Page 8 of Timber Ridge

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. We share the understanding and experience of grief. “I lost my mother recently, too. It seems we have a lot in common.”

Eliza’s face shows a blend of empathy and sisterhood. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says.

She looks down at her stomach. “I miss my mother always, but I wish I had her now. Thankfully, she was here when we got the news that I was pregnant, and we were able to celebrate. I just wish she could have held on so she could meet the baby. I never imagined having a child without her here to guide me,” she says.

“That must be so hard.” I can’t imagine having to be a mother without my mother’s support. For the first time, I’m grateful that I’ll never have to face that.

With a knowing nod, Eliza adds, “I bet we’ll be fast friends, you and me. And who knows? The town might grow on you, and you’ll want to stay. Lord knows we don’t have enough people like you here.”

“You mean women?”

She nods. “They come, sure, but stick around? That’s rare, which goes back to my four to one ratio,” she says, eyeing the endless stretch of wilderness.

It gets me thinking. Alaska? Mom never breathed a word about this place. With her shivering at anything below sweater weather, it just doesn’t add up. The postcard’s “come back” haunts me. Could she have braved the cold here for love? The pieces don’t fit.

While I'm not comfortable asking about a man I don’t know, I certainly don’t mind asking about a woman I do. “Do you ever remember meeting anyone besides me with the last name Moore? Like an Aspen Moore?” I ask, hoping for a speck of recognition. “I think my mother may have visited here in her youth.”

She furrows her brow, steering the ATV around a particularly stubborn rock before answering. “Moore? I can’t say I recall anyone by that name. But you have to understand that we don’t always get to know the short-term visitors. Especially if they stick to themselves, and if it was your mother, she would have come long before my time. The person to ask is May. She’s always in the know.”

“Thank you. I’ll consider that. I met her on the dock yesterday. She seems nice.”

“May’s the wisdom of the town—she’s seen seven decades come and go. If your mother was here for anything longer than a weekend visit, May would remember. That woman’s got the memory of an elephant. She’s the backbone of this town. We don’t have a doctor close by. I have to travel to Craig for my appointments, so May’s the one we turn to for the less serious things. She’s got a remedy for every cough and a potion for every ache, all from the plants she tends like her own kids. She’s our gem, and without her, well, we’d be a bit lost.”

As the trees begin to thin and the dense woods open up to the expanse of the water, the dock comes into view, signaling the edge of town. Eliza guides the ATV onto a clearer path.

“We’re headed to her place now,” she announces as we approach the center of the town. “Best pancakes in town, and you’ll get to meet some of the locals.”

Chapter Four

KANE

The jingle of the café door chimes like a warning, and I lift my gaze. It’s them—Eliza, who could outshine the Northern Lights, and Timber, the newcomer, her presence a stark reminder of how fast things can change. Just yesterday, she was an unfamiliar face, and today, she’s the linchpin in my carefully balanced life during salmon season. I don’t know her, yet I’m tethered to her by necessity, a fact that irks me more than the cold bite of the morning.

Hailey’s squeal cuts through my brooding thoughts. “Daddy, Auntie Eliza’s here!” Her little hands clap in excitement, chocolate chip pancakes forgotten. “And the new teacher! Can they sit with us?”

I hesitate, preferring to enjoy my breakfast in peace, but that hasn’t happened since Hailey was born. I try to find an excuse to say no, but Hailey’s looking at me with those big, hopeful eyes, and I know I don’t stand a chance against her, not for the first time, and certainly not the last.

“Yeah, Noodle,” I say, masking my reluctance with a half-hearted grin for her sake. “Invite ’em over.”

Eliza doesn’t need an invitation. She leads Timber straight to our table. “Kane, I hope you don’t mind us crashing your breakfast.” Her voice carries the same ease it always does, but I catch a glint of something else in her eye—something hopeful.

Timber trails behind, eyes scanning the café like she’s casing the joint. There’s a determination in her posture that I begrudgingly respect. She meets my gaze, and I glance down at my plate which is filled with eggs, bacon, sausages, and hash browns.

“We’d be happy to share our table,” I say, and it’s true, for Hailey’s sake. Timber sits down across from me. Our eyes meet again. Hers are the color of the sky that peeks through the trees of my ridge.

Hailey’s voice cuts through the hum of the café like a knife through butter. “Daddy, you said she wasn’t pretty, but she is.”

Heat crawls up my neck, and I swear even the old jukebox in the corner skips a beat as her statement hangs in the air. “No, Noodle,” I correct quickly, the words stumbling out in my rush. “I said I hadn’t noticed.” It’s a feeble save, and from the way Timber’s eyebrow arches, I’m unsure if she’s offended or entertained.

May, bless her, slides into the fray with the grace of a seasoned diplomat. “Well, I notice everything, and I say we’ve got a room full of pretty people here today,” she declares with a grin that’s seen its share of awkward moments. She winks at Hailey, who giggles, thankfully moving on from her earlier conversation.

“So, what can I get you ladies?” May asks, pulling out her notepad, the professional in her effortlessly smoothing over the crinkles of our morning.

“Before we order,” Eliza says, “Timber wants to know if you’ve heard of someone named Aspen Moore, who might have come through here years ago.”

May taps her chin with her pen. “That name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Do you think you have ties here?” I ask, probing deeper than I’d intended.

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