Chapter Four
Emerson
Holy hell that man was hot. It took everything in me not to look him over like he was a hot fudge sundae after a year of dieting. The last thing I expected when I went out to ask him to keep it down was him standing in the workshop without a shirt on, specks of sawdust clinging to his skin. I had never been much of a beard girl, but there was something about the contrast of the dark hair against his tanned skin that made me tingle all over. His deep blue-gray gaze had followed the curves of my body and then came back to look me in the eyes. At that point, I had tried to cover my chest, knowing that my nipples stood at attention. It was chilly out, but it was the look he had given me that caused the reaction.
I was infuriated when I walked out of my door, but when I laid eyes on him, I could see that he was honestly just working. Ryan had told me there was a workshop, but I guess I hadn't understood that it meant chainsaws and other equipment being used at all hours of the night. Maybe I was a little cranky because I was exhausted. After all, I was too tired to even realize that I had stomped out of the house practically in my underwear. What a sight I must have been shouting at him with my hair pulled up on top of my head, pieces flying everywhere, a tank top, and my tiny pajama shorts.
He had started working again before I even made it back to my door. That had made it even worse. He didn't even care that I needed to sleep. I laid in bed and listened to him working for another half an hour before I heard the machines turn off. I listened quietly, praying that they wouldn't start again. The squeak of his screen door opening and then closing let me know that he was done, and I rolled over and closed my eyes finally able to get some sleep.
***
“What in the hell?” I rolled over in bed at the sound of wood being chopped and looked at my phone; it was just after seven a.m. for heaven’s sake. I heard shouting and chopping and then more shouting. I walked over and pulled my curtain to the side and saw him again, with no shirt on again, pulling an ax over his back and swinging it down into the wood while Ryan stood by. He repeated this action over and over before turning toward me and starting over. I watched in horror as he cut through the large piece of wood.
“Great! I moved next door to a tree murderer. Not only does he kill trees to make furniture, he also cuts them up for sport.” I said aloud. I watched for a few more minutes as he moved from that piece to another, and then he and Ryan worked together to pull a large saw through a piece. I finally walked away in disgust and headed to the shower. I turned the water on, got in, and stood there, thinking that maybe I should have just taken the job my grandfather had offered in Portland. But the research was important to me and I wanted to do something on my own, so here I was. I was just going to have to deal with the new neighbor. I dressed quickly and walked down the stairs wishing I’d thought to buy some instant coffee at the grocery store the night before. The last thing I wanted to do was ask the wood slaughterer next door to borrow some coffee, so I began pulling at cabinets that I knew were likely bare. To my surprise, I came across a bag of coffee, a singular mug, and a coffee maker.
“Thank you, Ryan!” I said out loud. I busied myself making my coffee and thinking about taking a stroll in the woods. I grabbed the cup from the otherwise bare cabinet and poured the coffee into it. I looked in the fridge and there sat a container of half and half. “Ryan is a god!” I half-shouted.
“Thank you!” I heard through an open window of the front porch. I jumped and almost dropped the carton in my hands. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he said through the window. “By the way, the god also left some sugar in that container on the door of the fridge.”
I chuckled a little. “You’re the best!” I stated as I pulled the container out. “Seriously, I am in desperate need of a caffeine fix. I didn't sleep well.”
“New place?”
“No, my neighbor is very loud.”
“Who, Luke?” He threw his hand over his shoulder, thumb pointing toward the workshop. He was bent over looking in the window, so I walked over to the front door and unlocked it, motioning for him to just come inside.
“Yeah,” I responded as he followed me into the kitchen. “He worked until around one this morning. I didn't realize when you said there was a shop that it would be all hours of the night. And then you two early birds were out there working at seven this morning. I tried to work last night, but couldn’t concentrate with the noise. I think I wrote three sentences. I have to turn a report in on Tuesday, and I would like to have it done.” I was standing there holding my cup of coffee while Ryan stared at me.
“I'm sorry?” he shrugged.
“I said something to him last night, but it didn’t seem to matter. He kept working for another thirty minutes or more. I guess I’ll need to have a conversation with him again.”
“He just isn't used to having anyone but me living next door. I’ll say something to him. It will take him a little time to adjust, that's all.”
“Let's hope so.” I turned setting the coffee cup on the counter. I didn't want to be mean, but I needed peace and quiet. I figured being this far out would allow that.
“He’s been my friend for as long as I can remember, and I guess it just never bothered me.”
“If you guys were such good friends, why did you move?”
“That's a long story.”
“I've got time.” I leaned back grabbing my coffee cup and waited.
“Well, my older brother was going to take over the family business, but he got married and moved to northern Cali. So, being the good son that I am, I told Dad I would come and help, and if I could do what my brother had been doing as well as he’d been doing it, I would take over for him.” He shrugged. “It's close to Oregon City, and driving nearly an hour back and forth just wasn't feasible anymore, so I bought a small house there, and I’ve been living there for the most part. I was staying weekends out here, but I was paying for two places, and, well, I didn't want to anymore. It was sheer luck that you saw the ad barely an hour after I put it up.” He winked at me, then smiled. “Ya know... if you believe in luck, that is.”
“What kind of business does your family have?” I asked as I walked toward the front porch. He followed me, and we sat down in the rockers I’d admired as I was coming in the day before. I looked out over the rolling grass fields to one side of the farmhouse as he started speaking again.
“It’s a lumber business. My great-grandfather started it in the late twenties, and then my grandfather took over, and now my father. I guess it was expected that either me or my brother would take it over, and since I'm still here...” He didn't finish the sentence, and I couldn’t help but wonder if everyone who lived in this town was hell bent on destroying trees.
Luke appeared around the corner carrying a large piece of glass.
“You need some help?” Ryan called out, standing.
“If you could grab a couple of those legs and bring them over here, that would be great,” Luke said without looking up. When he laid the glass down on a piece of foam that covered the bed of his truck, he wrapped the glass carefully and then headed once more toward the back of the house.
He glanced in my direction and waved. “Morning,” he said but kept walking. I lifted my cup to my lips and took a long sip of the now warm coffee. I watched as they loaded several more pieces into the truck. The most impressive had been a large rounded piece of wood that looked to be a section of tree trunk. Anger bubbled to the surface as I looked at the poor piece of tree that had been cut down to make the table. A tree that had to have been well into its seventies. I stood and walked back into the house to change into clothes more appropriate for a hike through the woods. I put on a pair of brown leggings, tucking them into my socks before slipping on my hiking boots. I then pulled a white, long-sleeved shirt over my t-shirt. Ticks could be bad in this area, so I wanted to be prepared. I walked out the back door and heard his truck start, the engine roaring to life. I shook my head and just walked into the woods where, more often than not, I found my freedom.
I followed the natural trail of runoff water. Stopping and taking notice of the many types of trees and vegetation every now and again, I walked about a mile and found a small meadow with a creek running alongside it. I laid down in the grass and enjoyed the silence. I must have dozed off in the quiet after not sleeping well the night before. When I woke, I checked the time and realized I should head back to the house and finish the paper I didn’t get to work on the night before.
I gathered my things and started back. Just as I entered back into the wooded area, I saw scratchings that appeared to have been made by a bear or a large cat, maybe a mountain lion. I made a mental note that I shouldn’t forget to carry my bear spray or the handgun Granddad bought me when I left for college.