CHAPTER 31
BUTCH
ONCE AGAIN, using thinly veiled guilt, Ava had convinced Butch to let her come to work with him. He kept a decent eye on her as he sipped his morning thermos of coffee. Mostly she stayed out of the way, except at one point he noticed Jack pass by with a hot-pink glitterfied hammer proudly bouncing against his hip as it hung from his utility belt.
Around ten, when the guys took a fifteen-minute break, he walked by them near the water cooler. Ava stood right in the middle of the group.
“C-a-r-e-f-u-l. Careful,” Ava said to some cheers.
“The spelling bee is all yours,” Jack said, knuckle-bumping her.
Butch stopped. “What spelling bee?”
“It’s the summer one they put on for kids at the library,” Ava said.
“Oh. Nice. Maybe we can practice at home.”
Ava shrugged and turned her attention back to the guys until they returned to work.
Around noon, Butch began to wonder who was running this construction site when he looked up from his toolbox in the back of his truck to find Marvin walking toward him. Carrying four pizza boxes.
“Marvin, what are you doing here?”
“Just bringing you your order.”
“What order?”
“Your lunch order. Two pepperonis, one Canadian bacon, and one half-olive, half-anchovy.”
“I don’t think —”
“Marvin, hi!” Ava said, waving as she skipped toward them. “Right on time.”
“I always am.” Marvin grinned.
Butch turned to his daughter. “Ava, what’s this about?”
“The guys were hungry. Day after day they have to eat lame bologna sandwiches. Sometimes they even forget their lunch. They said you don’t give them enough time to really go anywhere, so I thought I’d bring lunch to them.”
Tippy walked by, grabbing the pizza boxes. “Thanks, Ava!”
“Ava! You can’t just . . .”
Her smile dropped.
Butch sighed, turning to Marvin. “I’m sorry . . . Um, here, let me pay you. What do I owe you?”
“No, we’re good. Ava already paid. See you soon!” And Marvin was gone.
Butch looked at Ava. “Paid for too?”
Ava shrugged. “Your wallet was in the truck, just like Mom told you not to do. I got your credit card and it was done.”
“Why would you do something like this? Without asking me? Four large pizzas? Do you know how much that’s going to cost me?”
Her pupils seemed to grow into orbs of innocence. “I thought it would help.”
“Help what?”
“The guys like you better.”
Butch glanced up. They were under a tree, enjoying their pizza. “It’s that bad?”
“They said they miss the old you.”
“Who said that?”
“I’m reading between the lines.”
Butch smirked. “Are you. Well, listen, Ava, after today, you have to go back to day care.”
“That’s not fair!”
“What’s not fair is you ordering pizza without my permission.”
“You’re being mean!”
“I’m being reasonable, which is something I’m going to have to teach you, I guess.”
“R-e-a-s-o-n-a-b-l!”
“E! You left off the e!”
“Who’s the child now?” Ava said and stomped off.
The guys stared, most of them midchew, but Butch ignored them. A long breath dragged through his lips. He just needed to get through this day without any more incidents.
By later afternoon, he was happy with the progress they’d made. He had a lot to sort through, including what to do about Ava. Dr. Reynolds had been helpful, but Butch didn’t see himself going to therapy regularly. He didn’t have time. Maybe he should send Ava. Or call Beth. He didn’t know. He just needed time to think. And to have a lengthy talk with Ava about her behavior.
Then he saw Tippy rushing toward him. And though Tippy was long legged, he was a slow walker and never hurried for anything. So as Tippy got closer, a feeling of alarm shot through Butch. Was someone hurt? He once had a guy shoot a nail through his foot. Nailed it to the board he was standing on.
“What’s wrong?” Butch asked.
Tippy was nearly out of breath. “I just need to warn you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Before she gets here.”
“Before who gets here?”
“Ava.”
Butch tugged his gloves off. “What now? She promised steak dinners to the crew after work?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“Don’t tell her I told you.”
“What is this, second grade?”
Tippy shrugged. “I like Ava. I don’t want her mad at me. I’ve seen her mad at you. It’s not pretty.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I was standing at the water cooler —I was legitimately thirsty this time —when I heard Ava talking to someone. So I kind of moved toward the fence so I could hear better. Just watching out for her, you know?”
“Who was she talking to?”
“A girl named Bryn. Said she was six. Said she was just watching us build a house, and then Ava warned it was dangerous and she shouldn’t be so close or she was going to have to wear a hard hat, which I thought was cute —”
“Get to the point, Tippy.”
“Anyway, Ava struck up a conversation with her and it came out that she lives with her dad and that they live there.” Tippy pointed over his shoulder, toward the end of the block. “That church. It has a homeless shelter.”
Butch scratched his head. “So what’s the big deal?”
“Well, then she . . .” Tippy glanced up. “Uh-oh, here she comes.”
“Just tell me.”
“I gotta go.”
“Tippy!”
But he was racing the other way, trying to seem inconspicuous but doing a horrible job of it. Butch turned to face Ava, who was moving as innocently as a shark. Once again Butch found his hands on his hips. What was it with that posture? It wasn’t like it did any good or gave him superpowers. He guessed he had to stake his ground while he could.
Ava walked up. “What?”
“What have you been up to?” Butch asked.
“Good things, Daddy. I promise. I’ve been staying out of trouble. I thought about trying out the handsaw earlier when no one was looking, but I didn’t. I swear.”
Butch’s hands dropped to his sides. “Good. Well, listen, we’ve got about another hour and then —”
“But I do have good news!” Ava said.
Butch pulled his gloves back on. “Oh yeah? What’s that? I need some good news today.”
“I met a girl named Bryn. She’s six. And she’s homeless.”
“Oh, wow. That’s too bad. Were you nice to her?”
“I told her my dad builds houses.”
Suddenly the alarm returned. “And . . . ?”
“And I told her you’d build her and her dad one! I said you make them really fast!”
“You what?”
“It doesn’t have to be a big house. I think it’s just the two of them.”
“Ava!” Butch pulled his gloves off again, this time throwing them to the ground. “You can’t go around making big promises like that! I can’t build them a house!”
“Why not?”
“We’re not using LEGOs here, Ava. This kind of thing requires land and materials and people who are willing to work on the house. They obviously don’t have any money to pay for it. How am I supposed to do it?”
Ava looked disappointed, but then her eyes brightened. “We could get money from the church. The church helps homeless people all the time.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Butch’s eye muscle twitched. He was losing his patience. “It’s impossible, okay? Please tell me you didn’t already say something to the dad.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But Bryn is going to.”
Butch turned away from his daughter, scooping up his gloves and throwing a box of nails into the truck bed. Why would she do such a thing? He didn’t look at her. “You’ve put me in a very awkward position.”
“Look! There they are!”
Butch turned. A rail-thin guy walked toward them, wearing a dirty white shirt, or more like it wore him. His jeans were baggy and ripped, not in a stylish sort of way. He held his little girl’s hand as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
“I have to disappoint them now,” Butch said out of the side of his mouth as he tried to stretch out a smile he hoped would erase the embarrassment he was already feeling.
As the two approached, he stepped forward and offered his hand. “Hi. I’m Butch.”
“Keith. This is my daughter, Bryn.”
Butch glanced down at the little girl, whose unkempt hair reflected their obvious desperation. “Hello. Listen, I don’t know what all your daughter told you —”
Keith smiled a little and waved his hand. “It’s okay. I figured there was some mistake. No such thing as a free house.”
“No, there really isn’t. If I could, I’d . . .” Butch’s words trailed off because they seemed so inadequate, so ridiculous. “I’m sorry” fell out of his mouth like a crumb.
“It’s fine. Thanks. Come on, Bryn,” Keith said and began turning back toward the homeless shelter.
“Do you guys need anything? Money?” Butch thought he might have a twenty in his truck somewhere.
“No, we’re okay.”
“We’ve got some lunch over here. Pizza.” It was cold and he felt bad for offering it, but Bryn’s eyes lit with excitement. She looked up at her dad.
Reluctantly he nodded, then looked at Butch. “It’s been a while since she’s had pizza.”
“It’s probably cold. . . .”
“It won’t matter,” Keith laughed.
Butch watched Ava trail Bryn, skipping along behind her. “Yeah, it doesn’t matter to me, either. I lived on cold pizza before I got married.” He glanced at Keith. “I didn’t eat lunch. You hungry?”
Keith nodded.
“Come on, let’s grab some.”
They sat on the woodpile with the kids. Behind them, Bryn was telling Ava how much she liked unicorns. Butch smiled. Perfect. Ava was a unicorn expert.
“So,” Butch said, unsure how he should broach the subject, “landed on tough times?”
Keith slowly ate his pizza. “Yeah. It’s just been me and Bryn for about four months now.”
“Where’s your wife?” Ava suddenly inserted herself into the conversation.
Butch scowled at her. “Ava . . .”
“No, that’s okay,” Keith said, smiling gently at her. “She died. Cancer.” Butch looked away while Keith kept talking. “She had the good job, and I got laid off about a year ago. So we lost the house pretty quick.”
Butch nodded. How easily, he realized, the tables could’ve turned on him like that. He noticed Ava’s shoes . . . brand-new. Her socks, white. Her hair, brushed. She was bathed and her teeth were clean. What would he have done if they’d become homeless? What if it had been Jenny who’d made more money?
“I’m sorry,” Butch said, but it came out more as a mumble because the words sort of stuck in his throat.
“I’m working at a body shop part-time now,” Keith said. “Hoping that’ll turn into something bigger. Of course, it’ll be tough to go full-time. I got nobody to watch Bryn.”
A pause swelled between them, Butch finding it hard to know what to say next. Finally he took a cue from Ava’s chatty side and said, “Listen, are you going to be around here in the next couple of weeks?”
“Yeah, looks like it. We’re staying at the shelter until we can find someplace else.”
“I’d like to talk with you again sometime.”
Butch laughed a little. “I don’t know yet, but I feel like we’re supposed to talk again.”
Keith smiled. “Okay. Sure.” He took Bryn’s hand. She grabbed for another piece of pizza as they walked away and happily ate as Butch and Ava watched them.
Ava crawled down to where Butch sat. “What are you going to do?”
“This is crazy . . .”
Ava squealed and clapped. “You’re going to build him a house!”
Butch shook his head. “There’s no way. I need money and materials and people who’ll work for free.”
“No problem on that one.” Ava jumped from the woodpile and whistled to the workers, the exact way they’d shown her last week. Everyone stopped what they were doing. “Hey! Would you guys work a couple of weekends for free if we could give a house to a homeless family?”
“Sure!” Tippy yelled back.
“Absolutely!” Jack said.
And the rest followed with thumbs-ups and claps even though they knew full well it would be more than a couple of weekends.
“Great! Thanks!” Ava turned back to Butch. “I got your workers. Now I’ll get your money and your materials.”
Butch wanted to protest. Normally he would protest. But something in him said that this tiny bundle of enthusiasm could actually pull it off.
“This is nuts,” he whispered.
“This is fun!” Ava said. Then her face turned serious. “But I’m going to need to use your phone. I need to call the church.” He slowly handed it over. “I promise I won’t download Fruit Ninja.” She bounded off.
“Fruit Ninja is the least of my concerns.” Butch sat on the woodpile, slumped by the burden he’d just taken on, but in awe of Ava. He didn’t know how this was even possible. Was his crew really going to come on weekends? For free?
He closed the pizza box and looked toward the homeless shelter. Keith and Bryn were gone now. Some trash blew down the street and he watched it go, but he was thinking about Jenny.
He’d heard people say they still felt close to their loved ones after death, that “their spirit lives on,” but Butch thought it was just a way to cope with death. Once Jenny was gone, he’d never felt her nearby. Not really. Not in a tangible way.
But as he sat on that woodpile and considered building a house for a homeless man, it was as if Jenny stood beside him, smiling at him, proud of his unusual moment of selflessness. It wasn’t his strongest suit, for sure. Jenny was the unselfish one in the relationship. He mostly just tagged along.
Ava stood near his truck, chatting and using her free hand to talk, like Jenny used to. Butch smiled.
“Okay, Jenny. I’ll do this. I’ll do it for you.”