Say That Again (25 page)

Once Hannah was secured in her booster, he opened the passenger side door. Echo hopped into the co-pilot’s seat, his ears perked forward. He’d enjoyed trailing along with Hunter while Hannah had been in school. The frequent comings and goings of visitors at the clinic had made him far more accepting of strangers than he had been when they first got him. They would never know his history, but Hunter guessed that his early months had not been good ones. It was a testament to the dog’s resiliency that he had not only attached himself to a child who was sometimes challenging, but that he carried himself with such a calm and contemplative air. Echo was like an old soul who had discovered his calling, that of the family dog and a child’s best friend. A simple calling, yet a noble one.

After Halo, he’d been too busy with vet school for a dog. Then along came Maura, then Hannah ... Later, fate had delivered this black and white Aussie right to him, just when he was most needed. Now, Hunter couldn’t imagine being without a dog. So many times, he’d look at Echo, Echo would look back at him, and he’d get this powerful sense that he’d known the dog far longer than Echo had been alive.

Hunter pulled into the end of Heck’s driveway and turned his truck off. “This’ll only take a minute,” he said to Hannah, before getting out. Then he walked over to where Heck was eyeing his T-post. On the ground beside him was a smashed in mailbox.

“Leaning a little to your left,” Hunter said.

Laying the post-driver on the ground, Heck dragged his jacket sleeve across his forehead to mop away the sweat. “So you stopped in to critique my post-driving abilities?”

“Actually, I came to warn you that with that flimsy thing, you’ll probably end up retrieving your mailbox from the ditch on the far side of the road by next week.”

“Is vandalism a favorite pastime around here?”

Hunter shrugged. “I suppose there are worse things a teenager could do besides whack at mailboxes with baseball bats.”

“So what do you suggest? A P.O. box?”

Smirking, Hunter raised a finger. “You know, I never thought of that. I suppose if you went downtown every day, it’s a good option. But you don’t seem like the sort to me who gets out much.”

“I worked in downtown Louisville for thirty-seven years at a pharmaceutical company. I’ve been out as much as I ever want to be. Battling rush hour traffic on a daily basis was not my ideal life. Retirement has its perks.”

Now it made sense why he’d move out into the middle of nowhere.

“A pharmaceutical company, huh? So you were a pharmacist?”

“Research chemist.”

“Ah, now that’s interesting.”

“Not really.” Heck picked up the post-driver again. “Now, do you have a level with you? Because right now this post will have to do. Until I can hire a handyman to —”

“I can help you.”

“Help me?” Heck looked at him as if Hunter were suggesting they go tubing down the Amazon.

“Sure. I can run to town, pick up a wooden post, some cement mix, a steel mailbox, some two-by-fours ... What we do in these parts is just build the sucker so sturdy that it takes the fun out of it. Last thing some drunken teenager wants to do is explain to his parents why he’s in the emergency room with a broken arm. It won’t be pretty, but —”

“They’re drunk when they do this?”

“Or high. Or both.”

“And exactly how do you know this?”

“It’s been going on since I was in high school.”

Heck eyed him suspiciously.

“No, I never ...” Hunter waved his hands before him, but Heck was already marching off toward his garage, the post-driver propped on his shoulder, making him lean to that side.

He was about to follow Heck into his garage when he noticed Echo with his nose pressed to the inside of the truck window, steaming it up. Hannah was watching him, too. He let them both out, then took Hannah’s hand and went to the garage. Who knew how long this was going to take? Heck hadn’t answered him yet and he wasn’t leaving until he either said, ‘Sure, thanks’ or ‘Leave me the hell alone’.

The overhead door was closed, but the side entrance was open, so Hunter went in there, Echo trotting close behind them.

He wasn’t expecting what he saw: canvases on easels, shelves full of paints and paint remover, brushes, palettes ... Most of the canvases were blank, some had sheets over them, but there was one in the corner with a photo clipped at the top of the easel.

Tugging at his hand, Hannah led Hunter toward it. It was the first time in days that she’d interacted, and so he let go of her hand as he took everything in. There were a few garden tools clustered up front by the overhead door, but for the most part Heck had turned his garage into a studio.

Hannah reached out and touched the painting before Hunter could stop her.

“Hannah, no!”

“It’s all right, really.” Heck set the post driver against the wall. “As long as her hands are clean, I don’t mind. She’s just curious. Besides, it’s dry.”

Hannah brushed her fingertips over the swirls of color, tracing a streak of pink from one end to the other. Then she stepped in close, her face just inches from the painting.

Hunter stared in awe. The scene unfolding in dashes of paint was of a Western landscape with geologic formations, awash in reds and oranges beneath a cloudless sky. It was stunningly beautiful.

“Zion National Park,” Heck said from behind them. “My wife and I used to travel during summer break. She was a teacher, but at heart she always wanted to be a photographer. I dabbled in painting over the years, but it wasn’t until I retired last year that I took it seriously.” His eyes softened as he gazed at the photo above the painting. “Never put your dreams off, thinking you’ll get around to them someday. You never know what could happen. There might not even be a someday.”

But Heck, Hunter noticed, wasn’t looking at the photo anymore. His sights were fixed toward the window, gazing off into the distance. Certainly, Hunter had wanted to know more about Heck — he was his neighbor now, after all, and might be for years more — but this moment was almost too personal, hinting at emotional wounds not fully healed. There was only one thing to do at a delicate time like this — change the topic.

“So, uhhhh,” Hunter began clumsily, “I can run to the hardware store right now, if you want. Be back in forty-five minutes. Have your new mailbox up before suppertime. Sound okay? You can just reimburse me for supplies. The labor’s free.”

A distinct ‘V’ formed between Heck’s dark, bushy eyebrows. “Why?”

“Why what?” Hunter repeated, baffled.

“Why would you do that for me? Any handyman I know would charge twenty-five dollars an hour. Or more.”

“You must’ve come from a rich neighborhood. Anyway, folks around here look out for each other. We don’t keep track of favors.”

“Just the same, I would feel obligated to return the favor.”

“Only if you wanted to. I won’t hold you to it, I promise.”

Once again, Heck hadn’t really answered him. By that point Hunter figured he probably felt awkward asking for help, so Hunter decided he was going to do it anyway.

He was getting ready to gather Hannah up when he realized she’d drifted to another easel and had lifted up the sheet covering it. This one was of a valley filled with rows of tulips. Two gardeners were bent over the rows, gathering flowers into baskets at their hips.

Echo lay down beside her, his chin resting on his paws. Hannah began pressing her fingertips to the dabs of paint. Before Hunter could reach her to pull her hand away, she’d lifted a dry brush from the easel ledge.

He plucked the brush from her and set it back on the easel. “Come on, Hannah. We have to go to the store.”

“She can stay,” Heck said.

“What? Why?”

“I’m sure your errands will go more quickly if she stays here.”

Heck had him there. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it would take a good while longer. “Are you sure? I mean, you can’t let her out of your sight, not even for a minute.”

Heck brought Hannah a stool, then a little wooden tool box filled with brushes. He propped a piece of thick paper onto a small easel and then retrieved tubes of paint from a waist-high shelf.

“Acrylics,” he told Hunter. “They dry fairly quickly, but they’re more forgiving than watercolors. Not as messy as oils, though.”

Hannah had already grabbed a brush and was waiting raptly for Heck to squeeze the paints onto a palette for her.

“If you hurry up,” Heck prodded, as he pulled a stool up beside Hannah, “she won’t even know you’re gone. But if you’re worried, you can leave the dog here. From what I’ve seen, he’s rarely more than ten feet from her unless he’s with you.”

Hunter didn’t move.

Taking a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, Heck set them halfway down on his nose and peered at Hunter over the top of the rims. “Look, I noticed her sitting on your parents’ porch all day. She didn’t look happy. This interests her. I think if you tried to drag her away from it before she had a chance to try it, you’d have a very disgruntled young lady on your hands.”

He couldn’t have been more right. And it
had
been a hectic day. A few minutes by himself in the truck or at the store would be a welcome gift.

Besides, by the looks of things, Hannah had already made the decision for him.

Maybe school wasn’t what she needed to grow and thrive. Maybe what she needed ... was this.

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—o00o—

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H
eck stood just inside the front door of Hunter and Jenn’s house, rain dripping from his boots onto the already soggy welcome mat, a pumpkin pie cradled in his arms.

“Not my best crust. It’s a little brown around the edges. I left it in the oven a few minutes too long.” He looked down at it, then grimaced slightly as he held it out to Jenn. “So I made an apple pie, too. It’s on the back seat of my car. I had too much to carry to walk here. Besides ...” — he glanced out the front picture window — “it’s a little damp out there.”

“Why, thank you, Heck. Crust looks about right to me. You’re too hard on yourself.” Jenn took the pie from him, then brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Oh my. It smells heavenly. If this is subpar for you, I can’t imagine what your best is like. Maybe you should be on
Top Chefs
?” She ducked into the kitchen to set it on the counter, passing Hunter.

“Hey there, neighbor!” Hunter gripped Heck’s hand to shake it. Heck practically cringed at the contact, so Hunter let go. He figured when he asked him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple of weeks ago that Heck would offer up some excuse not to come, but surprisingly he’d accepted. Maybe the guy did crave some human interaction after all? “We saved a place for you at the head of the table.”

“Uh, well, I ...” Heck pulled at the fingers of his gloves, but not like he was going to remove them completely. More like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Now, you aren’t going to beg out on us, are you? Really, everyone’s been looking forward to having you.” That probably classified as a little white lie. When Hunter told Jenn he’d invited him, she’d been a little annoyed that he’d done so without asking her first. Hunter had played the pity card, stating that he knew Heck was going to be alone that day and inviting him was the neighborly thing to do. Maura had wrinkled her nose at the news and mumbled something about ‘weird’ and ‘a loner’. Hannah had expressed little more than mild curiosity, which in her case was a positive sign. It was going to be awkward, Hunter knew that. But the only way to get to know people was to get past those initial stages. Besides, Hunter had an ulterior motive in inviting him. “You do remember what we discussed, right?”

“Word for word,” Heck said. “When do you plan on bringing it up?”

“No idea.” Hunter held out his hands. When Heck didn’t budge, Hunter prompted him. “Can I take your coat?”

“I was going to say I need to get the other pie, but it’s a veritable Noah’s flood out there.”

“There’s an umbrella in the basket behind you.”

Heck turned around to find Echo sniffing the umbrella, as if to point it out for him. “Oh, thank you.” He unfastened the snap and opened it partway. “I’ll be back in a moment, then.”

Just as he went out the door, Jenn appeared at Hunter’s side. “Okay, I wasn’t thrilled at first that you’d invited an extra guest for Thanksgiving without asking me first, but on second thought, I’m glad you did. That pumpkin pie looks and smells delectable. Did you see the fancy crust? And he’s got another pie in the car? The man must’ve been up before dawn, baking away.” She peered through the sidelight of the front door, her hand on the knob, waiting to open the door for Heck. “Besides, the table does seem kind of empty without Brad and Lise taking up their usual spots.”

“It was the only opening they had to get away until who knows when.”

“Yeah, I get that. And in their shoes I’d probably have done the same thing. Anyway, makes me feel kind of good that he’s here instead of sitting alone with a TV dinner, watching the Macy’s parade. The kids should get to know him better. Maura, for one, needs to give her imagination a rest.”

Which was exactly what Hunter wanted to happen. Heck was a little icy around the edges, but beneath that cool exterior was a decent guy. He was sure of it. All he had to do was give Jenn the chance to see the same man he’d come to know recently. So far, so good.

Echo waited by the front door until Heck came back in, but Hunter suspected it was more because of the yummy-smelling food Heck was bringing in than anything.

Once Heck was settled at the big dining room table, Jenn and Maura started bringing the feast out while Hunter tried, in vain, to engage him in conversation. Heck was a master at one-word answers. Hannah performed her usual chore of laying out the silverware beside each plate in order of length — knife, fork, spoon.

The spread was impressive: an eighteen-pound turkey with orange-cranberry-walnut stuffing, garlic mashed potatoes, skillet-cooked green beans with bacon, Greek salad, flaky biscuits, and a bowl of berries and real whipped cream. Hunter was proud of himself. Admittedly, he’d gone a bit overboard, but he’d relished the endeavor. Thanksgiving dinner would usually have been prepared by his mom, but with her and Brad being out of town, Hunter had stepped in, chasing Jenn back to bed that morning so she could get some much needed rest. It was his first turkey and amazingly, he hadn’t under- or overcooked it.