be a little young for it, but she’ll grow into it, and maybe we could do a lower-level terrace for her or something. Nicholas is a perfect age. He can even help us with the planning and building.”
I remember the day six years ago when Archer suggested I build a second version of the tree house—The Castle—he and I had when we were kids.
Only when he’d mentioned it, neither of us had foreseen that he would be here to build it with me. Neither of us had foreseen—
“The Castle Two,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “The Castle Two.” He gestures to the measuring tape in my hand. “Let’s do some math. We’ll work on a blueprint back at the house.”
I unroll the tape as he hauls himself up into the tree and reaches down for the end of the tape. We measure the diameter of the trunk, the distance between branches and the other trees, the position of post supports.
We mark points on the tree with tape, discuss the necessity of a rope ladder, and talk about the original Castle with its warped boards, torn tarp roof, sheets of plywood, and the makeshift door we’d made from an old piece of crate siding.
“Frostie Root Beer,” I say.
“You want a root beer?”
“We made The Castle door out of a Frostie Root Beer crate,” I explain. “If you looked at it from the right angle, you could still see the lettering on the door. The Frostie Roo part, at least.”
“Too bad we couldn’t find a Mr. Moo Chocolate Milk crate.” Archer shakes his head wistfully. “Mr. Moo made the best chocolate milk on the planet. I’ve never been able to find another brand that was as good.”
“Are they still around?”
“Nah, I think they went out of business years ago. Small company pushed out by the big guys. I haven’t been able to find Mr. Moo Chocolate Milk in years.”
Despite all the crap Archer and I have been through—including thirty years of estrangement and conflict—it’s a good feeling to remember that in addition to being brothers, we’d once been friends who’d had a tree-house hideout. And even now, we have the same memories of root beer and chocolate milk.
After a while, we pack up the supplies and walk back to the house. Though my insides are still knotted, it’s easier to breathe now. A lot easier.
“I’ll take this back to the garage,” Archer says, indicating the toolbox.
I watch him go for a second. “Hey, why did you come over?”
“To fix that porch railing.” He jerks his chin to the house. “I was going to get the tools when I heard you chopping the hell out of that wood. Is…uh, is Liv having a rough time?”
“Yeah.” My throat tightens. “Brutal.”
A dark shadow passes over Archer’s face before he turns away. He puts the toolbox in the garage, then we go into the house together. Claire is stirring a pot of oatmeal on the stove, and the sound of cartoons comes from the family room.
“Liv is still sleeping,” Claire tells us, glancing at the clock. “There’s a casserole heating in the oven, and I’ll leave this oatmeal on the stove in case she might want it. Do you need me to stay longer?”
“No, it’s okay. Thanks.”
“Hey, who let the dogs out?” Archer calls, going into the family room where the kids are watching TV.
Greetings of “Uncle Archer!” fill the air. I walk Claire to the door and hold her coat for her.
“I really appreciate everything you’re doing,” I tell her.
“I know you do.” She picks up her purse and gives me a sad smile. “I’m just sorry for what you’re going through. I mean, I realize Liv is the sick one, but people tend to forget that the caregiver needs attention too.”
“I’m fine.” Disliking her implication that I’m not fine, I pull open the door. “Thanks again. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
After Claire leaves, I go upstairs to check on Liv. She looks so vulnerable lying there with her eyes closed, her head unprotected by her thick tumble of hair, her skin so white it appears bloodless.
But at least when she’s asleep, she’s not in pain. I press my lips to the top of her head and return downstairs to where Archer, with a giggling Bella clinging to his back like a little monkey, is wrestling Nicholas to the floor.
I start to leave them alone, grateful that my brother is giving the kids some lighthearted fun.