16. Cole
With a grunt, I twist the heavy end table I just completed into place next to the couch. I stand back to admire my work, and a sense of contentment settles over me. One of my favorite parts of what I do is seeing it all come together at the end. The final product after all the meticulous, often tedious, work to get there. From traipsing into the woods behind the cabin yesterday in search of a wide enough tree to cut down, to using the chainsaw to cut it into pieces, all the way to sanding, drilling, and applying a natural finish. It gives me a sense of accomplishment I never seem to find anywhere else.
The only problem with this end table is that it looks wildly out of place next to the other furniture in here. Everything else is old and tattered, worn at the edges, except for the kitchen island that’s been given new life after I sanded and resealed it yesterday.
I didn’t necessarily plan to make furniture for the cabin while I’m here, but working helps to quiet my brain, and I found myself needing to do something extra with my hands this week now that most of the exterior work is done. Besides, I’ve been surprised at how good it feels to be fixing up this place. It might be helping to assuage my guilt for abandoning it for so long.
Just a few more pieces of furniture in here, and finishing the bear piece for Graham, and then I should be ready to head back to Longville. With a sigh, I take a look around to pinpoint which piece to make next.
The faint rumble of an ATV comes from somewhere outside. It’s quiet enough to tell me it’s still a ways away but increasing enough that it’s definitely heading this direction. My chest tightens, having mixed emotions about how I feel about interacting with Sydney today.
Do I know for a fact that it’s her coming up the path to my cabin?
No.
But I would sure bet money on it. She’s the only person to ever show up on this doorstep—at least since I’ve owned it—aside from Graham when he comes to check on things, which obviously doesn’t happen if I’m here. Besides, after the town hall meeting yesterday, I’ve been anticipating a run-in with her.
I’ll admit, I’ve been watching her lately. Not in a creepy way. More of a ‘we’re staying on the same island and there’s only so many people to look at’ kind of way. I’m drawn to her more than I am to anyone else.
In doing so, I’ve gotten glimpses of the way she carries herself. A hint of the person I briefly knew for a moment in time. She’s a spitfire. A bubbly, talkative force that draws people to her. But even with all that positivity, she has an emotional depth that she thinks she’s hiding from others.
I can see it clear as day.
It’s easier for me to connect with people when I can see the vulnerability underneath the mask they wear. The way a person exists when they think no one's watching.
The ATV shuts off, and through the thick log walls of the cabin, I hear boots as they clank on the steps. A soft mumbling voice recites something along the lines of being a mature adult, one who is fully capable of a civil conversation.
With a subdued smirk, I pull the door open before she has a chance to knock.
“Oh. Hi,” Sydney says in surprise, clearly caught off guard.
“Peterson,” I say in greeting, dipping my head.
After a quick timid smile, she stands in place, fiddling with her fingers, looking down at the ground as if she’s not sure what she even came for.
What did she come here for?
“What’s up?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
She clears her throat then steels herself, standing taller. “I came to say thank you.”
The look of pain on her face almost has me smiling.
“I can see that was very hard for you to say. Thank you for what?” I know darn well what she means, but I want to hear her say it. Just because I don’t have animosity toward her doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy watching her trip over her words, just for a minute or two—for the sake of the rumor she started.
She rolls her lips then swallows hard, as if the words are getting stuck in her throat. “For your support yesterday. It, uh…it means a lot to us.”
The effort she’s making is written all over her face, and for a moment, I can see the crack in her armor. The slight thawing of her iciness toward me.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, extending an olive branch of my own.
A flash of surprise dances across her face, and she clamps her mouth shut. Our gazes meet, and we hold them there for a brief moment of honesty.
A moment of truce.
“Sure,” she whispers, a slight nod of her head.
I push the door open with my foot before retreating back toward the kitchen.
“Nice place,” she remarks from behind me. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or the more likely option—sarcasm. I wait for her to inevitably comment on the actual dump that it is and for her to try yet again to get me to sell.
“My uncle didn’t exactly leave me much.” I pull a jug of homemade apple cider I picked up in town out of the fridge, placing it on the island.
She nods, running her fingertips along the back of the couch, perusing every little detail in here. I can’t decide how I feel about her roaming around, studying everything.
“Cider?” I ask.
She strolls past the bed in the corner, toward the fireplace, and tilts her head toward me to answer, “Sure.”
I hand her a mason jar when she makes it to the kitchen, and she places a hip against the island across from me.
The air in here feels…tense. As if she’s sucking up all the oxygen somehow and leaving little left for me. I study her as she takes a sip, noting her hair pulled up in a high pony and a red Ruby Lodge sweatshirt that accentuates a slight tint of red on her cheeks from the ATV ride up here.
Then I wait for her to say something. Anything.
“So,” she finally says. “Judging by your vote yesterday at City Hall, does this mean you’re on board now with the reno?”
“I never said I wasn’t,” I point out.
“Enough that you’re willing to sell?” A gleam in her eye sparks as she smirks at me.
There it is.
“Nope,” I reply immediately, watching the disappointment fall across her face.
“Why’d you do it, then?” she asks as she takes a sip.
“It was fair. Nobody uses that community land,” I say with a shrug. What I don’t say out loud is the real reason behind my outburst at Gilbert—that I got defensive. High school may have been eight years ago, and our interactions then were admittedly fairly minimal, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t make an impact on me.
I remember every single second of our time together, especially sitting on the back of her car that night by the fire as she opened up to me about her family. When I heard Gilbert bring up her mom in that way, I snapped.
She eyes me, as if acknowledging there’s something I’m not saying, and I hold her stare. For a brief moment, we’re not two jaded adults with complicated pasts. I’m seventeen again. Face to face with someone who feels…comfortable. Who feels easy. As if the energy that was once between us might still be there.
She breaks our connection first, her eyes dipping down. I keep mine trained on her, waiting cautiously to see how the rest of this visit will play out. What she’ll say next. She sets the glass down and runs her fingers along the island. I can’t help but watch her fingertips as she grazes them against something I just put so much effort into fixing up. It makes me feel a certain way…though I’m not sure what.
“This is nice,” she comments, tapping on the island.
“Just finished restoring it.”
Her brows furrow as she looks deep in thought. Then her gaze trails to the end table—the only other piece that looks updated—and her eyes widen.
“Wait…did you make that?” She points to the table.
I watch her for a second then simply nod.
“Huh.” She hums, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. “I remember…”
She trails off, stopping herself from finishing the sentence. I watch as she crosses the room and runs her fingers along the table, inspecting my work.
Something very similar to pride flashes behind her eyes, and I’m caught off guard when it sends a twinge of warmth to my chest.
She clears her throat, and I wait quietly, content to simply watch her every move.
“Anyway, I’m leaving tomorrow.” She reaches for her boots to slip them back on. “Heading back to Minneapolis to check on my apartment and a few things at the office.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod as she pulls open the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back, though—I know you’re going to miss me.” She flashes a wide smile, her tone laced with a teasing glint.
“Terribly,” I mumble.
She hovers by the door for a few seconds, and I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll offer anything else. A slight twinge of disappointment hits me when she opens the door.
“See ya,” she calls out before pulling it shut behind her.
In a slight daze, I’m left staring at the spot she just stood in for long after the ATV noise disappears.