Galen wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, throwing the shovel to the ground and sat down in the shade of the nearest tree. Just barely after eight in the morning and already the sun was beating down like it was noon. He reached for the bottle of ice-cold water next to him, taking long, deep gulps to alleviate some of the burning discomfort in his parched throat.

He'd cleaned up the garden pretty well, this last week. He'd also cleared most of the weeds, mowed the lawn and dug up a few very suspicious looking plants. He'd resolved that when he was finished cleaning up, he'd fix the beautiful angel fountain in the middle of the garden. He didn't know why, but it fascinated him. Almost as if he was drawn to it.

He had to get the place i...

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