“Pretty hot work out there?” I ask. He wipes his forehead. “Oh yeah.” I pour him a glass of lemonade from the refrigerator and lead him into t...e living where it’s cooler. Frank sits on my couch, bare to the waist and wearing those khaki shorts that show off his butt so well. He sips the lemonade and tries to eye me up and down without me noticing, but I do. He is still a little sweaty from the work on my fence and it glistens on his chest. “I really want to thank you for fixing that hole in the. "He ... got colder and harder, and it feltlike I could see the person I'd known under the ice, but I couldn'treach him."I shuddered at the thought of my father being trapped like that."Sometimes, probably when he wasn't paying attention, I could feel howhe still loved me. It just felt like his love was coming through thatthick layer of ice. I hated knowing he was there, but not knowing how toreach him. I think that's probably why I'd tried so hard to do what heasked and to believe what he told. More

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