Page 28 of The Leaving Kind

When she stopped, he twirled one finger. “Give it another turn, if you can.”

She did that and handed him the wrench. “Want to check it?”

“Nope, you’ve got this.”

The mower started at first pull, and Cam smiled in satisfaction at the healthy purr of the engine. He’d done a good job servicing it last week. “And you’re off!”

Melanie killed the ignition. “After I trim.”

“That too. Want a hand? I can trim and you can mow behind me. We’ll get it done twice as fast.”

“I don’t know where you came from, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Damn.

“If only to save you from blowing up the mower and ruining this lawn.”

An hour later, Cam left Melanie to finish cutting the grass. He had another stop to make before he went home. He had spread Victor’s mulch but hadn’t planted the trees. He checked his watch. Nearly five. His stomach rumbled.

He’d dig one hole and call it a day.

Victor wasn’t home. Cam stared at the empty spot in the garage and chewed on his lower lip a moment as he contemplated the bubble of disappointment trapped somewhere between his throat and his lungs. He hadn’t seen Victor yesterday, but the sense he was there, somewhere in the house, had been enough. To say it had felt like companionship would be stretching the imagination, but it had. Cam hadn’t been alone.

He turned to survey the tools hanging along the wall. Victor had a lot of tools—most of them geared toward various gardening purposes. He also had a space devoted to woodworking projects. A small circular saw on a workbench that had obviously been built here in this garage. A jigsaw and electric drill sat behind a station of battery chargers, and a short row of handsaws. Drawers filled with screwdrivers and wrenches. A few hammers and mallets. The usual collections of odd screws and nails. Stacks of leftover wood. The most curious item in the garage, though, was the children’s tool bench. Cam discovered it when he twitched a flowered drop cloth aside.

“Interesting.”

He wanted to continue snooping, but he’d probably be halfway up the ladder to the garage attic when Victor pulled back into the driveway. It’d been a long day. He was too tired to think of a reasonable excuse for why he continued to poke into Victor’s life.

Cam tugged a pair of gloves out of his back pocket, picked the shovel he wanted off the wall, and went to dig a hole. The day had cooled, and the darkening clouds promised overnight rain. Still, he was lathered with sweat by the time he was done. Cam checked the time. Nearly six. He checked the sky. The clouds had developed a bruised underbelly that promised a little thunder and lightning with the coming rain.

He should hit the road now.

The garage was still empty when Cam hung the cleaned shovel back on the wall peg, and he didn’t run into Victor on his way out of the driveway. His mood settled somewhere between quiet and melancholy as he turned back onto Milford Road in the direction of home.

His phone rang and Cam glanced at the screen. He smiled when he saw his niece’s name and answered the call. “Hey, you!”

“Hey, yourself!” Emma said.

Rain spattered the windshield, and Cam stuck the phone into the cradle on the dash so he could flip on the wipers. “What’s up?”

“Are you driving?”

“On my way home.”

“How’s my car?”

“She’s doing fine.” A total lie. He hadn’t fixed the electrical problem yet. He planned to, though. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great. Brooklyn is a lot of fun. Noisy, but fun. So, listen, I’ve got a long weekend coming up. Reiner doesn’t need me for the California job—boo—and said I could take a couple of days. I figured I might come home, at least overnight. Hang with you and Uncle Nick.”

A light tan shape flashed in the periphery of Cam’s vision, and he immediately slowed, expecting a deer to burst from the trees and cross the road. The tan wobbled in place and collapsed, and Cam slammed on the brakes. He jumped out of the car and heard Emma call out from the dash.

“Uncle Cam?”

He ducked back inside to grab the phone. “Sorry, Em. I nearly hit a deer. I think someone else actually did. Hit it, I mean.” He rounded the front of the car and stopped. “It’s— Oh, shit, it’s a dog!”

“What?”