Page 22 of Gideon's Gratitude

Maybe you should be a better person.

Yeah, that stung. But Cherish was right—I wasn’t putting in the effort I should. The effort my family deserved.

I knocked on the cabin door and waited.

Nothing.

A nail gun went off in the distance.

Can he hear my knock over that noise?

Come to that, how bad was the noise inside the house? Naturally, I’d never considered the impact of the construction on my neighbors until the complaint had been filed. A decent distance existed between the houses on both sides, and trees blocked the view. One of thereasons I picked this property—privacy on all four sides. The forest at the back of the property led to a municipal tree farm, so the protected environment was in all directions. The trees in the front yard obscured the view from the road.

The tree that had fallen on my SUV was one of them.

Riley had organized an arborist she knew, August, to come out and verify the strength of the remaining ones. If anything looked less than able to withstand high winds, it’d come down.

No, I wasn’t losing another vehicle to wind.

Nor to flooding. When I’d bought, I’d ensured I wasn’t near any water, like a creek or river, and I was well above the flood plain.

The floods from a couple of years ago had served as a warning. Climate change was real, and the west coast’s storms were only going to intensify.

I’d donated to several charities after the disaster, but hadn’t been personally affected by it. My own home in Point Grey was also storm-safe.

Or as much as any one place could be these days. November was the worst month for rain on the wet coast. I worried about construction, but the bones of the house had been completed by late October. Most of the work being done now was indoors.

This time, when I knocked again, I did so much harder. Still no response.

He said he was leaving the door unlocked.

Did that constitute an invitation?

Opening the door slowly, I considered calling out. I jumped at Lucky’s sudden appearance.

The dog nudged my knee, encouraging me into the house.

Well, if the hound said it was okay, it must be acceptable.

The drapes were drawn in the room. The inky darkness stood in stark contrast to the unrelenting sunshine. Sunshine was so rare these days.

Were it up to me, I’d fling the drapes open wide and welcome the light.

As I shut the door, Lucky moved over to the couch and sat at the head, peering over the back at me.

I rounded the couch.

To discover Gideon, curled into a ball, with an ice pack held to his forehead by one hand while the other covered his ear.

A memory flashed. Mom had suffered from terrible migraines well into her fifties. She often looked this miserable.

It’d been my responsibility to corral the rest of my siblings. The twins and I would make dinner and keep everyone occupied until Dad came home or Mom recovered.

I moved to the couch and gently touched the ice pack.

Warm.

“I’m going to get you another one.” I whispered the words.

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