Chapter 6
Chapter Six
KANE
I trail behind Timber and Hailey as we walk to May’s Café. It’s been a long day, and my muscles remind me of every line I hauled in. But as I glance at Timber, walking beside Hailey, who’s chattering away, a tug of something warms in my chest.
We arrive at the café, and Hailey immediately declares she wants to sit next to Ms. Moore. I appreciate her enthusiasm, even though a quiet voice in my head warns me not to get too comfortable. People come and go, and I worry about the connection Hailey’s already forming with Timber. My poor little girl will have to face another unavoidable goodbye, but I suppose it’s better to learn early that nothing is permanent than live with the fantasy that everyone stays.
As we settle into our booth, May approaches with her usual blend of motherly affection and bustling efficiency .
“Welcome back,” she says. “Are you here for the fish fry? Eric dropped off about fifty pounds of halibut.”
“That sounds good to me,” I say.
“I’ll have the same,” Timber replies.
“Daddy, I want chocolate chip pancakes!” Hailey’s declaration is firm, her eyes gleaming with the unyielding determination of a five-year-old.
“But Hailey, it’s dinnertime, and the halibut here is the best around. Eric caught it fresh. You love fish.”
“No, I want pancakes!” she says, crossing her arms, her resolve setting like concrete.
“Hailey, while pancakes are great, halibut is the food of adventurers,” Timber chimes in, her voice as smooth as the calm sea. “Why don’t you order the fish and then tell your dad about your day as my special helper.”
I glance at May to see if she’s going to add her two cents, but she holds her pad and pen, watching the exchange with an amused look.
“Alright, I’ll have the halibut, even though I want pancakes.” Hailey says.
I send a silent thank-you to Timber for stepping in.
Timber laughs, a sound that’s quickly becoming familiar and welcome. “Maybe if you’re lucky, your dad will take you for chocolate chip pancakes on the weekend.” She looks at me, her eyes asking if it’s possible.
I nod. “We can have pancakes on Sunday. Deal?”
Hailey nods. “Deal!”
May jots down our orders. “One adventurous halibut for the young explorer, and two more for the table. Coming right up. ”
As May heads back to the kitchen, a sense of peace settles over me, and I turn my attention to Hailey. “Tell me about this special assignment.”
Hailey talks non-stop for the next five minutes about everything she helped Ms. Moore with. I dropped off a kid that was all doom and gloom and picked up a ray of sunshine. Normally, when Amanda doesn’t call, it’s a minimum of two days before Hailey finds her joy again. I’m grateful for the reduced sentence.
When Hailey finishes, I turn to Timber. “How was your day at the center?”
Timber’s face lights up much like my daughter’s. “It was wonderful,” she begins. “The kids were so engaged. We learned about buoyancy, ecosystems ... Lucas even built a little ship from paper! And Hailey, she categorized her rock collection by age and type—did you know she has a piece of quartz she found on the beach?”
“Is that the white one?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s white with lots of sparkle.”
“This one,” Hailey says and places the rock on the table.
I pick it up and turn it over in my hand. “She likes the sparkly ones.” I remember the day she found it. We were picnicking with my mom at the lighthouse. The day was uncharacteristically warm for early spring, and my mom was in good spirits. A month later, she passed. I give the rock back to Hailey, and she puts it back in her pocket.
“Tomorrow, we’re going on a little trek to gather herbs and learn about local plants.” Timber talks with her hands, painting a picture in the air of a classroom alive with discovery and laughter. “There’s so much you can learn just from the surrounding nature.”
She sounds so much like my mom and sister, getting excited about the silliest things, like a weed with a yellow flower. Mom always said there wasn’t anything called a weed. They were merely unappreciated flowers. A wave of memories washes over me. “Sounds like you made the most of the day.”
“It was a good day, considering I found out that I’m essentially a summer camp counselor and not a summer schoolteacher.” She laughs, shaking her head slightly. “But I’m okay with it. It’s liberating, actually. It takes all the pressure off.”
A twinge of guilt pulls at me as I internally wade through my own sea of half-truths and omissions. I’m with the murkiness of not being completely honest with her about the job.
But seeing her take it all in stride, focusing on the positives, eases the weight of my conscience.
I’m grateful that Timber views life as a glass half full. She sees the unexpected turn as an adventure rather than a misstep, a quality that’s rare and, frankly, needed in a place like Port Promise.
As I watch her interacting with Hailey, her laughter mingling with the soft light of the café, I make a silent agreement with myself to be more transparent going forward. Because someone who can find joy in the unexpected deserves nothing less than the whole truth.
“And what about you? How was the sea today?” she asks, shifting the spotlight.
I let out a half-laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Brought in a decent haul, but on the way back, the engine decided to quit on me. It took some coaxing to get her going again. She’s old, and I can’t wait to get a new boat—one that isn’t held together by spit and prayers.” I look at my little girl and think about the plans I have for us. “I need a summer of abundance before I can make that kind of investment. A new boat’s not just a purchase. It’s a commitment to a better future.” A future I can’t imagine without a new troller. It’s not just a dream. It’s a necessity. Without it, I don’t know if I can count on next year’s salmon season to support Hailey and me through the leaner months.
Before the conversation can drift in another direction, May arrives with a tray laden with steaming dishes. As she sets the plates on the table, the golden and flaky halibut is a mouthwatering sight.
Hailey squeals with delight when she looks at hers. The cook has shaped her halibut into a small boat with sails made from thinly sliced cucumbers. Everything is riding atop a sea of green vegetables and colorful bell pepper buoys. On the edge of the plate, a tiny flag made from a toothpick and a piece of carrot stands proudly, as if marking the start of a voyage.
“Daddy! My fish is sailing!” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Healthy food doesn’t have to be boring.” May gives a knowing wink. She turns to Timber. “Did I hear you say you were going on a trek tomorrow?” May tells us about Old Danny, who’s been troubled by arthritis, and her plans to collect Devil’s Club for him. “That plant’s a bear to handle, being all prickly.”
Timber leans forward. “Devil’s Club is tough to harvest, but it’s an effective remedy. My mother often tried herbal treatments before she turned to modern medicine. She always had a jar of Devil’s Club salve on hand.”
“Is that so?” May asks. “What about you?”
“I’ve dabbled a bit in herbalism myself,” Timber says.
“Well, you’ll have to share some of your knowledge with me,” May says. “It’s nice to find someone else who believes in the healing power of nature.”
As they talk about herbs, I dig into my meal. Here’s Timber, fitting into our town like she’s always been part of it. And me? I’m just a fisherman trying to keep my head above water.
As I watch my daughter eat, I think maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all.
“If you happen to come across some Devil’s Club on your adventure, and you’re not too afraid to harvest it, Old Danny and I would appreciate it.”
“I’m happy to get you some if it presents itself.”
May nods and walks away.
Timber takes her first bite, and the sound that escapes her lips is a soft, contented hum. It’s a small noise, barely audible over the chatter of the restaurant, but to me, it’s like music. It makes me wonder what other sounds she’s capable of making, what she sounds like when she’s...
I stop that train of thought immediately, though it’s hard to shake off the image of her lips parting with that small, delightful sound. Clearing my throat, I divert the conversation. “Tell me about life in Arizona.”
She sets down her fork, her gaze meeting mine. “Life in Arizona ... well, it’s definitely different from here in Alaska. For one, it’s about 80 degrees warmer most days and requires fewer clothes.”
Her words ignite a fire in me as I imagine Timber wearing much less. Swallowing hard, I redirect the conversation once again.
“Have you ever been fishing?”
She nods. “A lot. I could fish the pants off most people.”
I stare at her and wonder if she’s going out of her way to torture me.
“You fish?” I imagine her with a pole in her hand and a lake before her. That’s all I allow my imagination to see because where this conversation is headed in my head will do neither of us any good.
“Yes.” She takes another bite.
“Amazing. We’ll have to take you fishing and see if you can fish the pants off me.” I hadn’t meant to say that, but once it’s out, the heat coils in my groin and rushes to my cheeks. “I mean, not like literally, but if you like to fish, I’d love to be your guide.” I take my last bite and another thought enters my mind. When I swallow, I ask, “ I know you haven’t been here long, but is Alaska everything you imagined it would be?”
She looks down at her almost empty plate. I can’t see her expression, but I sense some resistance to answering. Finally, she sighs and shrugs her shoulders.
“It’s definitely not what I was led to believe, but I like it. As much as I’ve been a city girl, my mother raised me with common sense and an outdoorsy flair.”
“She must have if you know what Devil’s Club is.”
“My mother was a big believer in being self-sufficient. Sadly, she passed away several months ago. It’s left a hole in my heart.” Her shoulders sag forward slightly. “I understand yours did, too. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Something is different when she says it as opposed to someone whose mom is still alive. Timber understands the profound loss and has experienced the devastation. “I still can’t fathom that my mom is gone. I miss her every day.”
Hailey chimes in. “Grandma is in heaven. I bet she’s with your mom.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Timber says.
“What about your father?” I ask. “Is he in Arizona?”
Timber sits up. “I never met him. When I was little, my mother used to tell me a stork brought me. As I got older, I had questions.” She looks down at Hailey, who’s playing with the vegetable flag and bell pepper buoys. “He went MIA before the big day.”
“That has to be hard.” There are so many parallels between Timber’s life and mine. Both of our mothers are gone. And Timber has experienced what Hailey is going through, only different.
She shrugs. “You can’t miss what you never had. What about your father?”
I rub my chin. “He’s off the island for now, visiting friends and family.”
“I bet the change of scenery is good for him. It’s hard to be someplace where there are so many memories.”
I wonder if losing her mom is part of the reason she jumped at the chance to come to Alaska.
May swings by and drops off the bill before moving to another table.
Timber reaches for the check. “I got this. You paid for breakfast last time.”
“Because I was late, and I was late again today, so I’m happy to pick up your dinner.”
“I don’t expect you to pay for my meal each time you’re late.”
After a bit of back-and-forth, I relent and let her pay for hers, but I lay down the cash for mine and Hailey’s.
We say goodbye to May and exit the café and step into the cooler evening air. The idea of walking Timber home floats through my mind, but before the offer can leave my lips, she asks, “Do you think the store is still open? I need some staples. A girl can’t live off of squirrel stew and beaver bolognaise alone.” She appears to shudder. “What I really want is a loaf of white bread and a jar of Nutella.”
“I’m not sure you’ll find the Nutella, but Rhys is sure to have bread and a few other options. ”
Hailey’s already bouncing. “Can we take her, Daddy? Please? I’m her helper for the day, and she’s going to need me in there. Besides, Uncle Rhys always gives me a sucker.”
“Alright, let’s make a quick trip out of it.” I tell myself it’s the neighborly thing to do, but that’s a lie. I wouldn’t offer to take anyone else to the store. The truth is, I wouldn’t mind spending a few more minutes with Timber.
The store on the dock is quiet, a gentle buzz of fluorescent lights welcoming us inside.
Behind the counter stands my brother Rhys. He folds up a magazine and tucks it into his back pocket. If it were anyone else, I’d guess it was this month’s Hustler with how quickly he hid it, but knowing Rhys, it’s probably a bait and tackle catalogue. Everyone has their thing, and my brother’s passion is flies called Dolly Llamas and Wooly Buggers.
“Welcome,” he says. “I’m Rhys.” He pulls a sucker from a basket and hands it to Hailey before offering one to Timber, who declines.
“He’s my little brother.” I don’t know why I need to make a point that he’s younger than me, but I do.
“Hello, Rhys,” Timber says. “I’m Timber Moore.”
“Welcome.”
“Thank you.” She grabs a basket and starts down the closest aisle.
I try to see everything through her eyes. The first thing I notice is Rhys is wearing jeans and the same flannel shirt as mine. It strikes me as funny that we are wearing what would seem like a uniform. I turn to look at the store, which has been in my family since the beginning. Rhys took it over when he was eighteen. To an outsider, it probably doesn’t seem like much. There are only seven aisles to the store with everything vying for space on the shelves, but it’s a lifeline for most.
Timber starts with the basics: bread and peanut butter. When she turns the corner, she picks up a few pieces of fruit. I notice each item she chooses requires no refrigeration, a reminder of her new off-the-grid lifestyle. It’s easy to forget how out of her element she might be, yet in the couple of days I’ve known her, she’s never voiced a complaint. “It’s not like a big-chain supermarket,” I say as I catch up to her. “But we make do with what we have. If you want something special, Rhys can order it.”
“Something special like Nutella?”
“Let’s see if he can get that for you. It’s important to have the things that comfort you—things that remind you of home.”
She laughs. “Currently, home is about 130 degrees, and it seems like your skin melts off your bones every time you step outside. I’m happy to be here, but the Nutella would be a bonus.”
Hailey tags behind her with the sucker from Rhys in her palm. “Can I help?”
“Do you know where the hot cocoa is?” Timber asks.
Hailey nods and races to the front of the store and points to where two boxes of cocoa remain. Timber takes one .
“That should do me for now.” As we reach the counter, Timber stops at a postcard display. She pulls out one with an image of the dock.
“Those have been here for decades,” Rhys says. “You’re welcome to take whatever you like. I don’t have the heart to throw them away, but people don’t mail postcards these days.”
“I imagine they don’t, but there’s an old-world sweetness to them. Imagine getting this card from the one you love? It’s kind of romantic.”
“What do we know about romance?” Rhys says.
“You know a little more than you did a few minutes ago.” She slides the postcard of the dock away and pulls out one of the ridge and sets it on the counter. “This is beautiful.”
What Timber doesn’t know is that the image is of my land.
“I forgot instant coffee. What aisle is that on?”
Rhys tells her aisle three, and as soon as she’s out of sight, he lets out a low whistle. “My teacher never looked like that. Mrs. Miller had less hair than Dad and she was missing her front two teeth. She used to spit when she talked.”
“This isn’t Mrs. Miller.”
“I can see that. She’s pretty.”
There was no doubt in my mind that every dude in town was going to have the same reaction as Rhys, and I’m not sure how to process that. Young, pretty women are a rarity here.
“She’s here for the summer. She’s not staying. ”
“I know, but she’s here now. Not everything has to be forever. You can enjoy her company while she’s here. You don’t have to marry her.”
I absorb my brother’s advice. It’s a reminder to appreciate the here and now without getting lost in dreams of forever. But deep down, I can't shake the longing for something more permanent, something enduring like the love my parents shared. Only death made my mother leave my father’s side. Thinking about them makes me wonder if it’s better to face the loneliness because love never found you or face it because it did and it left you.
Timber returns with a jar of Folger’s Classic Roast.
“This is like a jar of gold when you have to get up at four in the morning.” She reaches for a pack of gum and places it on the counter. “I think that’s all I need.”
Rhys rings her up. “Did I hear something about Nutella?”
Timber sighs. “Today, I could have killed for a bologna sandwich. I can’t imagine what I’d do for chocolate.”
“I’ll put it on the next order.”
“I’d hate for you to go to the trouble, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. I brought my number one vice, which is Jelly Bellies, but I don’t think they’ll last the entire eight weeks.”
I give my brother an “I told you so” look at the mention of eight weeks, and he shakes his head.
“I get weekly deliveries. You’ll have your Nutella soon. ”
As Timber pays, I instinctively step forward, my hand reaching out to gather the bags before she even has a chance to reach for them. It's a reflex honed by my upbringing, a reminder of the lessons my mother instilled in me.
“It would appear chivalry isn’t dead.”
“Not among the Hollisters,” I say. I turn to my brother. “See you tomorrow, Rhys.”
Rhys nods and smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Timber.”
“You had coffee in stock and you’re ordering me Nutella. The pleasure is all mine.”
I put my back to the door and push it open. Hailey skips ahead, sucker unwrapped and in her mouth. Timber walks through and smiles at me, and my chest tightens as if the weight of my brother’s words is sitting there. “You can enjoy her company while she’s here.” He’s probably right.
We reach the edge of the forest. “We’re happy to walk you home, or I can get the ATV and we can drive you.”
She shakes her head. There’s a pleasant look on her face. “Thanks, but I could use the walk after that dinner. Besides, I need to get used to making it on my own here.”
I hand her the bags. They aren’t heavy, but her words carry weight. Why is someone like Timber, clearly smart, capable, and beautiful, on her own here? My eyes drop to her hands. I hadn’t noticed a ring before, and there’s no glint of gold or flash of diamond.
It’s not my place to ask, and yet the question burns in my mind. It seems she’s carved out a space for herself in the world without anyone else’s help.
“Alright, but the offer stands,” I say. “Anytime you need help, just ask.”
She sets down the bags and gets on her knees, opening her arms to Hailey. “Thank you for being the best helper ever.”
Hailey falls into her arms for a squeeze, and when Timber stands, she hesitates for only a second before wrapping her arms around me in a brief hug.
“Thank you for making my first day great.” She picks up the bags. “See you both tomorrow.”
And as she walks away, I’m left wishing that the hug didn’t end so quickly.