Page 10 of Chasing Fireflies

“Can I speak now?” she mouths behind my finger.

“Yes.”

“So, no more calling my mother without asking me?”

I sigh. “Sara, I do that to make sure you’re safe. I couldn’t bare it if you…”

“I know,” she says sadly. She exhales and puts her hands on her thighs. “My water is getting cold.”

“Go take your shower then.” I move to the side so she can stand.

*

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but you were mad at me.”

“With good reason,” she says, looking over at me. We’re hanging our white curtains in our bedroom. They smell like clean linens and are still damp from the wash. Sara wants them to dry while hanging so the room will smell good.

“With good reason,” I repeat with an eye roll. “Anne, Chief Rogers’ wife, wanted to know if you were interested in a job down at the library. I told her I’d ask you. She said you could probably get paid under the table.” I chew the inside of my cheek, waiting for her to blow up. She looks back down at the curtain as she slides it onto the rod and sucks her bottom lip in.

“All right,” she says after a moment. “I think it’ll be good.”

“Really?” I ask, shocked as hell.

“Yes, I’ll give it a try.”

“Okay,” I say, swallowing. “I’ll call Anne tomorrow.”

She hands me the curtain rod, and I reach up and put it above the window.

“Now,” she says, letting up the windows. “Let’s let the breeze dry them.”

Chapter Four

Cash

Sweat slides down my back, and my muscles burn from overuse. I wipe my brow and pick up the hammer. Another nail goes into a new board, and I sit back on my heels. I look out at my wife who is working in her new garden.

“How’s it going over there?” She’s in her green hat and a T-shirt that says something about coffee and don’t talk to me before. A long skirt covers her legs, and I know she is barefoot because she doesn’t like shoes. Her hands are covered in dirt even though she has garden gloves. She says she likes the feel of the cool soil between her fingers.

“Hot,” she replies. “Want a break?”

“Yes, I’ll grab us two beers. Come up on the porch.” I let the screen door shut behind me, and I see Sara sitting on the step as I walk over with two cold ones in my hands.

“Didn’t wanna wash your hands?” I ask as I take a seat beside her and look down at the dirt under her nails.

“Figured they were just going to get dirty again.”

I smile. “You’ve got a point.” I twist the top off and give her one before I open mine, too.

She swipes her hand in front of her face. “God dang bees.”

“They’re just wood bees, baby. They won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t want them flying in my face, though.”

We both look up when someone pulls into the driveway.

“Who is that?” Wood bee hater asks.

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