Page 42 of Inherited Light
“Yes, I’ll stop at my apartment and get some clothes then I’ll drive your van back here. Once I’m back, Cinn and Foster will go home. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said. Her eyes closed and I thought she had drifted off, until they popped open and she sat up quickly. “I never tried out the new ramp!”
I kissed her forehead, being careful of the scrapes and bruises. “It’s not going anywhere.”
She lifted her booted leg down off the pillow. “I want to see it right now. You worked all day on it yesterday. Please show it to me.”
I could see she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I held her chair while she transferred into it. “Okay, but let me push you down it. I’ll keep the chair on the back wheels so we don’t bump your ankle.”
She agreed and I pushed her out into the June sunshine. The return of the sun reminded me the cops would come and she would be disappointed to find out this type of thing happened all the time. She would also learn they wouldn’t find the attacker, because they didn’t want to spend the time or resources searching for him. I could tell her, but I would rather the police broke the news, leaving me to comfort her.
When we got to the bottom of the ramp, I maneuvered her into the grass along the side of it and left her there while I traipsed back to the ramp, intent to show her how I had fixed it. Instead, her gaze roamed the full length of the ramp, house, and yard. Her hand shook near her mouth as she saw the house again as though it were the first time.
“Ren,” she said as her face crumbled, “what did you do?”
I knelt and held her hand wondering if the head injury was making her weepy. “I fixed the ramp while a few friends of mine mowed the lawn and fixed the shutters. It was no big deal.”
She shook her head a little bit and I swiped at a tear. “Someone painted the house, too. This is a big deal.”
“I hang out with a lot of guys who work in the trades. I called a few of them and asked them to help me out for the day. My buddy at the lumberyard put the supplies together, and once I offered a case of beer and a radio for the baseball game, everyone had a grand time. Except for the snake part.”
She turned her head quickly to face me. “Snake part?”
I pointed at the ramp. “I figured there might be one or two hiding in the long grass. There weren’t, but Law had fun pretending he’d been bit while weed whacking the long grass down.”
“His name is Law?” she asked, her voice still thick with tears.
“His last name is Lawton and he has always gone by Law. His first name is George, which he thinks is a ridiculous name for a twenty-four-year-old guy.”
She laughed softly. “It is sort of a ridiculous name. He does great work. If you’d give me his name and number, I would like to hire him to take care of my lawn. I don’t worry about it more than a few times a year, but maybe if I take better care of the lawn I could enjoy the front yard. Maybe I could pay him to put some patio blocks down in a path so I could roll across the grass, or something.”
I chuckled and kissed her cheek. “I love how with a little paint, and a good mowing, you can see the potential. People look down on tradesmen because we’re blue-collar workers and all the stereotypes that go with it. But when someone needs help, we’re the first people they call. Anyway, I just mean sometimes we like to do work that makes us feel good. Helping you made us feel good. The house and yard are beautiful now and we take pride in it.”
“The house is beautiful. It feels like it’s been kept up and the owner has pride in it.” She fisted her hands in her lap. “I understand the part about people looking down on you.”
“Because you’re an artist?” I asked, moving her forward so I could sit on the ramp.
“No, because I’m disabled. Well, both probably, but people see me more as a businesswoman because of the gallery. I’m not sure they even realize most of the art is mine.”
“People look down on you because you’re disabled?” I asked. “What does it matter if you’re in a wheelchair?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, though I suspect it’s because they see I’m physically disabled, therefore I’m also mentally disabled.”
I shook my head a few times. “Why can’t people educate themselves instead of making snap judgments about others?”
“Because educating themselves would require them to care, and nowadays no one does.”
I stood and took hold of the armrests on her chair, kissing her cheek. “I care, which is why I’m taking you back inside so you can put your foot up.”
I pushed her up the ramp and when I passed the overhead light, I paused. “Do you have a pair of gloves I could borrow?” I asked as we trucked back inside and I settled her on the couch.
“Why? Are you cold?” she asked, mockingly.
“No, trust me, I’m anything but cold,” I answered, my gaze focused intently on her face. She didn’t look away, which told me she caught my drift. “I had an idea. If someone unscrewed the light bulb their fingerprints might be on the bulb.”
She frowned. “But you already screwed it back in.”
“I know, but at least I can tell them my fingerprints will be on it. Who put the bulb in it, do you remember?”
