Page 40 of Xavier

We ate peanut butter sandwiches and snacked on chips and cookies while we waited for the storm to pass.

It wasn’t all bad, though. I hung out and played cards with Brianna, John, and Elizabeth until it became too dark to see without straining our eyes.

I didn’t want to use the battery operated lights before we really needed to in case the storm lasted longer than expected.

After John and Elizabeth went to bed for the night, Brianna and I continued to talk about the events that led up to the murder of Everett.

We tried to bounce ideas off of one another, but neither of us could get to a definitive reason for the events.

We need more answers.

The motive for all these crimes are still left unanswered.

I still think Zach and the mayor are hiding pertinent information for this case, but I didn’t voice my opinions.

At least Brianna is on the same page about Zach.

If her father is involved, it will destroy her. Just in the past two days, I could see how much of a daddy’s girl she is.

She’s close to her father, and she talks highly of him, but I’m waiting for more answers before I make an opinion of him.

I join the family in the kitchen for a light breakfast of pastries, since the power still hasn’t been restored. The sun is shining through the blinds, giving a little bit of hope for the day ahead.

John glances my way with a friendly smile on his face. “It looks like the flooding has finally receded enough to start the cleanup.”

“Great.” I say as I sit down at the table. “Put me to work.”

Brianna sits down next to me. “No, Dad, we can’t ask him to work. He’s our guest.”

I appreciate the gesture, but this may be my ticket to get to talk to the mayor one on one.

“I don’t mind. You put me up for a couple of nights and fed me. It’s the least I can do.”

The laugh that comes from her stirs something inside of me. I love the sound. “You mean we forced you to eat sandwiches instead of a home cooked meal?”

I shrug. “It’s still better than what I’ve eaten most of my life.”

MREs were hit or miss, but at the end of the day, it was food in my stomach after a long, hot day of work.

“Do you not cook for yourself?” Brianna asks before taking a bite of her croissant.

“I make do, but I never really learned. I never really had a need to learn.”

She hmms and scrunches up her face. Silence takes over as the four of us eat.

When we are finished, we head outside to assess the storm’s damage to see what needs to be cleaned up.

Several trees fell over or snapped in half, tree branches and leaves are scattered around, and trash from neighbors’ houses litter the yard.

I grab one of the chainsaws from the garage to cut the trees up into smaller, more manageable pieces as Brianna and Elizabeth stack palm fronds and branches in a pile for a brush fire.

John rolls the larger logs and picks up the smaller cut logs, moving them to the other side of the yard as I continue working.

Cut after cut, the trees get smaller and smaller.

Sweat coats my skin under the hot summer sun, and my muscles burn from prolonged use.

When the last tree is cut into smaller pieces, I turn off the chainsaw and place it on the ground.

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