Take Care, Sara

it, her eyes burning with tears. She looked at Lincoln and he tilted his head to the side. “You’re gonna cry over pizza, Sara? Don’t be such a girl,” he gently teased, wiping his thumb under her eyes and taking her tears away.
    She sobbed and laughed at the same time, wiping her eyes.
    “I got one more thing.”
    “Don’t you dare, Lincoln. You’ve done too much already.”
    “It’s your special day,” was all he said, leaving her once more.
    Sara rubbed her aching chest as her eyes lingered on the words spelled out with pepperonis. It was corny and sweet and she loved it. Lincoln had always had a giving nature, but this, this was too much. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve his friendship. Friendship. It didn’t feel like the right word. It was more than that; a kinship of two lost souls struggling to live under the loss of substantial grief.
    She flat-out bawled when he carried in a large hope chest made out of cherry wood. Butterflies and vines were carved into the lid of it. Sara loved butterflies. She hadn’t known Lincoln knew that. Or maybe she had and she’d forgotten; everything was a jumbled mess in her head most of the time.
    “You’re not supposed to cry, Sara,” he chided gently, stroking her hair as she sobbed onto his shirt, wetting it with her tears.
    “You’re not supposed to make me cry,” she wailed, his shirt fisted between her hands.
    “Trust me; that was not my intention. Do you like it?”
    “I love it.”
    “It’s my first project. Well, the first I’ve actually finished. I’ve been working on it for months.”
    Sara stiffened, slowly moving back so she could see his face. “You made that yourself?”
    “Yeah.” Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. “That’s what I want to do. I want to make stuff. Woodworking.” He looked at her. “Do you think I’m lame?”
    She wiped her eyes, sniffling. “I think you’re brilliant, Lincoln.” Sara thought of the time and hours it must have taken to make that for her and her chest squeezed.
    His eyes lit up and he grinned. “You haven’t seen all of it. Here, I’ll open it for you.”
    They knelt beside it, Sara’s arm and leg brushing Lincoln’s as he explained the making of the piece of furniture to her in great detail. She listened, in awe. He was excited, animated as he went on about things Sara didn’t understand. It didn’t matter; she could have listened to him all night. His eyes sparkled with life and Lincoln’s hands repeatedly gestured as he talked. The gift that he’d made for her couldn’t outweigh the gift of him sharing his dream with her.
    “How did you learn how to do this, Lincoln?” Sara slowly trailed a hand along the smooth wood, touched beyond words by his thoughtfulness. He’d gotten a one-sided conversation from her for his birthday and she’d gotten more than she could have imagined.
    “You’ll laugh.”
    Sara turned her head at the same time Lincoln did. Their faces were only inches apart. “No, I won’t.”
    “YouTube and I checked out some books from the Fennimore library.”
    “YouTube is very informative,” she deadpanned.
    Lincoln smiled, touching his forehead to hers. “That it is.”
    “This is flawless. You have a real talent, Lincoln.” Sara had a hard time looking away from it. It would go perfect at the foot of the bed; the bed she never slept in. Sara shoved the thought away.
    He shifted his position. “Yeah, well, I got a lot to learn yet too.”
    “I can’t believe I never knew you liked to do this kind of stuff.”
    “You know guys. Macho and all that. Can’t tell people about stuff like this. What if I got made fun of?” He widened his eyes.
    “You’d probably just punch whoever made fun of you.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    “Did…” She stopped herself and tried to find different words from the ones she was about to say. Sara had been about to ask if he knew about it. “As a child…did you do stuff like this?”
    “I tried carving pieces of wood. I sucked.”
    Sara laughed at his admission. “Everyone gets better at everything with practice.”
    “Think so?” he murmured, his penetrating gaze holding her captive.
    “If they want to, yes,” she said breathlessly, her heartbeat picking up for no reason; no reason she could explain to herself anyway.
    Lincoln smiled, but there was sadness to it. “There it is in a nutshell.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “Hungry? I’m