“Yes, I’d love to tell fortunes, and yes, I’d love to go to a Halloween party. Never been to one. Is it dress-up? I’ll wear my belly dancing costume and you can stop doubting me, Raylen O’Donnell.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is dress-up. I’m going as a cowboy, and you sure can come as a belly dancer if you want to.” He reached for a box on the third shelf that was marked OUTSIDE LIGHTS.

“I can do that,” she said.

“I don’t think so. I can barely reach it without a ladder,” he argued.

“I’m not talking about getting to that box up there. I’m talking about wearing one of my costumes to the party,” she said. “Should I wear orange, turquoise, or hot pink?”

“Whichever one you want to wear, and I’ll believe you when I see you come into the barn wearing one. This isn’t all of the decorations. The loft is full of stuff.” He set the box on the table and pointed toward the ceiling. “I used to come over every year about this time and help Haskell get everything out. Your aunt Sara loved Christmas, and every year Haskell made her one thing new to go out in the yard. Even after she was gone, he kept on making a new piece every year. He kept them up there, all covered up with tarps. Want to go take a look? There’s probably enough to reach from here to the road.”

Liz forgot all about the costumes. “Are you serious? Uncle Haskell mentioned more stuff, but I figured it was just lights and decorations.”

“Yes, I am serious,” Raylen told her. “After Sara died, he didn’t put the stuff out in the yard, but he kept making one thing a year. I found him up there once when I was a teenager, painting a funny lookin’ wagon pulled by four horses. It was all painted in wild colors, but it had Santa sitting on the driver’s seat and the top was covered with toys. I asked him what he was making, and he explained to me about how Sara had always liked for him to make her one wooden cutout a year and the wagon was his gift to her that year. Come on. I’ll show you. There’s got to be thirty or more of them up there.”

The wooden ladder went straight up with only room for one person at a time. Raylen stood to one side and let her go before he did, waited until she was more than halfway up, and then put his boot on the bottom rung.

The loft was half as big as the barn and swept clean. Buckets of paint were arranged on shelves on the north side with brushes standing, handle down, in Mason jars. Everything was organized and very clean.

“This reminds me of our barn in west Texas. Poppa keeps his paint all lined up by color and his brushes cleaned and in jars ready to use. He works hard from the first of December to the first of March every year redoing our wagons. I love to watch him paint. His hands are so steady, and his combination of colors is breathtaking,” she said.