Page 37 of Timber Ridge

I’m praying for a miracle. Then something happens—the engine gives one final shudder before silence falls. It’s not the miracle I want, just more complications. My hands fly to the ignition, turning it over repeatedly, but there's nothing. Just the dull clunk of a dead heart. I bang my fist on the helm.

I scan the instrument panel, desperate for some sign of life, but it's as dark and lifeless as the depths below us. There is no radio, no transponder—all the modern lifelines rendered useless. The only thing left, my last hope, is the emergency beacon. I snatch its sturdy case and, with a press, release its cry into the storm.

The boat lurches, a cruel reminder that I am at the mercy of the sea. I brace myself, wedging my feet against the edges of the seat to stay upright. Once a sanctuary, the cabin walls now seem like a trap as Aurora is flung mercilessly by the surging waves.

In this moment of dire isolation, my thoughts turn to Timber's note. I grip it in my pocket like a lifeline, the paper saturated with seawater. The words now gone, are imprinted in my mind and offer comfort. It’s like holding onto a piece of calm in the midst of this tempest. In my head, I see her handwriting, the loops and lines of a quick message that’s now a light in the darkness.

I imagine making it back, seeing Hailey’s relief, experiencing Timber’s embrace. They push me to fight through this.

I picture sitting Hailey down, telling her the story of the worst storm I ever saw. Timber is by my side, a subtle smile telling me she’s proud I made it. They’re why this isn’t just a fight for survival—it’s a fight to return to the life that suddenly holds so much promise.

I'm not one to pray, but I whisper words, half to the ocean, half to whatever fate may be listening. “Let me see them again. Let me embrace my child, who looks at me like I'm her world, and don't let me die before I can taste Timber's lips.”

Chapter Fifteen

TIMBER

The storm pelts the community center. Tommy's and Lucas's parents pick them up, leaving the building emptier than it was just moments ago.

“Should we go to May’s for a visit and hope the rain stops?” I ask Hailey.

She races to get her coat while I gather the flyers the kids made that morning. I like all of them, especially Hailey's. It's full of smeared blue and green paints, like the ocean where her dad sails. There's a sun in one corner made with yellow handprints. She proudly told me the gray spot was supposed to be her dad's boat, and the sun was happy about the potluck. We make our way out the door and into the storm. The wind fights with our coats as we hurry through the heavy rain. I keep the flyers safe in a folder close to my chest

Reaching May's diner, the warm air slices the chill. Inside, the storm seems distant. Dusted with flour from her baking, May smiles and waves toward an empty booth. “You two look like wet cats.” She reaches behind the counter, pulls out two towels, and tosses them to us. “Dry off, and I'll get you some drinks to warm your bones.”

While May fixes us hot drinks, I admire the proud handiwork of the children. May serves us cocoa for Hailey and coffee for me, with the scents weaving through the cinnamon-infused air.

“Well, look at these masterpieces!” May says.

“We plan to post them everywhere, like you suggested, but the weather needs to cooperate.”

May carefully selects one for the window and pins it up. I can't see it from where we're sitting, but Hailey's face lights up, and I know it's her art on display for the whole town to see. The other flyers lay on our table, a splash of vibrant creativity among the white ceramic mugs and the dark wood. There's a picture of the community center, stick figures holding hands around it, and on another, a garden with flowers bigger than the people tending them.

Peering out the window, I can’t shake thoughts of Kane out at sea. The diner’s cozy chatter fades as I imagine the storm’s fury he must be facing. Hailey’s here with her cocoa, happily drawing, and I hide my worry behind a steady smile, trying to keep the storm in my heart from showing. But inside, I'm on that boat with him, experiencing every wave and gust, hoping he's okay. I hold on to the hope that he'll come back to us. I’m trying to stay strong, for Hailey’s sake.

Leaning on the table, May says, “Where's that man of yours?”

“You know he’s not mine.” In my mind, the words form a different truth. The thought is a wishful what-if or maybe that I tuck away into a corner of my heart. I look to the window where the rain pelts the pane. “He’s still out there.”

Unfazed, May smiles and brushes flour from her hands onto her apron. “Well, wherever he is, he's a seasoned fisherman and can weather anything thrown at him. You don't have to worry about that one.”

And just like that, she shifts my worry to confidence regarding Kane's ability. “You're right,” I agree, watching Hailey from the corner of my eye. I’m looking at things from a position of inexperience. I remind myself this is familiar territory for him.

The noise of the storm fades, leaving silence behind. We should head out. I gather our belongings and tell Hailey, “It's time to go.” She springs from the booth, clutching her napkin artwork.

“It's time for us to leave,” I tell May, catching her attention as she cleans the counter.

“Drive safe, Timber,” May says.

“Will do. Thanks for the cocoa and coffee. What do I owe you?” I reach for my wallet.

May shakes her head. “Nothing, it was my pleasure.” She looks at Hailey. “Thank you for the art. It made my day.”

I nod, appreciative, and Hailey echoes a “thank you” as we leave.

Outside, a fresh canvas unfolds where the storm has passed. The ATV seats glisten with raindrops, and I sweep the moisture away. Hailey climbs into her damp seat, undeterred by anything. After buckling her in, I start the engine and we begin the journey home. I’m looking forward to a peaceful evening. I think about Kane returning, his clothes damp and his eyes tired, but he’s safe. I can almost hear the clatter of dishes as we clean up from dinner. The low hum of our voices fills the kitchen. In my mind, we’re laughing while Hailey tells him about her day, and everything seems complete. I imagine us sharing stories and the comfort of being together, the storm nothing but a memory.

Once we arrive, I park the ATV. “Let's go in and think about dinner.”

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