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Clearly the writer didn’t know that Kimmie had had a black thumb.
Levi looked up from his paper to the window, noticing that he’d sat facing Mina’s house this morning, not with his back to it like normal. With his blinds open he could see the burst of fall colors her mums provided. Mina, crouched in her front yard, a drill next to her in the grass, was also in full view. She was holding two boards together and screwing down a clamp. When she finished, she picked up a level, held it against the join and shook her head.
He took several sips of his coffee while he watched her undo the work she’d just done and try again. Unsurprisingly, given the uneven surface she was working on, she had to take it apart once more.
He guessed she was making a raised garden bed. The task would be a lot easier if she had some help.
He flipped through the rest of the paper, idly reading the comics—even the terrible soap opera–like ones he should have given up on years ago—and checking the ads. There was nothing worth reading in the rest of the paper, but he skimmed the headlines anyway. For completion’s sake.
Only when he’d finished the paper and his last bit of now cold coffee did he look up again. Mina had apparently gotten the two boards clamped together like she wanted. Now she struggled with holding the boards and predrilling holes for her screws.
Levi sighed. He wasn’t the type of neighbor who liked to do more than wave from his truck when he passed someone on the street. He didn’t want someone interpreting a friendly smile as an invitation to drop by and say hi.
Of course, Mina had already dropped by to introduce herself and before he’d worked himself up to even waving at her from his truck. And, despite helping her with Al, she hadn’t invited herself over for dinner. She’d been friendly but not intrusive.
He sighed again, then stood and put his coffee cup in the sink.
With one last look at his neighbor’s battle against the raised bed, Levi ran his hand through his hair and went upstairs to change into jeans.
She was too young. His heart was still too tender, his memories of Kimmie too fresh. But with no one there to help her, Mina would spend the entire day struggling to produce a garden bed with lopsided joins that would set his teeth on edge every time he stepped out of his front door.
After buttoning his jeans, he dug a work T-shirt out of his drawer. In the long run, going over to help her was a bigger benefit to him than it was to her. Not only did she need the assistance and he had the skills to provide it, but that house had been sitting empty for two years. Helping her fix it up would improve his own house’s value, not to mention what he had to see every time he looked out his windows.
He caught a glimpse of a bullshitting liar in the mirror as his head popped through the neck of the shirt. God, who was he fooling?
In the short bit of time he’d spent with Mina, he had felt more like his old self. The person he’d been before Kimmie’s death, who made plans and had dreams. If he spent more time with her, that man he’d once been would come back, and it was that allure that had him hurrying down the stairs and out the door.
Against his better judgment, he was sure.
* * *
A LARGE, MAN-SHAPED shadow blocked Mina’s view of the marks she’d made in the wood. She sat back on her heels, both in frustration at how long it had taken her to get the stupid boards flush and at the person blocking her view of the part of this process she was really looking forward to—using her new drill.
The shadow didn’t speak, nor did it move. Finally, she turned and looked up into the sun at the man towering over her.
Her sometimes friendly, usually unfriendly neighbor, Levi, had come to watch her be foolish. A better show in person than from the window, no doubt.
“Hey,” she said, throwing a little extra chipper into her voice.
“That’d be easier if you did it on the driveway. Your driveway’s pretty level.” Not much as far as greetings went, but what she could see of his shadowed face was open and friendly. Or as friendly as he got. His now two-day beard and sleep-messed hair didn’t add much welcoming or pleasant to his look, but she’d always preferred brooding to charming.
“I know it would be easier, but if I did this on my driveway, I’d need someone to help me move it once it’s built. And,” she said with a shrug, “I figured it would be easier to get it level on the grass than move it by myself.”
