Normal questions.
Good work.
Still Walter’s temper frayed.
When Eli dropped a bucket of nails, Walter snapped so hard the yard froze.
“For the love of— pay attention!”
Eli went still.
The bucket rolled and clanged against a stump.
No one moved.
Walter hated himself the second the words left him.
But pride is quickest right after shame.
So instead of apologizing, he turned away and yanked at a board that did not need yanking.
Ms. Bell crossed the yard.
Not angry.
Not timid.
Just direct.
“Take a walk,” she said.
Walter bristled.
“On my own place?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
She looked right back.
Not as teacher to volunteer.
Not as younger woman to older man.
Just one adult seeing another one slide toward a wall.
Walter muttered something impolite under his breath and walked.
He made it as far as the maple tree.
The grass there had turned greener than the rest of the yard.
He stopped with one hand on the trunk.
A breeze came off the pasture.
Not much.
Just enough to lift his shirt sleeve.
He stared at the ground where Blue lay and said, “You’d have bit me for that.”
No bark answered.
No miracle.
Only the ordinary ache of missing what had once kept him honest.
When he came back, Eli was still there.
Still working.
The bucket of nails had been picked up.
The students were pretending not to watch.
Walter stood in the middle of them and felt about ninety years old.
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