Page 126 of Full Contact

“Mark, hold the bookcase. It wobbles. Uncle Clare, hold the bottom.”

Mark braced the bookcase with both hands. I knelt and held the base of the yardsticks. Josh loaded the truck again and pulled. The lid rose, swung a little, and steadied. The truck rolled against the cardboard wall and stayed there. At the second shelf, the lid stopped level with the wood, and Josh tipped it just enough for the truck to roll off and bump into a book.

“Let’s do it again,” Josh said. “With the dump truck. It’s heavier.”

We tried the dump truck and the fire engine after it. Mark caught my eye over Josh’s head and smiled. I smiled back, still holding the yardsticks.

By the time Kelsey called us down for dinner, I was more tired than I usually was after an afternoon at Russ’s, and all I’d done was kneel on a carpet.

After dinner, Russ and Kelsey argued over what to watch. Mark sat beside me on the couch.

“Did you have a good day?” I asked, quietly.

“I did. Russ showed me pictures from the summer you got the tattoos. Josh explained the elevator’s second floor. And Kelsey promised me the pot-roast recipe.”

“She doesn’t give that out.”

“She said I have to ask in writing. On the Peaches list.” He squeezed my knee. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did. Josh found a bolt as long as his forearm and wanted to know what it was for.”

Before bed, I found Kelsey putting away the last of the dishes.

“Does Mark take coffee for the road?” she asked.

“Milk, no sugar.”

“How early are you leaving?”

“Eight.”

“I’ll be up.”

***

Kelsey had sandwiches ready at quarter to eight and a travel mug for Mark. “Milk, no sugar,” she said.

Josh came down in his pajamas. “Did you wrap the frog up in a sweater? I don’t want him to break.”

“The thickest one I brought,” Mark said.

“You have to send a picture when he’s in the bathroom. Take it with the toothbrush in and him facing the shower.”

Josh hugged Mark quickly, both arms around his waist. Then he hugged me and held on longer, his face against my coat.

“I’ll check on the second floor,” I told him.

Russ carried my bag to the car and shut the trunk. “I checked the fan,” he said. “It has all its screws.”

“Then those are spares,” Josh called from the porch.

Russ looked at his son, then at me. “I’ll keep them with the bulbs.”

We were twenty minutes north of town when Mark said he’d like to visit again.

“Good,” I said. “The next break isn’t until—“ I was counting forward through the schedule in my head.

“Maybe not every visit,” Mark said.