Page 117 of Axe Backwards
The day’sfestivities kicked off with a kids’ competition. They were adorable and frighteningly good.
Tucker, Henri and Alice’s son, could chop wood like a professional. For a gangly teen, he was shockingly strong.
After that, Merry won the teen axe-throwing competition.
Finn and Thor and Tess and I all cheered while Merry hit bullseye after bullseye.
Chest puffed with pride, Finn draped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “Adele taught her the technique.”
Thor squirmed in his dad’s arms, waving at his big sister.
“Just think, in a few years, these two will be out there.”
I looked at the chubby babies who were morphing into toddlers more every day. I could see it. Summer festivals and days on the lake, waterfall hikes and family cookouts.
And axe-throwing, I guessed. Though I never would have considered it a childhood hobby.
“You want to go out there like your big cousin?” I asked Tess.
She shrieked and kicked her pudgy little legs.
“See?” Finn said. “She’s already a Mainer.”
Everywhere I looked, kids dressed in plaid darted about, their faces smeared with ice cream, having the time of their lives.
As I took in my surroundings, a peace settled over me. This place wasn’t only my hometown anymore. No, with each day I spent here, it was becoming a part of me.
Vic was the perfect emcee. She spent the weekend smiling and laughing, and each time she took to the stage to announce the next event, the entire crowd quieted down to listen. She was truly the most captivating person I’d ever met, and I was certain I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
I did my shift at the food pantry booth, distributing information and accepting donations. The fees vendors paid to participate had covered setup costs, but we were banking on the cost of admission and good old-fashioned donations to get the funds necessary for the food pantry to thrive for the next year.
The silent auction held an impressive number of items, and the game booths were slammed with kids and adults alike. The Lovewell Lumberjack Festival–branded merchandise was well designed and selling quickly.
We were all praying it would be enough.
Vic found me late in the afternoon and gave me a quick kiss. Then she was off to judge the chainsaw art contest. It was epic.
Gus’s carving of Clive won. The whole town had gone wild for it. He’d suggested Vic auction it off, and I had no doubt many people in town would want a five-foot-tall wood carving of a moose. It was Maine, after all.
The crowds were large, especially when Remy Gagnon got up on the main stage and competed against his brothers in the standing block chop. If the crowd was excited about Gus’s carving, they were all-out feral for the guys on the stage.
After handily beating his brothers, Remy took the microphone and thanked Vic.
“Also, my wife and I, along with my sponsor, Racine Trading Company, will be making a donation of twenty thousand dollars to the Lovewell Food Pantry.”
All around me, gasps and cheers sounded. But on stage, Vic lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I hope you’ll join us in donating,” Remy challenged his audience. “My wife Hazel grew up relying on food assistance, so this is a cause very close to our hearts.”
Hazel joined him on stage, smiling and waving. She was younger than me, and I didn’t know her well, but her brilliance was widely known and respected in Lovewell, and so was the work she was doing to better the rural areas of Maine.
“And,” she said, pushing her glasses up, “Remy and I will be at the food pantry booth for the next two hours. We’ll be available for photos and autographs for those of you who donate.”
Vic hugged them both and thanked them and the rest of the Gagnons before she announced the next event. Happiness radiated from her. Her ponytail bounced, and her eyes were bright.
She belonged here. This was her place and her purpose. The way she’d put all this together, then spent the weekend runningaround, fixing every issue with a smile on her face, further convinced me she was a superhero.
And the people of this town had shown up for her. They loved her just as much as she loved them. Would I ever feel that kind of connection?
