Page 9 of By Your Side

His brows pinch together at my humor. “It uses diesel, and you haven’t run out of that—yet. There’s another essential component to running any sort of vehicle.”

When I don’t speak, he sighs. “Oil. You need oil.”

He walks even faster, so I need to speed walk to keep up. Even at five-foot-seven, he’s significantly taller than I am by about eight or nine inches.

We reach the barn and he searches until he comes up with some oil and diesel. Instead of heading right back out though, his frown deepens, which is impressive. “You need to clean the hay out of your loft. It’s a hazard. I can smell how musty it is.”

Sniffing, I shrug as he heads back out the door. It smells like an old barn to me.

Jogging to catch up to Wally, I watch as he tops up my oil and diesel. When he’s done, I expect him to get back on his horse, who is impressively standing in the same spot he was left.

“Listen up because I’m only going over this once.” He proceeds to go over the essential controls for the mower with me, showing how I can adjust the height of the mower as well as how to work the bucket. He hops on, mowing a couple passes.

“How’s the height?” He gestures to the freshly mowed grass from his perch on the daunting machine.

“I think it’s perfect.” Admiring his handiwork, I marvel at how easy he made that look.

“Once you’re just maintaining it, the tractor won’t have to work as hard, and you will be able to drive a little faster. After the driveway is done, work up the gravel. It will help prevent the grass and weeds from taking over again.” He hops down with practiced ease.

Nodding, I climb onto the large piece of machinery.

“Where are your ear protectors?” His voice is gruff, hands planted on his hips.

“I don’t have any.”

“Get some.”

With that, he swings onto his horse and takes off without a backward glance or goodbye, see you later.

Four hours later and the driveway and yard are all mowed. Sweat drips down my back and my entire body feels like it’s buzzing from the rumbling of the tractor. My ears ring a little, so I add going to the hardware store to my mental to-do list for tomorrow.

The idea of doing more work around the property exhausts me. Instead, I head inside to look up tutorials on the best way to tear out drywall, adding more supplies to my shopping list.

My phone rings as I settle on the couch, Lizzie’s name popping up on the screen. My heart aches as I hit ignore. I miss having a friend I can count on, someone to talk to as I navigate my new life, but there’s no way I want or need to hear anything she has to say. Our friendship is beyond repair, her betrayal too deep.

A crack of thunder startles me awake from the deepest sleep I’ve had since Scott passed. It’s amazing what the physical labor of working on the house is doing for me. Glancing at my phone, I groan. Six a.m.

After a glorious shower to rinse all the grass and dust off myself yesterday, I moved a few things in from my moving container, so living in my house feels a little less chaotic and more like I’m settling into home. I spent the better part of my evening coming up with a plan for the house, needing direction to tackle the renovations.

Rolling off the air mattress, I stifle a moan as I struggle to stand before peering out the window. It’s pouring. Perfect for a trip to the store and a day working inside the house.

A quick online search tells me I have about two hours until the hardware store opens, enough time to do a thorough scrub of the smaller bedroom. It seems like the easiest room and a way to practice the skills I’m learning each night as I watch countless how-to videos.

Cleaning supplies in hand, I set to work. Hair tied up in a bun on my head, I roll my sleeves up and scrub the room from top to bottom. The flooring, thankfully, isn’t carpet. It’s a cheap looking laminate though, and it’s in rough shape. When I’m finished, I’ve blown the breaker twice, but the room is sparkling clean. And I’ve decided I need to find an electrician to rewire my house.

After a bare-bones breakfast, I head into town. Each time I make this drive, I feel more and more at peace. The town is quaint, with a small population of just over 4,000 people. It’s a mix of old and new. Most of the buildings on Main Street and in the “downtown” core are original buildings, maintained to perfection but still holding their historic charm.

I pass Perk Up. Maybe I should call Raelynn to see if she wants to meet for coffee again. She’s texted a few times in the six days since I arrived in town to see how I’m doing.

Main Street is narrow and lined with trees. The canopy of branches provides shade for people walking along the sidewalk or driving in the street. I can’t wait to explore the cute little shops when I have more time. There’s a wider assortment than I would expect.

Parking outside Hank’s Hardware, I grab my list. Raelynn had told me Hank has a wealth of knowledge, he can order anything in, and his markup is enough to cover his expenses and make a modest living, so he’s affordable. She wasn’t wrong.

A bell chimes as I step into the hardware store. The building is narrow but quite deep. The depth of it surprised me on my first trip to the store.

“Good morning, Adeline. How are you?” His voice is strong and deep. His salt and pepper hair pulled up into a bun that matches my own.

I’m still a little unnerved that he knows who I am after only one visit, and it must be written all over my face because he chuckles. “You’ve been the talk of the town since you arrived.”

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