The Sunflower: A Novel by Richard Paul Evans

scaffolding, reaching to the ceiling.
    It took them about forty minutes to complete the first wall. Then they dragged the scaffolding over to the next wall. As they picked up their rollers Christine noticed a small boy standing near the door, partially hidden in the shadows. He had coffee-colored skin, large brown eyes and eyelashes long enough to make her jealous.
    Christine whispered loudly, “Jessica, look.”
    Jessica glanced over. When she saw the child, a smile broke across her face. “Have you ever seen anything so cute in your life?”
    The boy just gazed at them.
    Jaime noticed that they had stopped working and looked over at the boy.
    “¿Por qué no estás en la escuela?” How come you’re not in school?
    “Estamos en recreo,” he replied. It’s recess.
    “How old do you think he is?” Christine asked.
    “He’s about the size of my nephew and he’s six.”
    Jessica set down her brush and climbed down from the scaffolding. She stepped toward him, then squatted down to his height. “Where did you come from, little guy?”
    He didn’t answer. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.
    “He’s gorgeous. Say something in Spanish, Chris. Ask him his name.”
    Christine stepped up to him. “¿Cómo…te…llamas?”
    He looked at them suspiciously.
    “¿Tu nombre?”
    “My name is Pablo,” he said in perfect English. “I’ll be eight years old tomorrow. It’s my birthday. I’m just small for my age.”
    “You speak really good English,” Jessica said.
    “So do you,” he replied.
    Jessica laughed. “Where’d you learn English so well?”
    “Dr. Cook.”
    “¿Cuándo llega el doctor Cook?” Jaime asked.
    “Ya viene.” Pablo translated for them. “He wants to know when Dr. Cook will be here. I told him Dr. Cook is coming.”
    “Who’s Dr. Cook?” Jessica asked.
    “He’s the boss,” Pablo said as a man entered the room. Christine immediately recognized him as the one who had rescued her purse. He smiled. “Hello again.”
    “Thank you again.”
    “You’re welcome.” He extended his hand. “I’m Paul Cook.”
    “I’m Christine.”
    “My pleasure, Christine.”
    Jessica stepped forward. “I’m Jessica.”
    “Hi. Thank you for helping us.” He looked down at the boy. “I see you’ve met Pablo.”
    “Cute kid,” Jessica said.
    “He’s a handful,” Paul returned. He looked around the room. “It’s looking much better.”
    “One wall down, three to go.”
    “Que pasa, calabaza,” Jaime said.
    “Nada, nada, limonada,” Paul replied. He turned to the women. “Is Jaime being good to you?”
    “He’s great. We just don’t speak much.”
    Paul smiled. “Be careful, he understands more than he lets on.” He walked to the wall, inspecting their work. “When you’re done, this room will be used as a classroom.”
    “Jaime said the kids all went somewhere else to school.”
    “Right now they do. But it’s not the best situation. Most of them are far behind their classmates. It’s embarrassing for the teenagers to be in with the first-graders.”
    “Can I help them paint?” Pablo asked.
    Paul looked at the women. “Is that okay with you?”
    “Sure,” Jessica said.
    “All right,” he said to Pablo, “But you have to work hard.” He looked back at the women. “I’ll see you a little later.” He glanced once more at Christine, then walked out. Jaime followed him out of the room, speaking and gesticulating as they walked.
    “He’s gorgeous,” Jessica said.
    “You say that a lot,” Pablo said.
    Jessica grinned. “All right, Pablo, let’s put you to work.” They walked over to the scaffolding. “Have you painted before?”
    “I like to paint pictures.”
    “This is a little different. Actually it’s a lot different. You can use my roller. You dip it in the paint like this. Then roll it off a little in the pan so it doesn’t drip. Then you roll it on the wall.”
    She helped guide his movement. “I can do it myself,” he