Chapter 13 - Randy
The sounds of vacationers wafted through the trees, though they probably didn’t know Dale, Simon, Russy, and me were there. We’d abandoned the resort’s trails so that they could show me which trees the forest guys had suggested they take down.
Almost all their wood would be split and seasoned for firewood, but they let me take some interesting pieces. That was, as long as they got right of first refusal on anything I made from it.
It was a good deal for everybody. They could label those pieces as having come from the resort’s own trees, and that generally got premium pricing from the right buyers.
I spotted the flagging tape at the same time that Dale pointed.
My eyes traced the trunk up. At first, nothing stood out, but my gaze stopped where it split into a Y near the canopy. It was the perfect proportions for a few different potential projects.
“See something you like?” Simon asked as I continued to look.
“That crotch up there looks nice,” I replied. “I can use that. Have them give me a few feet below it.”
“What number is that one?” Dale asked.
Simon strode over and looked at a mark on the tree. “B thirteen.”
Dale made a mark on his clipboard. “B thirteen, save the crotch. Got it.”
We continued down the back trails from the hot springs, stopping periodically to review marked trees. Most were relatively uninteresting—better suited to the resort’s firewood pile than my workshop—but I was able to spot a handful of trees with interesting features that I could use.
It was just the way we all liked it. I didn’t have a bunch of wood in my drying shed that the resort had dibs on, and the number of pieces from their trees would be small enough to still command a premium price.
Eventually, we reached the parking lot and stopped by the barn.
“Ready to move onto the lakeside trees?” Simon asked as we chugged bottles of water.
I glanced up at the sky, which already had the orange tinge of afternoon. “Actually… can we push the lakeside to early next week?”
Simon cocked his head to one side. “I guess. Everything ok though? Normally, you like to get it all done in one day.”
I scratched the back of my head and sighed. “Yeah, just bad planning on my part. I didn’t realize how many more trees you’re going to take down this year, so I thought we’d be done by now.”
I paused. “I… kind of promised the new guy at the mill that I would come in this week, and he doesn’t work the Saturday shift. Means I’ve only got a couple hours left.”
“Did they special order something for you?” Simon asked.
“It’s… complicated.”
Dale chuckled. “Sounds like some lucky alpha finally caught your eye.”
“No,” I protested. “It’s…”
My words died on my lips.
I didn’t need to go to the mill. I had enough scraps to make it through another art market. And the next one was still a couple weeks away—plenty of time to visit the mill and restock.
But I’d made a promise… to Craig.
Simon laughed, strode over, and flung an arm around my shoulders. “You’re blushing, man.”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. He’s just a flirt.”
He laughed again. “Seems to me like you’re flirting back. Especially if you’re rushing off just to see him.”
“No… I… You know I like the single life.”
Dale cleared his throat, then stepped closer. Sadness and seriousness swirled in his eyes. “I know you’ve been flying solo for a while, but is that what you really want?”
“It is what it is,” I tried.
“It doesn’t have to be. And I don’t want you to get to my age and have regrets.”
“Dad?” Simon started, tilting his head slightly.
Dale shook his head. “I know my situation is different, but that loneliness seeps into your bones. It’s been five years, and I ache for my Gerry every day. I miss our quiet nights cuddled on the couch while we fell asleep to whatever was on TV. I long to wake up and find him nestled against me.”
He paused. “The worst, though, is I can feel how different it is. I see people hugging, and something inside craves that simple touch. But when I do hug friends or family, it feels awkward because I rarely do it anymore. I keep a weighted blanket on my bed for those nights when his absence is too unbearable.”
Another pause, and a deep breath. “What I’m saying is… we’re human, and we have needs. Not in the way some alphas say it as an excuse to get somebody into bed, but in that we are social creatures. Being alone drains us in ways we don’t expect, and… I don’t want that for you.”
“Dale…” I murmured.
He gave me a tight smile. “Maybe I’m just an old man—ramblin’ on about things in the past. But you’re still young. There’s no reason for you to spend your life alone, unless that’s what you actually want.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. Did I want to be alone?
“Go,” Simon prodded. “You don’t want to break your promise.”
I turned to him. “You sure?”
He nodded. “I’m going to call Ellie; see if she and Jonathan can come for dinner.”
“You don’t need…” Dale started.
He turned to face his father. “No, Dad. I think we do.”
Dale let out an exaggerated sigh, but I thought I caught the hint of a smile. He turned to me and set his hand on my shoulder. “Go. Looks like this old man is in for a family night with his kids.”
He paused and smiled. “I hope that this alpha who’s caught your eye is the one who can make you happy.”
I swallowed. “Thanks.”
Dale backed off and took several steps toward Simon, who was already on the phone with whom I had to assume was his sister.
“Come on, Russy,” I said, patting my leg.
He fell in beside me as I waved and headed to my truck. A few minutes later, we were on the road to the mill—radio off as my thoughts swirled.
It was the blanket that stuck in my head. I didn’t have a weighted blanket, but so many nights, Russy would curl up next to me on the couch—a warm body sharing my space.
Grounding… contact…
I was on autopilot as I drove, and found myself pulling into the mill’s gravel parking lot before I knew it.
There were several other cars parked out front, probably people shopping for weekend projects. But they would provide a buffer.
I patted my pocket as I got out, making sure I had Russy’s leash, then headed in.
Craig and Harrison were both helping customers, and, for a moment, I hesitated. Normally, I’d start with the scraps, but I had no idea what Craig had set aside for me. He’d said it wasn’t as much, but I didn’t want to overdo it at the bin, then have to decide which to keep or put back.
I glanced over and managed to catch Craig’s eye. I nodded at him, then motioned that I was headed to check out the burls first.
He gave me a tiny nod in return.
Butterflies flitted in my middle.
It made no sense. He was a flirt, and I knew he was a flirt. But some part of me—deep down— liked the attention. Many other alphas would have moved on, and that he continued his attentions felt good.
Most gave up once they realized I wasn’t as desperate for a knot as they hoped.
The burls were pretty picked over as I browsed. I found one about the size of a cantaloupe that looked good for a small lidded jar or a couple of trinket trays, but otherwise I struck out.
I’d let somebody else waste their Cactus Juice.
The line had dwindled as I made my way back to the main showroom, but Craig was still helping another customer. I headed to the short cuts and found several pieces that could easily be turned into trivets.
“I was worried I wouldn’t see you,” came a soft voice from behind me.
I turned to see Craig sporting a nervous smile.
Heat crawled up my neck into my cheeks. “Sorry, the week sorta got away from me.”
His smile turned sincere. “You got busy, that sounds like a good thing.”
“Sometimes.”
“I am glad, though,” he stated. “I’m going to do some afternoon training in the field starting next week. I didn’t want to miss you.”
“Training?”
He nodded. “Remember how Joey told you I used to be a faller?”
“Yeah?”
“They hired me to be able to go out and do quotes when people want to sell their trees to us during thinning,” he paused. “Or… like when you want to have us process your wood.”
I froze.
Craig was going to visit my home? Why wasn’t Jim…
My memory caught up. Jim had retired. Of course, they needed somebody new. And Craig’s background made him the ideal person for it.
I swallowed and nodded. “So… it’ll be you?”
He returned the nod. “Yeah.
I scrambled. What was I supposed to say to that? “It-it’ll probably be next month.”
“Ok.”
There was an awkward pause, then he glanced at the counter. “I’ll be over there when you’re ready.”
“Ok.”
I turned back to the shorts as he strode off, but I couldn’t focus. It was only a minute or two later when I headed the same direction.
Craig wore a nervous smile as I approached—and as Harrison conveniently disappeared to the back.
“So… umm…” he started. “Part of me thinks the guys in the back are fucking with me. They set this on my pile for you. But Harrison says you’ll want it.”
I blinked. “Ummm… ok?”
He pulled out a piece that should have been on the shorts shelf rather than the scrap bin and handed it over.
My breath caught in my throat as soon as I saw the telltale streaking, then my eyes snapped to the constellation of bug holes.
“Wow…” I breathed.
“Good?” Craig asked with an unsure tone.
I nodded. “Ambrosia maple.” I ran my thumb over a couple of the holes and imagined what colors I could fill them with. It would make a stunning small charcuterie board, and I could probably get a pen or two if I shaped it right.
“The bug holes are ok?”
I laughed, unable to tear my eyes from the piece of wood. “They’re more than ok.”
“Really?” he asked with a sigh of relief.
I looked up and smiled at him. “They weren’t fucking with you. This had to have been cut off from a special order. Whoever ordered the maple might not have wanted the ambrosia end, but I can put this to good use.”
“Harrison said you’ll fill the holes?” he asked, his nervous smile widening as he realized I wanted the wood.
I nodded. “Clear or black would be easiest, just some CA glue. But I’ll probably do a turquoise or purple resin instead. I think the color would pop nicely.”
Craig’s brown eyes glittered. “Take a picture for me when it’s done? I want to see what you make with it.”
I smiled. It was such a simple ask that there was no way I could refuse. “I can do that.”
His grin was radiant. “I can’t wait.”
A moment passed.
“You said you had other scraps for me?” I prodded.
He slapped his forehead with his palm. “You’re right.” He reached under the register, then set the gray bin on the counter.
He angled it, but the light from behind him made it clear there was some writing on his side, though I didn’t know what it said.
I peeked in and grinned. He’d promised that he’d set aside fewer pieces, but I also saw that he’d paid attention to what I’d rejected the last time. He’d stuck to woods that weren’t common for the mill, or had stunning figure.
I knew what he was doing, and I knew it was throwing him a bone, but he’d paid attention. “You did good.”
His smile was radiant. “I’m glad.”
I backed off to grab one of the scrap buckets, then returned—only to see a container of dog treats on the counter.
“Can I give one to Russy?” he asked.
The butterflies in my stomach had returned. “Yeah.”
He reached in and grabbed one, then rounded the counter. He knelt and held out his hand. “Russy!”
My dog padded over, sniffed, then accepted the treat. Craig scratched behind his ears, then stood.
“I think you’ve got a friend for life now,” I joked as Russy’s tail wagged while he sniffed Craig’s pants.
Craig smiled down, then turned to me. “I think he’s an ok friend to have.”
Damn butterflies.
“Hey Randy?”
I turned to see Harrison standing in the door that separated the showroom from the back. “Yeah?”
“Mind if I start some pre-close stuff?”
I shook my head. “Go for it. I know I’m here at the end of the day.”
He chuckled. “We close in a few, but you’re good to finish shopping.”
“Just tell me to move if you need to sweep where I’m standing.”
“Will do.”
I was still digging through the scrap bin when I heard the tumblers in the lock, then the sound of a register opening as Harrison counted down his.
I finished filling my bucket, then rolled my cart to the counter.
Harrison emerged from behind his register and started reading off the product codes to Craig, who input them into his.
Russy received another treat before Craig walked me out to my truck.
“It was good to see you,” he said as I finished loading. “Will you be back before I need to look at your trees?”
I licked my lips. “Probably not. I’ve scheduled my forest guys for next week, and you’ll probably be out the first week in September.”
“I guess I’ll just have to look forward to that then.”
“I… I…” I started.
“Don’t forget that photo, ok?” he said as I fumbled over what to say. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you make with it.”
“Ok,” I murmured.
There was a moment of awkward silence, then he cleared his throat. “I'd better get back in there and close my register.”
“Yeah.”
He patted my truck’s closed tailgate a couple of times. “See you in September.”
“September,” I echoed.
It was only as he started to push the cart back to the building that the spell was broken.
“Come on, Russy,” I said, opening the door. “Time to go home.”
My thoughts—and the butterflies—continued to swirl for the rest of the day. But it was only as I lay in bed that night that I realized that he’d done more than tell me when I’d see him again. He was going to be on my property—looking at my trees—and wanted to make sure that I was prepared for that.