“Why’d you cut them down?” Ronnie asked.
“I didn’t.” Jim picked up the shovel he must’ve left behind when Grandpa called him. “Before Grandma died, she said she wanted to be able to watch the sunset from her bedroom window, but she couldn’t because the trees were in the way. Grandpa chopped them down the very next day.”
It was hard to begrudge something that had given Grandma Mac pleasure in her final days, but Ronnie still felt the loss like a hole in his heart. Another part of his childhood destroyed, never to be regained except from memories.
“Can you get down on your hands and knees?” Jim asked.
Ronnie cocked a brow at him. “Can you?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “I’ll dig, and you can use the pick to clear away the dirt from the roots for me.”