Untethered

2 | Ryan & Emma

Ryan Cameron groaned as he vigorously rubbed his hands over his stubble before wearily dropping his face into them. When he started the handmade, custom furniture business with his friend and business partner, Luke Bennett, they didn't think it would do so well.

Now, as he gazed around the shop, and then to the mountain of contracts on the desk in front of him, he wondered if two apprentices were going to be enough to help with the work load. Lifting his head, tired, green eyes landed on the framed photo of he and his grandpa when he was ten years old. Picking it up, he leaned back in the creaky, old leather desk chair.

"I'll bet you'd be surprised how your little furniture shop has taken off, huh, Gramps? I wonder if you knew how crazy it would get when you let me take over," he mused.

His Gramps had run the little furniture-making business successfully for many years. He had taken Ryan under his wing at a young age, as much to teach him the trade as to help ease his stormy temperament. Ryan loved the work. Using his hands to build something was satisfying, and the solitude helped him find peace during his tumultuous teen years.

Rubbing his temples and groaning, he tried to stem the growing headache threatening to turn into a full-blown migraine. Long days at work used to be no problem for him. He'd lose track of time for hours or sometimes days when he had a project underway.

That was before his Ma got sick. Her recent cancer diagnosis nearly levelled him. She had raised him by herself since he was seven-years-old. With all she'd given up for him, it was only right that everything in his life was on hold while she was sick. Since the diagnosis, he'd barely been to his apartment, and slept every night at his Ma's. His days now consisted of work, and taking care of her. He knew it was futile, but some part, deep inside felt that if he did enough, it might earn them a miracle.

"I'm barely treading water here, Gramps," he sighed deeply. "What the hell am I going to do? I wish you were here to help me... I just don't know how much more I can take."

He sighed again and glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. He'd better get his ass moving. Taking one last look around, he switched off the lights and locked up. Heading out into the waning afternoon sunshine, he took a deep breath of fresh air, and smiled a little to himself. The evening was cooling off a bit, but not uncomfortably. Most native Minnesotans would be in shorts and a T-shirt. He was as native as they came, and had lived in North St. Paul his whole life.

The early summer evening was fragrant with the scent of lilacs and apple blossoms from the park nearby, a leftover tribute to spring. This was exactly the kind of weather his Ma loved. He would often find her on the deck out back, sipping tea or wine, and reading a book while she enjoyed her garden. Those days were fast coming to an end for her, though.

He reached his truck, tossing his bag in the back, and got in. He turned the keys in the ignition, rolled his window down, and drove off with the wind whipping through his shoulder length reddish brown locks.

~*~*~

Emalina Martello was seething. On edge ever since the funeral two months ago, she felt like she was losing her mind. Insomnia and a weak appetite probably didn't help her constant irritation or sanity, either.

Evan was the subject of her displeasure at the moment. He'd been damn near useless after Grandma Edie died, now he was trying to get out of helping her with cleaning the house out.

He promised he'd help! Although, I don't know why I'm surprised...

Her last three calls had gone to voicemail and he wasn't calling her back.

At least he showed up for the funeral, she scoffed somewhat bitterly to herself. She really did love Evan, but as the years went by, so did the distance between them.