"Mark. I'm Chloe's dad." He gestured toward his daughter, who was already running toward Emma's porch. "First time with the Saturday tutoring thing?"
"Yeah. First time."
"Emma's genuinely great at this. Chloe's reading level jumped two full grades in just a couple of months working with her." He checked his watch and grimaced. "Well, I've got errands stacked up. You planning on staying, or...?"
"Haven't fully decided yet."
He looked mildly surprised by that answer but just shrugged agreeably. "Your call. Whatever works. See you at pickup then."
He gave Chloe a quick kiss on her head, waved at Emma who'd appeared in the doorway, and drove off. The mom from the SUV executed the same efficient routine, dropped her son Tommy with a brief hug, exchanged a friendly wave with Emma, and disappeared down the dirt road in under two minutes. Streamlined. Normal. Functional adults doing functional adult things.
I was none of those things.
Emma stood in the doorway, smiling that sunshine smile that did complicated things to my cardiovascular system. Soft gray leggings, an oversized cream sweater that looked incredibly soft, and honey hair in its characteristic messy bun. She looked cozy and warm and beautiful and completely unaware of the chaos she was causing in my chest.
"Good morning, everyone! Come on inside where it's warm."
The other kids filed eagerly into her cabin. Sarah hung back, her small hand tightening around mine with suddenuncertainty. She watched the other children disappear into Emma's living room, a flicker of anxiety crossing her face.
Emma's perceptive gaze met mine over Sarah's head. She saw the hesitation too.
"You're more than welcome to stay, Cole," she said casually, like it was the most ordinary offer in the entire world. "I've got chairs set up on the porch. Should be about two hours in total."
Every carefully constructed plan for a safe, boundaried, distant exit immediately unraveled.
"Sure." I attempted to sound casual and relaxed. Failed completely. "I'll just wait outside on the porch. Give you all the space to work."
Her smile softened with warmth. She held out her hand toward Sarah. "Ready to read about some very adventurous frogs today?"
Sarah hesitated one more second, then released my hand and took Emma's offered one. The uncertainty vanished from her face instantly, replaced by tentative excitement. "Yes!"
The door closed gently behind them, leaving me standing alone in sudden, profound silence.
I settled on the top porch step, my back resting against the wooden post. The mountain air was crisp and clean, the late morning sun pleasantly warm on my face. Through the window Emma had cracked open for fresh air, I could hear everything happening inside perfectly clearly.
"Excellent job sounding that out, Chloe! That's a really tricky word." Emma's teaching voice was endlessly patient and encouraging. "Sarah, you're up next. Remember, take your time. No rushing."
"The f-frog jumped into the p-pond."
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Did you hear how you didn't rush through it? That's exactly the right approach."
I closed my eyes and let the peaceful rhythm wash over me. The children took turns reading aloud, sometimes stumbling over difficult words, sometimes flying through passages with growing confidence. Emma guided them all with the same infinite patience she'd shown Sarah with the glue stick disaster. This was her world; it was orderly, kind, nurturing, full of growth and encouragement. So remarkably different from my solitary world of weather patterns and physical labor.
About twenty minutes in, I shifted my weight to get more comfortable. The floorboard beneath my right boot gave a distinct high-pitched squeak of protest.
I looked down with sudden interest. The nails were clearly working themselves loose from age and weather. A few feet to my left, the railing post wobbled noticeably when I tested it with my elbow. The wood at its base felt soft; rot was setting in.
These were hazards. Real ones. A loose railing, or an unstable board, could easily get someone hurt. Sarah. One of the other children. Emma herself.
I was at my truck retrieving my toolbox before I'd consciously decided to move. I grabbed the essentials: a hammer, a pry bar, galvanized nails, cordless drill with screwdriver bits. This was a language I understood fluently. Problems you could see clearly. Problems you could fix with your hands.
I started with the squeaky board, prying it up carefully to inspect the joist beneath. The joist was solid, thankfully. I realigned the board properly and drove three new nails in at secure angles.Thunk-thunk-thunk.The squeak died completely.
"Tommy, what do you think the frog is feeling right now in this part of the story?"
"Um... scared maybe?"
"Why do you think it is scared?"
