“He is helping Father clear the old brush,” I added.
Rosie bounced on her heels, her sneakers tapping the gray painted wood of the porch step.
“He promised me something,” she said, her eyes shining in the dim light.
“A real promise,” she said. “From before.”
“We made a lot of promises when we were children,” I said.
“We promised to build a treehouse in the big oak,” I said. “Most of those were just games, Rosie.”
“Not this one,” Rosie said.
She looked out toward the dark line of apple trees at the edge of the lawn.
“Ben remembers things the rest of us overlook,” she said.
I adjusted my watch strap again, the metal links cold against my skin.
I remembered the night of the high school prom, seventeen years ago.
Ben had stood in our living room in his rented suit, looking terrified until he saw me.
He had promised me then that we would always stay in Oak Creek together.
“He was probably just being nice,” I said.
“People say things to be kind,” I added.
“He is kind,” Rosie said simply.
