“Backpackers are always building campfires where they’ve got no business…” Connie said, stuffing the last of the kids’ toys into April’s little pink suitcase. I’d told her about the smoke from last night. “They only know it’s cold at night… and they just don’t stop to think how much of a danger it is.” She put her hands on her hips and smiled at me. “You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own? We could probably stay a few more days…”

I picked Joey up out of his high chair and wiped the applesauce off his pudgy little hands, feeling my heart and my ovaries do a little flip-flop inside. Just the sweet, baby scent of his soft blond hair made me ache inside. “Go on, get out,” I said, handing him over reluctantly. She reached out as he put his arms around her neck and kissed his fat cheek.

“You’ve already overstayed your welcome,” I teased. “And I need to get back to work too.” I sighed and looked over at the abandoned typewriter. “That novel isn’t going to finish itself…”

And I was right.

Six hours later, I had nothing but another stack of balled-up papers in the corner. Reilly lifted his head, his shaggy ears perked and he whined softly. He’d paced most of the day, his nails tapping back and forth across the wooden floor. He missed Connie and the kids. So did I.

I pushed my chair back and headed for the back porch. The wood Jason had split and stacked was almost used up, but then I was no stranger to Dad’s axe after the last few winters. The wood was still dry and that was what mattered most. And maybe the exercise would help clear my head…

I crammed Randy’s old ball cap on my head, stuffing the trailing ends of my hair up inside and tied the laces of my boots. A lightweight jacket would be more than enough over my flannel shirt. Twenty minutes was enough to work up a full body sweat, even in winter. Rye padded outside with me, nose to the ground, no doubt picking up the lingering scent of my little niece and nephew. I smiled and wrapped my hands around the axe handle. Jason had left it half-buried in the old stump, just the way Dad always had. I rocked it back and forth until it was free, and balanced a log on its end…

“Like this, baby… Stand it on the flat end and then get yourself back where it’s safe,” Daddy had said. I’d been nine or ten years old and followed my father everywhere he went like a shadow. I knew him more from the stories Mom told than from actual experience. He’d been gone so much of my childhood… having him home with us was like having a legend suddenly come to life…

“Make sure your foundation is stable first,” he had said, easing me behind him with a calloused, gentle hand. “The you swing the axe hard and true…” He lifted it above his head and came down through the log in a single clean stroke. “You picture in your head where you’re going. Then you just go. No hesitating… or you lose your focus.”

I could still hear the sharp crack of the wood as the log fell into two equal halves. I had picked them up, one by one and stacked them for him as perfectly as I could. “Once you begin, you follow through,” he said as I stood another log on the stump. “If you’re unsure before you start, you can get yourself hurt,” he had added, kneeling down to look into my face.

His face had been creased, and his brow beaded with sweat. But his crisp blue eyes had been honest and kind. Although I couldn’t see it then as a child, I could see it now. There had been a whole lifetime in those eyes; backbreaking work, heartbreaking sorrow… and more than enough love to keep bringing him back home to us. My parents’ relationship had been hard. Harder than most… and for reasons I would likely never know. But they’d loved each other anyway…

All that love was in his eyes as he brushed a smudge off my little forehead with his thumb. “Once you know what it is you want, Emmy, you give it everything you have. No fear, no doubts… no stopping halfway through. Picture what it is you want, and never let anything stop you.” He had picked up the axe and swung it again, cracking through the wood almost effortlessly. “A good life, a life worth living is hard work,” he had said. “But if you’re lucky enough to find something or someone you love, you never give up, Emmy. You just never give up.”

I lifted the axe and let it swing. Tears blurred my vision, but I could tell by the sound I’d made a clean split. The blade didn’t stop until it was buried deep in the stump. Solid… and almost effortless.

“I still don’t know how to say goodbye, Daddy,” I said, wiping my face. “I know you loved us… and I know being a firefighter wasn’t even a choice. It was just… you…”

I looked at Reilly, who was staring into the distance and making a grumbling sound in the back of his throat. I set up another log and swung hard. It had been the hardest thing I’d ever faced when we lost Dad. The fire had come from nowhere. At least that’s what we were told. Nearly three hundred men had been battling it for weeks before they finally had it contained… or thought they had…

I stripped off my jacket, grateful for the bracing cold. The tears that ran down my face were hot; I swept them away with the back of my sleeve and summoned all my strength for the next swing. I put my whole body behind the axe and struck, over and over again until the sun started to set, until I was standing at the center of a waiting pyre. I used the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my eyes, feeling drained, clean… purified somehow.

“How do I face the chance of losing Jason, too?” I asked, looking up into the pink and orange sky. High clouds were thin, thready… windswept. “How do I love a man I can’t keep safe?”

I took one more swing and left the axe where I’d found it. Reilly came toward me barking and spinning circles. “Suppertime, boy,” I said, opening the back door for him. He barked, and whined, pawing at the fence. I could hear my phone ringing inside.

“Well, stay out here if you want,” I said, “but dinner’s being served in the kitchen…” I let the door slam shut and heard him barking even louder. I’d left the phone on the mantle, never expecting it to ring. Cell coverage out here was spotty, at best; we’d kept an ancient landline for emergencies…

“How’s my babygirl?” Jason’s voice was deep and warm in my ear.

“Jason…?” I gasped as my heart started to pound. “Is everything okay? I didn’t expect to hear from you for at least another week or so… Are you all right?… is Randy?”

“We’re both just fine, Em,” he said, and I felt my heart rate level off. “I wanted to surprise you is all,” he said, the timbre of his voice shifting from reassurance to something deeper… “At the end of a long day’s work, a man wants something more than a hot meal and a blanket to keep him warm.” I heard his breath hiss through his teeth and catch.

“Are you… are you calling me for phone sex…?” I asked, embarrassed not only by the thought, but by the instant response in my body. “How can we possibly…?” I heard him laugh and felt like everything solid inside me had melted to liquid.

“Open the front door, babygirl,” he said,

“I’m here…”