Miriam shrugged.
“Sounds inconvenient.”
“You saved my life.”
“I stopped at an accident.”
“No.”
Rebecca’s voice trembled.
“You did more than stop.”
Miriam looked away.
Rebecca continued.
“You treated me before the ambulance could get there. You drove me to the hospital. The surgeon said another ten minutes…”
She could not finish.
Miriam cleared her throat.
“Well.”
Barnaby walked forward and sniffed Rebecca’s boot.
Rebecca smiled.
“And this is?”
“Barnaby.”
Rebecca crouched carefully.
Barnaby licked her hand.
Miriam looked offended.
“Traitor.”
The enormous man stepped forward again.
“My name is Samuel Voss.”
“Sammy?”
“Please don’t.”
“Fine. Samuel.”
He smiled.
“I’m Rebecca’s uncle.”
Miriam looked at the motorcycles.
“And these?”
Samuel turned around.
“Family.”
Miriam stared at him.
“You people have a strange definition of family.”
Samuel’s smile widened.
“You saved one of ours.”
Then he pointed toward the house.
“Now we heard you might need help.”
Miriam’s eyes narrowed.
“Who told you that?”
Rebecca smiled.
“The hospital staff talk.”
Miriam looked at her roof.
Then at the porch.
Then at the truck.
Then back at the army of bikers.
“Oh, no.”
Samuel raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, yes.”
The House That Refused to Fall
Miriam had not realized how much of the house was broken until eight hundred people started pointing at it.
The roof had three leaks.
The porch was beginning to sink.
The water pump was failing again.
The fence had collapsed on the north side.
The truck needed an engine rebuild.
The barn door barely closed.
And the old generator behind the house had been dead for nearly two years.
Miriam crossed her arms.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Samuel nodded.
“True.”
“I don’t accept charity.”
“Neither do we.”
“That looks suspiciously like charity.”
“No.”
Samuel smiled.
“It’s a debt.”
Miriam stared at him.
“A debt?”
“You saved Rebecca.”
“I did what anyone should do.”
Samuel looked toward the riders.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You did what most people hope someone else will do.”
Miriam had no answer for that.
Then the work began.
It was not gentle.
It was not organized.
It was not quiet.
Within twenty minutes, riders were climbing onto the roof.
Someone had opened the back of a trailer full of lumber.
Another group was repairing the fence.
Three mechanics surrounded Miriam’s Ford like surgeons preparing for a complicated operation.
Miriam came running down the porch.
“Hey!”
One of the mechanics looked up.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You touch Amos’s truck, I will shoot you.”
The mechanic nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Five minutes later, Miriam returned from the kitchen carrying a plate of sandwiches.
An hour later, she was helping them remove the old bench seat.
By noon, she had forgotten that she was angry.
By sunset, her porch no longer leaned.
Her roof no longer leaked.
Her generator was running.
The fence stood straight.
And the Ford had an engine that sounded better than it had in twenty years.
Miriam stood in the driveway with tears in her eyes.
She quickly wiped them away before anyone noticed.
Unfortunately, Samuel noticed everything.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You definitely are.”