Chapter 6 #2
The chainsaw’s growl echoed off the canyon walls, harsh and mechanical.
It reverberated through the ponderosa pines that lined the trail and bounced back from ancient rock.
Noah cut through another section of the fallen tree, muscles burning.
The teeth biting through bark still damp from last night’s storm released the sharp scent of fresh-cut wood.
Wood chips sprayed across his boots like confetti as the twenty-foot trunk finally gave way.
It split clean down about eighty percent of the way, then the remaining twenty finally gave with a satisfying crack.
He killed the engine. Sudden quiet rushed in—just wind through the trees and the distant call of a raven somewhere in the canyon below.
His shoulders ached. His eyes burned worse, gritty and dry.
Sleep hadn’t come last night. Just hours of staring at the ceiling of his small cabin, counting water stains while Meg’s voice from yesterday played on repeat in his head.
I’m moving to Pennsylvania in two weeks. End of story.
He’d just stood there, swaying slightly. Still fog-brained from the illness that had knocked him flat for twenty-four hours. Completely blindsided. She’d stared him down, chin raised. Tension crackling between them.
She’d even given him the opening. Is there another reason I should stay?
Yes.
But the word had lodged in his throat like broken glass.
The crazy thing was, he’d convinced himself to take the leap. He’d lain in bed in his cabin that afternoon, sheets tangled around his legs, fevered and miserable, head pounding. And he’d finally decided.
He was done pushing her away. Done rejecting the best thing in his life right now. Done being stupid and scared and locked behind walls he’d spent years building.
Because when she’d shown up to take care of him, laugh with him, he’d wanted to kiss her. Not just like he’d wanted it before—that low-grade constant desire. But he’d wanted it like a dying man longs for water.
He’d give up anything—do anything—for just one more moment with her. And in that moment, he’d known he would go through grief again just to have more time with her. Would walk through fire if it meant she was on the other side.
He’d walked over from his cabin to tell her exactly that. That he wanted her here. That he was ready to try, ready to risk it all.
But all that courage had come crashing to a halt with the announcement that she was moving. She was leaving him behind. Because as much as he wanted it all, he wouldn’t force himself where he wasn’t wanted, and she had evidently decided to move on.
He’d fallen for her and she was done.
Now what? Did he beg her to stay? Maybe he needed to do that very thing.
The word had been screaming in his mind since yesterday.
It battered against his skull like fists on a door.
But instead of saying it, he’d frozen. Locked in the jail of grief and brokenness he’d built for himself over the years.
He’d been pushing people away for so long he wasn’t sure how to stop. Wasn’t sure how to let someone in past the walls.
“Noah!” Liam was hauling a section of a thick branch off the trail, his tan ranger shirt marked with dirt and scrapes from the wet red bark. “This end is clear. You need more help with the trunk?”
“Sure.”
They’d been at this since dawn, clearing the damage from the storms that seemed to be on repeat, one system after another. They hadn’t had a July this wet in years.
Noah grabbed his end of the cut section. Together they rolled it into the brush, the momentum carrying it down the slight slope.
“You good to keep going?” Liam asked, straightening. He wiped sweat from his forehead and left a smudge of dirt. “Don’t forget you were still sick as of yesterday.”
Noah reached for his water bottle, took a long drink. “I’m fine.”
“Right.” Liam didn’t sound convinced. He pulled off his work gloves. He studied Noah with that direct gaze that made him a good ranger and an annoying friend. “Any word from Teague about the lower trails?”
“He radioed an hour ago. Said they’re dealing with a couple washouts. We’re on our own up here for now.”
“Good thing this is just one tree and not a whole mess.” Liam leaned against a standing pine, clearly not ready to get back to work. “So, you going to let Meg come when we go back to seal the cave?”
The question hit like a sucker punch. Noah kept his face neutral. “What?”
“You heard me.” Liam’s tone was mild but pointed. “Might as well let Meg look for the gold while we’re there.”
“I haven’t—” Noah stopped, jaw clenching. “The clinic has been pretty busy. If we go when she’s on shift…That’s not my call.”
Liam’s eyebrow rose. “You’re right. But when she suggested it before, you tried to shut it down fast enough.”
Noah grabbed the chainsaw. He checked the fuel level even though he knew it was fine. “Do you really want her to go back to where Lydia died?”
Why would anyone want that? Even if they didn’t know about Meg’s anxiety, the panic attacks that left her shaking.
“I get it.” Liam’s voice dropped. It took on that serious tone, the one he used for real conversations. “After Nimue got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, I wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and never let her out of my sight.”
“This isn’t—”
“Let me finish.” Liam pushed off the tree.
He stepped closer. “You’re going to have to come to a point where you understand you weren’t created to be her savior.
You were created to be her friend—maybe more than that—but still her friend.
A friend walks with you through the rough times.
They don’t try to lock you in a bubble where nothing can touch you. ”
The words struck deep.
Noah set down the chainsaw. He turned to face Liam fully. “I know that.”
“Do you?” Liam’s challenge was gentle but firm.
“Because it isn’t just her, Noah. You try to play God with everyone.
As if only you can put yourself at risk.
Only you can handle the dangerous calls.
Only you can go into those caves or climb down to rescue stranded hikers.
You act like you’re the only one allowed to be in danger.
Like the rest of us are too fragile or too incompetent to make our own choices. ”
“That’s not—” Noah stared off into the distance, toward the canyon rim visible through the trees. Then back. “I don’t think any of you are incompetent.”
“Then trust us.” Liam rolled one of the logs farther off the path with his foot. “Trust Meg especially. She knows her own mind. And she’s a good medic—a great medic. She proved that with Nimue.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” Noah’s voice came out rough. “I do trust her. Completely. She’s smart and capable and better at this job than she gives herself credit for.”
“Then show it.” Liam’s eyes were steady. “And trust God to be God. I don’t know why He didn’t save Mary. But that doesn’t prove Him unfaithful.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“I know that.” Noah’s voice came out raw.
Liam’s expression softened as he took a step closer. “I know you know that here”—he pointed at Noah’s head, then moved to point at his chest—“but do you know it here?”
Did he?
“I know the truth.” Noah ran his hand roughly through his hair. “But I don’t think I know anymore how to believe the truth.”
Liam’s hand landed on his shoulder. “It starts right there. Honesty. With others. Most important, with God. God can handle your anger, your frustration, your hurt…He can handle it all. But you have to be honest with Him. Not that He doesn’t know—He knows everything.
But when we’re honest with God, we’re finally being honest with ourselves.
And it’s in that honesty and transparency that God can work. ”
“Then He’ll just fix things?” Noah’s skepticism bled through despite himself.
“No. And you may not walk away with answers, may never understand why. But you will always have His presence. You may not see it, but God has been there for you. Given you people to help you. A lot of people to support you, if you take time to pay attention.”
A gust of wind swept through the clearing. It carried the scent of pine—sharp and clean—and the faint mineral smell of the canyon depths. Somewhere a Steller’s jay called out, breaking the moment.
Noah looked out toward the canyon rim, squinting against the morning sun. Toward the vast empty space that dropped away into layers of time and stone.
The same God who carved out this canyon could have saved Mary. Could have saved Penelope, could have let her take that first breath. Could have kept Lydia from dying in the dark.
He didn’t do any of those things.
Did He show up for Noah day after day?
Will’s friendship came to mind, steady through the worst of it. Then there were Liam and Teague, showing up even when Noah pushed them away. Most of all, Meg—patient, fierce, compassionate Meg.
God had brought all of them into his life to help him carry the burden. Maybe that was something to think about.
And maybe Liam was right. Maybe he’d been confusing protecting people with control. Safety with isolation. Love with imprisonment.
“She’s leaving in two weeks,” Noah said quietly. “She already accepted the job.”
“And jobs can be quit.” Liam sent him a pointed look.
Then he clapped Noah on the shoulder. He reached for his own chainsaw and hefted the weight.
“Come on. Let’s finish this tree before those dark clouds drop even more rain on us.
And then maybe you figure out what you’re actually going to say to her when we get back to the station. ”
Noah nodded, throat tight.
He pulled the starter cord. The chainsaw roared back to life.
But it didn’t drown out Meg’s voice in his head, clear as if she stood beside him. Is there another reason I should stay?
Maybe it was time to answer that question.
Time to stop being afraid of the answer.