Paw.”
“There. You see, honey,” he said. “Josie doesn’t think I’m useless.”
“Josie, I don’t really think your grandpa is useless. He’s just a nag about that couch, and I don’t care what he thinks. It has history.”
“Nobody else knows the history, nor do they care to. To them, it looks like a piece of wood covered with soiled canvas.”
“My great-great grandfather made that sofa from the scrap wood of an old wagon, and my great-great grandmother covered it with fabric from flour sacks. Nobody thought anything of it back then, except for ‘Hey, that’s creative.’” Helen’s Italian passion showed through. The enthusiasm was contagious and put everyone in a good mood. “Folks were poor and admired her craftsmanship. The frame’s been repaired since, and I’ve had the fabric cleaned.”
Isaac looked from one to the other like a spectator at a high-tempo tennis match. The topic was old, and the argument repetitive, but the spirit was great. It meant something. This restored, positive atmosphere was not a product of his imagination. It was real, and it was relief, the beginning of a new normal.
Chapter Twenty-One
T he next morning, after breakfast and coffee, Tom and Helen drove back to Taos. They longed for home after being away for four weeks, but the good-byes were not easy. Isaac stood in the front yard with Josie and Sarah, waving until his parents were out of sight. It was just the three of them. Their life was never going to be the same.
“We should probably get ready,” Sarah said. “Anna’s doing this meeting for us, and it would be nice to get there early.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“It won’t be easy. Nothing with this is. But if it means keeping our family safe, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
At the Smith’s house, Isaac helped Anna’s husband, Riley, set up for the meeting. They pushed all the living room furniture aside and made rows with folding chairs. Sarah was in the kitchen with Anna. An assortment of veggie trays, fruit platters, and finger foods were prepared while they visited. It had the look of a party but not the feel.
Josie went upstairs with Jason with strict instructions to not let him do anything unsafe. She promised, and they went to play.
At twelve o’clock, the guests began to trickle in. All of them lived in or around the neighborhood. In attendance were the elderly, newly retired, empty nesters, and other young couples with kids. Despite the age range, everyone shared the common goal of keeping the street safe.
They were in their seats, munching on snacks, when Anna stepped to the front and called their attention. “Thank you for coming. As I explained in the letter you received, we are here to discuss the safety of our neighborhood. This isn’t just for Isaac and Sarah. It’s for all of us. We all have or know kids who run around without supervision.” She scanned the room. “Because of recent events, I’ve asked someone to speak who can help us keep things, as much as possible, like they were and teach us what to be more aware of. I think everyone knows our chief of police, Charlie Biddle.” She raised her arm, palm up, toward the back of the room.
Charlie? Isaac had no idea he was there or that he was coming. He turned to look for his best friend and found him at the food table with a half-covered plate of snacks.
Clearly, Charlie was not ready, and the look on his face was that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He quickly straightened up, set the plate down, and swallowed the last of his punch.
He squared himself at the front of the living room and tugged on the heavy gun belt riding below his belly. “Folks, it’s real simple. Anna asked me to give a lesson on safety, and regardless of where you are or what you’re doing, these rules apply.” He cleared his throat. “Rule number one. If it looks funny, report it. If you see or hear something and the thought crosses your mind, ‘I wonder if I
“There. You see, honey,” he said. “Josie doesn’t think I’m useless.”
“Josie, I don’t really think your grandpa is useless. He’s just a nag about that couch, and I don’t care what he thinks. It has history.”
“Nobody else knows the history, nor do they care to. To them, it looks like a piece of wood covered with soiled canvas.”
“My great-great grandfather made that sofa from the scrap wood of an old wagon, and my great-great grandmother covered it with fabric from flour sacks. Nobody thought anything of it back then, except for ‘Hey, that’s creative.’” Helen’s Italian passion showed through. The enthusiasm was contagious and put everyone in a good mood. “Folks were poor and admired her craftsmanship. The frame’s been repaired since, and I’ve had the fabric cleaned.”
Isaac looked from one to the other like a spectator at a high-tempo tennis match. The topic was old, and the argument repetitive, but the spirit was great. It meant something. This restored, positive atmosphere was not a product of his imagination. It was real, and it was relief, the beginning of a new normal.
Chapter Twenty-One
T he next morning, after breakfast and coffee, Tom and Helen drove back to Taos. They longed for home after being away for four weeks, but the good-byes were not easy. Isaac stood in the front yard with Josie and Sarah, waving until his parents were out of sight. It was just the three of them. Their life was never going to be the same.
“We should probably get ready,” Sarah said. “Anna’s doing this meeting for us, and it would be nice to get there early.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“It won’t be easy. Nothing with this is. But if it means keeping our family safe, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
At the Smith’s house, Isaac helped Anna’s husband, Riley, set up for the meeting. They pushed all the living room furniture aside and made rows with folding chairs. Sarah was in the kitchen with Anna. An assortment of veggie trays, fruit platters, and finger foods were prepared while they visited. It had the look of a party but not the feel.
Josie went upstairs with Jason with strict instructions to not let him do anything unsafe. She promised, and they went to play.
At twelve o’clock, the guests began to trickle in. All of them lived in or around the neighborhood. In attendance were the elderly, newly retired, empty nesters, and other young couples with kids. Despite the age range, everyone shared the common goal of keeping the street safe.
They were in their seats, munching on snacks, when Anna stepped to the front and called their attention. “Thank you for coming. As I explained in the letter you received, we are here to discuss the safety of our neighborhood. This isn’t just for Isaac and Sarah. It’s for all of us. We all have or know kids who run around without supervision.” She scanned the room. “Because of recent events, I’ve asked someone to speak who can help us keep things, as much as possible, like they were and teach us what to be more aware of. I think everyone knows our chief of police, Charlie Biddle.” She raised her arm, palm up, toward the back of the room.
Charlie? Isaac had no idea he was there or that he was coming. He turned to look for his best friend and found him at the food table with a half-covered plate of snacks.
Clearly, Charlie was not ready, and the look on his face was that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He quickly straightened up, set the plate down, and swallowed the last of his punch.
He squared himself at the front of the living room and tugged on the heavy gun belt riding below his belly. “Folks, it’s real simple. Anna asked me to give a lesson on safety, and regardless of where you are or what you’re doing, these rules apply.” He cleared his throat. “Rule number one. If it looks funny, report it. If you see or hear something and the thought crosses your mind, ‘I wonder if I
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