Page 8 of Caleb's Salvation
I’d lost that battle clearly, but I was intent on winning the war.
* * *
Two weeks later
Vivienne
“You have to help me.”
I’d been waiting outside of Bud’s knowing it was a Friday and the guys would probably be playing cards tonight. Eli and Jackson were already inside, which meant Cal wouldn’t be too far behind.
I was right, as evidenced by him pulling up in his truck. He was just getting out of the cab when I made my demand.
His left eyebrow rose. Which was typical of his interactions with me. Wary, skeptical. Cautious. Like I was a bomb waiting to go off.
I bounced Sam in my arms and approached him.
“Please,” I said, tempering what had been more of a declaration rather than a request.
“I don’thaveto do anything.”
“I’m running out of wood for the stove and as many times as I’ve tried to swing the axe at the tree I picked out, it’s not coming down.”
He scowled. Another common reaction to me. The first time, it scared the heck out of me. Now I was used to it.
“You know what you’re doing? Cutting down a tree?”
“Uh, no, sir. I know this because the tree is still upright,” I said.
“Stop calling me sir,” he snapped. “You could hurt yourself swinging an axe. Cut yourself, bring down a tree the wrong way, any number of things. I told you. Life up here is hard.”
“Why do you think I’m here asking for help? I tried and the axe is too heavy for me to get any leverage on the tree. I need wood.”
“Hmm. That’s a problem then. You’ve got shelter. You’ve figured out food, but without heat, you won’t make it through the winter. Maybe now you’ll realize your only option is to go home.”
I stomped my foot in frustration. It was hard enough to swallow my pride and admit I needed help. Once the fantasy of Caleb being my rescuer had ended, I realized I had to start figuring out things on my own. For me and Sam. The more independent I was, the better shot we had of making it up here. Chopping down a tree, however, was out of my reach.
“What part about me not having a home to go to is not making sense to you?” I asked him, exasperated.
“Where’s his father?” he asked, pointing at Sam. Caleb never addressed Sam by name.
“Gone. I told him I was pregnant, and he said he couldn’t handle that. Never saw him again. No forwarding address where I could petition him for child support so don’t bother asking.”
“What the hell where you doing with someone like that in the first place?”
“Long story,” I said. Or rather, a pathetically obvious one. I’d been looking for escape. I’d been desperate and stupid.
When Dave took off, I was desperate and stupidandpregnant.
I sighed, feeling the weight of my decisions, literally, in my arms. “Look, are you going to help me or what?”
He remained stubbornly silent.
“Fine. I’ll ask one of the other guys from the camp.” I wasn’t even sure why I’d started with Caleb. Maybe because I still had the sense we were connected in some way. He was why I was here after all, even if he didn’t want me.
“No!” he barked.
“No? No, I can’t have wood? That seems awfully cruel.”
