Page 22 of Lumberjack Bride

I breathe a laugh. “I don’t think I can chop down her parents’ honeymoon tree a second time, Bob.”

“You’ll just have to think of some other wood you can give her, then. And fast. It was easy to come up with excuses for your absence today but tomorrow is gonna be tricky...”

“We’ll...”

I pause as I brush my hand along my back pocket. I fish inside, feeling for the small lump with my fingertips.

“You still there, Leo?” Bobby asks.

I pull out my pocket knife. Hazel got this one for me two Christmases ago. She thought it was a dumb gift — especially after I just bought her a house — but I loved it. I still do.

“We’ll be there,” I say before hanging up.

I palm the knife and walk over to my truck. I peek inside the windows, scanning the seats in the back until they fall on the small, plastic bag on the floor.

I pull open the door and step in to reach for it. It crinkles and tears as I try to pull it free from the back, spilling the contents out onto the floor. A few old tools, a jar of nails.

A little block of basswood.

I take it with me and sit down on the lawn. With the block nestled in my palm and the knife in my other hand, I start shaping the piece as I listen to the sounds of the city passing by around me.