Read Online When Hope Blossoms by Kim Vogel Sawyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kim Vogel Sawyer
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“I promise, Mr. Roper.”
Tim blew out a breath of relief. “Good boy.”
A lopsided smile replaced the boy’s crestfallen expression. Tim’s heart gave a leap at the transformation. Automatically, a smile tugged at his own lips. Then he whirled, once again turning his back on Parker. What was he doing, making friends with this Mennonite kid? No good could come of it. He clomped in the direction of his truck, which he’d left parked alongside the road. “You better get on home now. Your mom’s probably wondering where you are.”
As if on cue, the cry came from a distance: “Par-r-r-r-ker-r-r-r? Where are you, Parker?”
Both Tim and Parker turned toward the sound. Tim offered a grim bob of his head. “See there? Told’ja.”
Parker repeated his turtle routine, the lower half of his face nearly swallowed by his hunched shoulders. “I’m in trouble, huh?”
“Could be.”
The boy aimed an innocent look at Tim. “But I didn’t climb your trees or go on your land. Right?”
Tim stifled a chuckle at Parker’s reasoning. Wasn’t it just like a kid to try to turn things around to his own favor? He decided it was best not to answer. Instead, he cupped his hands beside his mouth and hollered, “Mrs. Knackstedt! It’s me, Tim Roper. I’ve got Parker.”
Moments later Mrs. Knackstedt’s capped head appeared above the gentle rise of weed-spattered ground. Her worried face pinched Tim’s conscience. He should’ve sent Parker straight back the minute he’d discovered the boy following him. Parker stayed rooted in place until his mother reached his side. Tim expected her to wrap the boy in a hug, the way she had the last time he’d wandered, but she grabbed his arm and shook it.
“Parker Gabriel Knackstedt, I am not happy with you at all. What are you doing out here, bothering Mr. Roper again?”
Parker ducked his head, and Tim surprised himself by coming to the boy’s defense. “I imagine he heard the hammer banging—I’ve been working on my fence—and he got curious.”
Parker nodded so hard Tim was surprised his head didn’t come loose. “I thought somebody was building something, like Dad used to do. I wanted to see what he was building. In case I could . . . help.”
Tim gave an involuntary jerk at the boy’s words. Didn’t every boy need a man to show him things? Before his relationship with his dad had gone sour, he’d trailed his father, watching, imitating, learning. So much of what he knew about fence building and mechanics—even though he’d grown to resent the brusque way Dad taught him—he’d learned from his father. They were lessons he’d used again and again. Of course Parker would seek out a man’s teachings. It was only natural.
The woman kept her frown pinned to her son. “That’s not an excuse. I gave you permission to play in the barn. I did not give you permission to go across the pasture to Mr. Roper’s place.”
“I didn’t climb his trees,” Parker whispered. “I didn’t go on his land.”
Mrs. Knackstedt closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her patience. Tim understood. How many times had he failed in communicating something important to Charlie? As hard as he tried, sometimes Charlie just couldn’t grasp what Tim wanted him to know.
He stepped forward and curled his hand over Parker’s shoulder. “Listen, Parker.” He waited until the boy turned his woeful face upward. “Wandering around out here by yourself isn’t a good idea. There are all kinds of things that can happen to a boy. You could step in a prairie dog hole and hurt your ankle. You might surprise a snake.” The boy’s eyes flew wide. So did his mother’s. Tim swallowed a chortle and went on. “As hot as it gets, the sun can make you dizzy and sick. So your mom is smart to want to keep you close to home. Remember you promised me not to touch the barbed-wire fence?”
Parker nodded slowly, his eyes glued to Tim’s. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, I want you to make me
Tim blew out a breath of relief. “Good boy.”
A lopsided smile replaced the boy’s crestfallen expression. Tim’s heart gave a leap at the transformation. Automatically, a smile tugged at his own lips. Then he whirled, once again turning his back on Parker. What was he doing, making friends with this Mennonite kid? No good could come of it. He clomped in the direction of his truck, which he’d left parked alongside the road. “You better get on home now. Your mom’s probably wondering where you are.”
As if on cue, the cry came from a distance: “Par-r-r-r-ker-r-r-r? Where are you, Parker?”
Both Tim and Parker turned toward the sound. Tim offered a grim bob of his head. “See there? Told’ja.”
Parker repeated his turtle routine, the lower half of his face nearly swallowed by his hunched shoulders. “I’m in trouble, huh?”
“Could be.”
The boy aimed an innocent look at Tim. “But I didn’t climb your trees or go on your land. Right?”
Tim stifled a chuckle at Parker’s reasoning. Wasn’t it just like a kid to try to turn things around to his own favor? He decided it was best not to answer. Instead, he cupped his hands beside his mouth and hollered, “Mrs. Knackstedt! It’s me, Tim Roper. I’ve got Parker.”
Moments later Mrs. Knackstedt’s capped head appeared above the gentle rise of weed-spattered ground. Her worried face pinched Tim’s conscience. He should’ve sent Parker straight back the minute he’d discovered the boy following him. Parker stayed rooted in place until his mother reached his side. Tim expected her to wrap the boy in a hug, the way she had the last time he’d wandered, but she grabbed his arm and shook it.
“Parker Gabriel Knackstedt, I am not happy with you at all. What are you doing out here, bothering Mr. Roper again?”
Parker ducked his head, and Tim surprised himself by coming to the boy’s defense. “I imagine he heard the hammer banging—I’ve been working on my fence—and he got curious.”
Parker nodded so hard Tim was surprised his head didn’t come loose. “I thought somebody was building something, like Dad used to do. I wanted to see what he was building. In case I could . . . help.”
Tim gave an involuntary jerk at the boy’s words. Didn’t every boy need a man to show him things? Before his relationship with his dad had gone sour, he’d trailed his father, watching, imitating, learning. So much of what he knew about fence building and mechanics—even though he’d grown to resent the brusque way Dad taught him—he’d learned from his father. They were lessons he’d used again and again. Of course Parker would seek out a man’s teachings. It was only natural.
The woman kept her frown pinned to her son. “That’s not an excuse. I gave you permission to play in the barn. I did not give you permission to go across the pasture to Mr. Roper’s place.”
“I didn’t climb his trees,” Parker whispered. “I didn’t go on his land.”
Mrs. Knackstedt closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her patience. Tim understood. How many times had he failed in communicating something important to Charlie? As hard as he tried, sometimes Charlie just couldn’t grasp what Tim wanted him to know.
He stepped forward and curled his hand over Parker’s shoulder. “Listen, Parker.” He waited until the boy turned his woeful face upward. “Wandering around out here by yourself isn’t a good idea. There are all kinds of things that can happen to a boy. You could step in a prairie dog hole and hurt your ankle. You might surprise a snake.” The boy’s eyes flew wide. So did his mother’s. Tim swallowed a chortle and went on. “As hot as it gets, the sun can make you dizzy and sick. So your mom is smart to want to keep you close to home. Remember you promised me not to touch the barbed-wire fence?”
Parker nodded slowly, his eyes glued to Tim’s. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, I want you to make me
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