Robin picked up the list again, wroteice cream—not chocolate, and felt smug.
“As for my plans for the day….” That was trickier. What Robinwantedto do, what heneededto do, and what hecoulddo were different things. “I am almost out of underwear,” he mused at last.
Lucas nodded. “I can do laundry.”
“I can do my own laundry, Lucas.” Robin exhaled roughly, embarrassed or annoyed that he was embarrassed. “And I have things that are not off the rack and require special care.”
That earned him an interested look. “This will be chemistry? Would you show me?”
“You and your curiosity.” Robin crossed his arms. “But I suppose I’ll have to teach you in case you ever wear something that’s made by hand.” He looked away when Lucas turned around. “My plans are… I thought I might clean up the work room… just a little, don’t get excited. I need to wrap and shipout anything that’s ready, since, at this time of year, there might be delays.” Christmas impacted shipping even into January. “Although, in my delirium, I forgot to schedule pickups. Which means I need to take them into town. If I feel up to it after that, I might work some.” He suspected Lucas was frowning but didn’t check. “Do you mind coming into town with me in case the shipping store exhausts me?” he asked to help smooth the frown away. We can stop at the Creamery!” he realized aloud. “Not as a bribe.” He met Lucas’ eye. “As a thank you.”
Lucas looked down while drying his hands on a dishtowel. “All right,” he agreed, then stopped. “And the grocery store again, for what we missed and any meals you had in mind. Were you eating properly the past few months?”
Robin poked himself experimentally in the side, where he was still soft and pudgy but maybe… maybe less so. “Wasn’t hungry,” he mumbled at last.
“Rest for now.” Lucas told him, putting away the last traces of their meal and pouring himself more coffee. He didn’t offer Robin any. Considering Lucas’ excellent manners, Robin suspected this was deliberate to encourage Robin to take a nap. “We can go after lunch, when you should have more energy.”
“Now, who’s bossy?” Robin asked like a contrary raven might.
Unamused, Lucas said, “I’m here to help you.”
Robin thought about snippily telling Lucas to find a new purpose, but then supposed, if he had a grand and possibly scary destiny waiting for him, then a few days shopping for honey, washing dishes, and looking after Robin Blessing in a quiet farmhouse might seem like a nice break.
Like a lovely dream, he thought a moment later, and stared down at the shopping list until Lucas left the room to go look for things in need of repair.
After a while, Robin wrote downwinter vegetables, then began to plan the meals he might make for Lucas during the rest of his stay.
Robin made it through the shipping store—after Lucas asked the employees for a chair for Robin while they waited in line—and part of the grocery store. Well, he made it into the produce section of the supermarket, which was right by the entrance, and then he’d gripped Lucas’ arm maybe a little too tightly and Lucas had walked Robin back to the truck with the “suggestion” that he rest while Lucas finished the shopping.
Lucas was going to do it wrong, Robin knew it. Not out of malice or incompetence—Mallory would have taught her children well. No, Lucas wouldn’t realize Robin had planned meals with him in mind, and he’d pick out what he’d think Robin would like no matter what the list said.
But Robin couldn’t change it now. All he could do was sit and rest and try not to stew. It was ridiculous how weak Robin was for a small bout of the flu… or a breakdown of body and spirit. Whatever. If Robin had eaten and rested properly in the days… weeks… leading up to it, this wouldn’t have happened.
But there was nothing to be done for that now, either, except try to do better.
And possibly, he’d forgotten how exhausting it was to be around so many other people. A shipping store and a supermarket around the Christmas holiday were not quiet locations, and Robin was too tired to not notice reflections in storefront windows or feel the threads twisting around so many strangers.
They had parked downtown, not far from the part of Ravenscroft referred to as Old Town, full of historic buildings, an amusing number of churches considering how the town was founded, and the large square plaza for public events like the annual Solstice Celebration. Robin could see signs for the event everywhere, and plastic holly or oak leaf garlands on all the lampposts, along with fairy lights that would probably look otherworldly when the sun went down.
He didn’t remember this level of hullabaloo before, although the town had always loved the Solstice Celebration. They must be getting even more tourists than in previous years. He wouldn’t know; usually he was working, and if hewereto take off the day of Yule, it wouldn’t be to drink cider in the square with outsiders and watch their pretend Oak King slay their pretend Holly King and then listen to Christmas carols.
All the same, the square made a cute scene, decorated as it was, busy with people running errands or shopping at the boutiques that had sprung up for those tourists. Someone was selling cider and gingerbread at one corner. A local winery had a booth at another.
Robin sat with the truck door open to get more fresh, if cold, air and enjoy the moments without rain. He sat sideways, openly watching the locals and tourists about the square, and wished he’d brought thicker gloves; his all-shades-of-purple fingerless gloves were warm but he could have been warmer.
His scarf was aquamarine with accents of darker green, his hat emerald with threads of aquamarine and purple. A man crossing through the small parking area glanced over to Robin, startled, maybe to see someone there, then smiled and tipped an imaginary hat to him. The man’s scarf was a pastel rainbow although the red was too dark to match the rest, in Robin’s opinion.
Robin should get out more, if a nice man smiled at him and his first thought was to critique the colors in his knitwear.
He sighed and pulled out his phone to answer more emails, pleased that most of his clients would be closed for Christmas anyway and wouldn’t expect anything from him for a while. Still, since he’d never let himself fall behind until this week, he made his apologies beforehand and felt something in his chest ease when the last email was sent.
“Lucas,” he said even before he’d turned to follow the many surreptitious gazes from those around him to man himself. Robin didn’t know if people were staring because Lucas looked like someone’s slightly goth, out-of-touch-yet-hot father doing the shopping, or if the Lucas Greysmith Effect could not be diminished even by a grocery cart, or if people were rudely staring at Lucas’ scarring. He thought perhaps all three and chose to pretend the stares were not happening. “How was it?”
“What, exactly, are you expecting me to cook?” Lucas seemed almost worried as he lifted the bags into the back of the truck.
“I’llbe cooking, thank you!” Robin replied with more confidence in his future self’s stamina than he probably should have. “Have they always sold Yule logs out here or I have not been paying attention? Amazing the things people will add to their Christmas displays without thought.”
The truck carrying Yule logs as well as small, mostly decorative, bundles of firewood, also had wrapped and beribboned clusters of mistletoe. “Oak and mistletoe!” Robin huffed indignantly. “A ritual for light in dark months is ancient, certainly, and everyone is more than welcome to do it. But to call itChristmas! Absurd! Those are good-sized logs, though. Are some of them ash?”
