Page 66 of Stand
He had to knock on his door, as Matt had sensibly locked it. He took his glasses, gloves, the kinglet, and another piece of wood he’d begun to shave into a leaf shape and joined Sam again. He handed her the kinglet. “It’s for Lyss’s birthday next month.”
“Holy crap, Tyler.” Sam held the little bird in both hands as though it were alive, weighing it, looking at it from all sides, holding it up to the orange sodium light. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He hoped the light would hide the heat coming to his cheeks.
“Seriously. Why don’t you do this for a living?”
He ducked his head and pulled on his leather finger guards. “Art doesn’t pay.”
“Didn’t you say Noah is an artist? How’s he getting by?”
“I’m not sure. I think he has a—a side business. In ‘recreational leaf.’”
Sam laughed. “Is that what that is?”
“Not yet. It’ll just be one leaf. Kind of a key holder. A thank-you to him for taking us on.”
She leaned over, and he smelled that sexy salty scent again. “How do you get the details of the veins in there so perfectly?”
“Different blades.” He warmed again at her words. Beautiful. Perfect.
“Well.” She leaned back. “Way to hide your light under a bushel, Tyler. I was worried about you. Now I don’t have to be.”
He cracked a laugh at that. After the week she’d seen him have? “What do you mean? What does whittling have to do with—?”
“Because it’syou. The artist. You’re still letting yourself do what you love.” She looked into the darkness beyond their small picnic. “I thought she might have sucked it out of you. But she didn’t.”
He had no reason to tell her. But why hide it? “Julia hated anything I did that didn’t directly involve her.”
“I figured.” Then she said, “Go ahead. Don’t stop. I want to see your process.”
He’d put down his piece of wood the moment he’d thought of Julia. Now that Sam was giving him such an open invitation to do this thing that made him happy, he was almost giddy.
Matt would tell him he was still waiting for approval from a woman. Maybe so. But could Ty explain that Sam was just encouraging him to be himself? Not permission. Encouragement. Being anything other than herself was alien to Sam, and she didn’t see why he should close down a whole side of his personality to please anyone.
He picked up the leaf again and began to shave and sand it down as thin as possible, with a ring underneath to hold it up. Sam didn’t interrupt him, just watched or looked into the dark.
Ty didn’t know how long they sat there without speaking. Sam was wearing jeans tonight, having changed out of her grass-dampened shorts when they arrived. The air was warm and smelled of a mixture of car exhaust and barbecue sauce. Sam smelled like sea salt. Occasionally, one or the other of them would refill their cups, and they would drink again. Ty felt the bubbles going to his head, like some teenager.
Or maybe it was his proximity to Sam, to her long legs stretched out next to his. She was so easily beautiful. Yes, it was her genes, but she was breathtaking because of what she did and how she held herself, not just because of what she looked like. Ty had to hold his memory back from thinking about all the good she’d done for his family, had to stop himself from asking her what she did to help Native people recapture their own heritage.
Because he was half in love with her already, he knew, and he did not need to fall the rest of the way.
♦
Sam was contemplating resting her head against the wall behind her chair when the hotel room door opened and Matt came out. Sam and Ty both turned their heads to follow the boy’s shadowy form as he quietly stepped around them from one door to the other. Then he winked at his dad and put his finger to his lips. Keeping as quiet as possible, he opened the door to Alyssa’s room and stepped inside.
A fart like a gunshot followed by Alyssa’s horrified squeal broke the serenity of the evening air. Matt flew out of the room, slamming the door and hightailing it back to lock himself in his own room before Alyssa could catch him.
“You are so disgusting! I can’t even believe I’m related to you, you freaking creep! You stink!” she shouted at his door, rattling the door handle. Failing to effect any change on it whatsoever, she kicked it, then turned to Sam and Ty. “Dad!” she yelled, apparently not caring who was trying to sleep around them. “You just let him do that? He’s so disgusting! How could you just let him walk into my—”
But Ty was waving her words away with one hand while the other clutched his ribs. His pieces of wood and knives were abandoned in his lap. Sam looked through her own tears of laughter to see his head tilted back against the plastic chair, his face lit up by the sodium light, eyes closed, helpless with laughter.
“Dad!” Alyssa tried again, but Ty was making crying noises now. Sam’s cheeks hurt from laughing. “Sam!” Alyssa turned to her instead.
“Ss-sorry, honey!” Sam managed to get out. “We… I didn’t—oh, God, the noise you just made!”
“The noiseImade!”