And then came the harder lesson—leadership. In theory, he was in charge now. In practice, he was still the boy they remembered, the apprentice who used to carry nails in a bucket and run for water.
The crew didn’t challenge him outright, but the tension was there—just under the surface. Their snide laughter when his back was turned, hesitation when he gave direction. Older men, seasoned by years under Isaac’s command, who saw in Nic not a foreman but a child playing at command.
He tried to find a balance. When he acted like one of them—joking, easygoing—they took advantage, coming in late and leaving early. When he was firm, they ignored instructions and did things their own way. And when he banned smoking on the site, one man scoffed, spat on the dirt, and walked off the job.
Pretty soon, he began to doubt his ability to manage a crew.
He didn’t tell his father—not yet. Isaac had given him a chance, and Nic was determined not to squander it. But each evening, when the forest went quiet and the site emptied out, the doubt returned, thick and heavy, a stone in his stomach.
Had he stepped into something he couldn’t hold together?
Nic sat on the tree stump and wiped the sweat from his face. The setting sun cast harsh rays through the skeleton of the lofty house. He had maybe an hour of daylight left to work. Although each day was slowly growing longer, it still didn’t seem like enough time to get everything done.
In the stillness, a low melancholy settled over him like a damp wool blanket. He’d been dragging for days, but hadn’t stopped long enough to feel it.
Was he really ready for this? Maybe his father’s faith had been misplaced.
There was more to building than just hammering nails into wood. He’d never struggled workingwithpeople—but leading them? That was different. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for it.
He lay back and folded his arms behind his head, the rough bark biting gently into his shoulders. Overhead, the branches tangled like questions with no clear answers. The sky beyond them was pale and restless, streaked with clouds that looked as uncertain as he felt.
He stared upward, letting the silence press in, and considered the choices before him.
He could go to his father—admit that the job was too much, that he wasn’t ready. Isaac would take the project back without judgment, he was sure of that. But the thought of Dragonfly returning to find her house half-finished, awkward and uneven, filled him with shame. It would feel like letting her down. Like proving everyone right.
He could press on alone. No crew. No friction. Just his own two hands and every ounce of energy he had. It would take longer—weeks longer—and he’d have to work dawn to dusk, no rest, no margin for error. But it might get done. Barely. Maybe.
Or he could keep the crew. Grit his teeth. Swallow their mutters and sidelong looks. Pretend the disrespect didn’t wear him raw. At least the house would be finished on schedule.
On paper, it was the smartest choice. But it meant enduring the quiet humiliation of being undermined in his own project. Day after day.
Each option tasted bitter. Each one asked him to give something up—his pride, his body, or his control.
He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes against the canopy.
Was this what it meant to be a man? Choosing the path that cost him the least instead of the one that made him feel most like himself?
He didn’t know. But the silence didn’t offer any answers. Only the rustle of wind through branches, and the weight of the decision still pressing on his chest.
A sound halted his thoughts like a ship running aground, the distant rustle of footsteps along the forest path, but it was too light for any of the crew. A moment later came the muffled thuds of paws against earth.
Helen appeared like a vision between the trees, her lavender dress swaying, a heavy basket cradled in her arms, and Dolly bounding ahead with wild enthusiasm.
Nic stood, brushing sawdust off his palms. “Well, if it isn’t the goddess of the woods herself.”
Dolly got to him first, planting her drooling greeting on his knees. He scratched behind her ears absently, his eyes on Helen.
“You’re early,” he said, stepping toward her, his shoulders already dropping just seeing her smile.
“I got out of practice sooner than expected,” she said with a grin. “Thought I’d bring a few things. Something for us to snack on.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but the basket got in the way. “This can’t all be food,” he said, taking it from her with effort. “Feels like you packed your entire pantry.”
“Some food,” she said, her eyes glinting mischievously. “And some other things.”
She glanced around the clearing. Dolly was already sniffing through scattered tools. “Where is everyone?”
“I sent them home,” Nic muttered, setting the basket down on the stump.
