Page 4 of Lumberjack Daddy and Wild Child Little

CHAPTER FOUR

Jason

I take a breath, then swing the axe. It impacts the trunk and sends a three-inch-thick wedge of wood flying out of the already deepening notch. I test the trunk and it still holds strong, so I steady myself and swing the axe again.

“Why do you punish yourself like this?” Hank asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask before taking another swing.

“You know they have power saws that can slice through that trunk a lot faster than you can.”

I shrug. “I like doing things with my hands.” I swing the axe again and this time the tree starts to lean forward.

I test the weight and decide another swing or two ought to do it. I swing once more, and it begins to tip forward.

I drop the axe, cup my hands to my mouth and shout, “Timber!” then use the axe to push the tree forward until it falls on its own.

It lands with a crash, and I nod in satisfaction and gesture for Hank to help me with the saw. We’ll strip the tree of branches and then use our tractor to drag it to the loading zone.

As we begin the process, he says, “Look, you can swing the axe as much as you want. I know you’ll have no trouble meeting your quota. I’m just not sure how I feel about you punishing yourself like this.”

“How is this a punishment?” I ask. “I just said I like doing things with my hands.”

“I think you like struggling,” he says.

“So, because I like when my body is tired after a long day of work, you think I’m doing this to punish myself?”

I look up at him and his facial expression tells me he’s not talking about lumber. “Speak your mind,” I say, a little irritated. “What’s this really about?”

He lifts his hands. “I’m not trying to step on your toes,” he says. “But I’ve known you for a long time. You always do things the hard way, even when you know it’s not the best way.”

“Once more,” I say. “Speak your mind.”

“Okay,” he says. “I think you’re treating Hannah like a project and not a person and I’m concerned you’re going to burn yourself—and her—out.”

I don’t answer right away. I can understand why he sees things that way. Hannah and I have been together four months now and in one sense, things can’t be going any better. She is bright and funny and beautiful and the more we talk, the more I see how intelligent and sharp her mind is. She still works at the gift shop but with her mind, she has the potential to go so much farther. I encourage her to sign up for school and she agrees reluctantly but as she explores the different career options available, she slowly grows more and more excited. She hasn’t picked a path yet, but I know that when she does, she will succeed brilliantly at it.

I tell Hank as much and he says, “What does she want to do?”

“I told you. She doesn’t know yet.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I let go of the axe and stare frankly at him. “Hank, for Christ’s sake, can you just make your point?”

“Okay,” he says. “You probably know that you enjoy the solace and quiet of nature. What you probably don’t know or won’t admit to yourself is that you’re never satisfied—with yourself, your work, or anyone else. You make your work harder than it needs to be because you need to feel like you’ve overcome a struggle every day.”

“What does this have to do with Hannah?”

He lets go of his side of the axe and says, “When you first met her, you talked nonstop about how excited you were to be a Daddy again. You went on and on about how you were going to help her find her passion and push her to be as successful as her potential would allow. You were glowing when you talked about the plans you were making and the rules and guidelines you were going to create for her and how she was going to do great things, and—”

“Okay, got that part,” I interrupt. “So, what’s your point?”

“My point is you sound more like a father who’s pushing his daughter to do something momentous with her life than a Daddy who genuinely wants to help his little girl—no pun intended.”

“You’re saying this is all about me?” I ask.

“I think it’s more about you than you’re willing to admit,” he replies, “And about Jessica.”

I pick up the saw and begin cutting through the next limb without waiting for him.

“You can be pissy about this, or you can acknowledge that I have a point,” he says. “I’ll leave you with one thought and then I’ll shut up. Ever since Jessica left you, you’ve been obsessed with fixing things, even things that don’t need to be fixed. Not every little girl is broken and not everything is a struggle you need to overcome.”

“You don’t know Hannah,” I reply.

“I know she cares a lot for you,” he replies. “And I know she’s doing her best to make you proud. I just don’t want you to focus so much on fixing her that you forget to put her needs ahead of your own.”

I don’t reply and when the conversation turns to other things, my mind remains on what Hank says. I haven’t thought about Jessica in a long time, but now that he brings her up, I realize that what he says is true. I couldn’t fix her. I couldn’t save her. And for the longest time, I have avoided relationships because I never want to feel like a failure again.

I won’t fail with Hannah. I can’t.