Ellie Monroe's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

By dusk the rain turned to a cold, steady wind. Ellie stood in the main room and watched the sky through the torn roof. She had opened it herself, sure she could rebuild before dark. Now bare beams gaped overhead. Wet leaves blew across the floor. Her notebook sat swollen on the table, its pages curling. She had no dry corner left to sleep or write. She wrapped her silk scarf tighter and stared at the mess she had made. A knock came at the front door. Ellie froze. No one visited this far into the woods. She crossed the wet floor and pulled the swollen door open. A man stood on her porch, dressed warm in a flannel jacket, a tool belt slung at his hip. Rain dripped off his hair. He smiled like the weather didn't bother him at all. "Saw your roof from the road," he said. "That's a lot of sky to let in on a night like this. Name's Chris. Chris Clay. I fix things." Ellie crossed her arms. "I was fixing it myself." "I can tell." His grin widened. He looked past her at the open beams. "You tore the whole top off. Brave." He said it kindly, not to sting. "But that rot runs the length of the ridge. You can't close it tonight alone. You'll be soaked by midnight." She hated that he was right. She had spent years selling other people plans. Now a stranger read hers in one glance. "I don't have money for a crew," she said. "Didn't ask for any." He pulled a coil of blue tarp from his shoulder. "Let's get you dry first. We can talk about the real job tomorrow." Ellie hesitated. Then a gust drove rain across her neck, and she stepped back. "Fine. Come in." He worked fast. He set her father's old ladder against the low edge and climbed with the tarp under one arm. Ellie held the feet steady and passed up his rope. He stretched the tarp across the open beams and lashed it tight, corner by corner. The wind snapped it, but the knots held. Above her, the gaps closed one by one. The rain stopped hitting the floor. When he came down, the room was dim and dry. Ellie wrung out her scarf and almost laughed. "Thank you," she said. "Really." "It's a patch, not a fix," Chris warned. "That tarp buys you a week, maybe two. After that the ridge comes down whether you're ready or not." He wiped his hands and looked at her. "You want a real roof, you'll need help and a plan. I'm around." He left his card on the wet table and stepped back into the rain. Ellie sat under the humming tarp with her ruined notebook. She was dry tonight. But now she had two weeks to rebuild a whole roof, and only one handyman who knew it. But for now she needs a restful night. She turns and follows him out the door. “You don’t happen to have a spare and dry room, do you ? She asked with a giggle but very real voice.