Then in the shouting she heard it: a yip.
“Quiet!” she called, and wonder of wonders, the men actually listened.
In the sudden silence Daffodil’s high, hysterical barking was quite clear—and coming from inside the hole.
“I’ll be,” Mr. Herring said, amazement in his voice.
She turned and looked. At first she saw only the mess of roots. There wasn’t space in there, surely, for a small dog, let alone a man and boy. But as she watched, a huge hand slapped down on the edge. She started for the hole even as Caliban emerged, head and broad shoulders blackened, clutching Indio to his chest like Hephaestus rising from his underworld forge.
She’d never seen such a wonderful sight.
He tossed a very dirty Daffodil over the edge of the hole. The little dog tumbled, righted herself, and shook vigorously, and then she ran to Lily, tail wagging as if nothing especially remarkable had happened.
Lily ignored the greyhound in favor of her son. Caliban had set him on the edge of the hole before heaving himself over.
“Mama,” Indio said, and then burst into tears.
She knelt in front of him, feeling his body with trembling hands. He had a bloody nose and a scrape on his chin. His hair was quite filthy with dirt, but otherwise he was sound.
She clutched him to her chest and looked over his little shoulder at Caliban. “Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you for saving my son.”
That seemed to bring Indio out of his shocked tears. “He caught me, Mama!” he said, looking at her with his mud-and-salt-streaked face. “Caliban caught me and pushed me an’ him in the hole and the oak tree comed down on us, but it didn’t really because the machine was on the outside, see?” And he pointed to where the tree had landed on top of the hole instead of in it.
Lily shuddered at the sight, for if one of the wheels of the machine had slid, the entire root ball would’ve fallen on them instead of merely tilting half in the hole. But she smiled for Indio.
st Caliban showed her the notebook and she saw a full page of writing. He came to sit beside her as she read: It’s a very difficult job to move a large tree, for the roots mirror the tree above. Thus, as tall as the tree might be, so far below the ground do the roots reach. Of course one cannot move such a mass of earth, for there is no machine to dig so far nor one to move it could it be dug up. But…
She marked her place with her finger and looked up. “But if you can’t dig up the roots, how—?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, tapping the page below her finger.
“Oh.” She bent over the notebook, continuing to read, aware that he was looking over her shoulder now, reading his explanation along with her.
But as a tree’s branches might be cut—quite sharply sometimes—and the tree still live, indeed thrive, it is believed that the roots as well might be cut. In this way a tree can be moved with its roots in a ball of dirt that, in comparison to the tree’s height, is quite small indeed.
Lily turned her head—to find that his face was quite close to hers. She blinked, for a moment forgetting what her question was. Then it came to her. “You say here in comparison to the tree’s height. But the earth and roots might still be quite big, mightn’t it?”
He smiled slowly, as if particularly pleased with her question, and she couldn’t help smiling in return.
He reached around her, his arms nearly embracing her, and wrote in the notebook on her lap, Very good. Yes, the root ball should be quite big, even so.
“Should be?”
His breath was warm against her ear. I confess. I’ve never attempted to transplant a fully grown tree. I shall do so, however, this afternoon. Would you like to watch?
If someone had asked her a fortnight ago if she’d like to watch a tree being planted, she would’ve looked at the questioner quite pityingly. But right now, this moment, she was rather excited at the prospect.
Perhaps too many viewings of Caliban’s nude chest had addled her brain.
In any case she gazed into his thickly lashed brown eyes and smiled brilliantly. “Yes, please.”
His grin was quick and all-encompassing and, she couldn’t help but think, solely for her. As she watched, it faded a bit and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips parted almost unconsciously, and she leaned a little forward, her own eyes on that wide, masculine smile.
“Mama,” Indio interrupted, his cheeks smeared with the remains of a jammy tart. “Can I show Caliban my boat now?”
Lily jerked back from Caliban, feeling her cheeks heat, and caught the amused glance he gave her as he turned more leisurely to the boy.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, repressing the urge to stick her tongue out at the maddening man. He’d started it—whatever it might’ve been—after all.