Handyman Read Online Free PDF Page A

cheese and crackers on it, along with a plate, a knife and a bottle opener.
    When he went out to the deck Jack was already seated at the patio table, a large paper sack in front of him. Will sat across from him, setting down his tray and the bottles of soda. “I brought you a Coke if you’d like it.”
    “Well, look at that.” Jack lifted one of the small green-tinted glass bottles. “I haven’t seen a bottle like this in a long time.”
    “I prefer cola from a glass bottle.” Will realized he must sound pompous.
    “Me too, I guess. I lived on this stuff back when I was a kid. We’d collect the bottles in a wooden crate with slots for each bottle. We’d take them in for the nickels.” He cradled the bottle for a moment, staring down at it. It looked especially small in his large, beefy grasp.
    He held out the bottle for further examination. “I got out of the habit of drinking soda years ago. My wife said it was bad for the boys’ teeth so we switched to sugar-free Kool-Aid for them, water and seltzer for me.”
    Will handed the bottle opener to Jack, trying to picture the wife and children in his life. As Jack took it their fingers touched and Will felt an electric current of desire flow between them. He glanced sharply at Jack, who was focused entirely on the bottle. Whatever current had been flowing, it was definitely on a one-way path.
    Still, Jack was opening up more than he usually did, perhaps because they were sharing a meal. Jack uncapped the bottle and took a long swig of the cola. With a satisfied sigh, he offered, “That’s good. Nice and cold.”
    “I’ve got plenty more in the refrigerator.” In fact there were only two. He made a mental note to buy more. He watched as Jack unrolled the top of his paper bag and pulled out a large sandwich wrapped in foil.
    “Must be nice to have a wife to make you lunch every day.” Will was reminded of the lunches his mother used to pack for him when he was in elementary school.
    “Oh.” Jack’s face crumpled as though he’d received a blow. “I’m a widower. My wife died two years ago.”
    Without realizing what he was doing, Will reached out a sympathetic hand, touching Jack’s bare forearm. Jack looked down at his hand and Will snatched it away. “I—I’m so sorry, Jack. I just assumed—I mean, you’re still so young, to lose your wife…”
    “Yeah. It was sudden. An aneurysm. Apparently it ruptured in her brain. Five minutes later she was dead.”
    “Oh my God, that’s awful. Were you there when it happened?” The words slipped out before he could censor himself.
    “Yeah. She woke up with a really bad headache. I thought she was getting a cold. I went down and made her tea. She took one sip and—” Jack’s voice cracked.
    “I’m sorry. Please, you don’t need to talk about it. It must still be very painful to recall.”
    “Thanks. I miss her. We were married a long time. We grew up together really. It’s kind of a miracle we even stayed together, given we were so young when we tied the knot. Both our parents figured we’d divorce. Maybe we stayed together just to spite them.”
    Will was startled by this admission, if that’s what it was.
    Jack grinned at him. “We’re creatures of habit. We get used to a thing and then don’t think about it much. Babies come, and responsibilities, and we put one foot in front of the other and do what we have to do. We make decisions, or fail to make them, and then we have to live by that. I’m not saying it’s right or it’s wrong, just human nature.”
    He shook his head and unwrapped his sandwich, lifting it for a bite. Will was silent, pondering what the hell Jack had meant by his speech, easily the longest one he’d given of a personal nature in the few days of their acquaintance. Was Jack saying he hadn’t really been happy in his marriage, but had stayed in it out of habit? Out of duty? Will found himself wildly curious, but didn’t dare ask. They weren’t friends, after