A Season of Love. Kim Watters

seemed to have remained from his childhood, and her heart ached at the thought of how things used to be before Jared died.

      So much had changed since the accident. Especially the past year.

      Holly tried to lighten the mood inside her old Honda. “Mindy’s manning the shop today.” The high-school student worked for her part-time because Holly couldn’t work seven days a week, keep sane and keep Cameron out of trouble, which apparently wasn’t working very well. She couldn’t really afford the student, but Holly hated asking her friends to continually pitch in. “I need to stop in and check on a few things, but any ideas on what you’d like to do after we finish at Mr. Pellegrino’s house?”

      “I wanna ride the quad again.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

      “You know we don’t have them anymore.” To help pay their medical bills, she’d sold both ATVs after Jared died.

      “That’s what I want to do. Patrick tells me they have two. You can let me go home with him after we’re finished.”

      “You know that’s not going to happen. Besides, we don’t even know if they’re coming today to help. They never responded to my phone call.” Her fingers gripped the steering wheel a little harder as she turned the corner and merged with the rest of the local and tourist vehicles heading through the downtown area. She couldn’t imagine not communicating with another parent had the roles been reversed. But then again, she had no idea what was going on inside Patrick’s home, and she had never met his parents.

      Silence accompanied them the last five minutes to Ethan’s house, where he waited for them outside by the garage with a can of paint and painting supplies. Arms crossed, he paced the small cement area in front of the 1960s-style single-story brick ranch house.

      “Good morning.” Holly spoke as soon as she exited the car. Too bad her inability to get her bearings had nothing to do with the sudden movement and everything to do with the man in the old T-shirt underneath his worn camouflage jacket and faded jeans. He still wore the same compassionate look he’d had inside her shop the other day, but underneath she sensed his uncertainty and awkwardness that probably stemmed from his injury in Afghanistan.

      “Good morning.” His gaze swept over her fleece-lined jacket and then back to her face, making her feel a bit self-conscious. A half smile broke the tension. “I’m glad you’re here.”

      Heat consumed her cheeks. “Sorry we’re late. I should have called. I would never back out on a promise or commitment. We just had a hard time getting out of the house this morning.” She glanced around the driveway, not surprised to see her car the sole vehicle. “I take it Patrick isn’t here?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Then he probably won’t show. I was only able to leave a message for his parents, and they never called back.” Sorrow and a touch of anger burrowed into her heart. From what she’d gleaned from Cam’s conversation the night of the incident, the idea had been Patrick’s and so had the spray paint, but her son was just as guilty for going along with the plan.

      “That’s not your problem. I should have contacted them myself. Ready? After Cameron removes the graffiti, it shouldn’t take that long to paint, but we may have to do two coats. We should be finished by eleven. If you need to leave earlier, I can drop Cameron off at the store.”

      “We? I thought this was Cameron’s job.”

      “It is.” Ethan rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, drawing her gaze along with it. “But I somehow feel responsible. If my cousin hadn’t mentioned my hastily spoken words—about evicting the tenant because of the back rent—to her best friend, the busybody of Dynamite Creek, your son wouldn’t have heard it from his classmate.”

      She looked at the black spray paint on the light brown wooden door. Holly nodded. “I see. Look, I understand your position. You need someone in there who can pay the rent, and being behind usually results in eviction. I get that. Now, as for the door, you’re right, it would go much quicker if we all helped, especially because you haven’t seen Cam paint yet.” She glanced back at her car. Her son still sat hunched in the front seat. “Today, Cameron. The sooner you get started, the sooner you get finished.”

      Cam sulked as he stepped from the passenger seat and shuffled toward them. The preteen residing in his body screamed attitude. Holly needed to get a handle on him before he towered above her with his next growth spurt.

      Ethan gave Cameron a pair of black work gloves. “Here, put these on.”

      “For painting?”

      “You’re going to remove the spray paint first. I doubt the paint for the garage door will cover the black markings very well.” After kneeling down, Ethan wedged the yellow bottle with red lettering into the crook of his arm and used his good hand to open the top.

      “What’s that?” Cameron yanked on the gloves.

      “It’s supposed to remove the graffiti.” Ethan poured some liquid onto a rag, set the bottle down, stood and then handed the cloth to Cam. “Just start rubbing the painted areas. It should come off.”

      “Me?”

      “Of course.” He winked at Holly, making her heart flutter until she tamped down on the emotion. Despite the two years that had passed since his death, her heart belonged to Jared.

      “You’re the one who did it. I’m here to supervise, not do the job for you. Your mom, either. Just be careful you don’t get it on your skin or clothes.” Folding his arms over his chest, Ethan stepped back.

      What? she mouthed, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side. Ethan put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to take a few steps back.

      Once they were out of hearing distance, he leaned close to her ear, the warmth of his breath creating havoc with her breathing. “We’ll help with the painting. This part is a lesson the boy needs to learn for himself.”

      “Sounds like you have experience,” Holly replied softly as she inched away, needing to distance herself.

      “I do. I wasn’t exactly a choirboy in my youth.” A fraction of a smile tugged at his lips, and his gaze slipped back to her son begrudgingly rubbing the saturated cloth over the paint.

      “Really. What did you do?”

      “Pretty much the same thing. I tagged a neighbor’s garage door because he was old and crotchety. Back then, I didn’t get to use any sort of remover. I had to sand the area first, apply a primer and then four coats of paint. Took nearly the whole weekend.”

      “Did you learn your lesson?”

      “That was just one of many.”

      And yet it looked as if Ethan had managed to turn his life around, go into the service and almost die for his country. Her gaze flickered to his injured hand again and wondered if it still hurt and how he managed to do the day-to-day stuff that required two sets of fingers, but she was too polite to ask. Besides, that would mean opening up her heart again to the possibilities of establishing some sort of friendship or relationship with him, and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

      “This stuff smells like your nail-polish remover, Mom, but it really works. Look. The paint is almost all gone.” Cam broke into her thoughts, dragging them back to the garage door. A slight stain still clung to the beige paint, but it was much less noticeable now. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing they wouldn’t be there all day as she’d anticipated.

      “Pretty much. Now you need to rinse the residue off. Then while it’s drying I’ll show you around.”

      “Show us around?” Cam dropped the cloth on the newspaper protecting the driveway and yanked off the gloves.

      “I’m opening a sanctuary for dogs while their owners are overseas.”

      “Dogs? Really? I wish we had a dog, not a stupid, silly cat.”

      Holly