“Come on, look at them swarming out there! They’re obsessed with that light.” Eve pointed out the window at a dozen moths fluttering around a light. “Ew, they’re so gross!”
Silas, mildly amused, rolled his eyes, ensuring Eve could see them, and then placed his hands underneath Eve’s armpits and lifted her from the chair. Eve tried to leave her body heavy and limp, but her narrow delicate body was no match for Silas’s strong, burly arms and shoulders and hands.
Eve yelped and laughed and then steadied her intentionally wobbling legs beneath her torso until she was standing.
“Okay, okay, we’ll go!”
Hazel giggled and then made her way toward the screen door herself. It was so thrilling to see Silas so casually outdo Eve like that. Hazel wondered if that was how it went with fathers and daughters. If she would have what Silas and Eve had. She hoped she would.
“That’s what I thought,” Silas responded confidently and smiled too widely, with all his big white teeth showing for Eve. Eve tucked her hair behind her ears and recomposed herself and then dragged her feet across the floor toward the outside.
Just when Silas’s shoulders relaxed, Eve allowed her legs to become wobbly below her again. She yelped and laughed again as she pretended to droop down to the floor. But before her buttocks could reach the floor, Silas’s hands were underneath Eve’s back again, sparing her from the hardwood.
He playfully lifted his boot to Eve’s bottom and ushered her out the door. “One of these days you being a pain in my butt is going to cause a pain in your butt!” Silas joked as he lifted Eve back up to her feet.
Hazel giggled again, this time with a little extra warmth in her heart. She was sure this was how it went with fathers and daughters.
Down a short walkway out in the grass of the backyard was a small but sturdy firepit surrounded by three red camping chairs. Like most items inside the house, the firepit, too, had a handmade quality. Three layers of gray, slightly crumbly cinderblocks formed a two-foot pit on top of a gravelly bed.
Despite the rustic, handmade feel, there was a certain newness to the thing. The three chairs were not tattered, or worn, or stained. The pit had no ash or burnt remnants inside of it. A stack of freshly chopped wood lay beside it.
Three long sticks leaned against the blocks next to a pack of unopened marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a stack of chocolate.
“You girls ever make a s’more before?” Silas asked earnestly.
“S’mores?” Eve asked.
“Yes!” Hazel interjected excitedly and moved the stack of logs into the pit, flush against the gravel on the bottom.
Silas watched skeptically and then raised one eyebrow at Hazel’s lackluster wood placement.
“I suppose I should have asked the more important question first. Have you ever made a fire before?”
Hazel felt her cheeks get hot and she pulled her body away from the pit.
“No,” Hazel mumbled. She felt the enchantment of the firepit and Silas and the sparkly twilight start to spill out of her.
“Well, this is a new activity,” Eve chimed in with a slight roll of her eyes. “And I don’t think it’s one that I’m too interested in.”
“That’s fine,” Silas responded calmly. “Hazel and I will do it.”
Hazel felt her tummy turn. Silas looked up and his clear, earnest eyes met Hazel’s. And then a big smile spread across his lips.
“Any girl of mine better know how to make a fire! Go on and get me some sticks.”
Hazel bounced into motion before he could finish getting the words out. She skipped over to the edge of the wooded area and started collecting sticks without even turning back.
“Mostly skinny ones,” Silas shouted from behind her. “And gotta be dry!”
She hurried back with a pile and dropped them at Silas’s feet.
“That, my girl, is some good-looking kindling!”
Silas knelt down in front of the firepit and told her about stick placement and airflow. He told her about his first fire on a camping trip long, long ago. He told her where to light the wood so that the flame would catch the fastest. He told her how to blow gently on the flames to keep the fire going.
And Silas looked right at Hazel while he said it all. He looked at her and directed her hands when she was making a mistake and smiled and cheered when she was doing it right.
And then there it was. A roaring, dancing, deep orange fire. Hazel felt her heart swell until it felt like it was going to pop.
She stood still and smiled softly, observing her creation. And she felt Silas watching her. Perhaps observing his creation.
Hazel was so happy to have been taught by Silas. She didn’t know whether it was the flames of fire or the sense of pride that was warming her belly.
Silas slapped Hazel on the back firmly with a big open palm. The force of it caused Hazel to stumble forward a bit. The place where Silas’s hand had been tingled, even stung, but she enjoyed the feeling.
Hazel never considered that she might be one for that kind of firm-pat-on-the-back or teach-the-kiddo-how-to-do-things kind of love. At home, with her mother, it had always been soft kisses and long hugs. Lick-the-spoon-after-baking and sing-our-favorite-songs-in-harmony kind of love.
Thinking on it now, Hazel couldn’t remember anything but a love that just grew and grew into bigger and bigger love. It was always like a snowball accumulating layer after layer of fresh powdery snow. Until Cam came along, there were no discrete moments or milestones that built their love up or yanked it down. No shared stepwise changes in togetherness or closeness or happiness or sadness. Nothing to point to and say, “That’s when Mom and I became this.” Or “That’s when I turned into a person that could do this.”
Hazel knew she would remember this moment forever. The moment she turned into a girl that could make a fire from a few coarsely chopped logs and some newspaper. The moment that she and Silas became a team. It meant everything.
Hazel looked over at Silas, who was standing with his feet wider than his shoulders and his hands on his hips, watching the fire. The light caught his cheekbones and danced across his black hair as the fire jerked around in the pit. He looked so firm and steady standing there. So calm and focused.
Hazel turned around to Eve, who was reclined in her camping chair, one leg dangling over the armrest, mesmerized by the fire. Hazel smiled even more thoroughly.
Hazel hoped they were both proud of what they had created. In that firepit and in this cabin. It was just the three of them out there in the backyard. Enjoying a warm fire and a quiet sense of peace.
Silas interrupted the quiet by handing each of the girls a stick.
“This fire is ready for some s’mores!”