Page 9 of These Rough Waters

Who did that to your face?

“I’m working on it,” I answer her question, “Can only go up from here, right?”

“Sure can, sweetness, I’m sure Ravenpeak will give you everything you need.”

I nod, “I need to grab a few things in town today, so I best get running,” I turn to gather up Harper except the space where she was just moments before is now vacant and my heart drops to my stomach.

My wide eyes jump to Ruthie as fear cripples me, “Where’s Harper?”

Five

Ihaul the stump off the bed of my truck, hefting it up so I can balance the weight against my shoulder as I take the large piece of wood around to the cutting area at the back of the lodge.

It makes a loud thud as I drop it to the ground with a grunt and position it better before I reach down to grab the axe I’d left resting against the post. At my back, the lodge is swarming with morning traffic, the last remaining tourists clinging to the dwindling heat left behind from summer, but they’d all be gone soon.

Fall and Winter were quiet. Almost lifeless and for that, those seasons here in Ravenpeak were always my favorite. I bring the axe down in a series of well-placed and even swings, cutting a line across the top of the stump, the wood splitting in a satisfyingcrackdown the center.

“Why are you sad?” a small voice asks.

I spin around finding the same little girl from my boat yesterday staring at me with open curiosity and a little confusion. Glancing around, I don’t find her mother anywhere.

“You should be inside.” I grunt, kicking half of the stump away so I had better space to keep chopping. If I didn’t do this for Ruthie for the winter, she wouldn’t do it and would likely freeze.

“Why?”

My teeth clamp together, “Move back.” I order.

I hear her feet shuffle and I subtly check to make sure she’s not in range of my swing before I bring the edge down, once, twice, three times before the wood cracks in half again.

“That looks hard, mister.”

“Kid, go find your mother.”

“She’s inside, I know where she is.” She replies sassily.

Lord, give me patience.

Instead of responding, I pretend the girl isn’t there even if I feel her eyes burning into the back of my skull. I certainly had more patience than this five years ago. I could sit and stake out a mark for hours without even a twitch, could interrogate a target covered in blood with their screams bouncing off the walls and yet achildis making me agitated.

“You didn’t answer me.” She says while I pile up the fresh logs into the hut.

“Harper!”

I spin in time to see the brown-haired woman from the boat running towards us, her eyes blown wide in fear. The bruising on her face was just as severe as it was yesterday, all blue and purple and black but the swelling had improved.

She grabs the little girl and yanks her to her chest, hugging her tight like the girl had been missing for weeks rather than a few minutes at most.

A twinge in my chest causes me to catch my breath, my palm reactively coming up to pat the space above the organ like it could soothe the five-year long ache that had burrowed into my muscles and taken up a permanent residence there.

“How many times have I told you not to walk off like that?” The woman scolds lightly, brushing down the girls – Harper’s, hair.

“I saw the boat man,” The girl answers, “I wanted to say hi. That’s what friends do.”

“Uh,” the woman chokes, “I’m sure he has a name that isn’t ‘boat man’, Harper.”

“Well, I didn’t know what else to call him.”

The woman cringes, “I’m sorry.”

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