Page 26 of Auctioned to the Lumberjacks (Auctioned)

"She's quite good with an ax, aren't you, Skye?" Jack cuts in and throws her a strange look that I can't work out. I want to say something, but Jack's face could freeze the sun.

Skye takes a deep breath. I notice the mottled red blotches appearing on her neck and chest. She’s clearly overwhelmed.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Her words sound as if they come from far away, and she turns and flees from the studio, leaving nothing behind except the retreating sound of her ragged breathing echoing around the barn.

West downs his tool and approaches.

"Should I go after her?" I ask him.

A draft sweeps into the room from the now open door, swinging on its hinges. The weather has taken a turn, and the dark sky is angry and thick with threatening gray clouds. The rain is back, and the sound on the tin roof beats an urgent rhythm.

West shakes his head as if he doesn't understand what the hell is going on. I’m now sure that there is something that Skye is not telling us. She sold herself to us for a year, and we are still none the wiser as to why. And as much as I want her to stay and I’m enjoying having her around, I can't shake the discomfort I feel about it all.

This was supposed to be about creating some unity, some common ground.

Jack clears his throat and then speaks in a hushed tone, careful that his words are only audible to us. "Me and Skye, wewere together last night." Jack's eyes drift to the door left open by Skye's hasty exit. "Not sure if either of you have noticed, but she has a scar. It's from a caesarian section birth. It's right there in the line of her panties. It's still pink, so it can't be that old. My guess is that she has had a baby sometime in the past year." He pauses and takes a breath, seeking acknowledgment from West and me to go on. "Yeah, well, you know what sort of state I was in last night. I wasn't choosing my words very carefully. When we were done, I asked her where her child was. And why did she think it was okay to abandon it somewhere because it clearly isn't here!"

Jack glances at the floor and tugs at this shirt collar, which he has buttoned right up to the top, tapping his right foot erratically. We remain silent for a moment. Words aren't always necessary to know what each other is thinking. But I can't help myself.

"For Christ's sake, Jack. Why'd you go make accusations like that? You don't know what happened."

Gritting his teeth, he lets out a ragged breath.

"I’m not proud, all right. But I damn well want to know what her deal is. And what sort of goddamn trouble she could bring to our door."

West has been quiet until now, but he says something that hasn't occurred to Jack or me. "What if she had a baby and it died?" I swallow hard on his words as they seem to echo around the studio with a life of their own, just as Skye reappears in the doorway.

If she heard what he said, she doesn’t give anything away, returning to her abandoned task.

I meet West's gaze and Jack's, but no one says anything. West's suggestion would explain Skye's tears and her desperation to bury her past in the remoteness of the forest. Maybe the auction had nothing to do with money and had more to do with escape. Maybe she lied to me. Perhaps everything was too fresh and raw, and she couldn't deal with staying around where she'd be forced to remember every day.

And here is Jack, trying to force her to reveal her truth one way or another.

Secrets are kept for a reason, but they have a nasty habit of rearing up and injuring when revealed. Should we let her keep this one or make her tell us everything?

We while away a couple of hours before lunch and continue back in the studio in the afternoon. The mood seems to lift. Jack sings his entire repertoire of lumberjack songs. West joins in occasionally by slapping his hands against whichever wooden surface he's closest to. I tell Skye as many ridiculous stories as I can think of to ease her anxiety, like the time Jack tried to cook for Thanksgiving but forgot to thaw the turkey first or the time West fell face-first into the mud outside and freaked us out when he opened the door looking like a forest creature. And the time I knocked myself unconscious slipping in the shower three days after I moved into the cabin, forcing West and Jack to take me to the emergency room for a concussion. They had to dry and dress me before getting me in the car.

It feels good to laugh and collaborate on something where we can all bring our skills to the table. Skye seems to enjoy unpacking paints, pots, pencils, and a range of other materials. She goes back and forth between the barn and the cabin, bringing us drinks and snacks.

When Jack's throat is ragged, West sets up a speaker, and our project is lightened by the tones of Johnny Cash and The Backsliders.

By the end of the day, we’ve gone some way to make good progress on the studio project and show Skye that it doesn't have to be frosty between us.

The light outside begins to fade away, and the sounds of the rain and wind give way to the distant rustle of birds and other wildlife getting ready for the night shift.

As we're getting ready to leave, Skye clears her throat. "I know I had a difficult start, but I know what you expect of me now, and I want this to work, just like you all do." This time, her words aren't accompanied by tears or red blotches. She touches her neck, which feels like a nervous action, and I step forward to embrace her before Jack can spoil the moment with some other cryptic comment about axes.

Before I can cross the studio, the sound of footsteps outside, crunching against the undergrowth, roots us all to the spot.

A sense of unease takes over as Jack and West move quickly and quietly to the door. The look of sheer terror that sweeps across Skye's face tells us all that we need to know.She’s hiding from someone. She’s on the run.

But who from, and who’s outside paying us an uninvited visit?

10

WEST

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

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