"I'm sorry, Kurt, but with having to hire Roland a few months ago, I just can't give you more than a few hours here and there. He has a family to support and I gave my word. You're at school most of the time, so I can't hire you full time...and with summer coming up I think you need to go look for a summer job. All the money you save now will help when you start college,” Burt told his son.

“I understand, Dad. Thanks for telling me the truth, you're right, I need to get going on finding work. It's just kind of hard to find any kind of job in Lima, and I won't work for your competitors, so it can't be auto repair,” Kurt answered, his shoulders drooping. He looked down at the food on his plate and passed the roast beef to Finn.

“Hey, Kurt..what if you ask Puck? He was going to let me work with him this summer, but I have football camp, so we can kill two birds with one stone. Puck won't be out a partner and you'll have gainful employment. What do you say?” Finn asked, bouncing a little in his excitement of solving his problem of how to let Puck know he couldn't work with him as promised.

“Okay, but you know Puck was one of my worst bullies, right? What makes you think he'd even consider me?” Kurt asked, giving his bitch-glare before he could let the thought hurt him.

“Just ask. He knows we're brothers now, and I'm sure he is sorry about all that. It's in the past, right?” Finn asked. Kurt rolled his eyes, wondering how Finn could be so innocent.

“Will do. Thanks, Finn,” Kurt smiled at his step-brother.

~KBKBKBKBKBKBKBKBKB~

Kurt was a bit nervous, but he was never one to let a few nerves get in his way when he had set a goal. He turned off the Navigator and got out, striding purposefully up to the Puckerman house and ringing the doorbell.

“It's open!” shouted a voice from within and Kurt opened the door. He had never been to Puck's house and this was not what he'd expected. It was done in early Victorian, from the satin fainting couch and dusty pink toille de Juoy wallpaper to the beaded lampshades and lace antimacassars on the chairs. Kurt was kind of shocked. Did everyone know this? He'd never heard anyone mention it, maybe he was in the wrong house?

“Hello, honey,” an old woman said from the door to the kitchen. “Are you here to see Noah?” she guessed. She had white hair pulled up into a bun, an old flowered dress with an apron on over it. She wore little wire-rimmed glasses and severe black leather shoes and was maybe 4 foot eight in her heels. But she had a sweet smile and twinkling eyes. This did not fit with Kurt's idea of the bullying badass Puck.

“Yes, ma'am,” Kurt said. “I'm Kurt Hummel.”

“Your daddy owns the tire and lube, right? I've known Burtie since he was a boy.”

Burtie?? Wow, Kurt was kind of in awe. He'd never once heard anyone call his father, “Burtie”!

“Yes, that's my father. I'll tell him I met you, I know he'll be pleased you remembered him.”

“You do that. He's a nice man, your father. Noah's up in his room. Here, you take this tray up for me, okay?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, ma'am,” Kurt blurted out, trying to mind his manners as Burt had taught him.

The little woman waved him into the kitchen where the smell of baking cookies wafted through the whole room, making Kurt's mouth water.

“Now, everyone calls me 'Gramma Sofie', so you do, too, young man. Noah's room is the last one on the left up the stairs,” she said, patting Kurt's arm as she handed over the tray, adding another plate and glass to the things on the tray.

“Yes, ma'am.....ah, yes, Gramma Sofie, thank you.”

Kurt hurried up the stairs, turning into Puck's room. It was distinctly different than the rest of the house – the walls dark blue shaded to light blue at the top, music posters in frames on the walls, a guitar in a stand by one wall, a small desk covered with sheet music and Puck asleep on his bedcover. Kurt set the tray down on the desk and moved to wake Puck, calling his name and finally shaking his shoulder gently.

“Huh..wha..what the fuck? Kurt?” he jerked awake from a dead sleep, shaking his head to clear it. He looked at Kurt, gave him a smile and gestured for him to sit at the desk chair.

“Your gramma sent up cookies...” Kurt said, nodding at the tray.

“Oh, right...molasses cookies. She is a baking wonder. And a pitcher of milk, too, right?”

Kurt nodded.

“Well, don't stand on ceremony, let's eat!”

Kurt poured them each a glass of milk and handed Puck a few cookies on his plate, then helped himself to a few. He dipped the first one in the milk, taking a small bite and almost moaned. It was delicious.

“Pretty good, huh?” Puck said, looking at Kurt.

“I bet you're wondering why I'm here,” Kurt broke the ice.

“Yeah.”

“Finn asked me to tell you he got that space at football camp and Carole was able to come up with the money, so he's leaving the first Monday of the summer break. He won't be able to help you in your job like he promised.”

“Okay, so why didn't he come himself? Why send you?” Noah Puckerman was nothing if not straight to the point.

“I offered. I have a proposal for you. In place of Finn, I would like the opportunity to work with you,” Kurt said, very bold because inside he was shaking.

“You?” Puck laughed. “Really? This is a joke, right?”

“I assure you it isn't. I may not be as muscle bound as Finn, but I like to think I make up for it in using my brain. I can clean a pool, if you will be so kind as to give me instruction.”

“Yeah, but I also mow lawns and clean gutters, you know...all sorts of outside maintenance.”

“I can learn. If I can change a carburetor and lube a truck, I'm pretty sure I can mow a lawn. I'm reliable and I'm good with customers. And you have limited options,” Kurt smirked at this last jibe, but it was just bluff. He was scared to death.

“Since you're Finn's brother, I guess I can take a chance on you. Meet me here at 6 a.m. On Saturday, ready to work. Don't wear any of your tight-ass jeans or girly cashmere sweaters. And bring me coffee. I'll give you a try, for Finn's sake,” Puck finished.

“So, you live with your grandmother?” Kurt inquired, but was met with a cold wall of silence. He changed the subject. “Do you want to play Call of Duty?”

This time Puck smiled. “Yeah, I'm down for that....”

~BKBKBKBKBKBK~

Saturday morning dawned bright, the sun shining down, promising to be a hot day. Perfect for working in the yard. Kurt slathered on sunblock over his moisturizer and then pulled on his work jeans and a white t-shirt, the ones he usually wore under his mechanic overalls. It wouldn't matter if these got grass-stained and dirty.

He jumped in the Navigator and stopped by Lima Bean to get two coffees, getting Puck the same as his, a non-fat mocha, since he didn't know Puck's coffee order. Balancing them on the console in the drink holder, he pulled up outside the Puckerman house, knocking gently on the door so as not to wake Gramma Sofia. But he needn't have worried. No sooner had he knocked than the door opened, Gramma Sofia smiling at him.

“Ah, Burt's boy. Come in, breakfast is on the table, my dear. I hope you're hungry,” she smiled, leading the way to the kitchen where Puck was sitting at the table. He grinned at Kurt and gestured for him to sit across from him. Kurt pulled out a chair for Gramma, but she waved him away. “I et hours ago, sonny. Just sit and eat your fill, make an old woman happy.”

Kurt sat down, handing Noah his coffee. A plate was put in front of him and he helped himself to bacon, eggs, a bagel, and pan-fried potatoes. He knew better than to eat this stuff, but it reminded him so much of when his mom would cook, he just couldn't help it. He and Puck waded through all the food, sending compliments and thanks to Gramma Sofia as they ate.

The boys were finally done, finishing it off with large glasses of milk.

As they left the house, Puck leaned down to plant a kiss on his grandmother's head, and on impulse, Kurt did the same. He could learn to love Gramma Sofia.

On the road, Puck drove his pick-up truck with a trailer for the lawn equipment. Kurt got brave and asked about Noah's grandma.

“Since my dad is in prison, and my mom left the state, Gramma let me move in with her because I didn't want to move to Iowa. She has always been so nice to me, not like my parents. She's not really my grandmother, she's my great-grandmother. Hard to believe she's almost ninety, isn't it? I mean, they love me and all, but they are just so caught up in themselves...and I need to look out for myself. Gramma only gets a social security check, so I need to work to help out. She wants me to graduate.”

Kurt had never seen this side of Puck, and never saw him so talkative. It was kind of enlightening.

“I understand. It's hard to live with one of your parents gone,” Kurt said in sympathy.

“I know, but it isn't the same as you really, my mom is just in Iowa, not gone forever,” Puck said, not looking at Kurt.

“You can say she died, Puck. It doesn't bother me. I miss her, but I know she's dead,” Kurt replied, then looked out the window.

Puck rushed to change the subject.

“The first house is the only one we're doing today. You know the old Anderson mansion outside of Westerville?”

“The haunted one?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah. I don't know if it's haunted, though. I've been doing their pool and grounds for two years, and I'm okay with it. But you know, I wouldn't want to be there at night. I go early in the morning so I get it done by afternoon. I was there late one day, it was dark when I finished and I heard what sounded like crying. Old Mr. Anderson looked at me funny, but he said it was coyotes,” Puck shuddered and glanced over at Kurt.

“But I've heard coyotes, and this was not a coyote. It was human.”

Kurt got goosebumps. What had he gotten himself into? He wasn't one to believe in ghosts and goblins, though, and thought Puck was just pulling his leg.

“What do we do there?”

“Today I need to clean and fill the pool, I'll start you off on mowing the lawn. Ever run a riding mower?”

“No, but I can drive almost anything, thanks to my dad. Just show me how to do the blades and such and I can do it.” Kurt smiled. He was starting to like Puck. Puck grinned back. He hated to go to the Anderson place alone, and Kurt didn't seem the delicate fancy-pants he appeared to be at school. This might work out after all.

~BKBKBKBKBKBK~

Puck was busy cleaning and filling the Anderson's pool. They had arrived to find only Mrs Anderson home, her husband off in LA for a business trip. She gave Puck the instructions of what needed to be done and went back in the house. Puck got the mower out of the shed and showed Kurt how to work the levers and pedals, then left him to mow the two acres of lawn. It was kind of boring, the lawns stretching out forever, the only diversion being the elaborate garden at the center past the pool. Inside the garden walls was a truly beautiful garden of hundreds of different plants, all set out in a formal pattern. There was a brick wall surrounding the garden and Kurt had to get off the mower to use the weed cutter along the edges.

He had finished most of the lawn, just starting on the smaller patch west of the house, just beyond the garden wall, when he saw a flickering of wings. It was a pigeon, his leg caught in the thorns of a rose bush. Kurt had a tender heart, and upon seeing the poor bird caught, he thought about how to help. He certainly didn't want to get stuck by the thorns or get pecked by the bird's strong beak, but it looked so unhappy and possibly hurt.

Kurt gently spoke to the little bird, it's pearly beak open and it's tiny pink tongue out, as though panting like a dog. It must be terribly frightened. Kurt looked closer and saw underneath the dove gray feathers of his wings and there was something wrapped around the bird's leg. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached into the brambles and softly ran his fingers down the bird's feathers, trying to calm the little creature. It worked because the bird stopped panting and looked at Kurt with his shiny black eye, cocking his head to see better as Kurt slowly moved his hand around the bird's back, his fingers reaching to his chest and holding the pigeon firmly while he used his rose shears to cut the brambles and free the little gray bird.

It sat in his hand, not moving and Kurt saw a bit of blood on it's breast and more on its wing. It looked like the wing was damaged, so Kurt took out his large handkerchief and wrapped the bird gently inside of it and placing the bird in his hat. This he left on the floor of the mower. The bird was hurt and obviously couldn't fly.

Kurt finished the trimming and mowed the patch of grass, and rode the mower back to the outbuilding where he met Puck, just coming in from washing down the patio and deck.

“You about done, Kurt?' he asked and Kurt nodded. Puck looked over the lawns and smiled in appreciation. “Great job, dude.”

Kurt smiled, glad to be done with the tasks, but happy he had been able to get a job this summer. School was out in June which was two months away, so he was ahead of the game.

Puck caught up with Kurt at the pick-up. Kurt was busy with something on his lap, and Puck leaned in the window to see what it was. Kurt had a pigeon on his lap and was unwinding a bit of dirty cloth from its leg.

“Hey, where did you get that?” he asked.

“It was in the garden. I dug the poor thing out of a rose bramble, I think its wing is hurt.” Kurt said, while he continued to unroll the cloth. It was a very grubby piece of cloth, obviously torn from something and there was a stain on it. Kurt turned it upside-down and studied it. There were two words painted on the cloth, “HELP ME”. Kurt looked closer at the cloth and Puck took it an smelled it.

“Man, that's blood. It's written in blood.” Puck and Kurt looked at each other.

Kurt looked up at the house, scanning over the windows. The house was made of dark red brick, three floors and an attic and lots of windows. At the top of the house, in an attic window, he saw movement – a hand stuck out from between decorative iron bars. Then it was withdrawn and Kurt rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had seen anything at all.

~BKBKBKBKBKBK~