“I could build, but I didn’t understand.” He smiled, or something close to it. “Between the 2 of us, we had 1 complete person. We just never figured out how to share right.”
The frame went up over 2 weeks: 8 posts sunk into the stone footings, tied together with crossbeams, braced against the bluff face on 1 side and freestanding on the other. It looked like a skeleton, the skeleton of something that might 1 day be a hallway.
Then we started nailing the boards. This was where my ignorance showed worst. I did not know how to seal joints. I did not know how much gap was too much gap. I did not know how to make a door that would actually close tight. Jonah knew all of it.
“Lime mortar,” he said. “Lime and sand and water. I’ve got a kiln shed with some quicklime left over from last year. Mix it right and it’ll seal any crack you can stuff it into.”
“Why are you helping me?”
He did not answer at once. We were sitting on the footings, resting. My shoulders burned. My hands were blistered in places that had not calloused yet.
“I had a son,” he said finally. “Good boy. Strong. Worked at the quarry up on Kinney Knob.” He paused. “There was a blast. Charge went wrong. Brought down half the face. My boy was under it.”
I did not say anything. There was nothing to say.
“My wife went the next winter. Fever. After that, I didn’t much see the point of anything.”
