Sighing and shoving my shaggy hair off my forehead, I wheeled my fully restored, 1950 International farm truck into my mom’s driveway and parked it next to my sister’s little hybrid that was already taking up half the space. I had grown up in a suburb of Denver called Lakewood, and my mom still lived in the one-story brick rancher that she raised me and Beryl in. It was a quiet, family-friendly neighborhood that Mom had relocated to not long after Dad left. Even after all the time and circumstances that had passed, pulling into the cracked cement driveway that led to the garage still felt like coming home. I had offered to move my mom into one of my properties, to upgrade her home for her, but she wasn’t having any of it. Beryl even bought a town house a few miles away, which made life easy for her since Mom picked my niece up and watched her after school until Beryl got off of work from her job as a bank teller. Mom insisted she wasn’t going anywhere, and that her house was just fine the way it was. I honestly couldn’t complain. It was nice to have a solid base, a place that never shifted or moved and that always felt welcoming and warm. My mom had always made sure we knew where home was and that had been one of the key factors in driving me to create that kind of place for others.
I loved working with my hands and getting to be my own boss. But handing over the keys, walking away from a family knowing that I had given them a place that could be their home base, their security, fulfilled me in a way that was hard to put words to. I always felt like what I did was so much more important than driving nails into wood or slapping some paint onto walls, and that was why my crew was all made up of guys that needed a second chance and a way to give back.
Every single guy that worked for me was either an ex-con or an otherwise at-risk individual. I was the captain of the second-chance crew and I couldn’t be happier about it. I wanted all the guys I took under my wing to know that there was life after a major mistake, that making the most of a second chance was the only way to get ahead, and I wanted them all to see how important something like home really could be. I also wanted to give guys the opportunity that they might not get anywhere else to learn a tangible skill they could take with them wherever they ended up in life. There had been a failure or two along the way since I started recruiting the unrecruitable, but for the most part the guys were overly grateful for having honest work in an environment that wasn’t about judging the sins of the past.
I didn’t bother knocking on the metal storm door since the front door was open and I could hear the infectious sound of childish laughter floating from somewhere inside the house. It was the weekend, which meant plenty of family time. We usually all got together on Sundays for either brunch or dinner depending on my work schedule, but Beryl always swung by on the weekends and spent a couple hours catching up with Mom and letting Joss play with the neighborhood kids that made up her circle of friends.
I prowled through the empty house and followed the sounds of laughing and screeching to the backyard. I could see my mom’s dark head bent toward my sister’s as they talked quietly about something while a group of kids including my adorable niece played tag. A grin tugged at my mouth as I tiptoed my way through the kitchen and dining room until I reached the sliding glass door that led to the concrete patio they were sitting on.
Joss caught sight of me and I saw her lift her arm up to wave at me, but I shook my head and put a finger to my lips, indicating she should keep quiet while I crept up on her mom and grandmother. My boots squeaked on the laminate floor that Mom refused to let me rip up and replace, but the noise wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. Joss giggled as she watched my approach, and when I got to the glass of the doors I gripped the metal handle and yanked it open while shouting “BOO!”
I chuckled uncontrollably as the glass in Beryl’s hand went flying and as my mom leaped out of her chair like it was on fire. She spun on me and smacked me playfully in the center of my chest. I rubbed the spot playfully as she scowled up at me.
“Zebulon Fuller! Are you trying to give an old woman a heart attack?”
My mom was far from old. In fact she looked good and young enough that if it wasn’t for the few wrinkles around her eyes she could easily pass for my older sister instead of my parent, so I didn’t bother replying to that nonsense. Instead, I grunted and bent down to scoop Joss up as she ran at me. I wrapped an arm around her as she grabbed on to the end of my beard and pulled. It was something she did every time she saw me and it always made me smile. I gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and made sure to rub my whiskers on her face as she giggled.
“Uncle Zeb, stop!” She wiggled until I put her down and dashed back to play with her friends.
I sighed dramatically and walked over to take one of the remaining seats at the patio set across from my sister. “How quickly I’m forgotten.”
Beryl was still frowning at me and wiping her damp fingers off on her jeans. “She’s almost eleven. Just wait until she’s a teenager and the boys she’s running to hug are the ones she wants to date.”
I let out a low growl at that and jerked when something freezing and slippery suddenly slipped down the back of my T-shirt. I leaned forward in the chair and practically pulled my shirt off over my head in order to fish out the ice cube Beryl had just dropped down the collar.
“You suck.”
“You’re the one that made me spill my drink. Jerk.”
We glared at each other for a second until my mom snorted and had us both turning to look at her.
“I kept waiting for the day when you two won’t argue like you did when you were little, but at this point I don’t think I’ll live long enough to see it. Zeb, it’s Saturday, why aren’t you working?”