Winter Sparrow (18 page)

The muggy June morning caused his palms to sweat. Arson almost lost his grip on the bucket during the climb to the top but regained his balance before losing any supplies. Spiderman would have been proud. Reading comic books all his life came in handy now and then.

Grandpa took care of the cabin to the best of his ability, had even showed Arson how to repair the roof years back. “If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he recalled. But in spite of his grandfather’s hard work, it was clear that time eventually wore away all things, even hope.

Arson worked for about an hour before carelessness got the best of him. A loose, jagged shingle sliced through the palm of his hand. Blood gushed from the wound and onto his leg. He swore as the sting began to overwhelm him. He chucked the hammer and tried to keep pressure on the cut.

“What happened?” Grandma’s voice echoed from below. “I heard you cussin’ all the way in the kitchen. You know how I feel about that.”

“Sorry, Grandma.” Arson was glad she left it at that. Sitting on the roof, he turned slightly toward the sun.
It’s a gusher
, he thought. Then, as he stared in amazement, he watched the wound cauterize itself in seconds. It burned.

“Arson, are you all right up there?”

He looked down at the remaining scar, struggling to make sense of it, neglecting the mess on his clothes. “Just fine, Grandma,” he called down.

“That roof isn’t going to fix itself. If I have to spend another night with drops of water hitting my face, I promise you’ll regret it.”

“All right,” Arson said. “I’ll get back to work.”

By evening, the task was complete. He braced himself and watched the sunset from the rooftop as it melted against a fluorescent sky. Arson listened as Grandma concluded her tea conversation with the man she loved.

Moments later, their time together ended with laughter, and he knew it was safe to come down. Arson caught her while she was clearing away the silverware and china.

“Did you finish the roof, love?” she asked in a pleasant voice.

“Yes, Grandma. It’s healed…I mean, fixed.”

“Marvelous. Say, whatcha mean
healed
?”

Arson grabbed the ladder. “I’m really tired. I’m not thinking straight right now. Maybe I just need some rest.”

“I think you’re right. You’re not making any sense at all. Say, do you want a piece of cake before I put it away? Grandpa didn’t eat much tonight. He’s never been much for carrot cake.”

“No thanks. Not hungry,” he said.

“Suit yourself. Put your tools away and get on up to bed, then. A growing boy like you needs his rest. I hope you learned your lesson, though. I don’t like you spending so much time in that miserable lake. The very idea doesn’t sit well with my soul.”

Arson nodded with reluctant eyes and put away the ladder and the tools. Then he rushed inside the cabin and up to his room to read a comic book before dozing off. Maybe tonight his dreams would be different.

WHERE TO FIND ESTEVAN VEGA ONLINE:

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Estevan Vega ©Copyright 2012

All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.

StoneHouse Ink 2012

Boise, ID 83713

www.stonehouseink.net

First eBook Edition: 2012

ISBN: 978-1-938426-64-3

Cover Design by Tyler Evans

Edited by Audra Marvin

Interior Design by D. Robert Pease

www.WalkingStickBooks.com

eBook conversion by GreenE-Books.com

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief