“You didn’t kill Billy,” he said. “Stop living like you did. You need to forgive yourself.”
At this, Rachel began to cry, until Jake grabbed for her hand. “I have something for you.”
Jake removed the harmonica from his pocket.
“This belonged to your father,” he said. “He always told me that it was the Special 20, model number 560 manufactured by Hohner, plastic comb instead of wooden. I remember all of that.”
He placed the harmonica in Rachel’s hand, and she closed her fingers around it.
They stood there for a moment, until Rachel pulled Jake close.
“Thank you,” said Rachel. “I know exactly where it should go.”
Rachel placed the harmonica on the tallest stack of bricks around the fireplace, the corner that had become her altar.
The house was completely level now, and they could both feel it.
* * *
The next morning, Rachel prepared to pay the man responsible for all of this.
The grass grew where the seeds were scattered, the furrows she kicked up in anger long since raked over, patted down, put back in place.
Black Mabel had poured cement and created a patio. Rachel bought new patio furniture from the parking lot of the Ben Franklin, and the golden squirrel was placed in the center of a small glass table.
Rachel stared out at the fence line, at the beds bursting with flowers. Orange and white lilies stood proud, unfurling with the morning sun. Clumps of purple and yellow irises, like odd fists, all things her father planted.
The Johnny-jump-ups spread, just like Ginger promised, a carpet wending itself around the roots of the taller plants, tiny striped tiger faces, pale lavender, white, and yellow. The echinacea were in full bloom. The clematis climbed two-thirds of the trellises; the giant purple blooms and snaky green arms glowed against the golden spray paint. Bucky left his ladder behind, and it remained propped against the fence, just for Jake.
Rachel called Bucky early in the morning, when it was still crisp outside. By afternoon, the last days of June were too hot to bear.
“I’ve got a leaky pipe,” she said.
“Bullshit,” he said. “Everything is brand-new, up to code.”
“It’s under the kitchen sink,” she said. “I’m afraid it’s going to warp the wood. And I know how you feel about soft spots and mold.”
“My enemy,” he said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She sat outside and contemplated the corner of the yard that had once been a giant pile of cans. She thought about planting a lilac bush, or maybe an apple tree. She thought she should honor her father somehow.
She imagined the blooms of an apple tree, and it cheered her. She stood when she heard Bucky’s truck.
She waved as he opened the gate and came down the path, no longer jagged and dangerous. The walkway filled in with gravel and the pieces of shale resunk and flattened. He carried his bucket of tools, smiling as always.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Not if you’ve got a leaky pipe,” he said, and set the tools down. He flexed a muscle for her benefit. “I shall destroy any leaky pipes.”
“I know,” she said, and followed him into the house.
He rested his bucket of tools on the counter.
“Do you want some coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She didn’t make a move to pour any, knew he would attend to the sink immediately, because that was how he worked.
He crouched down and opened the cabinets. He craned his neck and swept a hand across the new subflooring, and looked up at her.
“There’s no leak,” he said.
“Look harder,” she said.
He stuck his head in farther, until she could see only his neck. He popped back out with an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“It’s got your name on it, dude.”
He stood up and opened the envelope. It was stuffed with bills.
His eyes widened.
“Four thousand dollars?”
“I wish I could pay you more.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he said.
“Make sure you pay Black Mabel her share,” she said. “She’s always been good to me.”
“I honestly didn’t think you were gonna pay me a dime,” he said.
“Really?”
“Shit,” he said. “Ladies make promises to pay me all the time. You’re the first one who ever came through. I didn’t mind the work, honestly. Would’ve done your house for free.”
“You need to stop letting the ladies walk all over you,” said Rachel.
“Can’t help it,” said Bucky. “And you paid for all the materials.”
“But you did all the work,” said Rachel. “I sat down with the Chief, and we figured out what I would’ve paid a contractor. You did months of work. I’m getting off easy.”
“Thank you,” he said, and then his face grew sullen.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m done here,” he said. “I guess that means I won’t be seeing much of you anymore.”
“Bucky,” she said. “I promise that you won’t be able to get rid of me.”