The splinter beneath June’s thumbnail throbbed, a small, insistent pain that mirrored the larger ache in her chest. She squinted at the warped jamb of the main lodge door, a gaping maw where the hinge had pulled clean from the dry-rotted wood. It was an impossible fix for her novice hands, a job requiring more than just elbow grease and a can-do attitude; it needed expertise, a carpenter’s touch. It needed Noah’s touch. Since her unsettling encounter in town, where Noah’s tenderness with Eliza had vanished the moment he’d seen June, a new, fierce resolve had taken root within her. The lingering questions, once dormant and buried under layers of time, now clawed at her, demanding answers. She couldn't let it lie. The financial woes of Camp Blue Heron, the upcoming arrival of a handful of new campers – all of it seemed secondary to this gnawing need to understand the man who had ghosted from her life a decade ago, only to reappear as a ghost of his former self. She wiped her hands on her worn jeans, the scent of pine and sawdust clinging to her. This wasn’t just about a broken door; it was about breaking down walls. Noah was the town carpenter. Camp Blue Heron needed a carpenter. It was a legitimate reason, a logical bridge she could build, however rickety, across the chasm of their past. The drive to the edge of town, where Noah’s workshop stood a little apart from the other businesses, felt longer than it was. Each turn of the wheel ratcheted up the tension in her stomach. His workshop was an unassuming structure of weathered gray wood, its windows grimy with dust and the faint glow of interior lights, even in the midday sun. A well-used pickup truck, its bed filled with lumber scraps, was parked outside. June took a steadying breath, the scent of woodsmoke and fresh-cut timber already reaching her. She pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling above her head. The interior was a symphony of organized chaos: saws hung on pegboards, their teeth gleaming; stacks of wood, rough and smooth, towered towards the high ceiling; and the rich, earthy smell of cedar and oak permeated everything. Noah was at a workbench, his back to her, meticulously sanding a piece of dark wood. His movements were fluid, precise, even with the slight unevenness she’d noticed in his gait. The familiar breadth of his shoulders, the dark hair falling across his neck – it was all profoundly, achingly familiar, yet utterly foreign. “Noah?” Her voice, a little breathy, startled him. He flinched, his hand pausing mid-stroke, and slowly, deliberately, turned. His eyes, the color of a storm-swept lake, met hers. There was a flicker there – surprise, annoyance, something unreadable – before his usual carefully constructed mask settled into place. The faint lines around his eyes seemed deeper today, etched by something more than sun and time. “June.” His voice was flat, devoid of warmth. “What can I do for you?” She swallowed, the pre-rehearsed lines feeling clumsy on her tongue. “The main lodge door at Blue Heron. The hinge pulled out, rotted wood. It’s beyond my rudimentary carpentry skills.” She gestured vaguely. “I need a professional. The camp’s opening soon, and I can’t have a gaping hole where a door should be.” He didn’t immediately respond, his gaze drifting over her, assessing, wary. “Camp Blue Heron, huh?” A ghost of a sardonic twist touched his lips, gone before she could confirm it. “Yes. Camp Blue Heron.” She held his gaze, a silent challenge in her own. “I’m trying to bring it back.” A small figure emerged from behind a stack of lumber, a blur of bright pink amidst the muted browns of the wood. Eliza. She was clutching a worn teddy bear, her eyes wide with curiosity as she stared at June. She was even more captivating up close, her features a softer, gentler version of Noah’s. “Daddy, who’s this?” Eliza’s voice was a sweet, clear chime, cutting through the tension. Noah’s shoulders tightened. He glanced at Eliza, a quick, possessive look, then back at June, his expression hardening further. “This is Ms. Ellis, Eliza. She needs some work done for the camp.” Eliza, undeterred by her father’s terse tone, took a hesitant step forward. “Are you staying for a long time?” she asked June, her eyes big and earnest. June’s heart gave a strange lurch. Eliza reminded her so much of a young version of herself, full of uninhibited curiosity. She crouched down, meeting Eliza’s gaze. “I am, sweetie. I own Camp Blue Heron now. Maybe you’ll come visit sometime?” Her voice was softer than she intended, a genuine warmth seeping through. Eliza’s face lit up. “Really? Camp?” She looked at Noah, her small hand reaching out for his trouser leg. “Can we, Daddy?” Noah’s jaw was tight. He placed his hand on Eliza’s shoulder, a clear signal. “Eliza, go play in the back room for a bit. Daddy needs to talk business with Ms. Ellis.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, yet still laced with that protective tenderness she’d observed before. Eliza’s shoulders slumped slightly, but she obeyed, casting one last longing look at June before disappearing behind the towering stacks of wood. The silence that followed her departure was heavier, thick with unspoken words. “So,” Noah said, turning his full attention back to June, his eyes unreadable once more. “The door. What exactly is the issue?” He picked up a notepad and a pencil, his stance professional, distant. The wall was firmly back in place. June described the damage, forcing herself to focus on the technical details, trying to ignore the way her skin still tingled from Eliza’s innocent gaze. She watched Noah, trying to discern something, anything, beyond the impenetrable facade. He listened, making a few notes, his gaze distant. His limp was more pronounced as he shifted his weight, a subtle but constant reminder of the unseen burdens he carried. “Alright,” he finally said, snapping the notepad shut. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning, take a look. Give you an estimate.” His voice conveyed nothing but business. “Thank you, Noah.” June found herself reaching for something more, a plea in her eyes. “It means a lot.” He didn’t meet her gaze directly. “It’s what I do, Ms. Ellis.” She stood there for another moment, feeling the chill of his dismissal, the vast, guarded chasm between them. Eliza’s momentary warmth had been a brief, tantalizing glimpse into a softer side of him, instantly extinguished by his presence. June knew she hadn’t broken through the wall, not really. But she had made contact. She had put herself in his path. And tomorrow, he would be at Camp Blue Heron. That, at least, was a start. June nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the battle lines drawn. She turned and walked out, the tinkle of the bell announcing her departure. The fresh air outside felt like a release, yet the knot of questions in her stomach remained, tighter than ever. The image of Eliza’s hopeful eyes, and Noah’s immediate, almost panicked, protectiveness, replayed in her mind. He was hiding something, something more profound than mere avoidance. And June, now more than ever, was determined to uncover it, piece by painful piece. She just didn’t know if she was strong enough for what she might find.

Chapter 14: A Carpenter's Silence