Rise: How a House Built a Family

“Fifty bucks. Doors and windows. Neat and trim.”

We shook, and he disappeared down the stairs. I stayed in my room, too embarrassed to go down and admit to the kids and Dad that I was stupid enough to believe that this nameless guy could do construction work with his chain saw. Five minutes later, he fired up his chain saw in my bedroom. I shook my head: There’s a thing not every girl can say with a straight face.

It took him about a minute to cut the first window, but the others went faster. He just dipped the tip of the chain saw through the wood and sliced down like he was drawing a line through butter. The perfect rectangle fell out somewhere around the kitchen downstairs. Definitely something to warn the kids about.

I ran for the stairs. Drew and Dad were already rounding the top of them, eyes wide. I grinned and left them to watch while I ran to warn the others. Jada and Roman came up to watch while Hope covered our lunch to keep it sawdust-free.

The entire process was so much fun to watch that I forgot to time him, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes to do the entire house. He even ran from window to window to prove his point. The same job would have taken Drew and me a whole day of wrestling with the reciprocating saw. We would have left a jagged mess of wood along the edges and maybe a lost finger in the mix. The day was on my short list of favorite building days to date.

“Don’t suppose you want to come back later and carve that hickory out front into a large inkpot and feather?” I laughed, happily handing him his fifty bucks.

“I’m not much of an artist. But if you need a hand with any other quick cuts like that, holler at me. That was fun!” He was grinning as wide as I was. “Wasn’t really sure it would even work. Never done anything like that before.”

Well, great. I’m glad he didn’t lose a limb in the process. But really, even his confession didn’t stop me from smiling.

“Worth every penny just for the entertainment value,” Dad said, grinning wide.





–16–

Fall

Firefighters Have Hoses

The spring talent show at Hope’s middle school was a lot more entertaining than I had expected. Watching handfuls of awkward twelve-year-olds dance, sing, and act was a lot more fun from the parent side of the bench than when I had been a shy child working up the courage to take a stage. Jada had loved it the most. As a first grader, she had been starstruck watching the big kids.

She chattered and sang song bits all the way home.

“Mommy?” Hope’s voice edged up, laced with fear.

Fortunately, the kids were paying more attention to where I was going than I was, because as I drove up our driveway, a red Honda headed down it straight for us. It was Adam’s car, of course.

I backed out without looking for traffic, then took off down the road, dialing my cell while I took a corner through a neighborhood and toward town. If I had taken time to think it through, I would have headed straight for Ivana’s. Her house was only a mile from mine, but in the opposite direction and there was no easy way to turn back now. Sophie’s house was nearly ten miles away.

“Where are we going?” Jada asked. “I thought we were going home.”

I was relieved that she had been too distracted to notice his car, as though ignorance were a thing powerful enough to keep her safe.

“Shhh, I have to make a quick phone call,” I said, which was true, but I was also avoiding their questions for as long as possible. I glanced in the rearview mirror and ran my fingers through my hair as though primping was on my mind instead of a potential high-speed chase. Adam’s car pulled closer.

“Still there,” Drew said.

“How is getting away so easy in the movies?” Hope asked, her breath rapid and shallow, at the edge of panic.

I took three more turns and came out in another neighborhood. Ivana’s home and cell number had rolled to voice mail. I didn’t leave a message. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

Sophie picked up her cell on the third ring.

“He was waiting for us at the house,” I said, as panicked as Hope had sounded. “I know you don’t want me to call the police. I promised I’d always call you first. But we’re in the car, and he’s chasing us. You have exactly two minutes to get him away before I call the police.”

“I’ll call you right back,” she said, but then cleared her throat and wasted several precious seconds to add, “Thank you, Cara.”

I hung up.

I couldn’t shake the image of him in that hospital, so doped up that he couldn’t lift his feet or his lower jaw. Maybe that was the real reason Sophie had taken me there. To make me pity him—and her—enough to cut him some slack. But a car chase was a lot to ask of anyone. Even someone who had once made big promises.

My phone rang. It was Sophie.

“Still there,” Hope said at the same time I said, “Hello?”

“He left his cell at the house. Mom answered it,” Sophie said.

Ivana was home but hadn’t answered when I called. So she was screening my calls. I didn’t mind much since I didn’t want to talk to her either, but this was an emergency. She should know I wouldn’t call for idle chatter. I never had.

“I’ll have to call the police. I won’t let him put the kids in danger, Sophie. This isn’t fair.” As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Since when did fair have anything to do with life? This wasn’t fair to her either. She was in for a lifetime of unpleasant calls like this one.

Jada was crying. Hope was sitting backward in her seat to get a better view out the rear window. Drew was practically backward in the passenger seat.

“Everyone turn around and keep your seat belts fastened. I’m going to figure this out.”

“Wait, Cara. Let’s find another answer. He can’t go through another hospital stay!”

I jerked around another corner, happy to see a main road. The neighborhood had started to feel claustrophobic, and I didn’t know it well enough to be certain I was avoiding dead ends.

The closer we got to town, the safer I felt. There’s safety in numbers, I kept thinking. But the first red light we came to nearly had me barreling through stopped cars like a bulldozer. Only one car separated him from us. If he jumped out and ran up to the car, we were trapped. The doors were locked, but windows are easy to break. I had a crowbar under my seat that would do the trick. Adam would have one, too. And crowbars were the least of our worries. A bullet would cut through glass like butter.

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