Page 21 of Saving Mr. Bell

“Ninety-nine percent, surely,” I corrected.

His next two blows felt like he was taking something out on the poor defenseless tree trunk. It was powerful enough to topple the tree. Thankfully, it fell in the opposite direction, no heroics needed to shove Rudolf out of the way. It showered us with an avalanche of snow as it hit the ground, both of us forced to spit bits out and wipe it off our faces with coat sleeves.

Rudolf straddled the fallen tree like it was a conquest, axe resting casually against his shoulder like he wielded one regularly. “Voila! One tree.”

It turned out I could get it back to the cabin on my own if I dragged it, Rudolf happy to let me do the deed after his exertion of chopping it down. “How are you going to get it to stand up?” he asked as he trailed after me.

I pointed to the extension at the side of the cabin, the space, half storage area and half shed. “There’s stuff in there. I figure there’ll be a pot or something.”

“You figure, do you?”

“Have a little faith.”

“I had faith you could chop a tree down.”

“No, you didn’t. That’s why you insisted on coming with me.”

“And my concern proved to be justified. Who lives here?”

I shrugged. “No idea. I rented it through an agency and never asked.”

While I searched for something I could use to stand the tree up, Rudolf had spotted the chopping block. It seemed he’d gotten the bug for being destructive, immediately setting to work on the pile of logs and splitting them into smaller ones which would fit in the wood burner, with an ease that was impressive. I took a break at sifting through the junk to watch him for a moment. “You said this was my job, yesterday.”

He paused to remove his borrowed coat, sweat standing out on his brow. “That was yesterday. A man’s allowed to change hismind. If I’m stuck here, I may as well be useful. Besides, I have a vested interest in keeping the cabin warm.”

“True.”

I found a potential pot. As it was a little on the large side, I kept looking, noting anything else that might be of use during our stay. A few things I pocketed, like the string I happened across, in case it came in useful for something else. Possibly for tying the tree to something if my pot idea proved as unsuccessful as my tree chopping had.

“I reckon I could be a lumberjack,” Rudolf said as he cleaved another log in two with perfect precision.

I smiled. “I reckon you could do anything you put your mind to.”

“Really?”

Something about my answer seemed to matter to him. Enough that I straightened to look at him. There was something wild and abandoned about a Rudolf who’d gone to town with an axe. He was sweaty, his hair all over the place, and his cheeks flushed. This was probably what Rudolf looked like after fucking. I quickly tamped down on the errant thought, refusing to go there. “Yeah.” My voice was softer than I’d intended. I cleared my throat and held up the pot. “Do you reckon we could make this work?”

Rudolf studied it for a moment. “What are you planning to fill it with?”

“Rocks?”

“And the rocks would be…?”

“Under the snow.” This thread of practicality that I’d never expected a world class pianist to have was really starting to grate. I pointed to the far corner of the shed. “There’s a shovel.”

“Do you need me to dig for you as well?”

“I think I can manage that.” Thankfully, I did manage it, digging something I’d done before. Finding rocks under snowwas like the world’s most disappointing treasure hunt, but I got there in the end, filling the pot almost to the brim because it was better to have too many than not enough.

It took a long time, a considerable amount of energy, and Rudolf’s help to maneuver the tree through the doorway of the cabin, quite a few pine needles sacrificing their lives before we were successful. But finally we had the tree upright in a corner of the cabin, the pot full of stones doing its job adequately. Once I’d removed my outer gear, I collapsed back on the sofa, breathing hard. “Decorating it can wait till tomorrow.”

Rudolf eyed me with amusement. “Are you okay, old man?”

“I’m only six years older than you.”

“And what a tough six years it must have been for an aborted attempt at chopping a tree down, and a bit of digging to leave you such a physical wreck.”

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the darkness behind my eyelids. “And you’re what, Mr. Physical?”

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