Whisper In The Wind

Though tired from a sleepless night, Caitlin awoke before the sun rose and headed outside into the foggy morning. The old barn, weathered from the elements, seemed like something from the past. Soon this will be Mystique's home again. She opened the double sliding doors and stared at the disrepair of the two stalls. "We have to start from scratch. I have to start from scratch. Will I ever get used to it being just me?" She shook her head and started working.

Within a few hours, the pile of splintered boards and half-rotten boards lay on the ground. "Step 1 accomplished," Caitlin said, wiping her forehead with the flannel shirtsleeve and brushing dirt and grime from her hands. Blisters were starting to form, but now was not the time to stop. She took a long drink of water and stared at the new boards piled in the back of the pick-up truck, looking like Mt. McKinley. "What am I thinking?"

Despite the cool autumn day, the mid-morning sun shone on her as if it were the middle of summer. She rolled up her shirtsleeves, showing the lack of muscle from working an office job. With a deep breath and a shoulder roll, she pulled the first board out. "Ouch," she yelled when it landed on her foot.

"Here, let me help."

"Thanks, but I don't need help."

"Yes, you do." They both held onto the board while Scott MacKay's warm smile greeted her. Despite not knowing this man and whether he should be trusted, something genuine glimmered in his eyes and she smiled back.

He unloaded the truck with speed and agility as if he did this every day. After measuring and marking the board with the pencil, the tape measure was clipped onto his jeans and the pencil was tucked behind his ear. He was no stranger to woodwork. His quick and precise movements caused a stirring of new emotions in Caitlin. She stared wide-eyed, almost drooling as the muscles in his forearms quivered with the work. If she were not in love with Garrett, she would find it easy to be attracted to this man.

"Earth to Caitlin. Can you hold the other end of this board so I can start nailing?"

"Sure," she said, her face flushed with crimson. I hope he doesn't read thoughts as well as he works with wood. How embarrassing. They found an instant rhythm, as if their thoughts were one. This she did not have with Garrett, but too much history kept them separate on that level. For years she tagged along with Garrett and her granddaddy, listening to their conversations. They included her, but most times she felt like a young child when around them, even as an adult. Sure they respected her and trusted her, but rarely did she work side-by-side with them. Granddaddy felt it was more important that she do well in school and not spend as much time repairing barns and fences. With Scott, she seemed to know what to do and when to do it. "Maybe all those years of watching did help."