Chapter 12 #2
Half impressed and half terrified he’d left his house without telling his mom again, I froze. But after a heartbeat, I saw her.
Celine.
She stood behind him, next to Stella, holding a coffee mug with both hands.
Dammit. I hadn’t thought to warn her about all the commotion on the farm today or considered that Julian might be bothered by the noise. I’d been too wrapped up in preparations.
She didn’t look mad. No, she looked comfortable. Maybe more comfortable than I’d ever seen her. She was smiling and chatting, her red hair piled on top of her head and an oversized fleece wrapped around her, her cheeks pink with the cool morning air.
“Remember the rules of Chainsaw Day,” I yelled, ready to get started. “Chaps and safety gear are mandatory. No drinking, no smoking, no heroics. Jasper, Gabe, and I are in charge of the zone. You do not cut without our permission first.”
Satisfied with the nods and affirmative responses, I climbed down. For a moment, I stood in place, surveying the chaos as the group disbanded. People took off in all directions, chatting and laughing and carrying equipment.
Damn. Would it even be possible to keep everyone safe today? The enthusiasm for chainsaws in this damn town was far too prevalent.
“Um. Josh. Mr. Josh?”
Julian appeared at my side, Wayne dutifully trotting along with him. The little boy had his bright blue noise canceling headphones around his neck like a collar and was wearing the fuzzy blue hoodie I’d often seen him in.
“Morning, Julian.”
“Can I help?” he asked, his blue eyes shining bright. “I don’t have a chainsaw. But I can carry wood.”
Celine jogged over, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Julian, let’s not bother Josh. He’s super busy.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Julian offered to help. Which is very generous of him.”
I crouched so we were face to face. “Only the grown-ups can cut down the trees. But you can ride along and watch if you’d like. And I could use your help counting up the logs later. But only if it’s okay with your mom.”
He turned and looked up at her. “Can I watch? I won’t touch anything. I promise.”
She studied him, then me, her expression wary. “Just for a little bit.”
We got everyone assigned and organized, then set off into the woods, and Julian remained at my side the whole time.
Jasper was a firefighter and paramedic, so I was confident he could handle his crew.
But I had the honor of leading a ragtag team of Marty from the diner, Vince and Mrs. Morris and her vintage chainsaw.
The trouble started mid-day, the way it always did. Quietly.
We had cleared out the first sector when the sound of one chainsaw caught my attention. It revved too loudly and too quickly rather than steadily like I’d drilled into my group.
The sound could only mean someone inexperienced was overcompensating on the throttle.
I turned, but before I could head toward the noise, a dead limb cracked loose far higher up the trunk than it should have.
“Heads-up!” a man yelled.
The branch wasn’t fully cut, so instead of dropping clean, it sheared sideways, swinging and hitting another limb. Only then did it finally crack, and that sent it bouncing wide toward the edge of the clearing where a crowd had congregated.
“Move,” I shouted.
As folks scattered and yelled and stumbled, I darted for the overeager kid with the chainsaw.
Grabbing Marty by the back of his jacket, I yanked him clear an instant before the branch slammed to the ground in an explosion of bark, making the earth beneath us shake.
Silence followed as I hauled in breath after breath.
When I could see clearly, I took his saw and turned it off.
His face was white, his eyes huge.
“Never cut above shoulder height,” I said flatly. “Ever.”
“I-I thought—”
“Wrong,” I said, pointing at the road. “Hauling duty. Now.”
He nodded, swallowing hard, and trudged away.
Heart still pounding, I scanned the group. “Everyone back toward the road unless you’ve been assigned to cut. There are still several flagged trees here. I will confirm with each of you where you need to be. Please wait for my instructions.”
No one argued. No one made a sound.
Squeezing the bill of my hat, I slammed my eyes shut, collecting myself. When I opened them again, I noticed Julian.
He stood next to Wayne, inspecting the massive fallen tree limb. I’d need to slice this with my chainsaw just to get it out of here. God, it could have crushed Marty. Dumbass.
But the boy hadn’t run. He hadn’t hidden.
Celine was moving toward him, panic etched in every line on her face.
I held my hand up and approached him slowly so I wouldn’t spook him.
“Julian,” I said calmly. “You okay?”
He nodded, still staring at the tree limb. “It didn’t fall where it was supposed to.”
“Good eye,” I said.
I crouched in front of him, keeping my voice steady. “I could really use your help right now, bud. Do you want a job?”
His eyes widened, roving over me.
Behind him, Celine stopped, watching me just as intently.
“What kind of job?” he asked.
“The most important one.” I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands. “I need you to be my spotter.”
“What’s a spotter?”
“You stand here.” I patted the bed of the ATV.
“Then you watch and listen. If you see limbs falling or people cutting branches too close to one another. You wave this flag and yell.” I handed him an orange safety flag.
“If you see anything that looks unsafe at all, wave it and yell.” I snapped my fingers, signaling for Wayne to sit.
“I’ll leave Wayne here with you. He can bark to get my attention. ”
Wayne wagged his tail proudly, like he’d just been promoted.
Julian pressed his lips together, his focus on my hands for a moment before reaching for the flag. “I can do it,” he said in a serious tone.
“You do not leave the ATV,” I warned, my words absolute.
He searched my face, determination in his expression.
“You do not touch any tools,” I added. “You are my eyes and ears, and I’m depending on you.”
“Julian.” Celine took a hesitant step closer, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip.
“Mom. I’ve got an important job to do.” He turned and climbed up onto the bed, then shaded his eyes with one hand and assessed the area. “Gotta keep everyone safe.”
Wayne’s tail thumped furiously against the ground next to me.
“He’s doing great,” I said, standing. “Kid’s got great instincts.”
“I’m good at spotting patterns,” he boasted, never taking his eyes off the trees.
“Can I stand here with you?” she asked him gently.
“Sure,” he murmured, still on high alert, “but only if you promise not to distract me.”
She cracked a smile at him, then turned to me, the look on her face morphing into one of deep gratitude. Like she’d noticed my efforts not to touch or grab him. How I had given him space and autonomy and boundaries.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“He’s a good kid.” I took a step back, then another. “And a great farm hand. He’ll keep us all in line.”
And for the rest of the afternoon. He did.