Page 30 of To Believe In You
Matt’s family resembled a team of ants spread out over the stretching grounds of Visser Landscaping. Dad drove the mower. Mom pulled weeds in a flowerbed by the office. Pete operated a string trimmer. Krissy and her daughter, Jade, weren’t visible from the lot, but on his way in, Matt had spotted them in the massive flowerbed at the corner of the property. Krissy hacked at shrubs using Dad’s preferred tool—a hand-operated pruner—while her daughter scooped up twigs and leaves.
Cleanup days like these had been the bane of Matt’s childhood. He’d hated the seemingly endless chores required to keep up the property, but as a landscaping company, fastidious care of the grounds was good for business.
He parked, gave Dad a wave, returned his mother’s hug, and made his way to Krissy and Jade.
When Krissy spotted him, she arched and twisted her back in a way that showed she was sore already, five shrubs into a grouping of twenty or thirty of them. “Didn’t expect you to show up.”
“I said I was coming this weekend.”
“Yeah, but you don’t work here anymore. Who’d volunteer for this?”
“Someone who wants to see his family.” He motioned her to hand over the trimmer and went to work.
Krissy helped five-year-old Jade load the small trailer behind the lawn tractor, but she must’ve decided cleanup was more of a one-person job because she soon dismissed Jade to play on the swing set. Lucky kid.
Krissy appraised him. “How are you doing?”
Oh. So she’d had an ulterior motive for letting Jade go.
“I’m good.” He still couldn’t fight the sense of satisfaction over how Lina had talked with him about something important. She’d cared about what he thought.
“Did you find a group?” Krissy scooped up a bundle of brush.
“I did. And I’m staying in touch with my sponsor. We’re doing lunch tomorrow.” He circled the shrub, hearing his dad’s voice in his head, coaching him on how to get the right shape. “You don’t need to worry.”
Krissy stayed back when he moved on to a new shrub, and he glanced to check on her.
She studied him, worried.
“How are things here?” he asked. “Is Baxter happy at least?”
“He must be.” Krissy’s tone lifted. “Put in a great big order, and Dad spent all day going back and forth to deliver wood chips.” She chuckled, as though the payday from the task more than justified the work, but the math on that would’ve worked out a lot better—fewer hours and less fuel—if the order had required half as many trips.
Which it would’ve before Matt had sunk the larger of the dump trucks.
He needed to repay them.
Krissy leaned over and bumped his shoulder. “How’s working with Lina?”
“Her ex-fiancé is bothering her.”
“Oh.” Krissy swept a gloved hand over the old mulch, clearing the larger sticks. With her face angled away, she gave no hints of her disapproval other than her tone. She yanked a thistle and threw it on the pile with the other debris. “Is she a believer?”
“She was at church on Sunday morning.” That didn’t answer the question, but it was the best he could do.
Krissy’s mouth settled into a frown, and she returned to work.
“Out with it.”
“Huh?” She straightened, resting the backs of her wrists against her hips, her fingers sticking out behind her.
“Whatever you’re worried about.” He moved to a new shrub, clipped a little too deep on one side, and winced. Hopefully Dad wouldn’t notice.
“You’ve been through a lot, Matt.”
His back knotted, but he continued the task. If only unwanted parts of his life were as easy to clip away as unwieldy plant growth.
“I’m worried about you. I’m your sister. It’s what we do.”
