“Morning.”
Mara stared.
“What is this?”
Caleb smiled.
“A repair job.”
“You can't do this.”
“We already started.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can't pay you.”
Caleb walked up the steps.
“We aren't asking.”
“Why?”
He looked at the house.
Then back at her.
“Because Thomas taught me something.”
“What?”
“When someone saves your life, you don't repay them by sending a check.”
He smiled.
“You repay them by saving someone else.”
The work began before Mara could fully understand what was happening.
Roofers climbed onto the damaged roof.
Electricians inspected the wiring.
Plumbers crawled beneath the house.
Carpenters reinforced the porch.
Two women stocked Mara's kitchen with groceries.
Someone brought bottled water.
Someone else brought medicine.
A contractor arrived with paperwork and discovered that several repairs could be completed using donated materials.
Mara stood in the middle of the yard.
She didn't know where to look.
Everyone seemed to have a job.
Even the children of some riders helped gather fallen branches.
A woman named Rosa planted flowers beside the porch.
“You don't have to do that,” Mara told her.
Rosa smiled.
“Neither did your husband.”
Mara looked at her.
Rosa shrugged.
“Caleb told us stories.”
The words made Mara's throat tighten.
All day, the sound of hammers filled the valley.
For the first time in years, Mara didn't hear the house groaning.
She heard it being repaired.
At lunchtime, everyone ate together.
Someone grilled burgers.
Someone made chili.
Mara sat at a folding table surrounded by people she hadn't known twenty-four hours earlier.
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised her.
A little boy asked whether Thomas had really taught Caleb how to fix motorcycles.
Mara smiled.