5. Teddy #3
A shadow fell across the wide doorway, as the purr of a truck engine faded to a halt just outside.
Teddy didn't lower the beam, keeping her shoulder wedged against the rough wood as she listened to the heavy click of a vehicle door closing.
A moment later, Kent entered the barn, his leather medical bag held in his right hand.
He wore his faded canvas jacket, his gentle amber eyes instantly tracing the tense line of her posture.
He didn't offer any patronizing warnings, and he didn't tell her to set the timber down.
He simply paused near the entrance, his gaze steady as he took in the dusty chaos of her workspace.
"Hi, Teddy. One of your goats has a bad scrape on its leg near the old well," Kent said, his tone warm, which was a soothing contrast to her defensive anger. "I came to tend to the injury, but the goat is resting comfortably in the orchard shelter for a moment. Can I give you a hand?"
"Thanks, but I can manage this," Teddy replied, her words brief as she pressed her palms against the cedar grain. She avoided his eyes, keeping her gaze locked on the wood. "I don't need any help with the framing."
Kent didn't argue but he ignored her refusal.
He set his leather medical bag on an old apple crate near the doorway, his movements deliberate.
He crossed the dusty floorboards, studying the decaying timbers she'd spent hours exposing.
He noted the depth of the decay, his expression showing an understanding of the structural failure.
Instead of offering unsolicited advice or suggesting she'd been too weak to handle the heavy reconstruction, he simply crossed to the opposite end of the cedar timber.
"It will be easier with two people. The wood is at a difficult angle for moving," Kent noted, his voice low and level. "If we lift it together, we can clear the decaying timber without splintering the joints."
Before she could voice another refusal, Kent aligned his shoulder beneath the far end of the beam.
Teddy tightened her grip, her heart hammering against her ribs as she looked across the timber at him.
His posture was steady, his broad shoulders braced under his canvas jacket as he waited for her signal.
In her failed marriage, Ian had always treated her physical labor and interest in renovating as a passing amusement, a country distraction that required his patronizing advice.
He'd used his professional, calm tone to dismiss her expertise, making her feel like a little child that needed to be managed.
But Kent stood in the dusty dimness of the cider house in respectful partnership, offering his strength without demanding she do things his way.
"On three," Teddy murmured, tensing her muscles.
Kent nodded, his gaze remaining locked on hers.
Together, they lifted the massive column, the cedar beam rising smoothly as their shared strength corrected the difficult angle.
They slid the timber onto the sturdy sawhorses, the wood settling into place with a solid thud that echoed through the rafters.
Teddy let out a breath, her shoulders losing some of their rigid tension as she withdrew from the timber. She wiped a smudge of dust from her forehead, her hands trembling slightly from the physical strain. For the first time in two years, she didn't feel the desperate need to hide her weariness.
"Thanks. The sill is in worse shape than they realized," Teddy explained. She pointed toward the soft, cork-like wood at the base of the support post. "The entire eastern wall has settled because of these soft shims."
"Looks like Rosalind used soft pine to keep the floor level," Kent said, his gaze tracing the heavy columns down to the hand-hewn sills. "It was a temporary fix that overlooked the true hazard beneath."
"There’s so much to do on the farm, it’s not really surprising things like this get overlooked," Teddy murmured, her eyes flashing with a sudden, silent intensity. "Now that we’ve found it, they expect me to manage the repairs alone because I'm the capable one who can fix just about anything."
She didn’t mean to be so honest, it just came out of her mouth without thinking.
Kent looked at her with profound compassion.
Teddy realized that if anybody understood the heavy strain of just carrying on while the rest of the world remained oblivious to the burden you were carrying, it was Kent.
He approached the sawhorses, his fingers tracing the rough surface of the cedar timber.
"Being capable shouldn't mean being left to carry the heaviest loads alone," Kent promised, his words gentle and carrying a sincerity that somehow managed to make her feel unbalanced.
He turned his amber eyes to meet hers, his expression filled with kindness.
"It’s okay to ask for help. You shouldn't have to rebuild this foundation on your own. "
The statement seemed to hum in the silence of the cider barn, carrying a profound weight that made her ribs tighten with a feeling she didn’t want to acknowledge or put a name to.
Teddy watched him, her defenses beginning to yield as she saw the absolute truth in his eyes.
He wasn't treating her like a broken project, or like a superwoman who didn’t need help from anyone.
He was offering his partnership, a reliable anchor that required no explanations or an apology.
Standing beside him in the dusty light of the barn, she realized he'd been the first person who didn't see her strength as an excuse to leave her alone.