I looked toward the fence.
The wooden panels stood solid and quiet.
The gate was locked.
The security camera remained in place.
Then I crouched so we were closer to eye level.
"She's not allowed to come onto my property without permission."
He nodded.
"But what if somebody else does something bad?"
I considered the question carefully.
I couldn't promise no one would ever make a bad decision again.
That wasn't how the world worked.
But I could teach him something useful.
"If somebody breaks a rule or hurts someone's property, we tell the truth about what happened and get the right people to help."
He looked thoughtful.
"Like the sheriff?"
"Sometimes."
"And the cameras?"
I smiled.
"Cameras can help show what happened."
He nodded.
Then asked, "What about you?"
I looked toward him.
"What about me?"
He grinned.
"You can fix stuff."
I laughed.
"Some stuff."
He pointed toward the pool.
"Could you fix it again?"
I looked toward the water.
Then toward the house.
"Well, I hope I never have to."
He smiled.
"Me too."
Then he wrapped his arms around my neck.
I hugged him.
For a moment, I held him close.
I thought about how easily anger could have taken over my life.
How tempting it had been to confront Patricia physically.
To shout back.
To make threats.
To turn every neighborhood disagreement into a personal battle.
But I hadn't.
I had kept records.
Protected my property.
Worked with investigators.
Supported neighbors.
And allowed the legal process to address the conduct that had been established.
It wasn't as dramatic as revenge.
It was harder.
Slower.
Sometimes exhausting.
But it had given my family something far more valuable than the satisfaction of watching an enemy lose.
It had given us our peace back.
After everyone left, I stood alone beside the swimming pool.
The sky had turned deep purple.
The mountains were dark against the horizon.
The pool lights glowed beneath the surface, illuminating the pale blue tiles.
A gentle breeze moved through the desert landscaping.
Everything was quiet.
I looked toward the fence.
For a moment, I remembered that terrible afternoon almost four years earlier.
Patricia in her bright-pink clothes.
Her black gloves.