Well, I can’t fucking leave him here. He’ll fall, die, and I’ll live with even more grief than I already do over people getting hurt. I sigh, climb up with him, and look at the spot he was working on. I don’t see any holes or obvious signs that there’s an issue.
“There’s nothing wrong with the roof.”
He looks around, pursing his lips. “It’s leaking.”
“Where?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Some days I question why I ever wanted to move back home to raise my daughter here. This man is a mess.
“Dad,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re up on the damn roof to fix it and you don’t know why?”
He laughs. “Got you!”
Yeah, he got me. “Right.”
“Right over there.” He points farther down the roof. “That’s where there’s a hole.”
I’m so glad he finds this amusing. Instead of arguing with him, which I swear is what he wants most days, I grab the toolbox and walk over. The hole is about the size of a golf ball and definitely needs to be patched.
“All right, Dad. Maybe you can walk me through how to do it,” I say with a little more compassion and a lot less frustration.
Letting go of this place hasn’t been easy on Dad. He built a lot of these structures with his two hands. Our farm wasn’t nearly as profitable when he was growing up here. My grandpa was a good man, but he wasn’t very smart when it came to the business side of things. When Dad got control, he really turned it around, and that’s because of his hard work. Giving it up before he was ready, that took a toll on him.
While he doesn’t need to be climbing ladders and fixing roofs, I can’t say that when my independence starts to dwindle, I won’t be holding on to what little I have with both hands.
“All right, son, get that patch over there.” Dad smiles, and I listen as he tells me how to fix the roof, something that I knew how to do all along.
Once it’s to his liking, he groans as he stands. “Thanks for the help, Pop.”
He nods. “How about tomorrow we work on the other chores you’ve been neglecting?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid and just nod. “Sure.”
Tomorrow I’m going to bribe my daughter with whatever the hell she wants to keep her grandfather busy.
Dad gets down off the roof without incident, and I follow, debating where I’m going to hide the ladder to prevent this next time. I’m sweating my ass off since I was on the hot roof while the sun was still up. That means another shower before I go out tonight.
When we’re both on solid ground, he looks over at me. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
I jerk my head back. “I never said you were.”
“You don’t have to say it. You and your sisters walk around, hiding things, telling me I can’t do what I want to do.”
“Pop, it’s not like that,” I say carefully. “I was there when the doctors told you that you needed to take it easy, that you couldn’t be outside doing chores for hours, up on a roof, under a tractor to fix the engine, and things that could make your heart weak.”
He shakes his head. “Those doctors don’t know nothing. I’m right as rain.”
And stubborn as a storm.
There isn’t a thing on this farm that Father’s hands haven’t touched. He worked relentlessly to give our family a good life. It’s why I moved Sadie and myself back in here after we lost Emmy Jo.
We had a beautiful house a few miles away. It was the house she’d always loved in town. It needed an ungodly amount of work, but she would go by it all the time and talk about how much she’d love to own it, restore it back to its former glory.
I bought that house for her.
I spent months turning it into a home we could live in, where we could raise a family and start living the life she would dream about.
