Page 18 of Challenged By the Rugged Lumberjack

"Hoppy hungry," he announces.

"Is he?" I ask, my voice oddly rough. "What does Hoppy like to eat?"

"Carrots," Mason says definitively. "And ice cream."

"Quite a combination," I observe, earning a giggle.

Across the table, Elisa watches us, and there's something in her tender look. Something that might be hope or fear, or both intertwined so tightly they've become the same emotion.

"This will work," she says softly, as much to herself as to me. "For all of us."

And despite every instinct honed over years of solitude, despite all the walls I've built and maintained, I find myself believing her.

For the first time in a very long time, I want to believe.

Chapter 7 - Elisa

After breakfast, I insist on washing the dishes while Josh clears the table. We move around each other in the kitchen with an ease that feels strangely familiar for people who met just two days ago. Mason sits on the floor nearby, arranging wooden coasters in careful patterns and chatting to Hoppy about his architectural masterpiece.

"I should get our things from the other cabin," I say, rinsing soap from a plate. "If we're staying here."

Josh nods, wiping down the table with methodical strokes. "I'll drive you over. No sense in carrying everything."

"You don't have to—"

"It'll take ten minutes with the truck," he interrupts, his tone matter-of-fact. "An hour on foot."

I can't argue with his logic. "Thank you."

He nods again, accepting my gratitude without comment. I'm beginning to understand this about him—his tendency toward practical solutions, his discomfort with praise or thanks. It's as if he believes helping is simply what one does, not something that requires acknowledgment.

How different from Jordan, who kept a mental ledger of every favor, every kind act, tallying them up for later collection with interest.

"I need to stop in town later," Josh says, breaking into my thoughts. "Supplies for a job."

"I need it, too. I have to find a job as quickly as possible. Can you take me?"

"Yes. You need work. Mason might also like the park next to the library."

The thought that he's considered what might please my son is new. I’m not used to it. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Josh disappears into another room, leaving me to finish the dishes and wonder at the strange turn my life has taken. Two days ago, I was driving a packed Honda through unfamiliar mountain roads, my stomach knotted with fear and uncertainty. Now I'm standing in a stranger's kitchen—no, not a stranger anymore—planning a day trip to town with him.

Is this reckless? Trusting him so quickly, accepting his help, moving into his home? Jordan would say so. Jordan would call me naive, foolish, setting myself up for disappointment or worse.

But Jordan also told me I was worthless, stupid, lucky to have him. And those were lies.

I press a hand to my growing belly, feeling the slight firmness beneath my palm. "What do you think, little one?" I whisper. "Are we making the right choice?"

No answer comes, of course, but I feel steadier nonetheless. My instincts got us out of Portland, away from Jordan. I have to trust they'll guide me now.

Josh returns wearing a different flannel shirt, this one a deep forest green that brings out flecks of amber in his dark eyes. He's combed his hair, I notice—a small concession to the trip to town, perhaps.

"Ready when you are," he says.

I nod, drying my hands on a dish towel. "Mason, honey, we're going to get our things from the other cabin. Can you put on your shoes?"

Mason looks up from his coaster construction, his expression serious. "Hoppy too?"

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