“What is this stuff?” Jonah asked.

“It’s supposed to be art.”

“I thought art was like paintings and stuff.”

“It is. But sometimes art is other things, too.”

Jonah wrinkled his nose, staring at the half-rabbit/half-snake. “It doesn’t look like art.”

When Steve smiled, Jonah motioned to the stained-glass window on the worktable. “Was this his, too?” he asked.

“Actually, that’s mine. I’m making it for the church down the street. It burned last year, and the original window was destroyed in the fire.”

“I didn’t know you could make windows.”

“Believe it or not, the artist who used to live here taught me how.”

“The guy who did the animals?”

“The same one.”

“And you knew him?”

Steve joined his son at the table. “When I was a kid, I’d sneak over here when I was supposed to be in Bible study. He made the stained-glass windows for most of the churches around here. See the picture on the wall?” Steve pointed to a small photograph of the Risen Christ tacked to one of the shelves, easy to miss in the chaos. “Hopefully, it’ll look just like that when it’s finished.”

“Awesome,” Jonah said, and Steve smiled. It was obviously Jonah’s new favorite word, and he wondered how many times he’d hear it this summer.

“Do you want to help?”

“Can I?”

“I was counting on it.” Steve gave him a gentle nudge. “I need a good assistant.”

“Is it hard?”

“I was your age when I started, so I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Jonah gingerly picked up a piece of the glass and examined it, holding it up to the light, his expression serious. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it, too.”