been for the past five years. It’s the only life he probably remembers. He was two when the accident happened, when I got locked up. For five years, he’s been with Mom, and I think it’s best if he stays there.
“That’s noble of you, but—”
I cut her off with a snort. “It’s not noble. It’s just smart. I’m not ready to be his full-time caregiver. I know that much.”
“Children just need for you to love them,” she says quietly, like she’s telling me something I don’t know.
“They need more than that and you know it.” I pick up my hammer and prepare to go back up on the roof. “If I leave my duck walking around on the ground, is your dog going to eat him?”
She shakes her head. “No. Sally won’t hurt him.”
I gently bump the duck away from me with the toe of my boot so he’ll go play in the grass. The dog sits completely still as the duck walks over and pecks at his feet. He just sits there, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
“Mitchell is a good kid,” Katie says.
“I know.” I climb slowly up the ladder, halfway watching my duck with the dog.
“So you’ll think about taking one of the empty cabins, right?” she calls up to me. She’s a little breathless, like she’s frustrated by my lack of cooperation.
“Nope.” I start to arrange the few shingles I have left to lay, and I begin to hammer them into place.
“You’re really not even going to think about it?”
“Nope.”
“Are you always this hardheaded?”
“Yep.”
“Your parole officer called us,” she says.
I freeze. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to confirm full-time employment and confirm that your domicile is part of our agreement.”
I grunt. I didn’t know that he was going to call them.
“I hate to lie, so you’ll have to take one of the cabins.” She lifts her hand to shield her eyes and grins up at me.
I look down at her. “You told him I’m living in a cabin?”
“No, I don’t like to lie. So I just told him that a cabin is provided as part of your employment agreement.”
“So you skirted around the fact that I’m living in a tent.”
“He didn’t ask about a tent. He just wanted to know about housing.”
I grunt at her, because I feel like she’s waiting for a response that I don’t have.
“You know,” she says, her voice a little quieter, “you tormenting yourself by living in a tent isn’t going to help you any in the long run.”
“I’m not tormenting myself. I like my tent. It’s mine.” Actually, it was my dad’s. I picked it up from my mom’s house the day I got the job here.
“But you can have a cabin,” she yells at me, and now she’s obviously frustrated.
Jake walks around the corner just then, heading straight for Katie, and I’ve never been so happy to see anybody in my life.
“Katie,” Jake says, a warning in his voice. “If he wanted to live in the cabin, he’d live in the cabin. He’s a grown man, he can live wherever he wants. So leave him alone about it.”
“I just want to be sure he knows it’s there for him.”
“I know it’s there,” I call down. “Thank you.”
Katie punches her hands onto her hips and glares at Jake. “He’s so stubborn.”
“Hello, pot,” Jake says with a chuckle. “Meet kettle.” I hear his voice get quieter. “Leave the man alone. He can decide where he wants to live.”
“I know, but I thought I could help him see reason.” They’re obviously having what should be a private conversation, but I can hear every word from up on the roof.
“Leave it be, Katie,” Jake says, a warning in his voice now.
“Leave it be, Katie,” she says, mocking his deep voice. She throws her hands out to the sides, and my duck takes a flying leap to get away from her apparently frightening flailing arms. Sally the dog just lies down and rolls onto his side, where he basks in the fall sunshine. “I don’t want to leave it be!” she hisses at Jake. “I want to fix it.”
“It’s not yours to fix,” he hisses back.
“When you get over being stubborn,” Katie calls up to me, “there’s an empty cabin for you to move into.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” I tack down my last shingle and climb back down the ladder. I say nothing to either of them as I collect my tools. Then I address Jake. “Did you