Prologue
Jolie, age 10
“Jolie, with grandma passing away, you’re going to have to start going to work with me,” Grampy said as we ate dinner. “There’s just no one else I trust enough to leave you with, especially since sometimes, I work long hours.”
“It’s okay, Grampy,” I replied as I scooped up some macaroni and cheese into my mouth.
My grandparents got custody of me when I was almost two years old after my parents were killed in a drunk driving accident. That accident left me with a limp and some gnarly scars, but outside of that, I’ve had a good life.
Grammy was a nurturer and caregiver, using her skills as a nurse to help a little girl heal even while dealing with her own grief at losing her only child, my father. I only know my parents through the pictures and videos that were taken over the years, and I’d like to think if they had lived that I would’ve eventually had some brothers and sisters.
“I’m going to teach you everything I know,” he promised, smiling at me.
I grew excited because Grampy was well-known in our town, as well as the surrounding counties, for being a master at anything he touched. He had his own construction business and had built many homes. He had even built the farmhouse that we lived in, back before he and Grammy were married. While I didn’t understand things like crown molding, I knew my home was a masterpiece because I had heard others saying that very thing.
Jolie, age 14
“It looks really good, Jolie,” Grampy praised as he walked into the last room of the house that needed painting.
One of his employees did all the cut-in work, then he taped off the top while I did the bottom, helped me place the tarp, and poured the paint into the tray I’d been using. Since I’m on the petite side, Grampy got me an extension pole for the paint roller, and I’d worked steadily on getting this room done while he and his workers finished off the minor things the new owner put on their punch out list. It was the second coat of paint and even I had to admit that it looked good.
“Thanks, Grampy. I just need to clean up the brush and I’ll be ready to go,” I told him, grinning.
“Let me pour the leftover paint back into the can for you,” he said. “No sense in you trying to lift anything. You can seal it up and clean the brush and I’ll meet you outside, okay? Be sure to lock the front door and don’t forget your water bottle.”
“I will. Thanks, Grampy.”
After he left, I painstakingly and thoroughly cleaned my tools, leaving them in the mudroom to dry. One of the guys would come back through and remove all the painter’s tape and the tarps, replace the washtub in the mudroom to the new one, and then the cleaning company Grampy used would come in and do a thorough cleaning on the finished house.
“And I helped,” I hummed with pride as I looked around while I walked through the quiet house, my footsteps echoing because it was empty.
I walked out to Grampy’s truck, which was already running, and hollered, “I remembered my water bottle, Grampy!”
My steps came to a stop when I saw that his door was wide open, but he wasn’t inside the truck. “Grampy? Where are you?” I asked as I tossed my bottle through the open window. Grampy always came out and opened all the windows and started the truck to ‘get the air flowing’ as he said so that I was able to get into a cool vehicle.
I saw his body lying on the ground and ran around the front hood of his truck, screaming his name as I dropped down by his side. His phone was in his hand, and I heard a voice calling out, but Grampy wasn’t talking.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
Because he was staring at me with his unseeing eyes wide open.
Jolie, age 16
“Jolie, it’s highly unusual for a girl to want to sign up for shop class,” Mrs. Hatcher, my guidance counselor, stated. “Why don’tyou take Home Economics? Or typing? Both will give you skills that you’ll be able to use when you get older.”
I vehemently shook my head. No, I wanted to follow in my grampy’s footsteps and learn everything there was to be taught about building houses. After that dreadful day when he died, leaving me alone in this world without any blood ties, I was sent to a group home because I was considered too old for adoption. The house parents were okay, but there was a lot of bullying toward me from the other foster kids because one of my legs was shorter than the other due to that long-ago accident. Not only that, but whenever I wore shorts, I was picked on because the scars on that leg were awful. Still, I almost lost my leg as an infant, so I’d take a limp and some scars over a prosthesis.
“I already have all my core classes, Mrs. Hatcher. So, if you wanted to add home ec to my schedule too, that’d be fine. But I don’t see myself ever working in an office environment, so typing would be a waste of my time.”
“You actually have room to take all three if you’d like,” she replied. When I started to say something, she held up her hand. “Let me finish. Everyone knows the name Patterson, Jolie. Your grandfather had a great reputation for the work he did building homes, and I know you likely want to follow in his footsteps. Learning to type will ensure you can fill out contracts and such quickly without hunting and pecking for the letters. It’s just a thought.”
I considered her words carefully before making any decisions. Like most of the world, our school now used tablets so I’d already become relatively proficient on the keyboard, but I couldn’t maneuver around by touch. It would be a handy tool to add to my skills. “I guess that would be okay,” I murmured.
I knew when I aged out of the system that I had an inheritance, and my first goal was to fix up and renovate our old farmhouse, which was also in my name. Most of the contents had been sold, as had Grampy’s construction company, so in all reality, if I never wanted to work, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to teach kids at some point, and I knew working in construction, I’d be able to pay for my education without any student loan debt. I figured I could work for four or five years, build up my nest egg then go back to school. I didn’t want to fritter my inheritance away since I never saw myself getting married or having a family of any kind.
Because family always left.
