The Happiness in Between

by Grace Greene

  “I have no idea. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds like a good idea, but I don’t really know anything about stuff like that. Should we ask your dad?”

  She watched the two men shoveling dirt into a plastic tarp.

  Why were they doing this? For a dog? For her?

  “What does he do as a job, Aaron? He’s a contractor, right? What does that mean?”

  “He builds stuff. He’s a general contractor. He makes the plans and coordinates all the workers and craftsmen for whatever is being built. He builds stuff himself, too.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Sure. Houses or rooms or whatever the job is.”

  “He sounds very busy.” Yet he had time for her, for this project. She was glad. She liked him. But building things was his profession, and he should be paid regardless of his talk about helping Barbara and so on.

  “Sometimes he is, sometimes not, especially in the winter. It’s very seasonal.”

  “Seasonal.” He was ten, yet he sounded like a forty-year-old discussing the economic realities of outdoor occupations. She held back a grin. She wouldn’t offend him for the world. “Thirsty? I have tea and lemon water.”

  “Dad’s got his cooler in the truck. I’ll grab a bottle of water.” He put his work aside carefully, placing it on the seat of his chair when he stood. He went over to his dad and John. “Would you like some water?”

  John nodded. Colton looked over at Sandra and called out, “Is there more tea?”

  “Yes, of course.” She was pleased. “I’ll fetch it.”

  The two men had shoveled out the patio area. Colton said, “We’ll fill that in with cleaner dirt. Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a load of dirt coming over this afternoon.”

  “Dirt? How much does dirt cost?”

  John looked up. Perhaps she was too loud, too shrill. She approached Colton and touched his arm to get his attention. She had to be honest with him.

  Colton smiled. “It suits you, you know.”

  “What does?”

  “The hair. Short and kind of jagged. I don’t know what to call women’s hairstyles, but it looks good on you. You’ve probably heard that a lot. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “No, I don’t.” Her hand, of its own accord, reached up and fluffed her short locks. She tried to recapture that telltale hand by crossing her arms. “But you’re changing the subject. Don’t think I can’t see that.”

  His grin grew. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “You are determined. I can see that. Remember what I said about Aaron, and also about Barbara being my friend and wanting to help her out? I hope she’ll be pleasantly surprised. Have you told her what we’re doing?”

  “No.”

  “Good. We’ll surprise her. The dirt comes from the jobsite. It’s got to go somewhere, and it’s fine for me to take a load. Also, I want to suggest some blocks from another jobsite. The homeowner has a relatively new patio that they want updated again already. They’re paying to have the existing stone hauled away. I’ll haul it here, if that works for you.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded.

  With no prior notice to her brain, her arms flew around him, sweat and all, and hugged him. It was a fleeting hug because good sense intervened to save her from extended embarrassment.

  “Thank you,” she said, regaining her self-control and stepping back.

  “You are welcome.”

  She remembered he’d asked for iced tea. Her iced tea.

  “I’ll be right back.” She called over to John, “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, ma’am. Got water.” He waved the plastic bottle Aaron had brought to him.

  Sandra nodded and headed inside to cool off. She held a damp cloth to her face. What was she thinking, flirting with a guy she hardly knew? For heaven’s sake, what was she doing flirting with any guy at all?

  She was still legally married. She needed to make her life work and resolve her issues before inviting anyone else into it.

  She looked out the window and watched John and Colton drag the tarp away from the patio area. The last thing she needed was to jump from Trent into another relationship. On the other hand, she could use a good friend.

  Could they be friends?

  Someone had moved the dog pillow into the deeper shade. Honey had settled on it and was napping. Sammy was stretched out in the grass between Honey and Aaron. Sammy was clearly younger than Honey, and they were friends. Sandra was a little short of those right now.

  Sandra delivered the tea. Colton downed it in one long gulp and then handed her the glass. He went back to work immediately, directing a truck into the backyard and backing up close to the space.

  John came around the truck carrying a roll of black fabric. He unrolled it in the hole, and both men went back to work with shovels, moving the sand from the truck to fill in over the fabric. Sandra went back inside and watched as they added a layer of fine gravel. Then Colton knocked on the door.

  “We have to go now. We’ll be back tomorrow with the stone.” He gestured at the work area. “We’ve covered it with tarp. As much rain as we’ve had, it’s better to be safe.” He’d used the bricks to anchor the tarp. “Can you manage without the fence for a few days?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll bring Honey inside now and keep her leashed when she’s outside for the time being. When this project is done, it’s going to be an amazing change for her.” She looked at Aaron and the dogs enjoying the shade. “Is there anything I can do for Aaron? I want to show my gratitude. Is there anything he enjoys? Movies? Or board games?” She shrugged. “That sounds lame, but I hope you understand my intent.”

  Colton crossed his arms as he considered an answer. “Well, he’s tired of my cooking. I don’t want to assume you can cook. But if you can, he might like a meal prepared by someone who knows what she’s doing.”

  “I’m no chef, but I have a few good dishes in my repertoire.”

  “Well, then, there you go. Perfect. And I’d rather eat someone else’s cooking any day. Hope you don’t mind—Aaron and I are a package set.”

  “What’s a good time for you two?”

  “How about next week? Maybe Friday?”

  “It’s a deal. Anything he really hates?”

  “No kale or liver.”

  “Understood. Most kids don’t like those.”

  “Ah, well, Aaron’s not picky. I’m talking about myself.” He grinned.

  She smiled. “Friday evening, then.”

  “But we’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with the stone, and I hope to get the fence staked out.”

  “Speaking of which, I found a tent stake in the shed. I thought maybe I’d hammer it into the ground under the oak for Honey’s leash . . .”

  “Happy to assist.”

  Sandra’s phone rang. It was Aunt Barbara. Sandra put aside her book and answered.

  Barbara said, “How is she? The vet’s office said she was doing well when you picked her up. I’ll bet being home has fixed her up the rest of the way.”

  “She’s quiet but relaxed,” Sandra assured her. “As the doctor ordered. He wants her to rest while she gets her strength back. She is delighted to be home. She misses you, but we are getting along fine. As a matter of fact, we’re sitting here together, and her chin is on my leg.”

  “Can you put the phone to her ear so I can speak to her?”

  “Of course.” Sandra felt pretty silly about it, and Honey looked at her with a question in her eyes, but when Barbara started speaking, Honey barked twice.

  “I think she’s saying hello back to you.” Sandra laughed.

  “Thank you so much. I’m having such a lovely time with your mother here. I feel so light and carefree knowing you’re taking care of things. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt quite this way.”

  “Aunt Barbara, there’s one thing I need to ask about.”

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “I was going to pay for the vet bill with the money you l
eft.”

  “Well, I understand, and certainly that would’ve been fine, but I wanted to speak with the vet myself, and truly, dear, since I was already on the phone with them, it made sense to go ahead and pay. No reason to run you short. After all, you’re going to be there for another month and a half. You’ve hardly arrived.”

  “I admit it feels longer.”

  “Do you need me to come back?”

  This time she heard real reluctance in Barbara’s tone. She reassured her aunt that she should stay down in Florida. “I’m fine. I’m making some repairs on the fence. Do you mind if I use some of the money for that? I don’t want Honey running off on any further . . . adventures.”

  “Oh, goodness no. We most certainly do not want that. Do whatever you think best, dear.” After a pause, her voice dropped to a lower tone. “Your mama and daddy are doing well down here. But she worries, you know.”

  Sandra was expected to ask, so she did. “Worries about what?”

  “You, my dear.”

  “Then she’s wasting her time.” Sandra cringed at her own change in tone. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well. What has she told you?”

  “Your mom isn’t one to talk about personal stuff, is she? But I can tell. I wish you’d talk to her. Set her mind at ease.”

  “She’s probably worried about Dad and recovering from the move. I don’t want to sound harsh, but sometimes people have problems, Aunt Barbara. Sometimes their own problems and sometimes with each other. It’s not really anyone’s fault. It’s just how it is.” No way was she going into details with her aunt. If Mom wanted to, then that was her choice. “I’m doing great. Really.”

  After a long pause, Aunt Barbara said she understood. Of course, she didn’t. But she and her sister and her sister’s husband all had one another. Sandra was the odd one out.

  They said good night, and she was pleased overall. She’d gotten her aunt’s approval for the garden improvement project without spoiling Colton’s surprise. Pretty good deal.

  As for being the odd one out, she was feeling better about that. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad place to be, after all, especially once she got past the hurt feelings.

  Sandra walked Honey outside. Because of the hole Colton and John had dug by the back door, they went out through the front, much as she did that first night here with Sammy. Honey stopped at the top of the stairs and didn’t want to go down. She sniffed at the night and whined.

  “Really, Honey? You can do this.” She scratched her head in encouragement.

  Honey moved like her joints ached. Coming back up the steps was a little better. When they made it back inside, Sandra pushed at the dog’s sides and patted her hips, but there was no indication of pain. Sandra held Honey’s muzzle and looked into her eyes and nostrils. As if she’d know what doggy congestion looked like? Sigh.

  As far as she could see, Honey seemed fine. A little slow. An older dog who was still getting back her health.

  Sandra locked the door and turned on the front porch light and the pole light back by the shed.

  It was a slow trip up the stairs, but Honey was intent. She wanted to go upstairs. Honey went down the hallway and turned directly into Barbara’s room.

  Sandra hadn’t expected that.

  She stood in her room and called to Honey, softly and with invitation. Honey sat next to Barbara’s bed and stared back at Sandra.

  Fine. Honey could sleep in Barbara’s room. Sandra would leave the doors open. Honey could come in or not, as she chose, and hopefully Sandra would be able to hear her if she started breathing heavily or had any problems.

  Sandra found a knee-length T-shirt in her aunt’s closet that would work for a nightgown.

  “There you go, Honey. Now I’ll even smell like my aunt, right? Not that you are invited on the bed. No, indeed.” She kept up a running chatter, hoping that Honey would settle, but she didn’t. The dog sat there. Waiting.

  Then it hit Sandra. Honey’s sleeping pillow was still outside under the oak tree.

  “Wait here, Honey.”

  She put on her shoes, then stood at the kitchen door, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She turned on the backdoor light, which was helpful, at least as far as being able to pick her way through the excavation. There was no bold moon tonight, but the pole light lit up the open area of the yard, giving it a fishbowl feeling. It also cast long, dark shadows.

  She’d left the door open a couple of inches. She didn’t want to risk locking herself out, and, being honest, she might want a fast retreat back inside. She told herself there was no reason to feel unnerved out here. The smell of ashes in the fire pit reminded her of the fun the evening before. It was all good, right?

  As she touched the dog pillow, she heard a short, sharp bark. She grabbed the pillow and spun around. Honey was several yards away. Staring. Sandra followed her gaze. She was staring at the woods to her right.

  Creatures lived in the woods. This could be innocent. A raccoon. A squirrel. Any small critter might be on the move tonight. Honey barked again.

  Sandra moved toward the house, clutching the pillow and keeping Honey between herself and the woods—and whatever might be the subject of her attention. She kept moving, mindful of the flashlight man she’d seen a few days ago. A man who hadn’t been Colton. As for Trent . . . anything was possible, but it seemed he’d be more likely to drive up to the house than to lurk in the dark woods. Trent hated the outdoors. As she reached the house, she called out, “Come, girl. Come to me, Honey.”

  The dog gave one last bark and then trotted obediently to the door. Sandra saw a small animal, maybe a raccoon, run out of the woods across the yard.

  “Is that who you were barking at?”

  Inside, with the door locked, her tension eased. Not a big deal after all. A woodland critter was to blame for the excitement. But she left the outside lights burning.

  She knelt and hugged Honey. She expected to find tension, but there was none. She seemed unconcerned. That encouraged Sandra. Nothing to worry about.

  Honey watched Sandra put the sleep pillow in her room. The dog walked over and sat next to it for a few minutes, watching Sandra.

  “That’s where it belongs now, Honey. Go ahead and settle down.”

  Honey did. But Sandra sat there in bed, upright and wide awake. The adrenaline rush caused by a dog growling into the dark night wasn’t diminishing. Honey was sleeping well. Sandra was the one here with a problem.

  She eased out of bed and went to the window. Honey continued snoring, sleeping undisturbed.

  Sandra lingered at the window overlooking the backyard. Then she stood for a few minutes at Barbara’s window overlooking the front. No one seemed to be wandering out there tonight.

  She hadn’t seen Trent since yesterday. So much had happened. Could it really have been only a day ago? She hoped he’d gone home and back to his job at O’Toole & Sons.

  As she turned away, the ambient light in the room hit the bed and the items she’d left scattered there. She folded a pair of jeans and hung a blouse back on a hanger. There was the manila folder. It had come from one of the drawers, but she wasn’t sure which.

  Choose a likely drawer, she thought, but when she went to put the folder there, she fumbled it in the poor lighting. When the corner of the folder hit the floor, a few papers spilled out.

  Not her business, but she needed better light to fit the pages back in properly. She was about to close the blinds when the light from the window touched the headline. It was impossible not to see the tall, bold letters.

  Clifford Shoemaker Deceased at 65.

  Still in the semidarkness, she sat heavily on the corner of Barbara’s bed, her knees suddenly weak. She and Trent had been living in Arizona at the time. Their second marriage had begun with a new job for Trent at an engineering firm that would give him greater opportunity than he’d had before. It was a fresh start for the two of them. Nothing was holding her here in Virginia, including her parents. After expressing their doubts,
they stopped voicing them, but Sandra could see and feel them in their eyes. Part of what had drawn her to that second try was the idea of a whole new environment, new friends, new everything. Two years later, they were back in Virginia, this time in Martinsville. The Arizona job hadn’t worked out, and Trent was looking for another fresh start, but that was after her uncle had passed.

  She’d seen her uncle maybe once since the first wedding. She and Trent had never made the trip out here to the country, and Uncle Cliff didn’t like to leave the homeplace. The few family gatherings seemed to happen when she and Trent were elsewhere or otherwise tied up. When her uncle died, her mother called in Arizona, saying, “Uncle Cliff died. They found him this morning.”

  “I didn’t know he was sick,” Sandra said, sitting abruptly. “What happened?”

  “It was unexpected. They think it was a heart attack.”

  “When is the service?”

  “In a day or so. We don’t have that nailed down yet. It will be small and quiet. Family only. You don’t need to fly home.”

  Sandra had been relieved and hurt at the same time. She exchanged good-byes with her mother and then told Trent. He agreed with her mother.

  Trent said, “It’s a long way, and it’s expensive. For what? A short service? Besides, you have that big job interview you’re so hot for this morning.” He was smiling. He was also speaking in a loud, sarcastic voice. He’d been against her getting a job from the start. “You need to worry about that job, not some funeral for an uncle you rarely saw and hardly knew.”

  She was already dressed, wearing the outfit she’d bought after their disagreement about the motorcycle. Except for putting on her shoes, she was ready, but it wasn’t time to leave yet. She had a couple of minutes to think this through. She’d walked away, wordless, deep in thought and maybe a little in shock, out to the patio. The Arizona sun was kind that early in the morning. The pool was a few feet away. It was a small pool with a little waterfall, and she loved the sound of the water cascading over a rock wall. Usually it calmed her, but today, with Mom telling her not to bother coming east for the funeral, in effect that the family didn’t need her, her heart ached. It seemed like the greatest blow of all. True, it would’ve been nicer for her uncle if she’d visited more while he was alive, and she felt plenty of guilt about that, but it should take a family for a proper, final send-off. A family. But Uncle Cliff had been correct back at the schoolhouse years before when he drew the diagram in the dirt. There was family at the heart of it, and there was family on the fringe. At best, Sandra was fringe.