“Have you wrapped it?”
The frown deepened. “Wrapped it?”
He wiped his mouth on the paper towel that served as a napkin. “It’s gonna freeze this weekend. Maybe not a hard one, but outside pipes can freeze pretty quick and burst.” He pushed back from the table. “I’ll take a look at it. Thanks for lunch.”
Her cheeks glowed a rosy color, and her stubborn chin jutted out. “I can do it myself if you can just tell me what I need.”
He shook his head. “I have enough left over.” He walked toward the door. “Thanks for lunch. That hot stuff was really good.”
Maddie jumped from her chair. “Can I help, Max?”
“No,” said Sky, “you can’t. I’m sure he’s got other stuff to do. I’ll take care of the pipes myself.”
Max figured pride prompted such an assertion and doubted she had a clue what needed to be done. “When?”
“When what?”
“When will you do it? You have to work today, and the freeze should happen tomorrow night.”
“In the morning,” she replied a little too quickly, “before I go to work.”
“Do you have the stuff you need? Do you know how?”
“He’s got a point, Mama,” interjected Maddie. “Might as well let us fix it.”
“You have to go to Gail’s.”
“I can walk across Max’s yard to her house when we’re done.” She reached up and took his big hand in her tiny one. “Max doesn’t mind me helping, do you?”
Max knew he was in deep trouble when he couldn’t stop the smile edging up one corner of his mouth as he gazed into trusting orbs, blue as a summer sky. He tapped her upturned nose with his finger. “Mind your mother, Tink.” The nickname rolled naturally off his tongue as he looked back at Sky, whose face held a strange expression. “I’ll have it done shortly.”
Before either of them could protest further, he left.
When he saw them drive away a few minutes later, he grabbed up the supplies he’d placed by the door and went in search of the faucet. Turns out she had two, and he was working on the second one when he heard soft footsteps behind him.
“Shoot. I wanted to help.”
Maddie’s exasperated voice brought another infrequent smile.
“Mrs. Brown know where you are, Tink?”
She nodded. “You called me that before. What does it mean?”
“Short for Tinkerbell.” He glanced at her when she squatted down beside him. “Do you mind the nickname?”
Ebony curls bounced when she shook her head. “No, sir. I like it.” She craned her neck to watch him wrap the roll of foam around the pipe. “Mama calls me Munchkin sometimes.”
The next few minutes passed quickly as his companion bombarded him with questions, peppered with comments about her mother.
He discovered Sky liked to sing and, according to Maddie, had a nice voice and at one time was a nurse. He wondered why she would give that up to work in a diner but decided it was none of his business. The child never mentioned her father, and his curiosity grew on that point.
His experience with kids was limited to waiting rooms at the VA clinic or when they accompanied parents to the auto parts store where he worked. Most of those fell into the noisy-bothersome-kids category. Maddie, however, was different. She was so intelligent, he sometimes had to remind himself she was a child.
When both faucets were wrapped and a loose board on the back steps repaired, he placed the unused supplies in a small portable shed behind his house. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to Mrs. Brown’s.”
She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry if I ask too many questions, Max. Mama says I do that sometimes.”
“Your hands are cold. Where are your gloves?”
She ducked her head. “Well, I left ‘em on the playground when…”
“When what?”
Thin shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. “Bobby Franklin.”
“The kid with oatmeal for brains?”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Can you keep a secret?”
Uh-oh. Danger ahead. “Depends on the secret.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I don’t understand. If it’s a secret, then it’s a secret.”
He squatted down so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up to him. “I think it’s very important to always be honest. It saves a lot of unhappiness down the road.”
She gave a light nod, and he continued.
“And some secrets are okay to keep.”
