Good by S. Walden Page A

it wouldn’t occur to him to ask first.
    “Well, I imagine you work very hard,” Mr. Connelly said.
    “Not really,” Tate replied.
    Mr. Connelly looked at me, and I grinned. He grinned back like he knew what I was thinking. He showed Tate and me our “to do” list. We, along with Team 2, were in charge of Fanny Burken’s house.
    “Ready?” Mr. Connelly asked.
    I nodded and followed him down the street to house number 536.
    “Tate, my black Volkswagen is just down the street there. Would you mind getting my tool bag?” Mr. Connelly asked, holding out his car keys.
    Tate nodded and left, moving with no sense of urgency or care.
    “Sending a tool to go get some tools,” I said. “Clever.”
    Mr. Connelly chuckled. “That was the plan.” He winked at me. He seemed to always be winking at me. Oh, what the hell? I winked back, and he looked shocked. Wasn’t expecting that were you, Mr. Connelly?
    “Mr. Connelly, why did you volunteer for this youth group project?” I asked, watching Tate saunter back up the road.
    “Just trying to get involved,” Mr. Connelly replied.
    “Yeah, but there are a million service organizations you could get involved in. Why our church? I mean, you’re not even a member, are you?”
    “I’m sensing you don’t want me here,” Mr. Connelly said.
    “No!” Yuck. That reaction was way too obvious. “No, it’s not that. Just curious, is all.”
    “Well, if you must know, I’m just trying some stuff out. To see what I like. To see if there’s a place for me in your church.”
    I had to hand it to him. He was good. But I didn’t believe him for a second that he wanted to find a place in my church. Something else was going on, and because I felt an undeniable attraction to him, I automatically assumed there was attraction on his end. He volunteered today because of me. That’s what I decided to believe. For someone who wasn’t generally full of herself, today I was bursting.
     
    Fanny Burken was a sweet old lady who lived in a tiny house with about two working lights. Though she kept the house clean, it was falling into disrepair. We learned that her son recently died in a motorcycle accident, and he was her only family. She couldn’t reach the ceiling lights to change out the bulbs and had no one to help her maintain the house.
    It was immediate: I went into Operation Fix It mode and ordered Tate to change out all the lights in the house. Then I went to the bathroom and scrubbed it from floor to ceiling. I don’t know why. The bathroom was clean, but I guess my time in juvie conditioned me to clean bathrooms when I needed work to do. It took me an hour and a half, and I didn’t mind.
    I gathered all of the laundry with Fanny’s help and started the wash, then helped Mr. Connelly fix some leaky pipes.
    “Cadence, my wrench is in the side pocket of my bag,” he said, lying on his back with his head under the kitchen sink.
    I played assistant while Tate caulked Fanny’s tub and grouted some tile. Mr. Connelly had to show him how since Tate had never done a bit of manual labor in his life.
    “Is this it?” I asked, holding up a tool with a circular attachment on the end.
    “Sort of close. That’s a socket wrench,” he replied. “Don’t even know why that’s in my bag.”
    He pulled himself out from under the sink and searched through the side pocket of his tool bag. He pulled out what he told me was a pipe wrench.
    “Oh yeah. I’ve seen those before,” I said.
    Mr. Connelly smiled and ducked back under the sink.
    “You’re a good helper, Cadence,” he said.
    I snorted. “I haven’t done anything.”
    “Well, you’re keeping me company, and that’s nice,” he replied.
    “Just until the sheets finish drying,” I said.
    “And I appreciate it,” Mr. Connelly said. “Wanna shine a light for me?”
    “Sure,” I replied, and fished around in his tool bag until I found a miniature flashlight. I hesitated for a second, realizing I’d have to sit very