He looked at the red barn, and then at the side yard.

“You kept the bushes alive,” Walt said.

“I watered them every summer,” I said.

Walt stared at the dark soil for a moment.

Then he put the Buick in gear and drove slowly back toward town.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

I knew he would be back on Saturday morning to help Luke with the heavy gate.

I picked up the empty bucket and carried it back toward the porch.

I brushed the Kearney dirt off my jeans as I watched the sun set over the red barn.

The lilac roots held firm in our dirt.