35. Adele
Adele
In Maine, the majority of logging took place during the winter months. The frozen ground makes cutting, hauling, and driving a lot easier. It also protects the forest undergrowth and immature trees, ensuring our ability to keep our forests healthy.
Technically, we cut all year round, but we limited those cuts to specific locations in the shoulder seasons, or specific species of trees like specialty stuff that might be in high demand.
Summers were spent repairing, surveying, and grading roads—the single most important resource we had.
And every summer, there were fights and disputes and so much bullshit I threatened to quit.
The cherry on top of the shit sundae this summer? Henri wanted me to join the upcoming meeting of the families. No, we did not belong to the mafia, but sometimes it felt like it, especially with the sheer volume of blood feuds between us.
Four families jointly owned the Golden Road, the private logging road that stretched from Lovewell all the way to Quebec. All of our land holdings intersected the road, so the four companies came together to manage all business and any issues that pertained to the roads.
These meetings were misery. The Gagnons, the Heberts, the LeBlancs, and the Clarks tolerated each other, but things had been breaking down over the last couple of years. We’d always been in competition, but the bad blood between the Gagnons and the Heberts had now extended to everyone.
Each family’s business had been impacted by Mitch Hebert, and for the last several months, the roads had been crawling with law enforcement, slowing down production and straining our tenuous allegiances further.
Nothing irked me more than bullshit politics and middle school drama. And until recently, I’d kept my distance from all of it. Henri managed these monthly meetings, with Paz’s assistance. But now, my brothers were dragging me into it. And I had far more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.
Food poisoning. I’d been sick for the last few days, and I still couldn’t shake the godforsaken nausea.
Last weekend, Finn and I had grilled swordfish that did not agree with me. He was a Viking, so naturally, the spoiled fish hadn’t affected his iron stomach. I, on the other hand, had spent most of Sunday with my face in the toilet.
The vomiting wasn’t even the worst of it. It was the nausea. The constant feeling that I was on the verge of throwing up was wearing me down. It was even more distressing than actually puking up my guts.
Finn had been lovely and sweet, holding my hair, bringing me ginger ale and crackers, and snuggling with me in front of the TV.
But my food poisoning had ruined our plan to introduce him to my family at Sunday dinner. Instead, I canceled and spent the evening on the couch. And since then, my mom had been texting me nonstop like I had contracted the bubonic plague and she was concerned that I was on the precipice of death.
Our carefully orchestrated debut as a couple had been put on hold because of some less than fresh seafood.
Finn took it in stride—of course he did—but waiting only made me more nervous.
Logically, I knew we could do this. We could show up, face my mom and my siblings like the adults we were, and explain that we were together.
At my mom’s house, we’d have everyone there at once, and we could manage reactions.
Plus, having Alice, Hazel, and Parker in attendance meant each of my brothers had a designated person to talk them down.
Ultimately, my mom would love Finn. How could she not?
He was a bottomless pit who would praise her cooking and clean all the dishes after.
We just had to manage the initial shock and keep the angry mob from picking up their torches and pitchforks.
Though originally I was the one who’d balked at the idea of going public, I was anxious to jump in and rip off the Band-Aid now.
The initial rush of sneaking around had worn off.
I was tired. So, so tired. And I hated lying to my family.
We had our differences, but my brothers were important to me.
Ultimately, they loved me, and once they got to know Finn and realized that he was nothing like his father, they would see how happy he made me.
Despite the vomit and the exhaustion, I was so much happier than I’d ever been. For years, I had yearned to find my person. A man who would embrace my Adele-ness rather than love me in spite of it. A man who pushed me to be better and who believed in me.
Sure, the family circumstances were not ideal, but after our weekend in Acadia together, it was clear that we were inevitable. This was real. Now I only needed to convince my family.
But first I had to deal with these roads.
“Adele.” A gruff voice interrupted my thoughts.
Richard stood in the doorway to my office. The act of looking up from my computer screen to the man across from me was enough to send another wave of nausea through me. Swallowing back the bile threatening to escape, I checked to make sure my trash can was nearby.
Without waiting for me to invite him in, Richard strode to my desk and gave me a tight nod.
Henri had recently promoted Richard. For years, he’d overseen cutting operations at our camp and managed all the inventory.
But given how much we’d expanded, Henri put him in charge of managing our roads and any related issues.
Which meant that now I had to deal with Richard. He wasn’t a bad person, but he wasn’t a Gagnon, and that meant I couldn’t yell at him like I could at my brothers.
Nope, I had to be calm and professional and explain to him why he was dead fucking wrong.
Richard was one of those older men who believed he knew everything and was adamant that the way things were done decades ago was the only way. Add a dose of good old-fashioned sexism to the mix, and it was no surprise that I did not enjoy our chats.
Richard had been my dad’s right-hand man and best friend for decades.
He was tall and thin, with short silver hair, and he wore round glasses and an overall air of annoyance.
He was old-school in every way and had never quite come to terms with the idea that a grown-ass woman could obtain a graduate degree in engineering, let along become one of his bosses.
Nope, he preferred to speak to me like I was a little girl who couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of a grader.
Taking a deep breath, I summoned all my patience.
Henri trusted him, and although I didn’t exactly like the guy, he was good at his job and he was an asset to our business.
So I let him make his argument as to why we needed to wait to develop Site 211 until next year and instead send our equipment up to the north side of the Golden Road, where there was even less infrastruture and a historic fire had taken out most of the trees a few decades ago.
There was no way I could spare the machinery for that, especially given the work needed at Site 211, but I listened without interrupting.
“Richard,” I said when he’d finished, being sure to engage the most respectful tone I was capable of. “I’ll make a note of this. Perhaps we can do some of this work during shoulder season next year. But right now, the priority is getting Site 211 fully accessible before cutting season this winter.”
He stared, unblinking, while I spoke, twirling his keys around his index finger, over and over again. With each rotation, his keys would clank gently. Around and around. It was annoying and making my nausea worse.
But I persisted. I explained the limitation of the current machines and the timeline I’d put in place for road and truck repairs before the season.
And he sat there, twirling the goddamn keys like he had better things to do than speak to me. I didn’t have the two spare graders lying around that his plan required, but I would have loved to throw him in front of one at that moment.
His mouth was a flat line, and he focused on something over my shoulder, as if my explanation was boring him. “I’ll have to talk to Henri about this.”
My eye twitched, and the tight control I had on my annoyance slipped a fraction.
“Are you threatening to go above my head to my brother? Don’t bother.
I can tell you exactly what his response will be.
My shop, my rules. My machines, my rules.
And if you don’t watch your tone, you’ll never touch one of my trucks again. ”
He said nothing, only narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Then he hauled himself out of the chair and stalked out of my office.
I sat back and heaved a sigh of relief once he was out of my sight. Then I reached for the trash can, just in case. What the hell was going on with me?
Pushing my chair back a couple of inches, I pulled open my desk drawers, one at a time, searching for more mints to hide my vomit breath.
When I pulled open the bottom drawer to my left, the box of tampons caught my eye.
The sight of them brought the nausea rushing right back, and I dove for the trash can.
No. Not possible.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
I adjusted my baseball cap so it sat lower on my head.
I had driven all the way to Heartsborough, but now I wished I’d kept going.
This town wasn’t all that far from Lovewell, and it was almost as tiny.
There was a chance I would be recognized here.
Especially because of my height and the coveralls I should have changed out of.
But I hadn’t been in my right mind when I rushed out of the shop.
But I had done the math.
And puked some more. I was a week late. For me, that was enough to throw up red flags. Add in the nausea and the vomiting and the constant exhaustion, and there was no denying that something was up.
So here I was, in the drugstore, buying one of every brand of pregnancy test.
My heart pounded and bile rose in my esophagus as I shuffled to the counter.
The sweet older woman behind the old-fashioned register wore glasses on a beaded chain and had a very aggressive perm. She gave me a kind smile and rang up my purchases, which also included antacids, grape soda, and hair elastics.
I tried to school my features. I went for calm and collected rather than completely unhinged, but I’d never had much of a poker face. The poor woman probably thought I was a serial killer.
“Good luck, dear,” she said gently as I stepped away from the register.
I rushed outside, desperate to be alone again, and promptly retched all over the sidewalk.
He-Man snuggled against my arm on the center console the entire ride home, as if sensing how miserable I was. My mind was blank. I was so dumbstruck that it took all my mental strength to focus on driving.
At home, I considered not even bothering. Did I really want to know? Surely there was another explanation for these symptoms. Eventually, though, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tore open the first test. Okay. Pee on stick, wait three minutes. Easy enough.
My stomach churned as I paced the bathroom. I was on birth control. That shit was supposed to work, damn it.
And I wasn’t sure how to even feel. I was thirty-three, owned a home, had a stable, healthy income and close family nearby. Pregnancy was not a tragedy. In fact, I’d always wanted a family. The timing wasn’t great, but I’d always seen children in my future.
If only it were so easy. Because this thing with Finn had evolved from enemies with benefits to a complex and intense and incredible relationship. But we hadn’t even gone public yet. And although what we had was feeling more and more like forever, there was no guarantee.
A baby, however, was forever. A link between us, between our families.
The alarm on my phone beeped, startling me so badly I jumped. Taking a deep breath and willing my heart to settle, I shuffled back to the counter.
Two lines. Positive.
And tears. Lots of them.
Wild sobs burst from my lungs and endless tears streamed down my face. My body shuddered so severely with each round that I dropped to the tile floor and hugged my knees to my chest.
I cried for me. Because I’d fallen for someone I might not get to keep. For Finn, because he loved being a father more than anything. And I cried for this baby, who I already loved deeply, if that was possible, because he or she would be born into this shit show.
I didn’t want to have to choose between Finn and my family. Because I’d choose him and our baby every single time. And the thought of losing my brothers and my mom, after everything we’d been through over the last few years, was crippling.
And so I cried. He-Man curled up in my lap, quietly comforting me as my tears fell, dampening his fur.
This was a clusterfuck of my own creation. Maybe if I’d been honest earlier, if I’d been brave enough to confront the truth—that I was falling in love with him—and had told my family, I wouldn’t have to lose any of them.
But everything was different now. And I had to get it together for the sake of this baby. I wasn’t perfect. Finn wasn’t perfect. But this was happening. And I would do it right.
But I couldn’t do it alone.