The Woodshop
By
K. Lee Martens

The woodshop was a getaway for him. In it he could go into a safe isolated place. She never came downstairs anymore. The responsibilities of her healthcare were more than he could take for long stretches at a time. She had been deaf, or almost, when he married her, but she was also cute, small, and smart. They played games and cards and worked puzzles all of their married life. She had been active and energetic, but not anymore. He knew they were in trouble when her heart began to give her trouble, but the day her vision went, suddenly and without warning, everything changed.
He closed the door leaving a spotless work area. The tools were hanging in their places, and the lights were turned off. He never failed to sweep and vacuum the sawdust whenever he left the room. It was all in perfect condition just waiting for the next time he had to get away for a while.
In the room he had left many projects sitting on the counter. In one area he had intarsia projects. This intricate artwork was pieced together from a variety of woods to create animals such as eagles or seasonal items such as angels. In another area perched the birdhouses. These varied from simple wood boxes to complicated designs that tilted or had multiple levels. Some of them imitated churches, schoolhouses, or barns. Others were created round or just an inch or so deep meant to hang on the wall.
Especially interesting were the log cabins. These were so detail oriented that many of them had handmade shingles and porch rails. Some of them were filled with handmade furniture, carpeting, and fireplaces. Most of them had lights. His current cabin project included a whole town. The general store contained canned food on the shelves. He had cut ads from the newspapers and magazines and glued them onto tiny wooden cans. They sat on the shelves waiting for the first customer. The restaurant had tables and chairs and a bar with stools. The schoolhouse was still in the works, and other businesses were planned. They were in various stages of completion because he never knew what kind of mood he would be in when he got free. Occasionally, he even had a special order from the barbershop.
The barbershop, owned by his friend, Charlie, was a good place to display his woodwork. It was in a busy area, just down the mall from K Mart and very popular. He put his cabins, birdhouses, cutouts, and wall hangings on the wall behind the waiting room chairs. A log cabin rested on top of the file cabinet. Charlie loved them because they improved the décor and added color and dimension to the long blank wall. Or, at least that is what he said. Once in a while he would sell one. That helped because he could make a little money from his hobby.
She called it his hobby. Actually, it was much more than a hobby. It provided an escape, am outlet, a vocation. With it he felt useful, like a contributing member of society. Everyone loved his work. He showed all the kids, grandkids, and friends who came by. They all wanted some variation of each project. This created a problem since they expected it given to them for free. He had finally solved that problem by giving them away as presents for birthdays and Christmas. Actually, she had been the one to suggest that idea. She was always one to watch their P’s and Q’s. It was a good solution. Everyone was happy.
As he trudged up the stairs, he thought about what to cook for them. He had been doing most of the cooking for some time now. She always supervised, but he had the working eyes and could tell when the pork chops were done or not. She fused about their pork chops. They had to be well done with absolutely no pink, and she made him check repeatedly before she would allow him to put them on the plates. Then, he had to clean up the kitchen. He fussed about cleaning up the kitchen, inspecting everything he washed and rinsing it all very carefully. No soap would be left anywhere. He worked on any spot for several minutes until it was totally gone. Her baking dishes had never looked so good.
The after dinner routine always remained the same. Her circulation had been terrible lately. The fluid collected in her feet and ankles making them very painful and walking difficult. He had to rub her legs nightly, wrap them, and help her to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she was all set, he could get a bath, himself.
As he got to the top of the stairs, he heaved a sigh and set out to find her. She could often be found dozing in her favorite chair, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, or talking on the telephone with their daughter. Today, he found her in the laundry room listening to her books on tape while sitting at the little desk he had rigged for her tape player. The deaf and blind school had provided a special tape machine, so she could listen to her favorite books. She hadn’t noticed him entering the room behind her. She seemed very involved in the book, concentrating completely.
He hated interrupting her while she was busy with her books or crossword puzzles. Maybe he was a little early today, anyway. Maybe dinner could wait a while longer. Maybe he had just enough time to add a coat of varnish to the angel he was making for his daughter-in-law. So, he turned around and eagerly descended the stairs. A smile crossed his face as he flipped on the lights and entered t