Hank's Arc

Chapter 13 of 14

Morning came thin through the window. Hank sat on the edge of the bed and opened the drawer. The permit was still there. He counted the days on his fingers. Thirty. Then Canada Day. He pictured the lights coming on over the patio and the first locals walking through the gate. He closed the drawer. First he had to get through today. Henry came by at noon with his phone out. He showed Hank a photo of the land. A red balloon was tied to the gate post, bobbing in the wind. "Paul put it up," Henry said. "Said the place needed a sign that someone was still keeping watch." Hank stared at the little red dot against the green field. Behind the gate he could see the bar he'd built, and beside it the stack of cases waiting under a tarp. Cardboard boxes piled four high, bottles inside, ready for a night that wasn't here yet. "I told him about Canada Day," Henry said. "Word's getting around town. People are asking." Hank felt his stomach tighten. A date spoken out loud was a date he had to keep. He asked Henry to pick up a box of fireworks before July. Red and white ones. Henry nodded and wrote it down. "I'll get the sign painted too," Henry said. "JULY 1. OPENING NIGHT. Big letters at the road." Hank swallowed. The promise was leaving his hands and going public. That night Hank lay in the narrow bed and stared at the ceiling. The balloon was up. The cases were stacked. The date was out. He couldn't take it back now. He had thirty days to learn how to stand in a beer garden without drinking it dry. Day one was done. He turned to the wall and closed his eyes. The clock had started.