Page 44 of A Chance Fall

It was the only productive thing she felt like she could check off her list for the day.

April rolled up her sleeves and got to work. She carefully removed the old grout from the tub. She worked methodically, losing herself in the task at hand. It was therapeutic, almost zen-like.

She moved to the sink and began to remove the grout from around the tall structure. It was tough at first, her hands growing tired of the repetitive motions, but she got the hang of it after a few frustrating breaks.

As she worked, she thought about her father. Where could he have gone? Was he avoiding her after their argument? Or was he out trying to prove his innocence?

April pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. She had to get as much done as she could while no one was there. It felt good to know that she could make as much noise as she needed to.

As April finished up the grout, she carefully hammered around the base of the sink, preparing it to come out. She had a beautiful vanity ready to go in.

If she was being honest with herself, she was growing impatient. She wanted it to go in as soon as possible so she didn't have to worry about the room any longer.

Carefully, she began to tug at the heavy sink. For a moment, she wondered if she should call someone to help her. But then she thought about how she was a strong and independent woman. She wanted to do things on her own.

It reminded her of not too long ago when Georgia was helping her make the house into something of their dreams. They did a ton of the work by themselves. April was proud of that.

So she hunkered down and pulled at the heavy heap of stone, tugging at the sink until it slowly came free. She had to work it back and forth until it began to move forward.

Finally, she got it away from the wall. "Yes!" she yelled, struggling to regain her breath.

April sat on the edge of the tub, satisfied with her work. That was until she felt her feet began to get wet. Her shoes were filling with water. The bathroom was filling with water.

In a rush of panic, April flew down the stairs and then into the basement. It took her a minute to remember exactly where the water shut off valve was, but eventually she found it.

Breathless, she leaned against the wall of the basement. What had she done wrong?

As she caught her breath, April headed back upstairs to figure out what went wrong.

While she was examining the area behind the sink, she realized that the water damage came from a broken pipe. It was a small crack in the copper that had been severely rusted. She cursed under her breath, angry that she had missed it during her inspection.

The reason the rust had cracked was from when she pulled out the sink. It scraped against the piping and clawed it open.

Now she stood in a pool of water that leaked slightly out onto the wooden floors of the adjoining bedroom.

She couldn't believe it. All the hard work she had put into the room was gone in a matter of seconds.

Her mind raced with the thought of how much it would cost to fix. She couldn't afford to pay a plumber, not with everything else she had going on.

But she couldn't just leave it unfixed. The water would ruin the floors and walls and possibly damage the foundation of the house. She had to turn the water back on eventually for the incoming guests.

To start, she began moping up the floor with large towels.

But as she worked, she couldn't shake the feeling of defeat and frustration. It seemed like every time she tried to make progress in her life, something else went wrong and set her back even further.

April shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside. She couldn't afford to dwell on the negative. She needed to focus on finding a solution to the problem at hand.

The floor was finally dry, and April sat on her phone researching ways to cut off the plumbing to the sink. The only viable solution that included tools she already has was to block off the water supply down the line.

It took her a minute to find, but eventually she figured out where the next shut off was and turned it until it closed.

Just as she was about to sit on the floor and wallow in her frustrations, a knock came to her door.

A young man in jeans and a black sweatshirt was standing outside. In the distance, she could hear the hum of a large engine.

She peeked out of the window before opening the front doors to the entryway. Some kind of mail truck sat outside. Not the typical Sandcrest one, but one from a delivery company.

Cautiously, she opened the door. "How can I help you?" she asked, looking through the sliver of the opening she put in the doorway.

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