Read Online A Piece of Heaven by Sharon Dennis Wyeth - Free Book Online

arms,” I blurted out. “I could listen to that forever.”
    “There you go, complimenting me again,” he said modestly. “Being able to listen is a gift, too. Not everyone can respond deeply to music.” He got up and stretched. “What an improvement, having those doors out of the way! Sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”
    “I was fine by myself,” I said staunchly.
    “I’m sure you were,” said Jackson. A smile flitted across his lips. “I’ve been dreaming of the little party I’m planning for Brielle out here. Looks like it might happen.”
    “Is it her birthday?” I asked curiously.
    “No, her birthday is in April.” He touched one of the leaves on the tree. “This is more of a homecoming celebration.”
    I imagined a tall, pretty girl with slicked-back hair walking into the yard, carrying a movie camera. Brielle and Jackson would hug each other, and then she’d make a movie starring her father. The movie set would be a garden with green grass and flowers, a garden that I had created in the yard! Though Jackson and Brielle wouldn’t see me, I’d be there, too, hiding behind the tree, perhaps.
    “When my mother comes home, I think I’ll give her a homecoming party, too,” I piped up.
    “That’s a wonderful idea,” said Jackson. “I’ve always loved giving parties.”
    The doorbell rang.
    “Back to work!” he exclaimed, hurrying away. “One of my older students.”
    I stretched my arms and crossed to the stack of old shutters. The sun was beating down overhead. Sneaking a peek over my shoulder through the glass doors, I watched Jackson’s student. She was the same one who had come for a lesson on the very first day I’d met Jackson. He played a grand introduction and the girl’s gorgeous soprano voice soared. She sang with a huge smile on her face. I went to work.
    Over the next few days, I filled up bag after bag with rubble and pieces of old wood, while listening to Jackson’s students. I divided their voices into two categories:
mellifluous,
for the sweet ones, and
cracked,
for the ones that couldn’t carry a tune. After the garbage bags were stacked in a corner of the yard to wait until collection day, and the stuff for the special rubbish collector was all out front, most of the yard was actually cleared! Unfortunately, in the spots where grass should have been, there were burned-out patches of crud instead. It looked like the scene of a forest fire.…
    Jackson had asked me to store some screens in the shed, but there was no room. I decided to take everything out and sort it into piles, so that Jackson could see what he had. I thought I would never get through it.
    There were cans of dried-out paint, stacks of flowerpots, curtain rods, and bags of damp, smelly grass seed; a tangled-up rainbow-colored hammock, a perfectly good sewing machine covered with grime, and a barbecue grill with an amputated leg.
    Near the back of the shed, things got even more interesting: Christmas ornaments, stuffed animals, and old-fashioned costumes! I even found an ancient telephone that you had to dial instead of pushing a button. I also counted ten pairs of candlestick holders! And at least six boxes of sheet music, not to mention a box of books that had gotten all moldy. Beyond it all, wedged in the farthest corner, were a green tricycle and a pink tutu, which I guessed must have belonged to Brielle. I found a spot for them on the lawn, along with everything else. When Jackson came outside during his break, he was shocked. Now that every inch of lawn was covered again, all of our headway seemed to have disappeared.
    “What is all this?” he asked in a panicky voice. “Where did it come from? It looks like a flea market.”
    I pointed to the shed. “It belongs to you.”
    “Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen this stuff in years. I’d forgotten I had it.”
    “Jackson the Slob.”
    He laughed. “Thanks for reminding me.”
    “So, what should I do with these things?” I