“It sounded half-hearted.”
I glanced up. She stood there, arms crossed, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail. Even hungover and irritated, she looked?—
Focus.
“I mean it.” I turned back to the door. “It wasn't fair. You offered help, and I shut you down like you were incapable. That was wrong.”
“Oh.” Her arms dropped slightly. “Well. Okay then.”
I worked in silence for a few minutes, removing the broken hinge. The tension in my shoulders eased. She was letting me do this. Accepting the apology without making it more complicated than it needed to be.
Good. This is good.
The chickens clucked nearby, unbothered by my presence.
Rosie hadn't left. I could hear her breathing behind me, feel her watching.
Why was she stillthere?
My mind scrambled for something neutral to say. Something that wouldn't sound condescending or dismissive or?—
“You know, there are easier ways to water a garden.” I didn't look up from the hinge, but I felt Rosie shift behind me.
“I'm aware of how irrigation works.”
“Then why are you out here at dawn with a hose?”
Silence.
I glanced back. She'd crossed her arms again, jaw tight.
“I like watering by hand. It's soothing.”
“That doesn't sound efficient.”
“Not everything needs to be efficient,Cal.”
“I'm just saying… You're making extra work for yourself.” I lined up the new hinge, testing the fit. “Why not use the irrigation system?”
Another beat of silence.
“It's fine.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“The irrigation system isfine.”
I set down my wrench, turning to face her fully. “Rosie.”
“What?”
“If it was fine, you wouldn't be out here at six-thirty watering lettuce by hand when you could be in bed sleeping off your hangover.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly. “It's broken. Happy?”
“When did it break?”
“The day Walt left.” She pushed hair out of her face. “I tried to fix it. I made it worse. Now water shoots everywhere except where it's supposed to go.”