“He doesn’t know much about sports.”
“Well, maybe after I fix your mom’s sink, if it’s okay with her, you and I could throw around the ball. Would you like that?”
He nods his head.
“Awesome, because I stopped and got you this.” I reach into the paper bag and pull out a junior-size baseball mitt and ball. I glance at Heather. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s a squishy soft tee-ball for pee-wees.” Then I look at Tucker. “It’s only for outside. You can’t throw it in the house. Okay?”
“Okay.” Once he makes that promise, I pass it over. He immediately slides the mitt on. “Look, Mommy. It fits. Can I go outside with it now?”
“Afterwhile, dear.”
“Let me fix the sink first, buddy.” My knees crack as I rise.
“Okay.” He returns to the living room.
I meet Heather’s eyes. “You get enough sleep?”
“No. Did you?”
“Nope, but I was too happy today to care.”
She smiles, knowing my meaning. “Me, too.”
“Lead the way. I brought some tools in my saddlebag but thought I’d come up first and see what I’ll need.”
She leads the way down the hall and into her bedroom and to the attached master bath.
I can’t help scanning her bedroom, like I’ve been let in to the behind the scenes at some celebrity’s home. I’m quickly searching for any and every detail that might reveal more about her.
The room looks pretty generic, almost like it came furnished, except for the bedding, which is a soft pink and cream with a faux fur blanket thrown across the foot. A stack of books with a candle on top sit on the nightstand.
There’s a small photo of her and Ryan tucked in the frame of the mirror over the dresser. It makes me wonder if it’s the only one she had when she fled Alabama.
I step into the master bathroom with her. It’s not an overly large space, so the two of us are in close quarters.
“It barely drains. I’ve tried the liquid stuff, and it just doesn’t have any effect. I’ve got a work order in, but the maintenance guy is out with the flu. They said it might be a week or more before someone can come up here. I’ve started brushing my teeth in the kitchen sink and avoided using it.”
I’m no plumber, but I Googled how to fix a clogged sink before I came over. Last thing I want to do is come off like I’m unskilled in this kind of stuff.
Since she’s already tried the store-bought remedies, I look under the cabinet. “Let me try taking the p-trap off.”
“The what?”
“This u-shaped pipe.” I tap it. “Something’s probably clogging it there.” I straighten and check if the stopper is loose. It comes right up in my hand. “Something might have fallen in. Do you have a small plastic bucket I can use?”
“I’ll check.”
She returns with a small square dish tub, and I slip it underneath, then loosen the plastic pipe fittings. It drops into the bucket along with some water. I shake the u-pipe and bang everything loose, and out comes a small toy car covered in hair and soap.
“Bingo. Here’s the problem. Look familiar?”
“No, but it must be Tucker’s. Tucker! Get in here!”
The boy appears at the doorway.
“Tucker, is that your car?” she asks.
He nods, sensing the trouble he’s in.
