Daddy Parker's Arc

Chapter 5 of 10

Daddy Parker drove on with Farmer Fred's nod still fresh. Four slots left. He followed a back road and slowed where a busted treehouse leaned in the trees. Broken railings hung loose. Fallen branches covered the porch boards. A rope ladder dangled, frayed at the ends. A man in work boots stood at the base, hands on his hips. Papa Acorn. He looked up at the wreck, then down at the ground. "Porch was rotted through," he said when Daddy Parker stepped out. "Kids ran on it last week. Boards bent. I felt it give." "So you came down," Daddy Parker said. Papa Acorn nodded toward a small wood cottage past the trees, stone chimney puffing soft smoke. "Moved them in there. Ground level. No drop. Took two days. I kept thinking I was just pretending to know what I was doing. But I knew that porch. I knew." Daddy Parker pulled out his list. He thought about the bill he kept hiding, the call he kept not making. A man who saw the danger and acted, even scared. He uncapped his pen. "Father Number Three," he said. He walked to his truck and lifted out a fresh welcome mat, the word bright across it. "For the new door." Papa Acorn took it with both hands. He set it down on the cottage step and pressed it flat with his boot. "Good," he said quietly. Three slots left. Daddy Parker drove off knowing he had honored a man for doing the hard thing he himself had not yet done.