Page 105 of Grumpy Lumberjack’s Secret

“You trust that?”

“I trust their self-interest. It is the most reliable thing about people like that.”

I nodded. She was right. She usually was about the things that involved reading people, because Chloe Matthews had spent years surviving on the accuracy of her instincts and those instincts had been sharpened to a razor by necessity.

“We should still file a restraining order,” I said. “Against the whole family. Belt and suspenders.”

“Agreed. I will call the lawyer tomorrow.”

We drove in silence for a while. The mountains rose on either side of the road, steady and enormous and unchanged by anything that happened in the courtrooms below them. The afternoon light was gold and warm and the air coming through the cracked window was clean and cold and smelled like pine.

I pulled into the parking lot of the big store on the edge of town. Chloe looked at me.

“What are we doing here?”

“Buying Emma something.”

“What?”

“Something big.”

We walked through the store. Chloe followed me without asking where we were going, which was unusual for her because Chloe always asked where we were going. She had learned early in our relationship that my definition of a quick errand and her definition of a quick errand were very different things. But today she was quiet. Content. Walking beside me through the fluorescent aisles with her hand in mine and the relief of the verdict still settling into her body like warmth returning to cold limbs.

I led us to the toy section because I knew exactly what I was looking for. I had seen it two weeks ago when I came in for batteries, sitting on the top shelf in the back corner, and I had noted its location the way I noted the location of everything that mattered.

A stuffed bear. Human-sized. Bigger than Emma by a foot. Brown and soft and ridiculous and taking up an entire shelf by itself. The kind of absurd, oversized, impractical gift that no reasonable adult would buy for a six-year-old, which was exactly why I was buying it.

“Sawyer,” Chloe said, staring at the bear. “That thing is enormous.”

“Yes.”

“It will not fit in her room.”

“It will fit.”

“It will take up her entire bed.”

“She can sleep on Sir Chomps-a-Lot.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I am buying the bear, Chloe.”

She looked at me. Looked at the bear. And then she started laughing, the kind of laugh that came from deep in her belly and shook her whole body, and she leaned against me and laughed until she had tears in her eyes for the third time that day, and these were the best kind.

I carried the bear to the truck. It barely fit in the back seat, its head pressing against the roof and its legs crammed against the front seats, and it looked like a very large, very patient passenger who was tolerating the cramped conditions with good humor.

We drove to Dollie and Josh’s house. I carried the bear up the walkway, which required turning sideways to fit through the gate, and Chloe rang the bell while trying not to laugh at the sight of me wrestling a stuffed animal through a picket fence.

The door opened. Emma appeared in the doorway on her crutches, her cast decorated with dinosaur stickers that Dollie had helped her apply, and the moment she saw the bear her entire face transformed.

“PAPA!” She dropped the crutches and hopped on one foot and I caught her before she fell, scooping her up with one arm while holding the bear with the other, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and then reached for the bear and tried to hug both of us at the same time.

“Is he mine? He is so big! He is bigger than me! What is his name? Can he sleep in my bed? Does Sir Chomps-a-Lot know about him?”

“He is yours. His name is whatever you want. And Sir Chomps-a-Lot will adjust.”

She named him Captain Fluffington on the spot, a name she declared with the same certainty she applied to all her important decisions, and Captain Fluffington was immediately introduced to Sir Chomps-a-Lot, who apparently approved of the new arrival based on the elaborate introduction ceremony Emma conducted in the living room.