CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE MAILBOX ON TUESDAY
One clear Tuesday morning, Trevor carried Evelyn’s repaired kitchen clock across the street.
He had fixed the loose gear and replaced the worn battery.
The clock ticked steadily under his arm.
Evelyn answered the door wearing gardening gloves.
When she saw the clock, she looked genuinely startled.
“I forgot you had that,” she said.
“I nearly did too.”
He held it out.
“The hands are moving again.”
Evelyn took the clock carefully.
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Trevor, I don’t want favors because you feel sorry for me.”
“This isn’t a favor.”
He pointed at the clock.
“I agreed to repair it before all of this happened.”
She nodded slowly.
“Thank you for finishing the job.”
He turned to leave, then stopped at the top of her porch steps.
“Caleb has his orchestra place,” he said.
Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment.
“I’m glad.”
“Not everyone got back what they lost.”
“I know.”
Trevor looked at the flower beds beside her walkway.
They were untidy for the first time he could remember.
The weeds had grown between the marigolds, and a watering can rested on its side.
“You used to tell everyone exactly how long their grass should be,” he said.
Evelyn gave a faint smile.
“It turns out I have quite enough grass of my own.”
He walked down the steps and crossed the street.
At his mailbox, the carrier had just delivered a slim envelope with a cheerful purple stamp.
The address was correct, the seal intact, and the name printed neatly across the front.
Trevor took it inside and handed it to Isla,
who had arrived early with Farah.
She squealed when she recognized the handwriting.
Her grandfather had finally mailed the space stickers he promised.
Isla opened the envelope herself and spilled silver stars across the kitchen table.
Trevor helped her gather them before they fell to the floor.
Across the street, Evelyn hung her repaired clock above the sink.
She heard it begin to tick and did not look through the window to see who was opening what.
The End.
