Page 29 of The Rest is History

A week and a half after meeting him for the first time, he’s standing in the woodlot looking like a lost puppy. I pause my chopping, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Brennan, our foreman, is on the other side of the woodlot.

“Hey,” I call out. “Reece.”

He turns in my direction but he can’t locate me. Setting my chainsaw down, I remove my protective gloves, and make my way to him.

“New guy?” Brian asks as I pass him. Brian is a bucker. He cuts the trees that we fell into logs.

“Maybe. He’s here for a job.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

He spots me as I come up the clearing, where the wash site is. He lifts his hand in greeting. Today, he’s wearing jeans and a pair of brown boots with a heavy beige sweater. Not the kind of clothing you’d wear to visit a piece of land that is in the middle of deforestation.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” I say as I walk up to him.

He smiles. His kind of prettiness doesn’t belong in such rough outdoors.

“Yeah. Uh, you too. I went up to the O & R Construction Company office like Asher said, and they sent me here. They said I could ask for Brennan Hastings.”

“Sure. Let me take you to him. He’s by the skidders.”

“Skidders?” he says, walking a step behind me as we make our way across the logging site.

I peer over my shoulder. “Doesn't your father own a construction company?”

His face is immediately beet-red. “Yeah, but it’s not . . . not like this.”

“Oh. Not logging. Got it.”

“Not that I’m familiar with any of the kinds of construction they do either. I’m not very good at learning.” His ears are red too. He covers his eyes with the back of his hand, groaning. “Probably not something you should say when you’re trying to get hired for a job.”

I laugh. “We’re not like those corporate people you’re used to. If you can bend your back and get it done, you're good. You’re strong. You’ll do fine.”

I can’t be sure if it’s the wind picking up or if there’s another reason for the shift in the air. Did he look at me too long before I looked away? Why did time feel different for just that one second?

“Really?” He asks. “You think so?”

Do I think he’s strong? Do I think he’ll do fine? Well, yes. But why does that sound so unbelievable to him? “Yeah, sure.”

He grins. “Thank you for helping me. Really. I – I like the idea of working outside. Never done anything like it before, but I think I’ll enjoy it.”

“We might get your hands dirty and a little rough, but you won’t mind, right?” I give his well-manicured hands a pointed look.

He notices. Shoves them into his pockets. “Not at all.”

“Yo, Bren.” I have to shout over the engines of trucks getting ready to leave the site with logs for the sawmill.

Brennan signals for us to wait.

“So, you’ve always done this? This type of work?” Reece asks in between the noise.

“No, actually. I did a lot of things before this – bartending, loading pigs. Bussed some tables two towns over for a long time too.” He doesn’t have to know I’ve been working since I was a kid, keeping my head down and earning my keep wherever anyone was willing to pay for a bit of easy child labor. He’s rich folk. He probably won’t understand.

“Right.”

Brennan comes over to us. He’s a forty-something dad-of-four, who treats everyone like family. And if anyone thinks that's very sweet, it’s not. He’ll kick your ass if you screw up in the same way he’ll kick your ass if you’re going through tough times and don’t go to him for help. He’s a sturdy square of a man, with a heart of gold, a mouth made for sailors and probably one of the best people I know.

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