The Noticer by Andy Andrews

Author:Andy Andrews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson Inc.
Published: 2009-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

MY BOYS CLIMBED INTO MY LAP. THE SIX-YEAR-OLD SPOKE first. “Mr. Jones sure is nice.”

“He is, isn't he?” I responded. Jones had left only minutes earlier, having spent the evening with Polly, the boys, and me and, as always, declining an invitation to stay the night.

“I love Mr. Jones,” said our four-year-old.

“I do too, buddy,” I replied. “Hey, did you guys call him Jones? Or Mr. Jones?”

“Mr. Jones,” they both answered solemnly. Then our oldest added, “He said we could call him just plain Jones, but I told him that we might get in trouble if we didn't say ‘mister’ for somebody that old!”

I silently gave thanks that Jones was not a woman. “What did he say to that?” I asked.

“He just laughed,” my toddler answered. “Then he kind of scruffled our hair and bumped our heads together. Real soft, though. It didn't hurt.”

I was grateful that my family had at last been able to meet the old man. He had been in town for almost six weeks, and I was beginning to despair that I might not have any more time alone with him. Three or four cups of coffee — always unexpectedly and on the spur of the moment — were the only encounters it seemed we would have. Then, of course, there was the tree house …

I was the first one of my family to be up and around that morning. As I left the kitchen door to make the brief outdoor walk to my office, I stopped and literally rubbed my eyes in disbelief. There, perched in the six palm trees beside our home, was a tree house that had not been there the afternoon before.

Suffice it to say, I was stunned. Trust me — this was no ordinary tree house. The construction looked like something straight out of Swiss Family Robinson and had not the slightest relation to the plywood platforms I had nailed precariously to the branches of the nearest oak when I was a boy. In fact, there didn't seem to be a nail in the entire structure. Bamboo, rope, and thatch appeared to be woven seamlessly into what can only be described as a child's dream home.

As I stood there with my mouth open, Jones stuck his head through the tree house doorway. Grinning broadly, he said, “Join me,” and extended a hand to guide me up the ladder. “Do you think they'll like it?”

“Who?” I asked dumbly.

“Your boys!” Jones laughed. “Will they like it?”

Reaching the tiny porch, I said, “My gosh … they'll love it. How did you do this? When did you do this?”

“Oh, I had plenty of time,” he chuckled. “And Claire and Scott helped me. AmaZuluInc.com had all the materials. You've heard of the Internet?”

I peered at him suspiciously and he laughed so hard that I thought he might fall off the tree house. “Remember Andy,” he finally said. “you can do whatever you want to do. You can accomplish whatever you want to accomplish. You are never lacking funds.

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