“What’re you doing?” She went around an armoire to find her father crouched down with a crowbar in hand, studying her antique trunk with a suspicious, or maybe it was devious, expression.
“Who put this here?” he growled at her.
“I did, Dad. It’s mine.”
“No.” He shook his head, grunting as he stood upright. “Miguel did this. He snuck it in here in the night.”
She stepped closer to look him squarely in the eye. “No, Dad. It was me.”
“I saw him. Miguel takes my stuff. Hides my tools. Locks my barn.” He shook the crowbar menacingly. “Bad, bad man.”
“No, honestly, this ismystuff. And I locked the door.”
He just stared at her now, his expression impossible to read. Confusion? Realization? Anger? It was anyone’s guess.
“I locked the door because you keep getting into my stuff.”
“No. Not me. Miguel did it.”
She reached for the crowbar and, to her relief, he didn’t resist. “You broke the lock, Dad. And you came in and messed with my paints.”
“It was ... Miguel.” His tone sounded weaker. Was he questioning himself?
She pointed to the oil paint smears still moist on his hands. “That’s my paint.” She picked up his cane, which had been cast aside, handed it to him, then tugged him by the arm over to where he’d “decorated” the old pine plank wall. “See, Dad, that’s the same paint as what’s on your hands. You did that, and I know it.”
“I didthat?” He suddenly looked very forlorn. “I ... don’t remember.”
“It’s okay.” She softened her tone. “I understand. You want to help, don’t you?”
Eyes downward, he nodded glumly.
“You just want something to do. Right?”
He looked up. “Uh-huh.”
“Do something helpful. Useful. Right?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Well, I need your help. I have something that needs painting.”
His eyes lit up. “I can paint.”
She wasn’t so sure about that but wondered what harm he could do. Especially if she kept him on the backside of the new house. Only the lower half since she was using the only ladder on the other side. The few windows back there were high, and with no landscaping, Dad couldn’t mess up anything on the ground. Even if he slopped the paint on haphazardly, it would get some coverage on, plus it would keep him busy.
As she helped to get him set up with paint tools, she felt a smidgeon of temporary relief. Hopefully he’d stick with it long enough to give everyone a break. The upside for her was how excited Dad had gotten about his new chore. He didn’t even seem to notice that the paint was eliminating the yellow color that he thought resembled bees and honey.
With the radio tuned to a classical station, Jewel commenced painting on the front side. Already this new house was looking much better. After an hour, she went around to check on her dad and was pleasantly surprised to see he’d gotten a large patch fairly well covered. And what he’d missed, she could easily touch up later.
“That looks great, Dad,” she told him. “I hope you’re not wearing yourself out.” She pointed to the lawn chair and water bottle she’d set up nearby. “Remember to take breaks when you need to.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded without looking up, continuing to slowly brush on paint. “I’m okay.”
Pleased by his fortitude, she returned to work on the front. IfCooper came to help in the afternoon, like she’d promised, things should really speed along. Hopefully Aaron’s crew would get the front deck done sometime this week. She could just imagine it with some potted plants and attractive outdoor furniture. And if Aaron delivered on the shutters he’d told her he was making in his garage, the house should be looking rather sweet in no time.
“Hello there.”
She turned around to see Miguel walking toward her with paint tools in hand. “What is this?” She smiled as she went to greet him.
