The Hero's Redemption

Mr. Zatloka turned watery, faded eyes on Cole. “I’ve seen what you’re doing over there for Ms. Parrish. Looks like you can do just about anything. Any chance you could build a ramp?”

“I can. If you’ll buy the lumber, I’ll be happy to—”

“No, no! ’Course we’ll pay you. You just let me know when you’re free to take on another job.”

Cole glanced at Erin, then said, “I can do it anytime, Mr. Zatloka. I’m still doing bits and pieces for Ms. Parrish, but I’ll fit this job in.”

They briefly discussed details. Cole agreed to measure and make up a materials list this afternoon, and Erin offered to pick up what was needed from the lumberyard rather than have them deliver. Then Cole walked the man to his front door, greeted Mrs. Zatloka and returned to hop into the passenger seat.

He expected her to gloat because he’d been hired to work for someone else, but instead, even as Erin turned to look over her shoulder as she backed out of the driveway, she said, “I’ve never asked if they have kids. I feel so guilty. I wish I’d visited Nanna more often, seen how much she needed. I just never thought.”

“Did she care whether the front porch got replaced or not?”

“She sure would have if she’d fallen through a rotten board and broken her leg.”

Cole shook his head. “But she didn’t.”

“Well, no, but…” Erin had the grace to laugh. “I have a guilt complex, okay?”

Laughter was an improvement over her usual despair. He’d take it.

Not until they’d reached the house did he say, “You have a computer?”

“Sure, a laptop. Why? Do you need to use it?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He couldn’t help sounding stiff. “I’m hoping I can find some instructions for the ramp. I’m not sure about the slope.”

“If it’s too steep, a wheelchair or walker might get out of control.”

“Right.” He cringed at the idea of Mrs. Zatloka’s walker running away from her.

“Come on in,” she suggested. “I’ll get it for you.”

She made coffee, too, as he sat at the kitchen table with the skinny little laptop that wasn’t even plugged in. She must have wireless. Electronics intimidated him more than anything else in this changed world.

He now knew how to get online and type in a search query, although his fingers felt too big for the keyboard. A ton of answers popped up immediately. He’d barely started reading when Erin set a notebook and pen within reach.

One foot for each inch of rise. Huh. Fortunately, the Zatlokas’ concrete stoop wasn’t more than twenty-four to thirty inches high. Handrails—yeah, they’d need those. He found suggestions about the ideal width for the ramp, which was good because Mrs. Zatloka didn’t yet own a wheelchair. He’d seen some pretty fancy ones a lot wider than the basic edition available as a loaner at the hospital. The ramp should be built to accommodate a wheelchair of that size.

He could build it using poured concrete, and studied those directions, but he decided to go with wood so it could be torn out more easily. A young family probably wouldn’t want one. Mom and Dad wouldn’t love catching a kid using the ramp as a skateboard park.

He looked up to realize he was alone. Taking advantage of Erin’s absence, he typed in a query about extralong passenger vans, and was dismayed by what he read. There were plenty of warnings about the relative instability and difficult handling of twelve-person and larger vans. Had Erin ever checked into it?

Finally, he closed the internet.

He found her outside, watering her new plants. Somehow, she’d managed to soak one leg of her jeans. She was cleaner than she’d been yesterday, digging in the dirt, but wisps of pale hair had escaped her braid and curled around her face, and in the sunlight her freckles were a lot more apparent than they were indoors. Cole wished he didn’t have these moments when he was especially struck by how beautiful she was, and how that long, leggy body turned him on.

“Ah, you want me to shut down the computer?”

She looked up. “No, it’ll go into sleep mode. I’ll probably go online later. Did you find what you need?”