Atonement Chapter 46: Seasons of Love Part I
A/N: And we're back, folks! Can you believe it? 🥹
In the first month, they worked tirelessly to transform the skeleton of a mill into a functional home.
Jamie knew each of the staff members at Guthrie’s Hardware by the time a week was out; they greeted him like an old friend, heckling him for getting the wrong sized bulbs for the bathroom lighting fixtures and tossing a few extra screws in the bag for free, “‘cos God knows ye’ll strip a few wi’ the way ye handle that drill.” Day by day, he and Claire could see the cumulative results of their labor as their vision for the place began to take shape, and night after night they collapsed onto their Aerobed with the satisfying exhaustion of a hard day’s work.
While his wee whip-crackers had done a braw job of helping to restore his wasted muscles, he found, to his endless frustration, that his endurance was still not even half of what it had once been. Claire inevitably had to intervene whenever he pushed himself too hard, teeth gritted and muscles trembling from exertion. Leveling him with The Look, she’d put a hand on his shoulder and inform him in no uncertain terms that it was time for a rest break and a drink of water.
Most times, he ceded to his wife’s wisdom with grace, allowing her to wrap a supportive arm around his waist and guide him to their makeshift sitting area.
Other times, he responded… less gracefully than he was proud of.
“I’ll no’ build any stamina if ye keep forcin’ me to quit every time I break a sweat!” he spat on one such occasion, the long-brewing frustration unleashed on his wife with more venom than he meant. She recoiled slightly, eyebrows raised, then crossed her arms with the fiery defiance of the nurse he’d gone toe-to-toe with many a time in Boston.
“The way to safely build stamina is to enroll in the physiotherapy program we found down in Inverness.” She looked pointedly at the brochure that had been sitting on the kitchen table for weeks, with the phone number on the front circled several times in pen. “I don’t suppose you’ve called to arrange that yet?”
Jaw set in defiance, Jamie returned to hammering a beam into place. “I’ll get to it,” he said through his teeth.
“I’m more than happy to call for you if that’s the—”
There was a long, stunned beat of silence — long enough for him to begin to feel the first twinge of remorse for raising his voice — before Claire said quietly and crisply, “Fine. Do whatever you want, Jamie,” and went into their room with a slam of the door.
The sensible part of him knew that he should go after her and ask forgiveness for his misplaced anger.
He knew, and yet he did not.
Still hot-tempered and bristling with the need to prove himself right, he finished hammering the board into place and reached for one more — the last one he’d need to finish their barnwood accent wall. As soon as the task was done, he reasoned, he’d go speak with his wife.
He took the heavy beam in one hand and hoisted it to the top of the ladder.
That was the last thing he remembered before everything turned upside down.
turnnoffyourmind
baratheonpilled
