Page 1 of Merry Mayhem
1
COOKE
The soundof metal scraping over frozen concrete broke through the thin haze of sleep I’d just managed to slip into. It had been a long couple of days helping at the rescue, and I finally decided to take a few days off. My bed had looked very good once I made it home, but the rhythmic back and forth outside my window promised me no sleep.
Groaning, I roll out of bed and shove my hands through my hair, then stumble back toward my front door. My coat is hanging on its hook, and it only takes a quick second to thrust my feet into my boots once more. I unlock the door, pull my coat on, and head out to confront the idiot who won't let me sleep.
Tromping around the side of my house, it's no surprise that I'm mucking through heavy snow. Wet and fresh, it takes work just to cut a path toward the back fence, where a blue pom is bobbing back and forth just above the top edge.
“What are you doing?” I growl as I get close enough to peer over. “I'm trying to sleep.”
The morning light is too bright for me to see clearly, and I blink until the view below comes into focus. A young boy is looking up at me, shock and cold clear on his face.
He swallows, backing away a step, but at least the bloody scraping has stopped and the pounding in my head eases a little.
“I'm sorry,” he says, looking over his shoulder at my neighbor's house. “Mrs. Carlson agreed to pay me if I scooped her steps and sidewalk.”
My gaze flicks up and I spot the older woman in the window. Her arms are crossed over her chest and a frown furrows her brow. I must've been louder than I thought.
“Can you come back later, then? I just got home and really need some sleep.”
He looks down, and his bottom lip quivers, making me suddenly worried he's going to cry. Then he squares his shoulders and tips his chin back up.
“No sir, I can't. I've got to get to a lot of houses today, and Mrs. Carlson said she'd only pay me if I got this done in the next hour. So, I'm sorry, and I'll finish this job as fast as I can.”
There's something about the way he says this and the stubborn way he's planted his feet that tells me this is a fight I'm not likely to win. His grip on the handle of the shovel tightens, and I notice the wear on his gloves, the way his coat looks just a little too small for his frame. Even his hat looks like it doesn't quite fit, and I watch as he tugs it back down over his ears.
Guilt turns sour in my throat. “How about I make you a deal?”
He looks at me with suspicion in his eyes. “What kind of deal?”
“I'll help you clear all this snow for Mrs. Carlson. Then you can go on to your other jobs and I can get some sleep. Sound fair?”
He looks around at the area that still needs to be scooped and then shakes his head. “I don't think so.”
He turns away from me and returns to scooping, that rough scraping sound splitting through my skull all over again.
I grumble to myself as I walk away, cutting through the yard to my garage, where I enter a code and wait for the door to roll up. I grab my gloves and a hat, then pick up two shovels and carry them to the gate.
The boy is working away, his breath coming in white puffs as he struggles to get the heavy accumulation from last night to move.
“Here,” I say, holding out one of the shovels. The boy stops and looks at me, his brows pushed tight together. His cheeks are already red, chapped from the wind, and I see a shiver working through him. “That type of shovel isn't any good for scooping snow. These are made for that kind of work.”
He assesses me and then looks at the shovel he holds. Then he nods and leans it against the house, taking the one I'm offering him.
“Thank you. I'll make sure to give it back when I'm done here.”
“No need. I plan to help you scoop this whole section here. Get it done faster and then you can get yourself warmed up.”
He stops what he's doing, looking torn. Then he finally asks, “Are you going to make me split the money with you?”
Ah, now his hesitation makes sense.
“No. I'm not going to do that. I just want to get some sleep. Faster you're done here, the faster I can do that. Fair enough?”
He nods, and I don't miss the fleeting glimpse of a grin. He gets back to work and soon, we're working side by side, clearing away the snow as efficiently as we can. Once we're finished, we're both warm enough we've discarded our coats and are breathing heavily.
Mrs. Carlson comes out onto her porch and hands him the cash when he dashes over.
