A Purple Winter

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4

Saturday afternoon, I was out in the backyard with Johan Lund.

“All right, that’s good,” Johan said, putting his big gloved hands on his haunches. Every fall, he’d stop shaving his face, and by mid-winter, be sporting a thick reddish blond beard. Nick’s father was the most agreeable man I’d ever met. Nothing seemed to get him off balance. He was a locksmith and worked hard to support his family.

Secretly, I wished he were my father.

“Put those over there, Red.” He lifted his scrubby chin to the corner of the yard.

Clutching the wood planks, I was puffing hard, trying not to look too tired. I’d been helping Johan with taking down the old shed in the yard, hoping not to have an asthma attack in front of him. I stumbled to the corner and dropped the planks on top of the pile. I had a few splinters on my hands. I was proud of those.

“The weather’s too warm today.” Johan’s gentle blue eyes were on the sky. He was in a plaid shirt and had a foot up on a tree stump. He looked like a real lumberjack. He was so handsome. So genuinely kind. “We’re gonna be getting rain instead of snow. We’ll call it a day, all right, Red?” He patted his shirt pocket and took out a roll of bills. “Here, for your trouble.”

I knew the Lunds struggled with money, too. “Oh, no, uh, tha—thank you, sir.” I wiped my sore hands down my gray shirt. I was sweating, my hair sticking to my forehead, but it felt good to be out here with him.

“Ah, come on, kid. Take it.” Johan pushed the money into my hand. His fingers were rough and strong. “You’re always helping us out with one thing or another. And it’s Saturday. I bet you can find something to do with that money.”

They were showing Dirty Dancing at the dollar cinema. “Thank you,” I said, stuffing the money in my jeans’ front pocket without looking at it.

“So, heard your old man’s coming home for Christmas.” Johan gave me a tender look. “I’ll make sure to tell John how indispensable you’ve become to our little crew.” He winked and patted my shoulder. “Have a good one, son.”

Son. I wanted to hug him. Wanted to push my face into his plaid shirt and ask him to put his arms around me.

“Oh, and Derek,” Johan said, stopping in the steps leading up to the back porch, “you’re welcome to dinner, anytime, okay? Helga and Nick love to cook for people.”

Dinner at the Lunds. I’d puke from the nerves. “Uh, sir,” I said, as though someone had slapped me into speaking up. “Is—is Nicolai working tonight, sir?”

“Yeah, he is.” Johan laughed. “That kid’s got plans. He’s going places, now isn’t he? No stopping him from getting to the top. I bet he makes his first million before he turns twenty.”

Johan had such faith in his son. For a moment, I was envious of Nick. My own father didn’t think I’d amount to much. I walked away to our steps and climbed up to the back door. “Th—thanks again f—for the money.”

“You deserve it.” Johan stared at me for a moment and then stepped into his home.

I had twenty dollars in my pocket. Was that enough for a meal at a fancy Polish restaurant?