Gulp.
“Then why . . . ?” I couldn’t fathom how she hadn’t fired me yet if she had known all along.
“I wanted you to admit it,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. Then I swear she smirked when she continued, “And you did.”
“Oh.” For someone who loved books, I was certainly full of words.
“Anyway, I should have called you this morning to give you some time off. After yesterday, you need to recover and decompress, but by no means are you fired.” Then she paused, and when she spoke again, her tone was thoughtful and kind. “You love these books almost more than I do.”
I paused.
She paused.
A warmth carried through the phone.
Were we bonding? Did I like her?
Then reality set in. “How am I going to face Josh?”
Rachel sighed. “He’ll get over it. He should take it as a compliment.” Then her voice went back to what I was used to, stern and commanding. “I’ll expect you on Monday.” Without another word, Rachel hung up.
I stared at my cell phone both relieved and bewildered.
What just happened?
Then, eyeing the broken glass in front of me, I carefully reached over and lifted the picture of my parents, gently brushing off any excess shards. “Sorry, for throwing you.”
Mom turned to me, shaking her head. “Clean up that mess before you cut yourself.”
Shrugging, I stood up.
Delusion or not, she was right.
Time to go get the vacuum cleaner.
Exhausted didn’t cover what I was experiencing one iota. Squeezing my hands into a fist was a monumental effort at this point and not just because I wore thick leather protective gloves. Not to mention the sun beating down on my back and neck. The hard hat kept my head safe from sunburns, but not even its bright white color reflected the heat enough to prevent my entire scalp from sweating profusely. Yup. Dripping in my eyes now.
Roofing was hard.
So far, my main task was scraping off the old shingles. Buster had given me a quick tutorial and handed me a tool called a “tear-off bar,” and its purpose was written right in the title. Basically, it was the same shape as a shovel, but a flatter surface at the bottom, with sharp teeth for digging underneath those shingles and popping them off. I had to admit it was pretty satisfying when I’d scoop up a giant clump of roof instead of the three or four shingles at a time that was more the norm, for me, anyway. At least the roof was flat-ish, only a slight incline, which did make it easier to stand and move around without fear of tumbling to my death (this was a still a worry of course, because . . . me), but it did take some of the anxiety away.
One more patch left. Then done. With the scraping at least. There was still the whole roof to be reshingled. But Buster was on it. He’d clear the areas I deshingled by using a handy-dandy magnetic nail sweeper that acted like a broom with a magnet as the sweeper. Then he laid down the roofing paper and placed the new shingles down, using a roof nailer to secure them in place.
It was all very efficient, but also very tiring.
The upside was getting to know Buster a little more. He was a fascinating guy full of stories. From his days as a roofer and dealing with some very eccentric clients, to being a part of a theater troop in Korea (the stories of the food alone made me want to go), to his first wife, who had died around the same time Gramps had; it all added up to a life fully lived with no regrets.
But most of all he was funny, which made me happy since my grandmother’s favorite thing to do was laugh. I could still remember watching the original Pink Panther and her laughing so hard she fell off the couch. Some of Buster’s quips had brought tears to my eyes they were so funny. With everything that had happened in the last few days, I needed it. And he knew I needed it, which was why he put in the extra effort. It made me love him just a little bit.
Roofing also brought back memories of my dad. We’d only repaired a half dozen houses over the years, but it was the time we spent together that I remembered most. Sitting on the rooftop after a long day’s work, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Mom made for us with the crusts cut off and drinking an ice-cold soda. My face flushed with the memory, and the old familiar ache crawled back inside my chest.
Shingles.
Almost done.
Concentrate.
After I tossed the last of the old shingles off the roof, Grandma walked out from the house, holding a tray with two large glasses on it. “I made you two some lemonade.”
Better words were never spoken.
Buster wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Our savior.”
“You are the best. We’ll be right down.” Unclamping my hands from the tear-off bar, I took a deep breath heading for the ladder.
“Jeraline?”
Was that . . .
Josh?
I whirled around to see where the voice had come from.
It wasn’t Josh.
It was my attacker standing on Buster’s front lawn, and he was pulling out a gun!
I jumped in spite of myself and slipped on the newly installed roofing paper. Regaining my balance didn’t seem to be an option as I slid off the roof and fell all thirteen feet to land directly onto . . .
Josh.
Yup. Not my attacker. Josh.
The brunt force of my landing pushed Josh to the ground so that I was now lying on top of him with his arms around me.
“Did you hit your head? Are you okay?” I asked frantically, afraid I had given him a concussion.
“Am I okay? Are you okay? You fell off a roof.” Josh stated the obvious, but for some reason it made what happened moments ago click in my brain.
I had fallen off the roof.
And I was in Josh’s
