Page 54 of Never Alone
He took Noah to the corner where his toolbag sat, pulled out a small pair of work goggles and a pair of canvas gloves, and held them out.
The goggles were Noah's size.
Noah took them in both hands and looked up at Cole.
"You got these for me?"
"Yeah."
Noah put them on. The goggles slid down his nose. He pushed them back up. The gloves were a little big in the fingers, but only just.
Cole nodded once. "Now you're set."
He took Noah to a piece of trim that was clamped to the workhorse. He pulled a sanding block out of his back pocket and put it in Noah's hand.
"You go with the grain," Cole said. "Long strokes. Like this." He moved Noah's hand along the wood once. "Try."
Noah tried.
The first stroke was tentative. The second was steadier. The third was right.
Noah looked at Cole.
"Like that?"
"Just like that."
Noah went back to it. He pushed too hard on the next stroke, and the block dug a small mark into the wood. He froze.
"Sorry," he said. The word came out fast. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry?—"
I knew that voice. I had the same one in my own throat sometimes.
"Hey." Cole's voice was even. He put a hand on the workhorse, not on Noah. "It's wood. It's fixable."
Noah didn't move.
"You hear me?" Cole said. "We sand it down a bit more, the mark's gone. You're fine."
Noah looked at the wood. He looked at Cole.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Noah went back to it. His shoulders dropped. His face changed.
I watched it from the doorway between the kitchen and the front room.
After a minute, Noah said, without looking up: "Can I come back? And help with more?"
"Yeah," Cole said. "You can come back any time."
Something passed over his face. It was small. It was old. It was not something I was meant to see.
Something in my chest loosened and tightened at the same time.
I turned and walked through the doorway into the next room.
