His eyes light up halfway, like he's interested but none of it much matters to him any more. It's a feeling that Chris doesn't need to have explained to him.
He took Jamie's hand gently and started walking. The boy followed without any hesitation. He seemed as interested as anything, but like doing the actual walking was just too much work. It made Chris's head hurt. There was too much going on that reminded him of things he'd hoped not to be reminded of.
"You know," he said after a long time. "I know it's tough."
"I'm fine," Jamie answered, like he was following a script.
"Good. I'm glad you're fine, man, because when I lost my parents—I don't know, man. I about lost it."
"What do you mean?"
"I was about your age, I guess. A little older, you're, what, ten now?"
"Nine and a half."
"Close, then. I was thirteen, and they went in the night. G
ot sick, and then it turned bad and fast."
The boy was quiet as they walked through the middle of town.
"Man, I was broke up about it for so long. I used to wake up and think, maybe today they'll, I dunno… wake up. Think better of it. I got sent off to live with…" Trying to explain any of it to a nine-and-a-half year old suddenly seemed impossible. "I got sent off to live with other kids whose parents had moved on, like. So you figure we all kinda had a thing in common, right?"
Jamie nodded as they walked, not really answering. The way his body slumped as it walked, he didn't have the gumption, and Chris couldn't blame him.
"No, that ain't how it went. Ten boys, three of 'em my very own brothers, and not a lick of sympathy in the bunch. Everyone wanted to pick a fight with everyone, like the winner got their parents back. My brother was older. Tried to keep me safe. I tell you, I can't stand being treated like that. Like he thought I couldn't take it." Chris stopped a minute and knelt down by Jamie.
"So I won't do that to you, you got it? I know you're tough, and I know you can deal with whatever you got to deal with. You don't need my help, and I know it. But, if you ever want anything from me, I won't say no, and I won't laugh. There ain't nothing funny about it, aight?"
Jamie nodded, but this time it wasn't going to be enough.
"I need to know you understand, Jamie. Just tell me you'll call after me if you run into any trouble, and we'll be on the way."
"I know it's fine. Miss Bainbridge told me she'd help if I had any trouble, too."
Chris couldn't keep the smile off his face so he stood back up. Just across the street was the schoolhouse.
"Sure, she did. She's good people. You might find, though, that there's gon' come a time when you have a problem you don't want to talk to a girl about. And when that time comes, you can come to me." Chris gestured up the ladder. "You go ahead, and I'll be right behind you. Take your time, yeah?"
Jamie nodded tiredly, and then he mustered up his energy and set one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, and eased his way up. He was only nine and a half, sure. But he'd lived on a ranch his whole life, so it wasn't hard to imagine that he'd spent plenty of time on ladders. The comfortable way he went up like it was second nature was enough to tell Chris that he had.
Once he'd followed the kid up, he walked over across the gently sloping roof to where the hole had been.
"You ever seen a building going up, Jamie?"
He shook his head.
"They're a bit like you, in a way. You got bones, right? Hold you up, make you move around. And when they break, it hurts like hell, let me tell you."
The boy nodded. "Yeah, I know, I think."
"Well, buildings are the same way. They got bones—the rafters, you seen 'em, I know—and frames, and then everything around them, what you see, is like skin over that. But if the skeleton goes, the skin goes, and the skeleton right there"—He pointed at the patched-over spot—"had gone bad."
"What happened to make it bad?"
"Probably just age, or a little spot that didn't get tarred over, and that made for a leak. Then the timber gets water in it, and it starts to rot out."
"Yeah," the boy said, like he knew what Chris was talking about.