19. Cole
Taking a step back, I slide the safety goggles off my head and shield my eyes from the sun to inspect my progress. I used the chainsaw to form a general outline for the statue, priming it for tomorrow when I can go in with the carving bar to begin carving the bear’s features.
I give a satisfied shrug. Not too bad for a day’s work.
Loading up the supplies I brought with me down to the lake, I head up the hill toward the now empty picnic tables that are set up in front of my cabin. Working this far away from the shed isn’t exactly ideal, but I wanted to be out of everyone’s way, so I did what I could to make it work. I suppose there are worse places to carve than steps away from a lake.
“Hey, Cole. Thanks again for letting me barge in here,” Shirley calls, coming out of the cabin as I walk past.
“Not a problem. Everything work out okay today?” I slow to a stop to chat while she leans against the post.
“Yeah,” she says with an exhausted nod. “We managed. Everyone was fed, anyway. I don’t think anyone minded the extra-scenic transportation coming up here for their meals either.”
“Good to hear.”
“You’ve got a special place out here.” She looks past me with a look of endearment on her face. I wait, wondering if she might shoot her shot in convincing me to sell too.
“I think so,” I agree.
“Your uncle thought so too,” she says softly.
I lift my gaze to meet hers. “You knew him?”
“Once upon a time.” She huffs, looking down at her hands clasped together.
“Still keep in touch?” I hold my breath, not sure if I want to hear that he’s been keeping in touch with anyone else but me.
“No, not for many years now.”
I nod as a wave of sadness hits me. Man, do I miss him.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it,” she says before reaching behind her to grab something off the chair. “I saved you some dinner. Pot roast and veggies. Make sure you eat it while it’s still warm.”
My chest warms at the fact that she thought of me. It’s yet another thing I’m not used to.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I say sincerely, grabbing the to-go container.
“My pleasure,” she says warmly. “Do you need a ride back down?”
“I’ve got my ATV. Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a dip of my head, I head to the newly built shed, where I place my tools, then hop on the vehicle to head back to Sydney’s cabin.
As I drive down, balancing the plate of food on my lap with one hand, I attempt to calm the mixed feelings I have about staying in such a small space with her—someone who clearly hasn’t been very fond of me.
I park behind cabin twelve and round my way to the front porch, dinner in hand. As I reach for the knob, I hesitate. Am I supposed to knock? I’m thinking I probably should. Although, I wouldn’t put it past her to leave me out here out of spite.
I settle for knocking, waiting a few seconds before pushing the door open. I find Sydney at the small, round kitchen table, an array of puzzle pieces laid out in front of her. Her elbow is propped up on the table, her chin in the palm of her hand as she peers up at me. I look for any sign of animosity that I might need to brace myself for, but there isn’t a trace on her face.
“Hey,” I say quietly, shutting the door behind me.
“Hi,” she says just as softly, focusing back down.
I take two steps to reach the table and slide into the chair across from her, needing somewhere to sit to take my boots off. I slide my plate of food onto the table and pull my boots off slowly and cautiously. I’m well-aware this is her space, and I’m just encroaching on it. The atmosphere in this tiny place feels apprehensive…that if I make one wrong step, our fragile truce might be shattered.
“Did you already eat?” I ask her.
“I did. The pot roast was really good. You’ll love it,” she says simply.
As she puts a puzzle piece into place, I notice a stack of paintings leaning against the back wall by the utility closet.
“Are those from the lodge?” I point to them, taking a risk on starting a conversation as I peel the tin foil cover off my food.
She twists her head, following the direction of my finger, and nods.
“Yeah. I took everything off the walls today. Kept a few things for myself.” Her mouth twists up in a nostalgic smile while a layer of something close to pain lingers behind it.
While I certainly don’t have any right to know the ins and outs of her family relationships, it’s obvious how much this place means to her. How important it is to be doing this renovation the right way.
“Did Neal get everything under control?” I ask, taking a bite of the warm food.
“Yup. They were able to fix the pipe and finished grading the rest of the soil. The plan is to start framing the addition within the next day or so. Graham and I got everything out of the lodge and kept anything that didn’t have water damage.”
“Did you find a new place for your camping tents?”
“Glamping tents,” she corrects.
“That’s what I said.”
I don’t miss the slightest of eye rolls. “I have a backup location. That’ll be the very last part of the reno, though, so I’m still hoping I might be able to get you to change your mind.”
I roll my lips before meeting her eyes, saying as honestly as I can, “I can’t do that.”
She holds my stare, and her face softens. For the first time, she doesn’t push or try another tactic to get her way. It’s a moment of quiet acceptance. Of honesty. It’s one that I appreciate.
When she breaks the stare, my own gaze falls down to the puzzle. It’s still mostly in pieces, but the box tells me it’s a scenic picture of a loon floating on a lake among lily pads. A quintessential rustic lake scene.
“Can I?” I ask, looking for her approval before I pick up a piece that might fit on the outer corner she just started.
“Be my guest.” She smirks as I rotate the piece, pressing it firmly into place.
I lean back, satisfied.
“Once again, you don’t strike me as the puzzle-doing kind of guy,” she remarks.
“And what kind of guy do I strike you as?”
Her eyes flick back up to mine, and she seems to consider her answer, while her attention makes my body flush.
“I still haven’t figured you out,” she mutters, looking away.
Well, that makes two of us.
As I eat my dinner, we alternate taking turns placing pieces on the puzzle, and the energy inside this small cabin slowly shifts from apprehensive to what I can only describe as a certain sense of calm. It’s become quiet and light—soothing in a way.
I soak it in, enjoying the way my brain feels like it can finally slow down, until my eyes start to feel heavy.
“I’m beat,” I say, cutting into the silence. “Mind if I turn in?” I motion to the cot that’s folded up along the wall.
She shakes her head. “Go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a bit longer if that’s alright with you? I’ll turn the lights off when I’m done.”
I hold her gaze for a moment longer than I probably should, not able to help myself from being glued to it momentarily, before saying, “Of course.”
I cross the room to grab a pair of sweatpants out of my backpack and then hit the bathroom. I change—pulling my button-up off, leaving just the undershirt—brush my teeth, and head back to roll the cot to the middle of the living space.
A slight groan escapes my lips as I settle onto my back with my feet hanging off the end of the cot. As I shift, I’m starkly aware of her presence a few short feet away from me, finding it hard to focus on anything else.
My eyes drift closed, and I fall asleep to the soft noise the puzzle piece makes when she snaps a new one into place.