The Kerr Construction Company by Larry Farmer Page B

get to move in.”
    “Carmen, I’m sorry. I’m not sure about what, but all I think about now is you and me. How happy we are. Now I’ve finally told everyone, and it makes it deeper somehow. This is getting serious.”
    “Dalhart—” The phrase is “if looks could kill.” That’s the kind of look Carmen shot at me now. “Ah. I don’t know,” she scoffed. “I was so happy until you walked in that door. Can we just start again before I knock you silly? How’s your day, Sweetheart? And speaking of which, why haven’t you told me yet that you love me? I’ve been dying to tell you, but you’re the one passing through. I don’t want to tie you down. But now it’s starting to look like you don’t want to be tied down.” The right side of her upper lip curled in defiance. “I love you, Dalhart. There. Does that tie you down? To hell with you, then. I love you. We’ve been together for a month. We made love in Monument Valley. And we haven’t since, for the record, but somehow it’s gut-check time now. Say it to me or get the hell out of my restaurant.” She turned to look at her boss, the owner. “Right?”
    Her boss broke into laughter. “I can’t help you out here, Dalhart, old buddy. You better fix this up.”
    “I love you, Carmen. Don’t you get it? I love you. And I love loving you. That’s what I hate about all this.”
    ****
    Moriah Energy was throwing a picnic for employees on Saturday. Kerr Construction was to set everything up, and we were invited because of it. More overtime pay.
    “McIlhenny,” someone called out. It was a gritty-looking guy I recognized. He drove heavy equipment. “Help me nail these two-by-fours for the stage we’re building tomorrow.”
    He handed me a sledge hammer and placed a nail as large as a small spike on the end of one of the boards. I timidly tapped at the nail, hoping I wouldn’t miss and break his hand. I’d never hit a nail with a sledge hammer before and thought I should warn him.
    “Hit the damn thing, McIlhenny,” he barked.
    I struck at the nail a little harder.
    “Damn it,” he growled. “Hit the damn nail like you got some huevos. ”
    He then grabbed the sledge hammer. “You hold this,” he ordered, handing me the nail. “This is how you do it.”
    He reared back with the hammer well over his head, then swung with all his force. He drove perfect strikes the next three swings, driving the nail in.
    “Here,” he said handing the hammer back. “Now use a little gumption.”
    It was his funeral, I decided. I saw concern on his face as he watched the sledge hammer soar past the back of my head and then zero down on the nail he was holding. A perfect strike. I looked at him in celebration, happy for his still-intact hand. It was like the nail had a magnet on it. Three more swings and the nail went through the board and into the next one.
    It was past ten at night as we piled into the back of the pickup to go home. Someone moaned that Doug’s pickup approached, but I didn’t care. I was disappointed I couldn’t see Carmen at this hour.
    “I need people at headquarters tomorrow morning before we come up here,” Doug yelped. “There’s things to set up. Try to be there by eight. For those that can’t make that, we’re leaving for the celebration at ten-thirty or you get left.”
    He looked and saw me staring off into space.
    “Did you hear me over there, McIlhenny?”
    Jose nudged me. “Daddy’s talking,” he joked.
    “McIlhenny, I need you at headquarters by eight tomorrow. Got that?”
    “I’ll be there,” I answered.
    He got out of his pickup, glaring at me the whole time as he walked toward us.
    “We never did finish our little go-round from the other day, did we?” he said. I grimaced and looked the other way. “Get ready, McIlhenny. We’re going to see what you’re made of. It’s overdue.”
    I sat stoically, still hoping he would go away. He didn’t. He walked behind me, reached up, and grabbed me in a