Spiral (Spiral Series) (14 page)

“Yup,” I said. I started tapping again.

All too soon we were at Mrs. Tiger’s. I was a couple of minu
t
es early
,
and
I
didn’t see any signs of life in her yard.
This surprised me; f
or some reason I had thought Mrs. Tiger would be standing outside, trowel at the ready. I waved goodbye to Andrew and headed for her door.

“She’s on her way out,” said Pierce’s voice from the side of the house.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here yet,” was all I could say. He was wearing old jeans and a white t-shirt, perfect clothes
for
get
ting
dirty and not
having to
care.

“Because along with all my other faults
-
what were those again?
- y
ou don’t think I
’
m capable of being on time?”

I put my hands on my hips and glared. “Look, we
’
re both helping Mrs. Tiger, we might as well get along,” I said.

“I’m all for getting along,” he said, grinning. “Help me move the tools?”

By the time we’d finished getting the ho
s
e, a bucket, another trowel,
and
a rake, Mrs. Tiger had appeared
,
trailed by
what seemed to be
eight
or ten
cats. It was hard to tell, because they kept moving and swelling.

“Morning dears,” she said, beaming. Her hair was a mess on top of her head and she had a sort of dreamy, just woken up look on her face.

“None of that now,” she scolded. I looked around to see what I was doing, then realized she was talking to
one of
the cat
s
.

“Where would you like us to start?” Pierce asked.

Mrs. Tiger paused, taking her time looking him up and
down
. I squirmed
and
shifted uncomfortably on his behalf.

“It’s just
that
the yard
is s
uch a mess. The city council is very unhappy. We have standards to keep up in Blueberry, apparently, which I am rudely disregarding. Silly people think . . . well, never mind what they think. Anyway, stuff picked up, flower beds weeded, and some mowing would be wonderful. I would do it myself, but
. . .
”
-
she held up her hands to take in her long purple dress and large frame
-
“
. . .i
t’s difficult for me to get around.”

I
knew that
Mrs. Tiger
had been
in an accident when she was younger
,
and she always walked with a limp.

“Now, children, I’ll be inside if you need me,”
she said, and
with a wicked smile to both of us she turned around and disappeared inside the house.

I surveyed the yard. It wasn’t big, but it was a mess. The grass was higher than
in
any other yard in town
,
and there
was clutter everywhere, anything from
a rusted bicycle turned on its side
to a scattered, forlorn-looking collection of little garden statues
.
Mrs. Tiger
had said there were flower
beds, but
decided that
if they were flower
beds I would eat m
y
trowel. There were patches of weeds with one or two flowers poking through
, but that was as close as it got
. More worr
isome
was the way the sun was already starting to beat down on us.
Mrs. Tiger
had suggested starting early and it
had been
a good idea, but I was already sweating. Not attractive at all - and a little smelly.

“What do you want to do first?” Pierce asked.
H
e was standing slightly behind me and I had the strange sensation of wanting to shift. I didn’t like the idea that he could see me but I couldn’t see him.

“We should probably mow first,” I said thoughtfully. “If we do that and
the
weeding
,
it should
at least
get the council off her back.”

“Until they figure out about the cats,” said Pierce
. “Anyhow, we’ll have to move some of the clutter before we can mow,”
and
hefting the bike
to match his words
he took off around back. I sighed
and got to work
.

Once I started moving through Mrs. Tiger’s lawn
,
I realized that there was a lot of
interesting clutter besides
the bike. I found a pile of old newspapers
under a small tarp
, three plastic containers, and several other odds and ends. When Pierce came back he helped me search. It wouldn’t
have been
good
to run
the lawnmo
w
er over something and
break
it.

“Does Mrs. Tiger even have a lawnmower?” I asked as the
we
lifted
a
n overturned
table
to set it upright
.

Pierce grinned. “Nope. We have to go get one.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I asked.

“You’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart,” said Pierce. “I
’
m doing it in order to have Mrs. Tiger in my debt.”

I almost dropped the table
, and
Pierce was forced to juggle it to keep it from smashing to the ground. It was still in good condition
, so it would have been a shame for us to turn it into trash by mistake
.

“What?” I demanded, regaining my balance.

“You heard me,” said Pierce
.
H
is voice and eyes were steady.

“Why would you need her in your debt?” I asked.
I asked myself whether I was so upset because I had secretly hoped that he had done this to spend time with me. Could he have had more than one reason? Did he know that every motion he made, every interaction we had, took up all my thoughts for the twenty-four hours or so after it happened? I could only hope not.

“You never know,” he said as we reached the shed behind
the
house.

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Cryptic,” I muttered.

We set the table down and worked in silence for
the next
hour.

“I hate weeds.” I said when the silence finally became uncomfortable.

“What did they ever do to you?” Pierce said.

“Existed.”

“My aunt would say it builds character.”

“What if I don’t want my character built? What if I’m fine with the partially formed character that I have?”

“You’re right. You already have a wonderful character. Don’t ever change.”

I blushed, unsure how the conversation had turned so quickly from my complaining to my being complimented. I ripped the next weed out so hard I went flying backwards.

“Careful,” said Pierce. “The weeds bite back.”

I was about to say something else when his face turned thoughtful and he said, “I have a question. . . .”

But before he could say what it was, Mrs. Tiger appeared at the front door, followed by a cloud of cats, and called out,
“Yoho, iced lemonade
!
”

I nearly tripped
in my hurry
to get to the cold drink. My throat was parched
,
and despite my studious application of sunscreen before
setting out that morning I was sure that
my face was starting to turn an alarming shade of pink from the sun and heat.

“Oh goodness, you two have had it for today, I think,” said Mrs. Tiger, clucking as she shooed a couple of cats away from the table
where
she
had
put the lemonade.

“Perfect timing,” said Pierce, coming over
and taking a long drink
. He had just finished mowing
,
and the lawn looked much better than it had when we arrived that morning. He was covered in grass and bits of dust, but he
somehow still managed to look clean
and his face did not resemble a cherry. I sighed into my lemonade
,
and Mrs. Tiger gave me a wink. My bright pink face hid my blush.

“If we
’
re stopping today,” said Pierce, not looking at
either of
us
,
and sipping his lemonade, “we should come back next Saturday.” I was too busy thinking that he looked sort of like a black
-
haired
G
reek god to register what he
had
said.

“That’s a wonderful idea. Natalie?”

“Huh?”

Pierce smirked at me
,
and I was hit with
an
overwhelming desire to stick my tongue out at him. Resisting the urge
,
I said, “You want us to come back?”

“You’re like the world’s best tape-recorder,” Pierce drawled.

Mrs. Tiger swatted playfully at his arm. Again I was hit with the idea that they had known each other
for
a long time.

“Yeah, that would be wonderful. Since you’re offering.”