Page 16 of Timber Ridge
Timber takes her first bite, and the sound that escapes her lips is a soft, contented hum. It’s a small noise, barely audible over the chatter of the restaurant, but to me, it’s like music. It makes me wonder what other sounds she’s capable of making, what she sounds like when she’s...
I stop that train of thought immediately, though it’s hard to shake off the image of her lips parting with that small, delightful sound. Clearing my throat, I divert the conversation. “Tell me about life in Arizona.”
She sets down her fork, her gaze meeting mine. “Life in Arizona ... well, it’s definitely different from here in Alaska. For one, it’s about 80 degrees warmer most days and requires fewer clothes.”
Her words ignite a fire in me as I imagine Timber wearing much less. Swallowing hard, I redirect the conversation once again.
“Have you ever been fishing?”
She nods. “A lot. I could fish the pants off most people.”
I stare at her and wonder if she’s going out of her way to torture me.
“You fish?” I imagine her with a pole in her hand and a lake before her. That’s all I allow my imagination to see because where this conversation is headed in my head will do neither of us any good.
“Yes.” She takes another bite.
“Amazing. We’ll have to take you fishing and see if you can fish the pants off me.” I hadn’t meant to say that, but once it’s out, the heat coils in my groin and rushes to my cheeks. “I mean, not like literally, but if you like to fish, I’d love to be your guide.” I take my last bite and another thought enters my mind. When I swallow, I ask, “I know you haven’t been here long, but is Alaska everything you imagined it would be?”
She looks down at her almost empty plate. I can’t see her expression, but I sense some resistance to answering. Finally, she sighs and shrugs her shoulders.
“It’s definitely not what I was led to believe, but I like it. As much as I’ve been a city girl, my mother raised me with common sense and an outdoorsy flair.”
“She must have if you know what Devil’s Club is.”
“My mother was a big believer in being self-sufficient. Sadly, she passed away several months ago. It’s left a hole in my heart.” Her shoulders sag forward slightly. “I understand yours did, too. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Something is different when she says it as opposed to someone whose mom is still alive. Timber understands the profound loss and has experienced the devastation. “I still can’t fathom that my mom is gone. I miss her every day.”
Hailey chimes in. “Grandma is in heaven. I bet she’s with your mom.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Timber says.
“What about your father?” I ask. “Is he in Arizona?”
Timber sits up. “I never met him. When I was little, my mother used to tell me a stork brought me. As I got older, I had questions.” She looks down at Hailey, who’s playing with the vegetable flag and bell pepper buoys. “He went MIA before the big day.”
“That has to be hard.” There are so many parallels between Timber’s life and mine. Both of our mothers are gone. And Timber has experienced what Hailey is going through, only different.
She shrugs. “You can’t miss what you never had. What about your father?”
I rub my chin. “He’s off the island for now, visiting friends and family.”
“I bet the change of scenery is good for him. It’s hard to be someplace where there are so many memories.”
I wonder if losing her mom is part of the reason she jumped at the chance to come to Alaska.
May swings by and drops off the bill before moving to another table.
Timber reaches for the check. “I got this. You paid for breakfast last time.”
“Because I was late, and I was late again today, so I’m happy to pick up your dinner.”
“I don’t expect you to pay for my meal each time you’re late.”
After a bit of back-and-forth, I relent and let her pay for hers, but I lay down the cash for mine and Hailey’s.
We say goodbye to May and exit the café and step into the cooler evening air. The idea of walking Timber home floats through my mind, but before the offer can leave my lips, she asks, “Do you think the store is still open? I need some staples. A girl can’t live off of squirrel stew and beaver bolognaise alone.” She appears to shudder. “What I really want is a loaf of white bread and a jar of Nutella.”