“A thank-you would be nice.” She put her hands on her hips.
He stared at her in surprise. He was doing her a favor, not the other way around. “Thanks?”
“No wonder Hannie says you’re impossible.” She pointed a finger in his face. “You’ve got no manners.”
Hannie said that? To Luisa? What else had they talked about? His stomach twisted. Had Luisa known Hannie had planned to leave him?
“You don’t look so good.” Luisa touched his elbow. “Are you sure you want to fix my screen door today? It can wait.”
He shook off her hand, shook off the question. “It will only take a few minutes.”
He found the roll of screen, grabbed the utility knife from his truck, and set to work. It had turned into a beautiful day, despite the earlier rain, so he did all the work outside, letting the sun warm his back. Luisa carried a patio chair over from the backyard and sat nearby to watch him.
“You have talked with Jakob lately?” she asked.
With his back to her, Gerrit scowled. Jakob was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Now that the farm was gone, he had no reason to waste another minute of his life thinking about his younger brother. Surely, Luisa knew that.
“He took it hard, I think,” she pressed. “Losing the farm.”
Gerrit’s shoulders tensed. He took it hard? How could she say that to him? Jakob hadn’t set foot on the farm since Luke’s accident. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help since two years before that. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the place.
“Haven’t seen him,” he replied.
Luisa was quiet for a moment, and he glanced over at her. Her eyes were sad, seeing right through him.
“He’s your brother, Gerrit. Your flesh and blood. You know what I would give to have a brother?”
“He made his choice.” Gerrit struggled to line the screen up with the frame, his hands trembling. “I’ve got nothing to say to him.”
It shouldn’t have surprised him when Jakob abandoned him and Luke to chase women and booze. Nor should it have surprised him when their father made excuses for Jakob and continued writing him a paycheck even though he never showed up for work. But it had. Even after all the years his father had favored Jakob, the son born ten years after his other sons even though the doctors had said no more children would come, Gerrit had still been surprised.
Luisa sighed. “Luke would tell you to forgive.”
Gerrit’s nostrils flared. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He would never forgive Jakob.
“God gave Luke only forty years on this earth.” Her voice grew louder. Sharper. “Forty short years. Look how many you’ve had, and you would waste them in bitterness?”
A growl erupted from his lips. “You don’t know anything about it.”
She knew nothing of the times Jakob had gotten himself into trouble on the farm and blamed him. Nothing of how Jakob had turned their parents against him and only worked when someone was watching, until he stopped working all together. Nothing of the thousands of dollars his father had spent trying to buy Jakob’s way out of his gambling debt. And then when Gerrit needed help financing the property he and Hannie wanted so they could have a place of their own—away from the farm, away from his father’s relentless scrutiny—where had his father’s money gone then?
Gerrit clenched his fist. He knew exactly where it had gone.
Luisa stood and picked up the chair to carry it back to its place. She gave him a solemn look. “I know about needing to forgive, Gerrit.”
She turned her back on him. Her words struck like an arrow and sunk into his side. Not a mere flesh wound. No. That arrow had pierced straight through to his heart.
LUISA’S WORDS STILL reverberated through Gerrit’s soul as he pulled into his driveway. Words about forgiveness and a wasted life. Words he could not bear.
He heard the commotion before he even opened the truck door. Bernard the Terrible was at it again. The stupid rooster was at the back door, feathers ruffled, wings half raised. He charged the door repeatedly, screeching the whole time. Inside the house, Daisy howled.
“Cut that out!” He slammed the truck door and strode toward the house, waving his arms. “Get away from there, you little—”
Crunch.
Who would be coming over right now? He spun around and swallowed hard. A police car drove deliberately up the drive, an officer with a serious face at the wheel. Glaring at him. Oh, God. Hannie. His heart dropped to the ground, and he stumbled over it as he met the officer at the driver’s door. Something terrible must have happened.
The young man’s expression gave nothing away as he slowly got out of the car. This couldn’t be real. Gerrit’s mouth went dry. No words would come.
The officer cleared his throat. “Mr. Laninga?”
Gerrit nodded dumbly, his throat constricting. A black hole opening up in his stomach. Not Hannie. Oh, not my Hannie.
“I’m Officer Denway.” The officer crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the house. “I’m here about a noise complaint.”
Gerrit watched the man’s mouth move but couldn’t process his words as fear roared in his ears. How could he go on if something happened to Hannie? How would he tell the kids? And Daisy would never understand. She’d surely blame him.
Officer Denway cleared his throat, and Gerrit blinked, the man’s words finally penetrating. A noise complaint? He was here about a noise complaint?
“I just got home.” He rubbed his forehead. “The rooster was badgering the corgi, but I’ll take care of it.”
Officer Denway narrowed his eyes and tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I see.”
Relief flooded Gerrit’s veins like morphine from an IV, and his arms tingled. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you. Then a movement over at the neighbor’s property caught the corner of his eye.
George.
A spark ignited in his chest. “Who called you about
