I climbed down the ladder. Packed the nail gun. Coiled the hose.
I covered the exposed section with the heavy tarp I had brought for overnight protection and anchored it as carefully as I could manage alone. Not a perfect installation, but sufficient for light weather. Enough to hold for a day or two.
Then I went inside and said I had a family emergency. My husband, a medical situation. I did not know how long.
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Try not to make us a cliffhanger.”
I loaded my tools into the truck and drove away with my hands shaking badly enough that I had to pull over twice before I reached the highway.
I told my husband everything at once, standing in the kitchen still wearing my work clothes, still coated in dust and tar residue. He listened through all of it without interrupting. When I got to the group chat his jaw tightened. When I got to the vacation printouts he sat back in his chair and went very still.
