Tiny House on the Hill

by Celia Bonaduce

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, she said as she pulled away. “What happened?”

  “Just before the lights went out, I saw you were on a collision course with Andre,” Keefe said. “Then, the lights went out.”

  Summer looked down. Andre was in his Sphinx position right next to her. He may have tripped her, but he hadn’t budged.

  “I’m a bit of an expert of tripping over that horse,” Keefe said.

  “I’ll be more careful,” Summer said, glaring at Andre.

  “I better be going,” Keefe said.

  “I’m sure Queenie wouldn’t mind if you waited out the rain,” Summer said—meaning she wouldn’t mind if he waited out the rain.

  “I’ll be fine,” Keefe said. “We’d never get anywhere if we waited for the rain in Washington to let up.”

  “Okay, then,” Summer said. “I guess Shortie and I will head upstairs.”

  Summer was rattled by the sensations that ran through her body. She could still feel the imprints of his fingers on her skin. Staying away from Keefe was going to be impossible. She scooped up Shortie and cast a glance at Andre.

  Good dog!

  Chapter 13

  Summer awoke, sprawled on the queen-sized, wrought iron bed. She’d gotten used to sleeping in Wal-Mart parking lots on her little blow-up mattress in the caboose’s loft, so opening her eyes to a twelve-foot ceiling was a little disorienting. She looked out the window. The rain had stopped during the night. It was barely dawn. Queenie would be up within an hour. Summer leapt quietly out of bed. She wanted to get the caboose up on Flat Top Hill with as little fanfare as possible. If everything went according to plan, by the time Queenie came down for breakfast, the caboose would be perched on the hill. As she pulled on a sweater, she wondered if Keefe came to the big kitchen for breakfast as well as dinner. Annoyed the thought even entered her mind, Summer brushed her hair furiously.

  Then put on some lip gloss.

  Shortie raised his head from a mound of blankets on the bed. He blinked sleepily as Summer headed toward the door.

  “You stay,” Summer said.

  Shortie put his head down and was asleep in seconds.

  That was easy!

  Summer’s feet crunched loudly through wet gravel as she dug through her felted purse looking for keys. After nearly two weeks using the bag, she realized she needed to make a few alterations to the design. Not only was the bag pulled out of shape (it folded in on itself, hiding keys, cell phone, wallet, and dog treats in waves of fabric), the straps were stretched so taut that they were more like ropes, which cut into her shoulder like a bra after a long day. When she finally located her keys, she was standing in front of Big Red and the caboose.

  As she drifted off to sleep the night before, the thought of driving the truck up Flat Top seemed simple. But now, looking from the truck to the hill, the idea seemed preposterous. She knew it must be her imagination, but did the truck and the tiny house somehow get bigger during the night? They appeared absolutely enormous.

  The sun was almost up. She stared at the truck, then walked around the caboose. She made sure the hitch was tight. Biting her lip, Summer couldn’t think of any more stall tactics. She looked up at the hill. It seemed to have grown too.

  Maybe I should go walk up the hill and see what I’m in for.

  Pleased with her diversion, she headed toward Flat Top. She passed the garage, and Keefe’s second-floor apartment. She crept quietly past. Bakers were always up before the sun. But his windows were dark. He must still be asleep.

  Slacker.

  Flat Top rose up behind the house and garage, a dark thumbprint smudged on the pink sky. Summer held her breath and headed up the hill that held so much of her past and her future. The lane that served as a road to the top of Flat Top appeared to be in good shape, much to Summer’s relief. Although it was narrow, it was wide enough for the caboose. It also looped around the hill in a spiral, so the incline was not harrowing.

  I can do this.

  It was easy to keep the flames of outrage kindled three thousand miles away, but the familiarity of every step to the top brought pain and regret about the past as well as anticipation of the future. Even if Grandpa Zach had been instrumental in her breakup with Keefe, shouldn’t she have given him a chance to explain himself? After all, even if his advice had been misguided, it came from love and a need to protect her, didn’t it? And of course, Keefe could have ignored him. She would never be able to make amends with her grandfather now. She wiped away a tear. He felt so close.

  Summer stopped in her tracks. A scratching sound was coming from the top of the hill. She hadn’t crested the top, so she couldn’t see what was making the noise. The sun would be up in a few minutes, but right now the world was still full of shadows. Washington remained a wild place. Her childhood was spent glimpsing bears, moose, wolves, and bobcats. She’d grown up with a healthy respect for animals and knew it was best to avoid any large animal that might be less than happy to have a close encounter with a human being.

  She stopped and listened. She tried to identify the scraping noise. Claws? Very possibly. So…not a moose. And the sound was loud. That eliminated any of the cats. It was probably a bear—grizzly or black? It was important to know the difference in case a bear attacked. An unlikely occurrence, but to a child of the city, the wild creatures of the Pacific Northwest took some getting used to. Grandpa said fear and lack of understanding was what led to most bear attacks.

  Her grandfather had drilled into her the difference in the bears: both breeds would rather avoid trouble than get into a battle with a human. But in the remote possibility a bear, surprised or defensive, decided to act aggressively, grizzlies and blacks reacted very differently to the stress of encountering a human. Summer knew she couldn’t rely on identifying the bear by color. In that ironic way of Mother Nature, both breeds spanned the spectrum from light brown to black. The grizzly, usually larger, but not always. But there were distinctions: grizzlies had humped shoulders and a dished-in face, while the black bear had a more elongated nose. Summer was pretty sure she didn’t want to get close enough to be making judgments on a bear’s profile.

  The important thing was to remain calm, but determine which kind of bear she was dealing with. If it is was a black bear, conventional wisdom suggested that you stand tall and make lots of noise. An aggressive stance was the best bet. On the other hand, if it was a grizzly, remain still and if things go really badly, play dead. Staring down at a bear was not the time to confuse them.

  “And don’t forget,” Grandpa Zach had cautioned, “never underestimate a bear. Bears are the most intelligent of North American mammals.”

  The scraping suddenly stopped. Summer’s heart pounded. She hoped the bear had read the literature about not wanting to confront humans and just go back into the trees. But black bear or grizzly, she knew she shouldn’t run. The sun was coming up over Flat Top, to her disadvantage. She could see something move.

  “Summer?” a voice called from out of the shadows.

  For one terror-stricken moment, she thought the bear was calling her name.

  Talk about intelligent!

  In an instant, she realized it was Keefe.

  “What are you doing up here?” they asked at the same time.

  As Summer made her way up the hill, the sun crested on Flat Top. Keefe was standing at the top, smiling down at her. She might have done better tangling with a bear.

  “What’s going on?” Summer said.

  “I knew you were going to bring the caboose up here this morning and I wanted to get the slab ready,” he said.

  “Slab?” Summer asked.

  She noticed he was carrying a rake, which accounted for the scratching noises. But that was the only part of this equation that made any sense.

  “I’ll show you,” Keefe said.

&nbs
p; Summer followed Keefe up the hill. Was he intentionally blocking her view? Was he deliberately being annoying?

  “Check it out,” Keefe said, stepping aside so she could see around him.

  Summer gasped. She looked at Keefe in confusion. Two months ago, she would have had no idea what she was looking at, but the cement slab that greeted her now was the most beautiful sight she could imagine. Big, level, with a driveway at one end and full hookup—full hookups, no more boondocking!—on one side.

  “I don’t understand,” Summer said.

  “Your grandfather had this idea that he might buy an RV and put it up on the hill,” Keefe said.

  “Really?” Summer asked. “I know he always talked about building something up here, but he never mentioned an RV.”

  “Times change,” Keefe said, not looking at her. “He was getting the itch to travel and thought he’d kill two birds with one stone. He and Queenie could take the RV around the country when they felt like it, and he could use it as a getaway when he was at the farm.”

  It broke Summer’s heart that her grandfather never achieved his dream and it worried her that he might not want her to infringe on it now that she was here. Keefe appeared to read her mind.

  “I think Zach would be very happy to pass this on to you, Summer,” he said quietly.

  Summer couldn’t speak. She looked out over the farm. The view was as spectacular as she remembered. The peaks of the Victorian looked like a tiny mountain range from this vantage point. Morning fog still hovered over the lake. Queenie’s flowers were waking with the sun. She wasn’t sure her grandfather would have wanted to pass this on to her; after all, she’d abandoned the farm. Still, she desperately wanted it to be true.

  “I won’t pretend this isn’t an amazing surprise,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “I was hoping that would be your reaction.”

  “What did you think my reaction would be?” Summer asked, taken aback.

  “I had no idea,” Keefe said. “I stopped guessing what you think about things a very long time ago.”

  “What are you doing up here, anyway?” Summer asked.

  “I just thought I’d clean up a little,” Keefe said. “Nobody’s been up here in a long time.”

  “Thanks for that,” Summer said, trying to get her emotions under control.

  Why was every encounter with Keefe so damn hard?

  “No problem,” Keefe said, his tone softening.

  He seemed to want to calm things down as well.

  “Do you think the hookups still work?” She asked, looking down at the dirty-but-pristine electrical, water and sewer connections.

  “I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Keefe said. “Only one way to find out.”

  “How?”

  “Let’s get the caboose up here and hook her up,” Keefe said.

  “Sounds good,” Summer couldn’t help herself, it was good to be partners in crime with Keefe again. “I’ve got my keys.”

  She reached in her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Keefe put out his hand. Summer furrowed her brow.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The keys,” Keefe said.

  “What about them?”

  “I can’t very well move the truck unless you give them to me.”

  “I drove all the way from Kentucky, you know,” Summer said. “I think I can—”

  Stop! Stop! Stop! She willed herself to not say it, but she couldn’t help it. She finished the thought: “I think I can drive it up a little hill.”

  “Suit yourself,” Keefe said.

  Summer turned on her heels and headed down the hill. She had no idea if she could drive the truck up the hill, get the caboose in place and line it up to the hookups. But thanks to her big mouth, she’d have to try. Given her history with Keefe, she’d have to succeed.

  “I think I’ll just stay up here,” Keefe yelled to her retreating back. “Help guide you?”

  Summer did not like the tone of his voice. Was he making fun of her? She turned around and looked at him. He threw up his arms in a gesture of surrender.

  “Unless you can drive, look behind you and beside you while balancing a heavy load all at the same time,” he said. “Then I’m good. I’ll just go brush my teeth.”

  He was making fun of her! She wanted to tell him to go to hell. On the other hand, she probably could use some assistance.

  Say it, Summer. Say it!

  “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I probably could use another set of eyes.”

  She was too far away from him to see the smirk that she just knew was spreading across his face. She trudged down the hill, checked the hitch and hopped in the cab of the truck. Summer glanced at the kitchen, hoping that Queenie wasn’t witnessing the move. But there was no movement from the house.

  She turned the key. The engine purred. Big Red was ready to give it her all.

  Chapter 14

  Summer gripped the steering wheel with such force, her knuckles turned white. She was going to get Big Red and the caboose up Flat Top Hill or die trying! She took a few deep breaths and started to drive. She went slowly, inching her way up. She felt as if she were climbing the Rockies while dragging the Empire State Building. She let out a sigh of relief as she rounded the last switchback. Keefe was standing on the slab with a somber look on his face.

  He can’t believe I did this!

  She rolled down the window and said, in her breeziest voice:

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at her wheels. “I don’t think you can get the truck over the slab at this angle.”

  Her breeziness blew away.

  “What do you mean?” she said, pulling on the emergency brake and getting out of the truck.

  “You’ll need to back down the hill to the last curve and come up again,” Keefe said. “Turn the wheels to the left as you approach and then straighten out.”

  What does that even mean?

  There was no way she was going to put Big Red in reverse. Summer had avoided that dreaded maneuver on her entire trip across the country. She looked at Keefe. Perhaps he somehow knew she wouldn’t back down, either down the hill or from this challenge. Maybe she didn’t really need to start over at all and he was just calling her bluff.

  Two could play at that game.

  “I think I can get the truck up the slab,” she said.

  Keefe’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

  “Yeah,” Summer continued, as she walked around the truck. “I think I can just go for it. I’ve had a lot of experience, you know.”

  “Be my guest,” Keefe said, backing away from the slab.

  Summer got back in Big Red. She put the truck in low and slowly crawled up the slab. She snuck a look at Keefe, who was watching the wheels. He grimaced just before the passenger front tire slipped off the slab. Big Red shook dramatically, then settled, listing violently to the right. Keefe ran behind Big Red then whacked the back of the truck.

  “It’s okay,” he called to her. “The hitch is holding. The caboose is still solid.”

  Summer willed herself not to cry in humiliation. If Keefe Devlin let her go ten years ago because she needed to mature and become a woman of the world, she could not give in to this insipid damsel in distress situation. She needed to save herself!

  I’m going to have to put the truck in reverse.

  The thought panicked her. But she had no choice. It was either that or admit failure and turn over the keys to Keefe. And turning over the keys was not an option.

  “You were right,” she said casually and graciously. “I probably should have started over. But I’ll just, you know, throw this baby in reverse and head in again.”

  “Are you sure?” Keefe asked, doubtfully. “I can take it from here if you want.”

>   Summer climbed clumsily out of the tilted truck. She faced him, hands on hips.

  “You know what your problem is?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know I had a problem,” he said. “You’re the one with the sideways truck.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said, wagging her finger in the air. “I mean, you know exactly what’s going on here, right?”

  “What exactly is going on here?” he asked slowly.

  “You’re threatened by my competence.”

  Keefe looked again at the truck hanging off the slab. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here,” he said.

  Summer got back in the truck and in a fury, slammed Big Red into reverse. Miraculously, she got both wheels back on the slab. She backed off the slab and started over. She pulled forward and all four wheels sat squarely on the concrete. Summer exhaled. Maybe she should get angry more often! She looked at Keefe, waiting to see his stunned expression, but he seemed pleased, which took the edge off her victory.

  “Nice work,” he said, giving her a thumbs up. “Keep going!”

  “Keep going?” Summer asked.

  “The truck isn’t going on the slab,” he said. “The caboose is. Right?”

  “Of course,” Summer snorted dismissively, as if it had just slipped her mind.

  But something had clicked in her. She knew she could do it.

  And she did.

  Having proven herself, she and Keefe worked together putting plywood under the wheels and blocking them; unhitching the caboose and connecting it to the electric, water and sewer hookups. After testing, all the hookups worked!

  “That’s about it,” Keefe said, dusting his hands on his jeans. “Nice job!”

  He put out his hands for a double high five. Summer raised her hands, but as their palms met, Keefe laced his fingers through hers. They stood frozen, not saying a word. The earth had no sound. A distant yapping brought them back. They released their fingers at exactly the same moment. Summer turned toward the noise—it was Shortie, barking his little brains out. He was following Andre, who was loping up the hill toward them at triple Shortie’s speed. The distraction of the dogs was a godsend. Keefe tussled with Andre as they waited for Shortie. When the little dog reached the top, she scooped him up. Summer wanted something—even a writhing, slobbering dog—between her and Keefe.