we finished eating, I grabbed the dishes.
“I should do that. You cooked, right?”
“Did you know you’re not supposed to pour bacon grease down the sink?”
He stared blankly.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll do the cooking, and you…do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“Chop wood.”
“Right. Chop wood. Make sure you wear my coat. You’ll be a popsicle in yours in under a minute.” Maybe ten, but he’d understand my point.
He nodded, rose from the table, and made his way over to the front door. He donned my parka, palmed the keys, and headed outside.
Wearing his freaking sneakers.
I hustled to get the dishes done—including pouring the grease into a mason jar I used just for this.
How much trouble can he possibly get in?
Do you really want an answer to that question?
No, probably not.
I shoved my feet into my boots, tossed on the sweater I wore when the temperature hovered around freezing, and headed outside.
