Purgatory, West Virginia
January 9
The holidays had come and gone. Finn spent New Year’s Eve clearing the gutters and replacing old shingles. From his perch on the roof, he had spotted the old shed set back from the house in the woods. Opening the door, Finn entered Venable’s workshop. Enshrined in dust, it had once been a carpenter’s haven. A lathe took up one wall, a table with neatly displayed woodworking tools occupied another. Projects in various states of completion lined the back of the space. The large window above the lathe looked out on the yard and the back of the house. Finn could picture Venable working, keeping an eye on his children as they played, or watching his wife in the kitchen.
This place had been a happy home. Finn felt it.
In the corner, Finn spotted an old stable door. It was weathered and pitted, but the natural grain of the wood was still visible. He wondered what Venable had planned for this. Was it something mundane like a table or a cabinet? Or had he intended to carve a sculpture? Maybe something for Annabeth? He thought back to his childhood, visiting his grandfather in northern Pennsylvania, watching him build.
Bud’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Knock knock.”
“Hey, how’s the truck coming?” Finn asked.
“Got a part on order. For now, keep adding oil and your prayers, and it should get you into town and back. I wouldn’t plan any cross-country adventures.”
“Thanks.”
“Venable was quite the craftsman,” Bud said.
“I see that,” Finn agreed.
“Yep.” Bud walked the periphery of the room admiring the projects, hands in the pockets of his overalls. “It’s good for a man to have a place like this—a place to escape the chaos. He spent his time making things for the people he loved, but he still got his solitude. That’s what the missus says I do with the cars, says it’s as much for me as for my customers. You gotta have time for reflection on the good and the bad. That’s how you become worthy of the people in your life. Self-actualization.”
“That’s some pretty deep thinking for a mechanic.”
Bud shrugged. “I’ve been around a long time. Life ain’t worth living if you can’t be a positive force in the lives of the people you love. That’s what it’s all about.”
A frisson of irrational suspicion ran across his skin, and Finn stood. He walked over to the mechanic, his gaze boring into the older man. With a slow, deliberate poke, Finn pressed two fingers into Bud’s chest.
“Hey! That smarts.” Bud rubbed the spot.
“Just checking.” Finn turned back to the workbench and wiped the dust off a handsaw resting on the table.
“I’ll let you know when that part comes in.” And with that, Bud disappeared out the door.
Finn shook his head to clear it, the action sending a shot of pain through his brain. The gash on his head had healed, but his temple was still tender. Dismissing his concern, he walked to the corner of the shed, hauled up the old stable door, and set it on Venable’s workbench. Gathering the tools he needed, Finn took a seat and started to work.