I touch my neck. It’s wet. My pillow is wet. A loud boom of thunder bursts through the sky, making me jump. The windows light up with lighting. We kept the blinds closed but there’s no curtains yet, and light from the thunderstorm flashes across our barren bedroom wall.
Another cold drop hits me. I jump out of bed, wrestling with the covers. Jett moves in his sleep, stirring but not waking up.
I look up, but don’t see anything. That is until another burst of lightning lights up the room just quickly enough for me to see the massive water spot on the ceiling. On my freshly painted ceiling!
The roof is leaking.
Great. Just great.
Chapter 18
Jett
We have a roof leak.
And it turns out the driveway gets pretty muddy when it rains, and last night was a big thunderstorm. We got three inches of rain according to the news app on my phone, but it felt like more.
Keanna had woken me up last night in a frenzy. We pulled the bed across the room to avoid getting more rainwater on our new mattress, and then looked everywhere for a bucket to put under the water drips. We’ve purchased so many new things for the house, but a bucket was not one of them.
In our middle of the night panic, we settled for the open box from the television with a plastic bag inside of it to catch the water. It worked pretty well.
Now that the sunlight is up, I stare at the ceiling, watching the unsightly blob of wet drywall that seems to have grown even wider since the rain stopped. Our house inspector did say the roof would need replacing soon, but he said we should have a few more years until that’s absolutely needed.
While Keanna’s at the grocery store, I call my friend Jake because he works at his dad’s roofing company. He drives right over and gets up on the roof to assess the damage.
“This just needs a simple patch job,” he says, climbing down the ladder. “It won’t take more than a couple hours to fix. I can be out here tomorrow morning to patch it up.”
”Perfect,” I say. “I really appreciate it, just tell me how much I owe you.”
”Actually, I had an idea,” he says. “What if we trade services? I’d love to get some dirt bike lessons from you.”
”Yeah, that’d be great.”
We work out a lesson schedule, which leaves me feeling like I’m getting the better end of the deal, but he swears he’s excited for the lessons and would prefer this over me paying him for his work.
He comes out first thing the next morning and fixes the roof. He also finds a few other weak spots and patches them, too. Now we should have a few more years before we’re looking at a whole new roof replacement.
Over the next few days, our appliances arrive, we buy more stuff—like bathmats and cooking spray and all the little things a house typically has that you don’t think about until you need them. Our awesome fixer-upper is becoming a home.
Arko has an awesome back yard. The fence is perfectly sound with no gaps or holes he could slip out of, but I don’t think he would try to do that anyway. The dog follows us around all day long, never letting us out of his sight. But if we’re in different rooms, he sticks by Harper. He sleeps in her room and keeps close when she wanders through the house, particularly when going up and down the stairs. It’s like this retired dog decided he’s not just a pet, he’s also her protector.
Harper adores her bedroom and she loves sitting in her bay window, looking out at the front yard. Keanna has assigned me the project of building bookshelves in her bedroom to fill with books, and I’ve added that to the long list of house projects.
Literally.
The list is on the fridge. And it is quite long.
But it’s all an act of love toward building our happy future together. Actually…it’s not about a happy future. It’s about a happy present. I’ve never seen Keanna so happy before now. I’ve never seen Harper so thrilled to decorate her room and run around, playing in her huge back yard with her loyal dog.
I’m hanging a paper towel holder when Harper calls out for both of us. Then I hear the shuffling of her little feet on the stairs. She clings to the handrail and takes the steps one at a time, Arko right beside her.
”What is it?” Keanna asks.
”Come see something in my room.”
She turns around and begins her slow ascent back up the stairs. Keanna and I exchange a confused look, and have no choice but to follow her.
In her bedroom closet, she’s discovered something incredible. Inside the door frame, three kids have tracked their heights by making little marks in the wood. The heights are dated from 1985, going all the way up until three years ago.
