As much as talking to my grandfather had comforted me, it had conversely troubled him. He sounded concerned for me, afraid perhaps that everything was about to change.
I didn’t want to think about that right now. “I missed Rachel’s call on Saturday,” I said quickly. “Do you know when you might see her again? I really did want to talk to her.”
“She told Thom she would try again Wednesday. In the late afternoon here. Will that work for you?”
I assured him I would make it work. Lark and I would be going out in the morning for another photography session, but I would be home before one o’clock. I told him Rachel could call the landline at the house at four their time, and I would be sure not to miss it.
Before I hung up, I said hello to a few of my cousins and uncles, which quickly reminded me how much I wished Jake was still at the buggy shop so that I could talk to him too.
I missed my family back home. Hearing their voices reminded me just how much.
TWENTY-TWO
After my phone call with Daadi, there was still some time left before Brady would go to school, so I headed into the garage in the hopes I could fix the skateboard and get him to test it out for me. Sure enough, it ended up being a simple repair, and my brother’s quick test run resulted in a solid thumbs-up.
Once he was gone, I took the board back inside and spent another fifteen minutes or so with a rag and some spray cleaner, just shining it up and making it look nice. I propped it back in the corner after I was finished, thinking it might be best to deliver it to the boy’s house in the afternoon, shortly before he got home from school. I would just leave it on the front porch with a note that it was all fixed.
During the rest of the morning and early afternoon, I worked diligently on the containers. Around one thirty I applied the last coat of sealant and then downed a quick ham and cheese sandwich. As the sealant dried, I took Frisco for a walk, skateboard in hand. We headed straight up the street to the little boy’s house and paused there, Frisco happily sniffing at a terra-cotta planter filled with succulents while I propped the gleaming board on the porch next to the front door. It really did look good now, and the Post-it Note I had stuck on the front seemed just right:
All fixed. I hope you enjoy it.
A neighbor.
When I returned to the house, I headed out to the south side to ready the ground for the placement of the containers.
I lost track of time as I scraped at the hard, unrelenting earth. Southern California’s blond, rock-hard dirt was nothing like Pennsylvania’s rich and giving soil. It took a long while to break down the groundcover and level it. I was hard at work when Brady appeared at my side. I hadn’t even heard him come into the backyard.
“Looks different back here,” he said.
I wiped my sweaty forehead. “In a good way, I hope.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
I stood and surveyed the newly prepared area. “I think I’m ready to bring out the boxes. Want to give me a hand?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
We walked to the other side of the house where the gate was located and propped it open with one of the trash cans. Then we made our way to the garage, where I’d left the containers to dry.
I tested one edge to make sure they were okay to move. The sealant wouldn’t be completely dry for two more days, but we’d be able to move them into place at least. “Looks good,” I said. “Want to walk forward or backward?”
But Brady was staring at the four long, wooden boxes, shining golden in the late afternoon sun, and he didn’t answer me. He reached out a hand and stroked one of the corners. I couldn’t read the look on his face. My heart did a stutter step.
“You don’t think she will like them?” I asked when he said nothing.
Brady lifted his head to look at me. “These are really nice, Ty. I can’t believe you made them with just some instructions you found on the Internet.”
Relief filled the spot where worry had just been. “So she will like them.”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. She’s going to like them. She’s going to love them.”
His gaze was again on the containers. “They all look so perfectly the same. Professional, I mean. I wouldn’t have guessed somebody who didn’t…who hadn’t…I mean, they look really good.”
A tiny smile spread across my face—not from pride, but from relief. Brady had just paid me a compliment, albeit in as awkward a way as possible. But that was good enough for me. “Thanks.”
My brother lifted his head again to face me. “I don’t mind walking backward.”
I said nothing else. I wanted his affirmation to echo around in my head for a little while. We wordlessly moved the containers into place. I couldn’t have been more pleased with how well they filled the space and yet still left room for Liz to move in between them.
When we were done we stood back to admire the new look of the south side.
“You need help getting the potting soil for these?” Brady asked.