Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Harry
Sixty Years Ago
“ T hank you, Mr. Elkhorn. I’ll make sure the dock is repaired and up to your standard. I need to head out there and double check a few things,” I told my newest client.
I’d recently started helping my pops on a few construction jobs, and he sent me off to handle a job on my own for the first time.
Most of the families in Westin Lake knew my family. The Langford name ran wild in town. We were known for our homegrown personalities and for being people who weren’t afraid to get dirty. My father taught me the construction business, and his father taught him, and so on and so forth. There was no question that I’d take over the construction company once the time came.
Even though construction was the last thing I wanted to do deep down inside.
If I had it my way, I’d be a wanderer who lived on a fishing boat and sold fish out of a shack or something. Construction work didn’t make my soul soar like fishing did. But Langford’s weren’t fishermen—we did construction.
“Take your time. There’s no rush. Thank you for stopping by this evening. I know we were supposed to meet earlier, but my daughter just got back from university, and she, of course, was running late when I picked her up,” Mr. Elkhorn commented. He opened the door to the backyard that overlooked Westin Lake. The afternoon sky faded into night as I stepped outside into the breeze of the late spring air.
It was still chilly in Wisconsin as we moved into late May. I wore my worker’s jacket, brown work pants, and heavy boots to keep warm. As I walked toward the broken-up dock, I saw a woman dancing on her tiptoes with her arms waving as she hummed a tune.
She seemed effervescent in the darkening space, as if she were out of place on Earth. She dressed in vibrant colors and wore no shoes, which was alarming. The old dock was seconds from falling apart, and with one wrong step—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I shouted, hurrying toward the bizarre woman who danced too closely to the edge. She was seconds away from falling into the chilly lake as my arm wrapped around her tiny waist, and I pulled her backward. Her body landed against mine, and she giggled the whole time it happened.
“Whew, that was close,” she snickered as she paused, her hands fell against my chest. She looked up toward me and moved her messy, wavy brown hair out of her face. Her blue eyes pierced me as her full lips turned up. “Who are you?” she questioned.
“A guy who just saved your life.”
“Well, that’s an odd name.”
I smiled.
She smiled bigger.
I liked that.
I liked her smile, and it was bigger.
She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that didn’t dance its way into Westin Lake that often.
The Elkhorns were new to Westin Lake. The whole town had been gossiping about their arrival, and it was no secret that people were curious about what brought them to town. Mr. Elkhorn said it was simple—he liked the water.
I couldn’t blame him for that. The water always felt like home to me.
I didn’t know that he and his wife had a daughter.
A beautiful one at that.
“You almost fell into the water,” I warned her. “And this dock isn’t safe without shoes on.”
“Well, thank goodness for strong saviors like yourself. I could’ve drowned if you didn’t catch me. Or worse, got a splinter.”
I chuckled. “A splinter is worse than drowning?”
“Depending on who you ask,” she said, steadying herself. She took a step away from me, removing her touch from my chest. I missed her warmth the moment she stole it away from me. She combed her hair behind her ears and smiled even more prominent than before.
I shifted in my boots, almost forgetting how to speak. Why did her looking at me with those big doe eyes make my mind feel as if it was shutting down? “So, uh, what got you out here almost killing yourself, or worse—getting splinters.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” She looked up to the sky. “I was counting the stars. We came from a big city. I never saw stars like this before.”
I glanced at the star-covered sky. The stars always looked more glorious when one was up north. The light pollution in cities made nature not shine as much as it should’ve. She smiled up at the sky as if she’d just met God. I swore, stars were almost sparkling in her irises, too.
“How many did you count so far?” I asked.
“Forty-two,” she told me. She tapped her finger against her bottom lip. “But I fear I lost count.”
“Figures.” I stared at her, and she stared at me. I couldn’t look away for some reason, and it seemed she couldn’t either.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Harry.”
“Short for?”
“Harold.”
“Named after?”
“My father.”
“And he was named after?”
“His father.”
“Ah yes,” she swooned, “We love a good tradition.” She returned to dancing on her tiptoes, and I grumped, worried about her toes on that uneven surface.
“Hey, stop moving for a moment,” I said, bending down as I unlaced my boots.
“Can’t stop moving, too much happiness,” she replied, swaying her hips from side to side.
I snickered to myself. This woman was an oddball in the best of ways.
I stepped out of my boots and then tapped her shoulders. “Here.”
Her brows lowered. “But what about splinters for you?”
“I work in construction. My middle name is splinter.”
She laughed, and I swore it echoed off the moon. I didn’t know laughter could sound so freeing.
She placed a hand against my shoulder and slid her foot into the left boot and right.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Molly.”
“Short for?”
She giggled again. “Molly.”
That giggle brought me to life for the first time ever. Who knew that I hadn’t been alive for the past twenty-some years?
She tilted her head. “Thanks for the boots, Harry.”
“Anytime, Molly.”
“So, Harry…” She held a hand out toward me. “Do you want to dance with me?”
I was almost sure I couldn’t say no, so I took her hand and danced.
I wasn’t even afraid of getting a splinter or two.
She repeatedly said how great of a night it had been, and I couldn’t stop laughing at how free she felt to me. I never knew freedom could be a person.
She was right about one thing—it was a good night.