Read Keeping Time: A Novel for Free Online

yelling.
    “Maybe if you could take over for me at the back, I could lift the front and unjam it.”
    Daisy, nodding. Moving to take his spot. Noticing that he was sunk three inches into the mud, realizing that she would be, too. Looking down at her shoes. They were not a ratty old knockabout pair, but ones she cared about.
    Doing what she had to do.
    Stepping out of her shoes, into the mud. Tak their things.e closeing over at the helm so he could move to the bow. Holding tight to the handlebar, her stockinged feet in the warm squishy mud, watching him sink down to his knees, trying to disengage the branches from under the mower. They were really jammed in; as hard as he tried to pull them free, they wouldn’t come.
    Daisy, trying to push down on the bar, thinking that lowering the back wheels would raise the front for him. Managing only to get the back wheels deeper into the mud. Daisy, trying to lift the handlebar, needing to unsink the back wheels she had just sunk farther. Finding that the only thing that lifting the handlebar did was sink her deeper into the mud. Her knobby anklebones joining her feet, disappearing deep into the mysteries of the soggy earth. If she lifted them, the wheels would sink farther; if she lifted the wheels, she would sink farther.
    She had to laugh—almost—but wouldn’t dare. Patrick was too overwrought, concentrating his efforts so absolutely. And getting nowhere.
    Patrick, finally noticing that she was stuck, too. Getting up, his knees with soaking brown spots, dripping mud. Coming around to her side, saying, “I think I’m going to have to lift you out.”
    Daisy, laughing. Nodding. Giving him the go-ahead. Patrick, hoisting her up. Lucky for him that she was a tiny woman, but with both her feet firmly planted in the mud, she was much heavier. Patrick, lifting. Daisy, wanting to help, trying to pull herself up, instead knocking him over.
    Both going down. In a flash. Into the mud. Scrambling to disentangle themselves from each other and the mess. Covering themselves in mud as they slipped, slopped, and crawled on their hands and knees overto the safety of the grass. The lawnmower, still revving. The back wheels, spinning, spraying mud at them.
    Reaching the grass. Mud splattered on their hair, their faces, down the length of their bodies. To their feet. Both of them, laughing—at themselves and at the sight of the other. Laughing till tears ran down their faces. Patrick, pulling Daisy up, his hands under her armpits. Daisy, grabbing her shoes. The two of them stumbling out of the mud toward the house, leaving the lawn mower behind, its engine still running, its wheels spinning.
    Daisy, saying to Patrick, “I’ll get towels.”
    Patrick, nodding. Following her in.
    Leaving her shoes at the door, hurrying down the hall. Patrick, standing in the doorway, afraid to track mud through the house. Daisy, returning with towels, handing him one. Patrick, drying himself off.
    Daisy, asking him, “Can I make you a cup of tea? Nice and hot.”
    Patrick, shaking his head. “No, thank you.”
    “It’s no problem. You could probably use one.”
    “No, really. Look, I’m sorry about all that.” Wiping the mud off his face. “The grass was just impossible to get through. I had to push really, really hard.” Shrugging helplessly. “I guess I slid. That’s how I ended up in your flower bed. I’m really sorry.”
    Daisy, “Not to worry. Whatever was there will grow back.” Her hair, soaking, mottled, sticking to her head. Her face, a mud bath. “I’m sorry the job was so impossible. You certainly didn’t sign on for all this.”
    “No, I guess not.” Sheepishly. Laughing a little as he compared what he had been expecting with what he got. tell her she couldbaha
    “Are you sure I can’t get you a tea? It’ll take only a minute. A cup would do you good.”
    “I don’t think so.” Shaking his head again. “I should be going. It’s starting to rain again, and it’s probably not