Chapter 4: The Loft Over the Workshop

Gabe's workshop sits at the end of a gravel road on the east side of town.

It is a long steel building with a roll-up door and a stack of cedar planks out front.

Above the shop there is a loft, with a bed, a hot plate and one window.

"It's clean," he said. "I changed the sheets in April. Nobody's slept up there since."

"Why did you change the sheets in April?"

"I like a clean loft."

He set my bag on the bed and stood in the doorway, too tall for the slanted ceiling.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and held the green folder in my lap.

"Your brother had a box of her things for six years," I said.

"I know."

"You knew?"

"I've known he kept things." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not what was in it. Not the cards."

"Do you think I'm crazy for staying with him this long?"

"No." He said it right away. "I think he's careful. Careful people are hard to see."

I looked at him.

He had sawdust on his forearms and a scratch across one knuckle.

He looked at the floor while he talked.

It was the first honest conversation I'd had with anyone in that family, and it felt strange.

"Thank you," I said. "For saying it at the table."

"My mother hasn't spoken to me since."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a good brunch."

I laughed. It came out of me before I could stop it, and I covered my mouth with the back of my wrist.

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