“No, Mr. Kayne, I’ll be fine.” Parker held out his hand and they shook. Parker wanted to keep this man’s trust; there was no way he would make him wait for the money he earned.
Parker turned to Trudeau again. “Where would I get more of these map books?”
“The county clerk or any township office has them for sale.”
Chapter Nine
After Bob Trudeau and Keith Kayne left, Parker walked down to David’s house to see how he was doing. It wasn’t easy to lose a parent; it wasn’t easy to watch them die; it wasn’t easy to hold their hand while they died. Parker had done all of that. He understood what David was going through, yet at the same time, he understood that everyone was different and every death was unique. He knocked on the front door.
David opened the massive door a few inches and peered out, then opened it wider and walked away, letting Parker decide whether he wanted to enter or not.
“Hey, man, how are ya doing?” Parker asked quietly.
“Oh, I’ve been better,” David smirked, “considering I just became an orphan.” David still wore a bathrobe that he left untied, and his otherwise bare feet were clad in big, fluffy puppy dog slippers. It was obvious he hadn’t showered or shaved yet.
“Cool slippers,” Parker joked.
“My cat loves them. He keeps trying to wash them and then coughs up hairballs for the rest of the day.” David shuffled over to a recliner and sat.
“I missed you this morning.”
“You actually expected me over?” David looked at Parker in disbelief.
“No, but I still missed your cheery face.” Parker sat across from him. Pythagoras wandered into the room and sat at his feet, staring up at him. Parker tapped his thigh, and the cat jumped up and settled on his lap. “I finished stacking the wood, and then I took a walk down to the river that runs across the lower ten acres. It’s really nice; I think it would make a great place for a picnic some time; maybe even some swimming if it gets too warm.” He absentmindedly stroked the cat’s fur.
David remained silent.
“When I got back, Keith showed up and dropped another load of wood. That man just won’t give me a rest.”
“He knows you need to get that wood in and drying to survive the winter.”
“Yeah, and he suggested that what doesn’t fit in the shed I should stack on the porch as an emergency stash.”
David was silent again.
“Are you staying the winter?” Parker asked.
David remained silent.
Parker gently pushed the cat off his lap and stood. “Stop over when you’re ready.” And he walked to the front door.
“Yes,” David said.
“Yes, what?” Parker turned around.
“Yes, I’m staying the winter. I have no place else to go,” David confessed.
“Then we both need to get ready, and you’re the one who knows what we need to do; I sure as hell don’t.” He walked out the door and went home.
Two days later, freshly showered and shaved, David walked down the road to find Parker stacking wood.
“Hi,” David said.
Parker looked up, surprised to see him. “Hi.” He kept slinging wood toward the wood shed. He stacked what was nearest and then sat on the porch next to the boy.
“I didn’t realize it was so cold this morning,” David said.
“Yeah, that’s what made me think about winter. It’s only August. Think it will snow soon?”
David snickered. “Look, Parker, I’m sorry I’ve been in such a funk.”
“David, stop. You have every right to be in a funk. Your father just died! I shouldn’t have intruded so soon, but I do need your help. I won’t make it on my own,” Parker admitted.
“Sure you would. All you have to do is think about what you need, and you’ve been doing really good at that.”
“Oh, yeah? All this wood,” he stood and pointed at the nearly full shed, “and not once did I think about how I was going to burn it; not once did I think about kindling!”
“What made you think about it now?” David asked.
“That book you brought over. The author talks about how she made bundles of sticks and branches, and how many she needed to get through only one winter! Maybe I am stupid.”
“No, you are NOT stupid, Parker, don’t ever say that to me again!” David yelled. “You have learned so much in the last two months, and I’m … really proud of you.” His voice faltered.
Parker sat back down. “What do we do next? There’s so much, I don’t know where to start.”
“Whenever I was faced with a big project, my mom would tell me to make a list to organize and prioritize. So make a list of what needs to be done—in general. Then we break the list down to specific items. Come on, where’s your notebook?”
A few hours later, they had two lists, one for inside and the other for outside, and each of those were broken down by priority.
“Okay, so you’ve got your wood almost completed.” David glanced at the small pile. “Another day and we’ll be done with that, and that is a huge step. Next will be kindling. Where do you want to stack it?”
“It will need to be accessible, right? How about on the other end of the porch and we can enclose it like the wood side will be. I think we should get the plywood for that the next trip into town. That way it’s here when we need to put it up, right?” Parker asked, deferring to David.
“That’s a really great idea,” David replied. “We still need to pick up the snow-blower and the chainsaw, too. A couple five-gallon cans of gas, another for kerosene for the oil lamps, and we’ll be done with the outside stuff … after we collect kindling. I think one bundle per week should do it, for five months makes twenty bundles. If we each do four bundles a day, we’ll be done in less than a week.”
Parker looked over at David and smiled. “Thanks for all of your help, David. When do we start on your place?”
“After we’re done here, there will be plenty of time to worry about mine.” David looked away, knowing he was not looking forward to a long winter in that big house by himself. “And while we’re working on lists, you should start thinking about food for the winter. You can’t get that all at once.”
“How do I know how much is enough?” Parker asked. He really had no idea, but it was good to see David enthused again.
“Make a list of all the things you like, how many times a week you eat that, and keep multiplying. Take the mac and cheese you like so much. Do you eat it twice a week? At twenty weeks to the winter, that’s forty boxes! And that’s just the mac and cheese,” David explained.
“Wow, I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Parker said honestly and being honest with himself, he had never given much thought to where his food came from; it was just always there. “I’ll start on that soon. When will you have time to go to town?”
“I think my calendar is pretty open. How about tomorrow or the next day? After …”
“Yeah, I know, after we finish stacking the wood.” Parker was really glad they were almost done. Although his body ached, he also noticed it wasn’t as bad as when he first started, and how much stronger he felt. “Hey, David, I’ve been meaning to mention something to you. When I stopped over a few days ago, you hadn’t shaved; facial hair makes you look older. I know that’s a concern of yours since you don’t want people knowing you’re only seventeen, so you might want to consider growing a short beard.”
David didn’t say anything.
“I think the quarter-inch plywood was another good idea, Parker. You don’t need it for support, only for blocking the wind and snow,” David said as they loaded the back of the pickup in the lumber yard three days later. “It’s a lot easier to handle too, especially with that nifty tool.”
“I’m le
arning to listen to the suggestions made by the people who know more than I do, which is turning out to be just about everyone I’m meeting.” Parker frowned, then smiled. “With this carrying tool, one person can carry a lot by themselves, according to the sales clerk.”
“As long as it isn’t windy,” David added, laughing.
Parker laughed too, and it felt good.
“Let’s hit that bulk food warehouse I saw down the road,” Parker suggested. “I’d like to check out how they have things packaged. Maybe we can start on those food supplies before we pick up the snow-blower.”
David inwardly smiled. Parker was really getting into the off-grid life.
“Before we go to the food warehouse, we need to stop at the mall, David. I have a surprise for you.” Parker grinned.
“Like what?” David asked hesitantly.
“You’ve helped me so much, that now I want to help you. I have noticed you’ve let your beard grow like I suggested, and it really does help make you look a bit older, which I know is a concern of yours. Now you’re going to get your hair cut and styled. Trust me on this: the right cut will add a couple of years to your look.”
Two hours later, they walked out of the mall, David grinning ear to ear; gone was the long black ponytail and instead, he had a much shorter and more sophisticated, mature hairstyle and a properly trimmed beard. Parker was very pleased and after paying the fee, he slipped the technician a healthy tip.
Parker stifled a snicker when two young women stopped to stare at David out in the parking lot and tripped on each other. Underneath that geeky look was an attractive young man.
“Ah, I was wondering when you would be back,” Chad said when he saw Parker and David enter the shop. “With this nice weather, I thought maybe you had forgotten about your snow machine.” Chad laughed with no mirth behind it.
“Nope, other things came up that had priority,” Parker said, thinking Chad was an odd person. He ran his debit card to pay for the services while David went out to help strap down the machines. “Thanks, Chad. How often would you recommend I bring these machines in?” Another thing Cliff had taught him was to acknowledge someone else’s expertise.
“It depends on how much use each one gets. As a rule of thumb though, I would say every other year would be fine,” Chad answered.
David and Parker put the freshly serviced machines back in their storage spots and then stacked the eight sheets of plywood on two pallets inside the barn out of the weather.
“Where do you want these cases of food?” David asked, picking up two cases from where they had left them on the porch.
“Maybe they can go against the wall in the living room for now. I want to mark the ends first so I know what’s inside the boxes. And I think it would be a good idea to keep a list of what I buy so I’m not duplicating. Don’t look so surprised, David, it was a suggestion in that book you gave me.”
David nodded, suppressing a grin.
“We still need to do some kindling and then I say we do a sandwich-dinner picnic down by the river. For as chilly as the mornings have been, the afternoon weather has been great,” Parker suggested.
They spent an hour by the river, eating sandwiches, drinking beer, and talking about their college experiences.
“It took you six years to do a four-year course?” David couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“I didn’t have to, I wanted to. I was having fun and didn’t want to flunk any classes, so I took a lighter load. I know you did it in only two years, at twelve years old.”
“Yeah, but for me, it was all study and no play. I mean, who would want to hang out with some kid? They wouldn’t even let me join the chess club,” David said, pushing back a lock of hair falling in his eyes.
Parker was once again reminded of David’s extraordinary intelligence.
“So, what is your IQ?” he asked, while stripping leaves from a few willow branches.
David sighed and mumbled, “185.” He gazed at the river, then at Parker. “What are you doing?”
“Huh? Oh, making a basket. I figure I’ll need something to keep the kindling in by the stove.” He set aside the tightly packed base of natural fibers and got up to cut more branches.
“This is really nice,” David said, admiring the 15-inch-tall basket with a twine braided handle, while they walked back to the road. He turned it over in his hands and pulled off a leaf. “Would you make me one?”
They set the basket and the cooler on the porch and David turned to leave.
“Oh, shit…” he murmured.
Parker followed David’s eyes and saw the writing on his barn door: GO HOME CITIAN. The bright blue spray paint was still wet and dripping down the tan door.
“What’s a citian?” he asked.
“It’s a person from a city; like a Floridian is from Florida,” David explained. “Have you made some enemies since you’ve been here?”
“I haven’t even made any friends—except for you.”
He watched from the hidden tree stand on the other side of the clearing. Those two made enough noise in the woods for him to have plenty of notice of their return.
He hoped that dumbass kid got the message! This camp was his!
“Mr. Trudeau? This is Parker Adams.”
“Hello, Parker, what can I do for you?” Bob Trudeau was surprised to hear from the young man, especially considering he had recently been there.
“I’ve had some vandalism and I’m not sure how to handle it,” Parker said, “or whether I should do anything at all.” He explained what he had found.
“I will agree that it’s odd, but it could just be a prank done by some local youngsters,” Bob said. “Why not paint over it for now and keep an eye out for strangers on the road? Oh, and Parker, take a picture of it first.”
“Sure, I can do that. The thing that bothers me is I was here. Well, sort of. My neighbor and I walked down to the river and were only gone about an hour. Plus when we spotted it, the paint was still wet.”
Bob mulled this over. “That’s pretty brazen, and now that I think about it, you’re really off the beaten path for this to have been random. Take a picture and go to the sheriff’s office in town. You’re being harassed for some reason.”
The next day, David admired Parker’s paint job that covered the obnoxious message, and then pitched in to stack the rest of the wood on the porch.
“Oh, man, I’m so glad that is done,” Parker said, hands on his knees, taking a deep breath.
“Now we start on kindling?” David chided him.
“Yep, I’ve already cut 30, five-foot lengths of heavy twine. That way, we don’t have to count: when we’re out of the twine, we’re done. And before you ask, I did thirty instead of twenty because I’d rather have too much than not enough.” David turned his back and smiled, glad Parker was getting the hang of this.
They wandered the nearby woods along the road and tied eight bundles, setting them by the roadside to collect later with the truck.
Chapter Ten
Parker was sitting in the near-empty lot next door to the sheriff’s office. After he had explained what had happened, where he lived, and why he was filing a report, the sympathetic deputy looked at the photo Parker had printed off his phone.
“Is this Johnny Smith’s place?” the deputy asked, his concerned eyes flicked from the photo to Parker and back to the photo.
“Did you know him?” Parker asked, and then glanced at the nametag.
“He was my grandfather,” Deputy Gabe Smith replied. “I recognize the barn. That’s really remote. Have you made any enemies since you’ve been here?”
“I’ve barely met anyone,” Parker admitted.
“Like who and wh
ere?” the deputy pushed.
“I’ve been to the library, the laundromat, had some power tools serviced, and of course Walstroms. Oh, and I met my next-door neighbor, but we were taking a walk when this happened.”
“It personally bothers me that someone might be harassing you like this. My grandfather was well liked. Here’s my card; my personal cell on the back. Don’t hesitate to call me if something else happens. In the meantime, I would suggest you get a trail cam or two. We need proof.”
“What’s a trail cam?”
“A trail camera is normally used for hunting to record activity on known animal trails. They’re battery-operated and motion-activated. I think they would be perfect for this situation,” the deputy explained.
Cliff Tucker leaned back in his big leather chair and smiled. Life was looking up. Three weeks ago, he had attended a charity art auction for something to do, and met Mary Princeton. They had dinner a few nights later and talked into the night. They went to a concert the next night, and the next week of all things, they went to the zoo! He hadn’t felt this happy since he’d met Janet. It was too early to say he was in love, but he was definitely happier than he’d been in a long time.
He reread the contract on his desk. A new lady-friend or not, he had a business to run. Tucker Investments was booming. When Cliff married Janet, she seeded his new company with her own money. He bought a small and failing office complex and turned it around. Then bought an apartment building and did the same. In the last ten years he had built a small and lucrative empire of high end rental properties, twenty of them currently, with more in negotiations, and all because Janet believed in him. Since that first investment, he had paid back every dime, and it all went into Parker’s trust account. Yes, life was good.
His cellphone rang and he was almost alarmed by the familiar ringtone.
“Hello, Parker! It’s good to hear from you,” Cliff answered, and he really was happy to hear from the boy. “How is the north?”
“Things are going great, Cliff, but it’s chilly up here, which is why I’m calling.” Parker got right to the point. “I’d like to come down for a long weekend and get some of my winter clothes, if that’s okay; T-shirts and jeans aren’t enough anymore.”
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