A Piece of Heaven by Sharon Dennis Wyeth Page B

lifted an eyebrow. I hoped that she hadn’t been crying. “Sorry it took her so long,” I apologized.
    He peered at me. “I didn’t know that she was in the hospital.”
    “She went in kind of suddenly,” I muttered. “I didn’t think it mattered, so I didn’t bring it up.”
    “Of course it doesn’t matter, as far as your working for me is concerned,” he said, plopping the sandwiches onto a plate. “I just hope that your mother’s illness isn’t too serious.”
    I straightened my shoulders. “She’ll be home soon. She’s just a little depressed.”
    “Are you staying with a relative?” he asked.
    “My brother, Otis. He’s an entrepreneur.”
    He picked up the plate. “Your mother must be very proud. She’s got two industrious kids.”
    “Guess so,” I muttered, taking a sip of my milk.
    “This summer, Brielle is working on a movie set,” Jackson said. “She wants to be a filmmaker someday.”
    My eyes popped. “Wow, she must be creative.”
    “She always was,” he said. “You’re pretty creative yourself, I bet.”
    We went out to the yard. Jackson managed to locate another decrepit lawn chair in the shed to match the one that was already out. We sat down to eat.
    Jackson glanced around the yard. “You’ve really made some headway, Haley. I feel kind of guilty spending the days indoors teaching, while you’re slugging away at it out here.”
    “I like seeing the fruits of my labor,” I said, munching my sandwich.
    Jackson chuckled. “That dolly you built was clever. So, is woodworking one of your hobbies?”
    I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t done very much outside of school. My main hobby is reading.”
    “What kinds of things do you like to read?” he asked.
    My neck got hot. I figured that Jackson liked to read himself, since he had a ton of books. “I like to read fairy tales,” I confessed. I waited for a weird look.
    “I like them, too,” he said brightly.
    “You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “People are supposed to outgrow fairy tales. My mother keeps waiting for me to read older books. She even gave me this,” I said, pulling out my thesaurus.
    “A thesaurus! How great!”
    “Actually, I love it myself,” I said. “I have a thing for interesting words. My brother hates it. He thinks I’m too loquacious, especially when I’m insulting him.”
    Jackson’s eyes twinkled. “What’s your brother’s name again?”
    “Otis.”
    “Like Otis Redding?”
    I nodded. Ma told me that Dad had dreamed up Otis’s name.
    “How old is your brother?” asked Jackson.
    “Fifteen.”
    He glanced at me sharply. “And you’re staying by yourselves while your mother is in the hospital?”
    I shrugged. “We can manage. We’ve got a neighbor, Mrs. Brown, who checks in on us.”
    “I guess Otis could handle pretty much anything that arises,” Jackson commented. “It’s amazing how capable some fifteen-year-olds are these days.”
    I giggled. “I’m not sure that
capable
is exactly the adjective I’d use for my brother. He
can
be enterprising,” I added, not wanting to give Otis a bad name.
    “I don’t want to butt in, but if I can ever do anything…”
    I nodded. “Thanks. But we’ll be okay.”
    Jackson gave me a thoughtful smile. “I’ll bet you anything that you’re the capable one in your family.”
    I rolled my eyes. “I’ve let a few pots boil over on the stove since Ma’s been gone.”
    He chuckled. “Why worry about being a good cook, when you can build a moving dolly? I bet you can even sing,” he said, popping down the last of his sandwich.
    “I sing alto in the school chorus,” I volunteered, “but most of all, I like listening to music. I love to listen to your students while I work.”
    “Some of my students are just beginners,” he said. “This morning you heard some pretty unpolished stuff. But it’s amazing what they’ll sound like in a year or so.”
    “When you were playing the piano the first day I came, I got goose bumps on my