Betsy

More than a toolbox.

Betsy wasn't going to get by on her looks.

Nope.

This girl's had some miles on her.

That's what Kellie Webner thought, pulling dad's man-made toolbox down from the top shelf in the basement. It was an old-school toolbox, made from real maple. Everything you'd ever need, in one form or another, was right there.

Now, where did dad, who had a nickname for everyone and everything, came up with "Betsy", was anyone's guess. No Betsy in the family tree, on either side, that she knew of..

Maybe I should look into one of those ancestry sites on line. Wouldn't that be something if -

That's when her cell phone buzzed.

"Me and the kids are jammed up out here," said her husband, the rock in her life. She could hear voices, in different pitches, , in the background, chattering away.

"How late are you going to be Phil?"

"No way of telling right now. It's total grid-lock. A state trooper told us to stay put. He said that a couple of eighteen-wheeler's got tangled up down the road here. Kelli, I think you're on your own for awhile."

"Sorry things didn't work out," he said. "The kids were looking forward to us all spending Father's Day together."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"No worries, Phil. You know I had to cover the overnight shift at the hospital," Kellie said. "Besides, there's a lot of cleaning I was putting off doing anyway. Take your time. Love you all."

"Love you too, Kelli," he said. "See you soon."

She pulled back her hair, putting it into a ponytail. Ever since she was a little girl, she liked working around the house that way. She saw no reason to change now.

She looked up to see the house dog, Lady, tip-toeing her way down the creaky basement steps. Lady surveyed the situation, took a quick look around, and then settled on to an empty trash bag, to watch the show.

Kelli blew off the the thick top layer of dust. It worked its way past the window, with the sun playing peek-a-boo, as its rays filtered through the smudged glass.

Bringing it down to eye level, she caught the strong scent of light oil, mixed in with a tad of grease. On the top tray lay The Wrench. Not just any wrench, mind you, but the one Scott Webner taught her how to use.

The pair had lain on their back that day, side-by-side. He held the flashlight as his seven-year-old daughter turned, with growing confidence, the wrench, tightening the gasket under the sink.

"Good job," he said to her, beaming.

Beside The Wrench was her hammer. The red paint on the handle had chipped away, but it was still red, and dad said that it would always be hers.

Looking now at that silly red hammer, she thought, that was a great day. It was a Saturday in late October. A college game, in high volume, was blasting over the radio. That was the day that the two of them demolished a wall in the basement, for a larger laundry room.

Yeah, that day was fun.

Next to the legendary hammer, curled up all neat and tidy, was his drill. Bruised and battered, but it still worked. It had a cord with three shades of fading paint on it. The man didn't do cordless; charge this, charge that, he couldn't be bothered.

"Just plug it in and go," he said.

"Easy now," he encouraged her, "keep your hand level. There you go, see? There's nothing to it."

Kelli drilled the hole, straight and true. Then, she put an anchor into the hole, followed by a screw, and hung the family portrait.

And he taught her to learn from her mistakes. Today, she can spackle a wall with the best of them.

Meanwhile, Lady was now busy running her own basement patrol, brushing past Kelli's leg.

Kelli's eyes started to tear up, and she bit her lower lip, picking up his folding wooden measuring stick. Some of this stuff should be in the Smithsonian, Museum, but here, it will stay, she decided.

Now, her mind was skipping back.

For one day, as Kelli's father labored at the work vise, sharpening the lawnmower blade, something came over her. And some innocent words came tumbling out of her young mouth.

"Dad, mom shows me what she does. Will you show me how to do what you do?"

And there, standing right before her, the biggest, smartest man she knew in her life, laughed. Then, with one large hand, gently pulling her close, he bent down over her, and said, "sure."

And from that moment on, it was Game On.

On the bottom of the box lay pliers, and a wire stripper for electrical repairs. Three spools of electrical tape sat, side by side, ready for duty.

And then there were toilets to be replaced, and faucets to be changed. Kelli and her father roamed the original fixer-upper, completing one repair after another.

In the far corner of the box lay both Phillips and flat-head screwdrivers.

And there she was, with her first bike. Dad patiently guided her on replacing the chain, then stood back as she put on her first patch on her front tire.

Now Kelli was back there, fixing the back door window screen one day, and patching the front sidewalk the next.

And there was the day, just shy of her 16th birthday, as they were talking about other things, that he, all of a sudden, put down his wood chisel, took a deep breath, and turned to her.

"Never accept anything less than respect from a boy. And, when you've found that special man Kelli, you'll know it. You'll feel it in your heart. And you'll know, you'll just know, that he's the man for you."

The high-pitched sound of Kelli's cell phone, brought her back.

"Kelli! Good news! We're about 15 minutes away, I'd say. And in spite of this little hiccup, the kids had a great time. Without you here though, it was a different kind of Father's Day."

"That's okay," she said, disguising her disappointment. "We'll get it right next year. Love you, see you soon."

Then, she returned dad's tools to their exact same spots. Following that, she put Betsy back up on to the top shelf.

She lovingly swept her left hand over the top of the silver chrome handle. She placed her forefinger to her lips, and with a kiss, planted in on the shiny handle.

"I miss you dad. I miss you like crazy. And don't worry about Betsy. I promise ton always take care of her."

With that, she turned off the light, closing the basement door.

She took a shaky, deep breath.

Phil and the kids would be home any minute now.

THE END