Then he looked at his mother.
“Are we actually supposed to pay for all that?” he asked. “You said it was just for fun.”
For the first time, Kelsey had no answer.
“You have one choice,” I said. “Fix my car or deal with the consequences.”
It took three weeks.
Kelsey owned a small camping trailer she and Jeremy used every summer.
She sold it.
Jeremy stood in the driveway watching the trailer get hitched to someone else’s truck.
The money paid for the repairs.
Ten days later my CR-V came back looking exactly like it had the day I bought it.
Two weeks after that, I picked Jeremy up from school because Kelsey was sick.
He climbed into the passenger seat and quietly ran his finger along the edge of the windshield.
“You can’t even tell,” he said.
“They replaced the whole thing,” I replied.
He was silent for a while.
“I didn’t know cars cost that much.”
“That’s why people respect things that belong to others,” I said.
He nodded slowly.
Then, somewhere along the highway, he spoke again.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Kristen. About the car.”
He said it to the window, the way a ten-year-old gives his first real apology when he’s not quite sure how it works yet.
“Thank you, Jeremy,” I said.
When I dropped him off, Kelsey stood on the porch watching us.
I drove away knowing something important had finally happened.
Jeremy learned that actions have consequences.
And Kelsey finally discovered something too.
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
