Stranger in the Woods

The curtains in her room were glowing from the sunrise. A bird was chirping in the ash tree just outside her window. The bed covers were pulled up to her chin, and she realized that the air was pleasantly cool, even though it was mid-June. She’d forgotten how it could be like that sometimes in Whitmer, nestled in the farthest corner of western North Carolina, close to the mountains and the national forest.

Something else seemed different, and it took her a minute to figure out what it was: the sound. Except for the chirping bird, there was mostly silence. If she were back in Raleigh, there would already be plenty of noise outside, even on a Sunday morning. Somebody in the neighborhood would’ve had a lawn service truck out front, with a crew running mowers, line trimmers, blowers, or perhaps the worst of all, chain saws.

Right now, though, it was quiet. Blissfully so.

She opened her eyes and considered her bedroom — the cardboard boxes that still needed unpacking, the suitcases placed against the wall, the stack of clothes draped over the top of the dresser — and she knew she needed to get up and get going. Too much to do to lie in bed all morning.

She went into the small bathroom tucked in the corner and peed, gave her a hair a cursory brushing, and slipped on the clothes she’d hung on the hook over the door. After one last look in the mirror, she left.

She crept out into the hall, wincing at every creak of the floor, and peeked into Zach’s room to find him still asleep, his face relaxed, finally, after a rough night.

She went downstairs to the kitchen, still a jumbled mess of more unpacked boxes and small appliances. The coffee maker was on the counter where she’d left it the night before, along with a bag of Colombian roast beside it. She placed a fresh filter in the top, filled it with exactly six spoonfuls of dark, aromatic grounds, poured in the water and pressed the power button. Then she turned and regarded the room where she would be doing most of her cooking for many years to come.

It was much larger than the kitchen she’d left behind in Raleigh and obviously intended for a big family, not the small one that would be using it now. It had a high ceiling, in the center of which was an antique-looking light fixture, dome-shaped and wrapped in tarnished brass filigree. Small dead insects were visible inside the glass, clustered near its center like burned rice. That must’ve been lovely when it was new. I can clean it and get it looking good again.

The cabinets were painted pale green, with darker green tiles covering the countertops and backsplash. It had a single sink, porcelain, chipped and stained with age. Ugly, she decided, and in need of replacing. Maybe I can get Dad to do that soon. Above that was a window with a view of the terrace and the unruly backyard. She gazed through it and tried to imagine what it looked like in its heyday, when her rich, eccentric great uncle lived there. She’d hardly ever seen it, even though she grew up two houses away. I bet it was nice. With some hard work it could be nice again. Put it on the list. Liz was good at lists. They helped her get through her busy days. This list, though, was looking like it might be endless.

Yesterday, they had moved the old kitchen table and chairs into the garage and replaced them with hers, and it gave her a small sense of comfort to have them there. The refrigerator was hers, too. Well, all of it is, now, I guess. The gas stove had been installed while Aunt Winnie lived in the house, and it looked to be in good condition. She turned one of the black knobs and the front right burner ignited with a faint whoosh, and she felt relieved.

She crossed her arms and exhaled heavily toward the stove. So much to do. Better get going.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the link sausage she’d bought the night before — Zach’s favorite — and rummaged through the cardboard boxes until she found the electric skillet and the pancake mix.

Zach woke up in a strange bed, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. I’m in the creepy old house. He was surrounded by things he was accustomed to — his furniture, his clothes draped cross the chair, his skateboard poster thumbtacked on the wall — but it wasn’t his room.

He dressed and went downstairs to warm, familiar smells, and found his mother cooking at the big stove in the kitchen. “Did you sleep okay?” she said.

“No.” He stood at the edge of the room, and noticed the closed door beside him. “Where does that go?”

“The basement. Want to see it?”

He edged away from it. “Uh, no.”

“Are you sure? The light’s burned out, but you can take the flashlight and have a quick peek if you want to. It’s the only part of the house you haven’t seen yet.”

“No thanks.” He stepped farther away from the ominous door. It could be hiding anything. Ghosts. Monsters. Dead relatives.

“We’re going to have to go down there eventually. We’ll probably have to clean it out so we can store our things.”

There’s no way I’m going down there.

“That’s where the lab is.”

Zach eyed it again. Well…maybe.

Liz sat across from Zach at the table and watched him drain the last of the orange juice from his glass and set it beside his plate, empty now except for the wide puddle of syrup.

“Did you get enough to eat?” she said. “Because we have a lot to do today. I want you to start with your room and finish getting it together.”

“Can I set up Dad’s stuff after that? Where are we going to put it? Can I put it in the living room?”

“His awards? I really don’t want to see that—” She caught herself before she said junk. “I don’t think that’s a good place for it.”

“How about the sitting room, then?”

“I thought we’d put the TV in there and turn it into the family room, and I don’t want to look at his softball trophies and stuff all the time.”

I’d be happy to stick it in the attic. “How about in your room?”

“There’s too much of it. It needs lots of space.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “How about the bedroom across from yours? You can make a shrine for him in there.” She added the last part as a joke, but when Zach’s face lit up, she could tell that he didn’t think of it as one.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “That would be awesome. Do you know where we put the hammer and picture hangers? I need those, right?”

“Are you going to put up all of those old framed certificates and things, too?”

“I’m gonna display everything.”

“Even his high school diploma?”

He nodded, still grinning. “Can I use some of the shelves we put in the garage? They’d be perfect, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Zach.” She closed her eyes briefly and held back the sigh that threatened to overwhelm her. “Yes, that’s fine. Can it wait until we paint in there? It’ll be so much easier that way.”

“It needs to be done as soon as possible.”

“Then we’ll have to take all of that stuff down again. You’re going to have to do that, because I don’t want to. I have too much to do as it is without having to do things twice.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it.” He turned in his seat toward the boxes on the floor behind him. “Do you remember where we put the hammer?”

“It’s in the garage. But can you wait until your grandfather gets over here to help? I don’t want you putting a hole in the wall.”

“He said don’t wake him up early ’cause he sleeps late on Sunday, and I want to do this now.”

“Wait a little bit and I’ll help you. Let me clean up the dishes and put a load of curtains in the washing machine. I’ve got at least two days’ worth of laundry to do, and I need to get it started as soon as possible.”

Liz hung the last picture on the wall, a photo of John at a podium, accepting an award at some banquet. She’d forgotten which one. There were so many. She turned and looked at Zach, who stood on the other side of the room with his eyes narrowed critically. “Well,” she said, “are you satisfied?”

“One more box of stuff and then we’ll be done.”

“No, Zach. We’ve put out everything that’s worth putting out. Besides, there’s no more room.” She gestured loosely at the collection of trophies, plaques, diplomas, and photos that covered the walls, the dresser, the bedside table, and the three shelves.

“I want all of it out. I can put the ribbons and medals on the bed. Can we put the rest somewhere else?”

“No,” she said a little too firmly. “That last box is just junk that John didn’t really care about.”

“It’s not junk! It’s Dad’s.”

I should’ve chosen my words more carefully. “I promise you it didn’t mean much to your father. He didn’t want to put it out either. It’s just stuff like his award for winning the fourth-grade spelling bee and his life guard certificate and things like that. The box sat in our basement ever since we moved into our last house. Leave it, Zach, for gosh sakes. Enough is enough.”

He scowled while he seemed to be thinking of an argument, but he finally said, “Okay. Can I go ride my skateboard after I put the ribbons out?”

“We have too much to do. You can ride it later.”

“But I’m tired already. I need a break.”

“You’re going to be a lot more tired by the time we’re finished today. I have a list a mile long of things we need to do.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “You and your lists.”

“I can’t do it by myself.”

“Grandpa will be here soon.”

“I need both of you.”

“Please, Mom? Before it gets too hot? I bet it’s nice outside right now, and nobody’s on the sidewalk.”

She held his gaze for several seconds before saying, “All right, but only for thirty minutes. Then you can help me dust the downstairs before lunch.” He started for the door but she held up her hand to stop him. “And wear your helmet.”

“Dad never made me wear it.”

“That’s because your father—” thought it made you look like a sissy. “Your father’s not here, and I am, and I say wear your helmet.” He started to complain further and she shook her head. “Fine. You can stay here and help me, instead.”

“Okay! I’ll wear it. Do you know where it is?”

“I think it’s in the garage, in that box beside your bike. Speaking of bikes, why don’t you ride it, instead?”

“The chain’s messed up.”

“Your father never fixed that? After all the times I reminded him?” Zach shrugged and she said, “Maybe we can get your Grandpa to do it.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Hurry back.”

Zach stood out front with his skateboard at his feet, trying to adjust the chin strap on his helmet. Hate this thing. Nobody else wears one.

He finally got it snapped where it wasn’t too tight or too loose, put one foot on the back of the skateboard and pushed off a couple of times with the other, then he glided down the sidewalk that fronted the long row of houses. The third one he passed had a For Sale sign out front, but it was not in much better condition than the one he’d just moved into. Big and ugly like the others around it.

He pushed off again and the sidewalk began to gradually slope downhill. He enjoyed the breeze on his face and the sunshine on his skin, not too warm yet, for summer. It’s probably hot already, back home. I mean, in Raleigh. He had to remind himself that this was his home, now. It didn’t seem like it.

He came upon a stoop-shouldered man with thin white hair, still in his robe and slippers, shuffling up the driveway toward his house with a newspaper under one arm. He turned when he heard the clacking of the skateboard’s wheels on the sidewalk, and he smiled faintly and waved with a shaky hand. Zach waved back without slowing. No one else was in sight. No pedestrians. No traffic on the road.

Without warning, a boy burst across the street in front of Zach, running left to right, carrying something long and black in one hand. It’s a rifle! He made it to the grass and suddenly yelped and fell to the ground, clutching his buttocks with his free hand. He turned, looked back the way he’d come, and shouted, “Dammit, Jason. That hurt!” Then he rolled to his feet and continued his sprint.

Zach stopped and looked in the direction the boy had been facing, and saw another boy run to the edge of the street, stop, and level a rifle of his own at the retreating youth. He squeezed the trigger but there was no crack of a report, just a click, and Zach realized it was probably a BB gun. The shooter frowned and resumed his pursuit, and it was then that Zach noticed the similarities between the two. They had the same straw-colored hair, longer than Zach’s and uncombed. They were the same size, with identical wiry bodies and scruffy clothes — cutoff jeans and grubby T-shirts. They’re twins! Zach stared open mouthed at the path between the two houses where they’d vanished, but turned when he heard more footsteps.

A girl appeared, running across the street after the boys. She also had straw-colored hair, but it was frizzy, and she was skinnier and wore pink plastic-framed glasses. “Jason! Justin!” she called after them. “I’m telling Mom! Mr. Norris is really mad this time.”

She made it to the sidewalk before she seemed to notice Zach, and she stopped abruptly and faced him. “Oh. Who are you?”

“Uh…I’m Zach.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I just moved in down the street.”

“At the mad scientist’s house? We saw the truck yesterday and wondered who it was. We thought it was more old people.”

“No, it’s just me and my mom. And my granddad, too, kinda. I mean, he already lives here…two doors down from us.”

“Old man Ogletree?”

It took him a couple of seconds to realize she meant Grandpa Rick. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh. Cool. Well, I’m Shelby.” She raced after the boys and disappeared between the houses.

Liz was standing on a chair, wiping out a kitchen cabinet that she’d just emptied, when she heard someone come in.

“Anybody home?” her father called from the foyer.

He stopped in the doorway and looked around the kitchen, at every available surface that was covered with stacks of pots, pans, cups, glasses, and plates. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

“I’ve got to unload and clean all of these cabinets before I can put my stuff in them.” She made a disgusted face. “They’re filthy.”

“Are you going to keep any of Winnie’s dinnerware?”

“I don’t know.” She stepped down from the chair and set her sponge on the edge of the counter. “I’d rather use my plates and things, and I’m sure that would make Zach feel more at home, but I still need to go through all of it to see what’s here.”

“How about the china cabinet in the dining room? I think that’s full of Willow Ware. That seems like something you’d like.”

“I may keep that, if we have cabinet space. The rest of it I’ll probably just box up and give to charity, or put it in the attic. Or in the basement, if you ever replace that light bulb. I still haven’t been down there.” She wiped her hands on a small towel. “Did you bring your hedge clippers? Those shrubs out front have to be trimmed today. I want to brighten this place up, and cutting those away from the windows will make a big difference.”

“Got my electric clippers on the porch and I brought a long extension cord. Where’s Zach? I thought I’d show him how to do this so I don’t have to do it every time. He’s old enough for that, don’t you think?”

“Could he hurt himself? I don’t want him cutting off his fingers.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He could injure himself if he’s using dangerous equipment.”

“I’ll make sure he does it right, for cryin’ out loud. Do you always baby him like that?”

“Now you sound like John.”

“Heaven forbid. Seriously, though, are you going to let him learn today, or wait until he’s thirty?”

“Oh…I guess it’ll be okay, if you teach him how to do it safely. He’s not here right now, but he’ll be back soon. He’s riding his skateboard.”

“Really?” He raised his thick gray eyebrows. “By himself, in a strange neighborhood? Doesn’t sound like you, letting him do that.”

“It’s not that strange. I grew up here. I doubt it’s gotten dangerous since then. It seems even calmer, now, actually.”

“I was kidding. He’ll be fine. I’ll go fetch my gloves and get ready to start on the bushes.”

He turned to leave, but Liz said, “Dad? Did I hear a dog this morning in your backyard?”

“Yeah, you might have.”

“Care to explain that?”

“It’s just some mutt the bartender at Bennie’s was trying to get rid of. Her dog had puppies, and this was the only one she hadn’t found a home for.”

“Bennie’s? Are you still going to that nasty old bar?”

“It’s not that bad.” His forehead wrinkled in defensive furrows. “I get a beer or two after work sometimes, and maybe a burger or something.”

“How many nights do you go there, Dad?”

“Just…I don’t know. Three or four, maybe.”

“Three or four? And you’re eating pizza at Antonio’s? That’ll kill you, eating all that junk. No wonder you’re getting fat.”

He looked down at his pudgy gut. “I’m not fat, I’m just putting on a few pounds.”

“I thought Mom taught you how to cook.”

“She did, and I cook some. Stew and stuff, and I roast a chicken once in a while. But then I have to eat leftovers all week, and I hate that. I have to eat by myself, too. But I have friends up there.”

“At Bennie’s? Your only friends are at a bar?”

“No, the rest of them I meet for bingo on Saturday nights at First Baptist.”

She knew he was being sarcastic. Her father would rather get a root canal than set foot in a church. “You can eat with us, then. I’ll make something healthy.”

“Tofu loaf? No thanks.”

“I’ll make something you like. Zach won’t eat that kind of stuff, anyway.”

“I knew there was something I liked about that boy. You sure you won’t mind the extra work?”

“It’s just as easy to cook for three as it is to cook for two, and I’m used to it.” She started to step back up on the chair, but paused and turned back to her father. “I forgot about the dog. Are you taking it to the vet, and walking it regularly and everything?”

“I took her to the vet and she got her shots and got fixed.”

“But are you walking her, or playing with her in the yard? Dogs need exercise. So do you, Dad.” She patted her belly and then looked at his. “Come to mention it.”

“I, uh…dang it, Liz! You’re not my mother.”

“I know how you can be. You’re barely taking care of yourself. If you can’t take proper care of a pet, then you should get rid of it.”

“Maybe Zach can help with that. Give him some responsibility and all.”

She started to berate him for trying to pass the buck, but realized that he may have a point. “Speaking of Zach, didn’t he see this dog last night when he was at your house watching TV?”

“I asked him not to mention it just yet.”

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to pit Zach against—” Her scolding was cut short when she heard the front door slam.

“Mom?” Zach called and entered the kitchen. He stood beside his grandfather with his skateboard under one arm and his helmet under the other. He wore a lopsided smile.

“Did you have fun?” she asked.

“I met some other kids. Well, I met one, a girl, and I saw the other two. They’re twins. The boys, I mean.” His eyes were alight with possibility.

“What are their names?”

“The boys are Jason and Justin, I think, and the girl’s name is Shelby.”

“Those are the Ross kids,” Liz’s father said, and gave Liz a meaningful look. “I told you about them. They live on the street behind us.”

“See, honey,” she said to Zach. “There are some kids in the neighborhood after all.”

“Grandpa, who’s Mr. Norris?”

“He’s this cranky old coot who lives on the next street over. Why do you ask?”

“The girl said he’s really mad at them. The boys had BB guns.”

“Oh, not again.”

“What?” Liz frowned.

“The boys were probably messing with his dog. He’s got a big, mean, pit bull that barks day and night and keeps the neighbors awake and scares everybody who walks by. You can hear it sometimes all the way over here.”

Zach’s brow drew down. “He wouldn’t call the cops on the boys, would he?”

“Don’t think so. He’s had so many complaints about his dog, the cops probably wouldn’t do anything. I doubt they like that varmint, either.”

“Zach,” Liz said, “I heard your grandfather has a dog now.”

“Unh hunh. Her name is Beepee.”

She turned to her father. “What?”

“I call her that ’cause she’s black as an oil spill, and when I first got her, she peed in the house a lot.”

“She doesn’t still do that, I hope,” Liz said.

“She’s trained.”

“She’s a good dog, Mom.” Zach nodded firmly. “She sat on the couch with me when I watched TV over there, and she put her head in my lap.”

“You wanna walk her some?” Liz’s father said.

“Could I? I never had a dog. Dad was allergic to them.”

“Beepee would love it if you walked her. I should warn you, though. She doesn’t like grown men very much, so be careful if you see any when you’re out with her.” He put his hand on Zach’s shoulder. “I’m going to trim the shrubs out front today. I thought I’d teach you how to do it. You want to give it a try? It’ll go faster with two of us.”

“Let me put my skateboard away.”

“Put it in your room,” Liz said. “Don’t leave it down here for us to trip over.”

Zach ran off, and as she heard his feet hammering up the stairs, she said to her father, “Those three kids he met, are they the wild things you told me about last night?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t call them that around Zach.”

“Do you think they’re bad kids?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t want to sound mistrustful, but I need to see that for myself. I’d like to meet them before Zach goes off with them.”

Then she heard Zach’s muffled shriek from his room.

She dashed across the cluttered kitchen, through the door and out into the short hall that led to the foyer. Zach shrieked again and she ran faster, taking the stairs two at a time while her father limped behind her.

She made it to the top and found Zach standing outside of his bedroom, staring back into it, his eyes wide and the fingertips of one hand in his mouth. “Did you see a rat?” She said when she reached him.

He shook his head and pointed.

She went inside and looked around, but didn’t find anything alarming. “I don’t see the problem, honey.”

By this time her father had clumped up the stairs and joined her. “What’s all the excitement?” he said, breathing heavily.

Zach pointed at his bedside table. On it were two wooden figurines: a bear, and next to it and much smaller, was another.

“Would you look at that,” Liz’s father said and his mouth bent into a half-smile. He leaned over and inspected them closely, then picked up the larger one, which was only as long as his index finger. “Ain’t this something?” He gingerly lifted the second one and placed it in his flattened palm with the other.

“Zach,” Liz said, “did you just find these?”

“They weren’t there when I went skateboarding. I came up here to change shoes, and I would’ve noticed. Somebody broke in and put them here!”

“Oh, honey,” Liz sighed. “I would’ve heard them.”

“No you wouldn’t. You were in the kitchen, and they could’ve snuck in the front door and come upstairs and you wouldn’t know.”

“Zach, every door squeaks and every floor creaks. You can’t walk two steps in here without making a noise. They would’ve had to float up here or I would’ve heard them.”

“Maybe it was a ghost.”

“Eh,” Liz’s father said, “I don’t think ghosts like to carve. And I doubt they’d want to give you a present.”

“Why do you think those are a present,” Liz said.

“Well, I don’t know if that’s what they are. They were probably here already.”

Zach started to argue, but Liz quickly said, “Yes, they must’ve been here and we didn’t notice them. That’s the only rational explanation.”

Her father put the bears back on the bedside table. “This momma bear and cub remind me of you and Zach, kinda. And these are nice little carvings. Did you notice the detail? A real artist made these, not some front-porch whittler.”

“I don’t want them in my room, Mom.” Zach shook his head. “They creep me out.”

Liz studied them for a moment with one arm crossed over her chest and her other hand on her chin. “They’re too nice to throw away. How about if we keep them on the shelf that’s in the sitting room?” Zach still looked unsure, so she added, “At least until we decide what to do with them.”

Her father gestured at the bears. “I’ll take them if you don’t want them.”

“No,” Zach said with a reluctant sigh. “But I still say they’re creepy.”

Zach, fresh from his bath, caught the scent of something delicious when he entered the kitchen. His mother was leaning over the open oven door, inspecting whatever was inside it. “Smells great, Mom. What are we having?”

“Pork roast.” She stood up straight and regarded him with a frown. “Zach. Go dry your hair and brush it! And put on a nicer shirt. That one’s got a stain on it.”

“But I like this one.”

“We’re having a family dinner and I don’t want you dressing like a homeless person. I already sent your grandfather back home to change. He was wearing the same filthy clothes he had on all day.” She pointed a commanding finger at the hallway behind him. “Go.”

Zach hesitated, working up the courage to ask the next question. “Mom, is it okay if Beepee comes over while we eat? She gets lonely when Grandpa’s gone and she’s by herself.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please? She’s a good dog, and you need to meet her anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed while she seemed to consider it. “I guess it’s better to meet her over here than at your grandfather’s house. I’m afraid to go over there. Is it as messy as I think it is?”

“Um….” Zach clamped his bottom teeth on his top lip while he tried to decide how to answer.

“He asked you not to tell me, didn’t he?”

“The living room is messy and the kitchen sink is full of dirty dishes, and the bathroom is kinda gross.”

“I figured as much. I guess I’m going to have to go over there and clean up for him, though I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“I’ll help him. You won’t have to do it.” He flashed a hopeful grin. If you let me bring the dog over tonight. “So, can she come or not?”

She closed her eyes and sighed, something he’d seen her doing a lot, lately. “Just this once. If she causes a problem or if you feed her under the table, she goes straight home, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am. She’ll be good. You’ll see.”

He started to turn away and she said, “But you have to brush your hair and change your shirt, first.”

Liz looked up when she heard the voices from the front door, and Zach and her father entered the kitchen. Zach had a leash in his hand, and on the other end of it was a medium-sized dog with short black fur, who turned her head from side to side, taking in the smells.

“That must be Beepee,” Liz said.

Beepee’s tail began to wag as she focused on Liz. Zach knelt beside the dog and slipped the metal choke chain over her head, and she bounded over to Liz. She leaned over and petted the happy-looking puppy on the back. “She’s cute, isn’t she? She looks like she’s mostly lab.”

“What’s that?” Zach asked.

“A Labrador Retriever,” her father answered. “The vet said that’s what she is, pretty much, and that she’ll be a smart, playful dog. Good for families. She’s about ten months old, so she’s not fully grown.”

Beepee sat at Liz’s feet while she scratched behind the pup’s ears. “Zach, this dog is going to need regular exercise. That can be one of your chores. Can you handle that?”

“Yes ma’am. Maybe she can be a Frisbee dog and do tricks and stuff. Can I get a Frisbee?”

“Do you know how to throw one?”

“Sorta. Can I show her the upstairs?”

“Yes, but wash your hands before you come to the table. It’s almost time to eat.”

“Come on Beepee.” He motioned toward the door to the hall. “Let’s go see my room.” He ran off and the dog loped after him.

“I think Beepee has made a friend,” her father said as he watched them disappear.

“Maybe she’ll be good for Zach right now, and help him adjust to his new situation.”

“It’s not a situation, Liz. It’s a life.”

“Yes.” She exhaled heavily. “I hope it’s a good one.”

Zach raced up the stairs with Beepee at his heels, her claws clicking rapidly on the wooden treads. They reached the landing and the dog kept going until she slid to a clumsy stop several steps too far. Zach laughed and pointed at the second open door in the hallway. “It’s right here.”

He led her inside. “This is it. My old room back in Raleigh was better, but this one’s okay, I guess. It’s pretty big, at least. It’ll be nicer once we paint it.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted it with one hand, and to his surprise, Beepee jumped up easily and joined him. He stroked her head as she lay down beside him, tongue out, tail thumping on the quilt, bap, bap, bap.

Beepee suddenly became interested in something on the bedside table, with her ears perked up and her dark eyes forward.

“Oh, you noticed those? Mom was supposed to move them. Creepy, aren’t they?”

Beepee didn’t seem to think so. She edged up beside the pillow, leaned closer to the little wooden carvings and sniffed, and then her tail started wagging again. Zach wrinkled his brow. He picked up the momma bear and held it under Beepee’s nose, and the wagging intensified. “Do you think I should keep them?” She turned her head and faced him, and he thought he saw something in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite identify, but it felt reassuring. She likes them. I guess they’re not creepy after all. “Okay, but only because you say so.”

Zach put on a clean shirt and brushed his disorderly brown hair, then raced Beepee back downstairs to the kitchen. Grandpa was watching Zach’s mother put plates on the table. She looked up at him and said, “Did you give Beepee the grand tour?”

“I changed my mind about the bears. I think I’ll keep them in my room. She likes them.”

“She didn’t try to chew ’em up, I hope,” Grandpa said. “That’s her favorite pastime.”

“I showed one to her and she didn’t do that. She just likes them, that’s all.”

His mother set the last plate down. “I’m glad to hear it.” She turned to her father and said, “Does she have any chew toys? I bet she’d love a tennis ball.”

“Can we get one?” Zach said. “And a Frisbee, too?”

She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the far end of the counter, next to the back door. “Put it on the list. I have to go to the store again tomorrow.”

Liz set the roast on the table, placing the large white platter alongside the plate of corn on the cob, the bowl of green beans, and the wicker basket full of biscuits. “Help yourself.”

Her father, sitting at one end with an appreciative smile on his grizzled face, served himself a slice of pork. “Looks good as your mom used to make, Liz.”

“Isn’t this nicer than eating at that old bar?”

“It’s closed tonight anyway. It’s Sunday.”

“What bar?” Zach asked. He sat on one side of the table. Beepee was on the floor next to his chair. She cocked her head curiously, as if she wanted to know, too.

“Bennie’s,” he said. “This food is much better, but I’m still going to go up there for a quick beer or two now and then. I get referrals for work from the other customers, sometimes.” He pointed his fork at Liz. “That reminds me. I have a little job tomorrow morning, so I won’t be able to help you until after lunch. I’m installing a couple of ceiling fans for this family across town.”

“Can you install some for us, too? At least in our bedrooms? It’ll be hot, come July.” He didn’t answer right away and she added, “I’ll pay you.”

“You don’t have to pay me, Liz, just buy the fans. But you have to let me do it on my own time. I can’t put off paying jobs for you.”

“How about the sink in here? Do you think we can replace it soon? It’s ugly and chipped.”

“And put a shower in the upstairs bathroom?” Zach said.

“The shower will have to wait, honey,” she said. “But the ceiling fans and the sink would be a big help.”

Her father spooned a pile of beans onto his plate. “I’ll do the sink as soon as you pick one out.”

“I’d also like to paint the inside of the house, which I can do myself, and I’d like to have the outside done before the summer is over. Can you do that?”

“I don’t have a sprayer, and it would take weeks to paint it by hand. You’d be better off hiring pros to do it.”

“I don’t know if I can afford it right now.”

“I got some friends who might do it, a few fellows who hang out at Bennie’s. They do a good job, and they work hard.”

“We’ll have to see how much money I have left at the end of the summer. I won’t get a paycheck until school starts, and that’s eight weeks away. Until then, we have to live on what I got from the sale of our house.”

His brow lined with concern. “You gonna have enough?”

“We’ll be fine.” She glanced at Zach and gave him a reassuring smile. “Especially since you’re letting us have this house for free. We just have to be careful with our money. We can’t do everything all at once.”

“Did you have any of the life insurance money left?”

“Not as much as I had hoped. I used it to pay for the funeral and our moving expenses, but the rest I need to save for emergencies.”

“Did you get anything when you sold John’s SUV?”

“We were lucky to break even on it, but at least I don’t have that huge payment anymore. It was killing me, having that bill every month and the mortgage, too. We had to live on just my salary for over a year.”

“He could’ve gotten a cheaper car.”

She gave her father a sharp look and then glanced at Zach again.

Her father cleared his throat and said, “How about if we pressure wash the outside of the house, for now? I know a guy who can do it, cheap.”

She thought about it for a moment before saying, “Maybe that’ll be okay. I could still paint the front porch railing and the trim around the door myself. Since you cut down the shrubs, you can really see how shabby everything is out there.” She nodded firmly. “That’ll have to do for the time being. Ceiling fans, new sink, pressure wash, and paint the porch trim.”

“And paint my room,” Zach said.

“We’re going to paint the whole inside of the house, honey,” she said. “I think we’ll pull up all the old carpets, too, soon as we’re done with that.” She turned to her father. “You really think the floors are in good enough shape to do without carpet?”

“I peeked under one corner in the sitting room, and they’re good. It’ll look ten times better in here, especially with new paint. Winnie’s decorating tastes tended to run towards the dark and gloomy side.”

“Grandpa?” Zach asked. “Was Winnie your only sister?”

“I had an older brother, too. Bill. He died in Vietnam. He was in the Army. We both were.”

“Is that how you hurt you knee?”

He nodded, and Liz said, “He got a Purple Heart for it.”

“Wow. My dad never got one of those. That’s about the only award he didn’t, though.”

“I’m sure,” he said drily.

Beepee, who had been lying patiently on the floor next to Zach, started thumping her tail on the tile, and Zach looked down at her and said, “Are you getting bored?” She stood and nudged his forearm with her snout. “I’m still eating. You’ll have to wait until I’m done.” He turned to Liz and said, “Can I take her for a short walk after dinner? It won’t be dark, yet.”