Page 101 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Okay.”

I finished my last water run, put the buckets and bungee cords away and stiffly walked to the house. I wanted to help Tag, but I knew if I tried to lift a shovel, I’d burst into tears. Not that Tag would let me try anyway.

My head snapped upright. A noise woke me. I swiped drool off my cheek and swiveled around in the swing, bringing my feet down to the wooden porch floor.

Tag’s weary voice reached my ears. “Bea, what’re you doin’? You should be in bed.”

I blinked, my eyes struggling to open. I must’ve passed out. “I was waiting for you. I wasn’t comfortable going to sleep knowing you were out there alone.” I suppressed a yawn and successfully pulled open one eye. What an asset I would’ve been in case of emergency, huh? “Looks like I went to sleep anyway. I didn’t even realize.”

My eyes focused in the yellow porch light, absorbing the state of Tag.

He was covered; dark mud caked his arms, legs, hands, and torso. His face was splattered and smeared. A red bandana was unfolded and tied under his chin, probably in an attempt to keep the sun from searing the exposed skin on the back of his neck. His shoulders and back slouched forward—no doubt from the pain.

“Did I look this bad? The night I came here?”

He breathed an exhausted chuckle. “Worse.”

We stared at each other for a long moment.

“What time is it?” I asked.

He lifted his right hand and tapped the backlight. “10:57 p.m.”

“Is it done?”

“It’s done. I turned the water back on and everything.”

“Wow. Good job.”

He walked, or shuffled rather, to the porch swing and eased down onto it. “I’m gonna strip down and head straight to the shower.”

I stood to give him some privacy. “I’ll put your plate on the…” My words died off as I watched poor Tag try to take off his boots. He didn’t complain or even make so much as a grunt, but his body involuntarily jerked him back as he tried to lean forward. He attempted again, slowly tipping his foot upward. His fingers shakily fumbled with his boot laces, and he couldn’t grip the knot.

The night sounds almost drowned out his quiet exhale—a hiss of pain as he hurried through the task.

In a split second, I was on my knees, pushing his hands back.

“Bea—”

“You can barely move.”

“I got?—”

“No, you don’t.” I pushed his hands away again.

My own ached, but whatever pain I was experiencing didn’t hold a candle to what Tag was.

His stubborn butt tried to pull his foot away from me.

I grabbed his boot and held it. “Tag.”

His eyes lifted to meet mine.

“Let me take care of you. I want to.”

The light was enough to see his tight swallow, the way his gaze roamed my face and the gentle lines that appeared on his forehead. He took me in until he slowly sat back, his hand gripping the side of the swing the only indication of his suffering.

I made quick work of the laces, loosening his boots until I was able to slip them off and remove his socks. Inexplicable happiness filled me. Tag had always been alone in the world. The thought made me simultaneously sad for the boy I knew and concerned for the lone ranger before me. But it also made me sogladto fight in his lonely corner.

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