Author: Robyn Carr

“Could be gone for a spell.”

“I got it,” Cooper said, still studying the layout in front of him.

A minute later, Spencer heard Rawley slam something into the bed of his truck outside. Then he was back in the kitchen. Next he was struggling out the door with a box full of stuff. Then he was back, then out again with a load of cleaning implements—mop, broom, rags.

Cooper finally looked up. “Rawley, what the hell are you doing?”

The old guy stopped short, mops and brooms and stuff in his arms, and said, “Every night I beat Devon and the little one home and you know why? Cause she works all day, then takes the little one to that shit hole she rented. They eat a sandwich she packed up and then Devon tries to make a dent in the filth and damage of that house while her daughter either looks at her books or sits with that old lady neighbor next door. It just ain’t right. I’m going over there. See what I can do.”

As if he had been hit with a cattle prod, Spencer was off his stool. “I’m in that with you, Rawley. Let me get my shoes and tell Austin I’ll be gone awhile.”

“Take your own car,” Rawley said. “I’m putting in some serious time.” And he was gone.

“Can you manage Austin?” Spencer asked Cooper.

Cooper turned to Sarah. “Can you handle Austin? The bar should be quiet. It’s a weekday...”

“But I want to go!” Sarah said. “I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it!”

“Okay, we have a problem,” Cooper said. “I can close the bar for a few hours, but we got us a kid.”

“Landon will help out,” Sarah said. “We’ll just tell him not to serve alcohol and to keep an eye on Austin.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “What does he get for that? Double pay?”

“He gets me to not hate him,” Cooper said. “If we’re helping out a friend, he can just suck it up.” And with that, Cooper went out on the deck and split the morning calm with a piercing whistle.

By the time Spencer was back on the deck in jeans and shoes, Landon was coming up the stairs to the deck. “What?” he asked.

“We’re heading out to help a friend,” Sarah told him. “We’d like you to keep an eye on the bar and Austin. Austin’s watching TV right now—don’t let him get away. And just don’t sell alcohol. Cooper will be back before five.”

“What friend?” he asked.

“Rawley’s cousin,” she said. “Devon. She rented a house down the street from us and it needs...help.”

“Help because she shouldn’t have to live in a completely demolished dump,” Spencer said. “Austin goes no farther than the dock. In a life jacket.”

“Gotcha,” Landon said.

They headed out in two cars and when they arrived the front door was standing open. Rawley’s old truck was backed into the driveway with the hatch down and there was the sound of pounding coming from inside.

“No moss growing under that old boy’s feet,” Spencer said as he stood outside the front door with Cooper and Sarah. Rawley was already involved in patching a hole in the wall with drywall he’d obviously brought along. There were a couple of cans of paint sitting on the floor.

“What’ve we got, Rawley?” Spencer asked.

Rawley looked up. “Bag the trash. She’s got it in neat piles in each room. We got nasty kitchen appliances and while you’re at it, pull ’em out from the wall and clean that nasty stuff under ’em. We got a bathroom that a vagrant wouldn’t use. We got walls to paint, trim to scrub and paint, windows to wash. Leave the fireplace till last—she don’t need it this summer.”

Sarah walked across the living room and peeked into each room. “Cooper, that bathroom is yours. It’s awful. Spencer, why don’t you help me in the kitchen.”

Spencer took a look at each room. “Yep, Cooper gets that bathroom.” And then he got started pulling out appliances. While Sarah worked on cleaning the inside of the refrigerator, he bagged the trash and threw it in the back of Cooper’s truck. A little over three hours later, the kitchen appliances were clean and Spencer was washing the walls so he could paint them while Sarah got started on cleaning out the cupboards.

And then they were interrupted when Landon and Austin pulled up in the Razor with a cooler strapped to the back.

“Lunch!” Landon announced.

Work stopped at once while Landon opened the cooler to reveal sandwiches and cold drinks. Austin carried a grocery bag full of chips and snacks.

“What did you do with the bar?” Cooper asked.

“Put the closed sign on the door, just like you used to do before you had slave labor,” Landon replied. “Wow, this place is a wreck.”

“And it’s already a lot better than it was,” Spencer informed him.

After some serious hand washing, they sat on the living room floor in a circle, all of them, and ate the sandwiches. And then they went back after it with a vengeance. By four-thirty Cooper and Rawley were leaving to take care of the evening crowd down on the beach. Sarah was looking over her handiwork—she’d cleaned all the windows while Spencer painted the kitchen. The floors were clean but ill-used. She scuffed a toe on the floor. “I guess that’s what rugs are for,” she said. “And, if Devon is interested, I might’ve found a home for some of the furniture I can’t keep.”

“I’d been thinking the same thing,” Spencer said.

“Looks damn good in here.” Sarah turned full-circle. “I’m going to walk down the block, let Ham out and take a shower. See you back at the beach?”

He laughed. “Remember, I still live at the beach.”

“Maybe not for too much longer.”

When Sarah was gone, Spencer stayed behind. He started to envision furniture in the rooms he could see. A table for four in the kitchen. A sofa and chair and bookcase in the living room. A toy chest. A blackboard on the kitchen wall by the back door for schedules or shopping lists. A thick rug in front of the fireplace. He’d never been much for decorating; it had never mattered to him very much. For some reason he wanted this little nest to be safe and cozy for Devon and Mercy. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was running from, but he wanted her running to something decent.

He could have left. He should have left, but he stayed. It was almost five when she arrived with her daughter. He went to stand in the open doorway and when she saw him, she looked confused.

“Spencer?” she asked. She was wearing her scrubs and tennis shoes. He backed into the house wordlessly and let her enter. She put her hands over her mouth in awe. “Spencer!” she gasped.

He realized what she thought and said, “Oh, no—I didn’t do this. I helped, that’s all. It was Rawley. He wanted to help out so the rest of us came along. They had to get back to the beach—people start showing up, looking for drinks and sandwiches and deli pizza at about four.”

“Who did this?” she asked in a soft voice. “Who?”

“Well, it was Rawley, Cooper, Sarah. And I helped.”

She looked him over. “Helped?”

He was a dirty mess. He laughed. “I did everything Rawley told me to do.”

She glanced around. “My God...”

“The bedrooms aren’t done. Well, they’re swept and mopped, but Rawley’s got some paint for the walls. It’s boring. It’s just ‘renter’s white.’ But I think he’s finished patching walls. And if I could just brag a little, I hauled trash and painted the kitchen....”

“Oh, my God,” she said. “It’s immaculate. It’s shining.” And then her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe you guys did this for me.”

He gave a shrug. “You’re Rawley’s cousin, so I guess we’re all family. And it’s not like I had to work today....”

She looked down for a long moment, frowning. Just what she didn’t want—another extended family. She wanted friends. Spencer couldn’t know how much the idea of everyone being one big family caused her to cringe inside.

Mercy came in the door carrying her books and her blanket. She stood there, oblivious. Apparently a three-year-old couldn’t see the improvement. Then Devon lifted her eyes to Spencer’s face. There were tears on her cheeks. “Do you know how long it would have taken me to get this far?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I do.”

“You’re not going to understand this, but I’ve had great kindnesses given me but the price has been... Well, never mind that. ‘Thank you’ will just never be enough.” She wiped the emotion off her cheeks.

“Devon, I want you to stop right there. There’s not going to be a bill. It was just us being good neighbors, that’s all. I don’t want you to think you owe anyone anything.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“But you’ll probably want to start with that—just ‘thank you.’ The rest of the bucket brigade is at the beach. I need a shower. I have to check on Austin, make sure he hasn’t driven anyone crazy. I’m going to take off—I’m really ready for a cold beer.” He headed for the door and she stopped him.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“I was glad to help out.”

Seven

Devon drove to Cooper’s to thank the rest of the cleanup crew and, as she thought about it, she had to acknowledge that there was a difference between people helping one another in a small town, and relying on each other in a commune. And she had so much to give in return—even managing the doctor’s office, she could be of help every day. She could extend herself the extra mile, making sure those people who called or came in received the best she had to offer.

Then she remembered something she had known long ago—that kindness wasn’t only demonstrated by giving material things or labors. There were the simple gestures that people forgot, that were so important—a little extra time, a smile, patience, conversation, gratitude. These were the things Aunt Mary had valued, she had never had much by way of material wealth but she’d been one of the most generous people Devon knew.

She reminded herself of these things as she walked into Cooper’s, holding Mercy’s hand. She went first to the kitchen to find Rawley. “You wonderful sneak,” she said. “I can’t believe what you did!”

He turned from the sink. “I just meant to put a dent in it for you,” he said. “But all them others just jumped in. Looks darn good, don’t it, though?”

“Darn good. Thank you. You are certainly my guardian angel.”

He grinned at her and if she wasn’t mistaken, flushed a little bit. “Ain’t no one ever called me that before.”

“Can I buy you a beer?” she asked.

“Girl, I don’t drink nothin’. I don’t make all that much sense without ever takin’ a drink. Those others, though—they’d prolly take your beer money.”

She just laughed at him.

He bent at the waist and peered at Mercy. “Wanna help old Rawley wash up dishes?”

Her little face lit up and Devon said, “Oh, Rawley, she’s just going to make a big mess.”

He scooped her up and planted her on the step stool in front of the sink. “I reckon. There ain’t no sharp things in there, I know what I’m doing.” He tied an apron around her neck and it fit her like a long dress. “Why don’t you take a break for once. Sit out on the deck and count seabirds.”

Devon wandered back into the bar. Cooper was alone behind the bar and he was smiling at her. She leaned on the bar. “How can I thank you?”

“You just did.”

“I can’t even buy you a beer in your own bar,” she said. “I’ll think of something special. Something that will show you how much it means to me that you’d take on that cleanup job for someone you barely even know.”