Page 19 of Timber Ridge
It would take a special kind of person to thrive in such an environment, wouldn’t it? And as the forest welcomes me, the cool whispers of the trees seem to affirm that I am, indeed, that person. Serendipity, it seems, has a sense of humor. Every false note, every twist in my path, has led me to this moment, this place, where I am exactly where I’m meant to be.
Each step I take deeper into the woods seems to plunge me further into darkness. The sunlight filters through the leaves above like golden thread, lighting patches of moss and ferns but leaving much of the forest in a mysterious twilight.
An owl hoots, a sound that two days ago sent a shiver down my spine, but now it’s merely the evening song of the woods. “You don’t scare me anymore,” I say as a declaration of newfound courage.
But then, there’s a rustle. A shadow flits between the trees, a silhouette that slices through the comfort I’ve just wrapped around myself. My heart skips a beat, no longer a calm drum, but a wild, frantic banging against my ribs.
“But that does.”
Adrenaline surges and I race along the wooden walkway, the rhythmic thud of my footsteps mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. I should have taken Kane up on his offer and let him walk me home.
Abruptly, I grind to a halt. Right there, emerging onto the path, is a doe, her large, gentle eyes meeting mine with quiet curiosity. Behind her, two fawns with dappled coats glance my way, their delicate legs frozen in place. They stand there, serene and utterly unafraid. My breath catches at the sight, and a laugh escapes me as the tension washes away. It was just a deer and her fawns, not a bear or a pack of hungry wolves. It would seem that my imagination is as lively as my students’. They stand for a moment more and then dash into the woods.
I walk the rest of the way to the cabin. There’s no need to hurry now. I open the door and step inside, a sense of calm washing over me. I head to the window and glance out, hoping to see my woodland friends, but all I see is the gentle sway of the trees. Above, the stars are just showing their light in the darkening sky. My reflection bounces back at me from the glass, and I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “So much for being an intrepid adventurer,” I say. “Spooked by Bambi and friends. What’s next? Confusing the wind for a wolf’s howl?”
I laughed more today than I had the entire week. With the last of my giggle fading, I turn away from the window.
In the quiet of the night, I light a fire in the stove and enjoy the simple snap and pop of the flames as they catch. I think back to the first fire in this cabin and how Kane carefully placed the tinder and logs. It was so domestic and sexy. But tonight, I did it on my own and that’s a major accomplishment.
I unpack my groceries and put water on to boil before changing into my flannel pajamas and slippers, ready to wind down.
Several minutes later, the kettle’s whistle breaks the quiet, and soon, hot water meets cocoa—its scent is a warm hug. I think about another hug, where I impulsively wrapped my arms around Kane. What was I thinking? You weren’t thinking, but that was perfect. I only wished I’d hugged him longer, so he had a chance to hug me back. If I hadn’t stepped away so soon, would he have done that?
Settled in at the table with my notebook open, I jot down ideas for tomorrow’s adventure. A trip to see Kane’s fishing rig might intrigue the kids, but then again, fishing is life here—not quite the novelty I’m looking for. Instead, we’ll explore the woods, and I’ll definitely make sure we search for Devil’s Club. I could weave in a lesson about the ecosystem and how everything connects from the forest floor to the sea.
A glance at my phone reminds me that I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I quickly use the outhouse, brush my teeth, and toss another log on the fire, its heat is a cozy send-off to sleep.
As I crawl into bed, I imagine I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Eyes closing, my thoughts drift to Kane. How different he seems now from that first day on the dock, when he was tossing fish at me as if I were the target in a carnival game.
The tranquility of sleep is shattered by the sharp smell of smoke. Heart racing, I stagger out of bed and toward the stove, struggling through the haze. The flue must be clogged again. Mimicking Kane's actions, I grab a towel and shake the pipe, hoping to clear it. Instead, embers fall, setting the floor on fire. Panic grips me, my chest tightening, my hands trembling uncontrollably as I gasp out, “No, no, no.”
I grab my phone, my mother’s journal, the treasured photo, and Cubby the Bear from my bedside table and bolt out the door. The cold night air hits me like a slap in the face. The contrast to the heat of the cabin jolts me into full awareness. Horror courses through my veins as I fumble with my phone, fingers shaking as I dial Eliza's number hoping there’s a connection. Relief floods me when there’s a ring.
With each ring, the flames seem to grow larger in my mind's eye, licking greedily at the wood of the cabin. I can see them spreading, consuming everything in their path. There's no answer from Eliza, just the incessant ringing in my ears, a cruel reminder of my isolation in this remote wilderness.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she picks up, her voice groggy with sleep. I don’t wait for a hello, I yell into the phone, “It's Timber, the cabin is on fire. I need help.” I manage to get the words out before the line goes dead, leaving me stranded in a world of uncertainty.
I can't just stand by and watch. With a sense of determination, I set my items by the outhouse and run back into the inferno, my pulse racing with every step as I brace myself for what lies ahead.
Smoke bites at my eyes as I snatch the water bin, my jacket, and boots, and flee once again. The damp cabin’s wood does little to slow the fire’s steady, hungry spread across the roof.
Frantically, I pump water from the outdoor well. Clutching the water bin tightly, I hurl water at the flames. It’s a desperate attempt to bring things under control, but it’s futile. It’s like trying to hold back the tide with a spoon. I stand back, helpless, watching the fire devour what had become my Alaskan summer home.
Chapter Eight
KANE
My stomach tightens as I pull up to the chaos unfolding before me. Flames reach for the sky, hungrily consuming the cabin. Hailey stirs, the crackling inferno jolting her awake.
“Daddy.” She points to the cabin. “Fire!”
“I know, Noodle, but stay put.”
With a quick kill of the engine, the oppressive heat and choking smoke engulf us. Hailey covers her face with her blanket. Timber runs toward us. “I’m so sorry. I did the one thing you told me not to do. I burned down the cabin.”
“Take the ATV to the edge of the property. Get yourself and Hailey a safe distance away.” I unhook the firefighting trailer. “We’ll unravel this mess later. For now, I have a fire to put out.” As she drives toward the border of the forest, I unroll the hose and fire up the pump. The water blasts forth, a steady stream directed at the middle of the flames. All I can think about as I douse the roof is how grateful I am that Timber had the foresight to get out of the cabin and call for help. My next thought is this wouldn’t have happened to a local. It also reminds me of how outsiders aren’t suited for this life.
Within minutes, Rhys is there beside me. His twin, Reid, follows minutes later. As part of the volunteer fire department, they have the same setup: a trailer, water pump, and a hose, always ready to go.