There were four years of entries.

Four years of Mr. Vance quietly noticing everything Noah believed he had missed.

Near the end, one sentence was underlined.

Need to tell him thank you properly.

Noah closed the notebook.

“I thought he barely noticed me.”

Later, Aaron found an entry that made him freeze.

“Boy reminds me of Aaron at that age. Quiet. Stubborn. Better with his hands than words.”

Aaron wiped his eyes.

“He used to say that about me.”

Mr. Vance hadn’t simply been watching Noah.

In some strange way, Noah had reminded him of the son he no longer knew how to reach.

PART 3

The fourth Saturday arrived.

Noah, Aaron, and Claire opened the final envelope together.

There was one instruction:

My yard. Nine o’clock. Bring something to plant.

When we crossed the street, the property looked different.

A landscaping company had already cut the lawn because the house was being prepared for sale.

Noah stopped near the curb.

For four years, every Saturday had meant crossing that street because someone needed him.

Now the work was finished.

Then Claire noticed a small untouched patch of soil beside the porch.

Mr. Vance had specifically ordered that it remain untouched until this morning.

Claire had brought a hydrangea.

“Mom’s favorite,” she explained.

Aaron picked up the shovel.

“I guess I’m digging.”

“You always hated yard work,” Claire teased.

“I still do.”

Noah smiled.