The satisfying thud of his axe slicing into the stump made Connor smile. The log that sat on top fell apart, split cleanly in half. He swiped it aside with the butt of his axe and replaced it with another, preparing his swing. Another satisfying thud, and another, and another, until all of his worries washed away in the enjoyment of honest work.
A small pile had formed around the stump, so Connor leaned his axe against a nearby sapling and began to sort through it, carefully checking each log and separating the wood into two piles.
"Connor!"
A woman's voice called from the back doorway, making the hard-working man smile. He turned to see his wife hanging out of the doorway, her light-blond hair swishing with her movements and her blue eyes trained on him lovingly. "She's here!"
He waved her over. "Bring her out here!"
She disappeared for a moment as he stood up, but soon walked through the doorway with an older woman with curly hair. The two women chattered as they approached Connor, and he stared in wonder at how comfortable his wife always made people.
"Hi!" He wiped his hand on his leg and stepped forward to shake her hand, and she took it with a smile, "I can't wait to show it to you."
"Thank you," the woman said in a soft voice, "I'm excited."
Connor motioned for the pair to follow as he led them to his workshop, a small wooden shed at the edge of the forest. "Now, it didn't turn out quite the way you wanted it," he admitted sheepishly, "but I'm sure you'll be impressed."
"I'm sure I will. My husband says you do amazing work for someone so young."
Connor flashed her a smile and opened the door, motioning the ladies to enter first. His wife put a hand on his shoulder as she walked past him, relaying comfort and pride and encouragement with merely a touch. He could hardly believe he was lucky enough to have her by his side.
The shed was small but well-made, like the couple's log cabin house. Saws and axes, knives, chisels, and many other tools hung from hooks on the wall or sat on a sturdy worktable. A cloth was draped over a surface in the middle of the room.
Closing the door, Connor strode confidently up to the covered surface as pulled it aside to reveal a square mahogany table, its four curving legs faintly engraved with flowers and vines. The curly-haired woman gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
"I know you didn't want an edge underneath," he explained, pointing to a perpendicular piece of wood around the underside, "but I found it hard to support the legs without one. Then I remembered that your garden has these stunning clematises growing on trellises, and I thought it would be nice to incorporate that into the design."
The woman still held her hand over her mouth in shock. "Thank you, it's better than I pictured it. It's perfect."
Connor smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck as his wife hugged his arm and looked up at him with pride. "I'm just glad it's alright."
"It's better than alright. You have a great talent, young man!"
Connor's face flushed at the compliment, and he cleared his throat to cover it. "Thanks. I've just got some finishing touches to do on it, then I can deliver it first thing tomorrow morning?"
The lady agreed graciously and Connor's wife escorted her away, the two ladies chatting away again like old friends. She leaned over her shoulder as she left the room and winked at her husband, who winked back with a smile. He watched her leave, her long blond hair trailing behind her, and his heart swelled with pride.
He waited a moment before returning outdoors to his wood piles, kneeling down and sorting through them again. After a while, his wife came out and stood beside him, arms crossed.
"I asked you to cut firewood," she reminded him with a coy smile.
Connor pointed at the smaller of the two piles as he examined a half-log thoroughly. "Firewood."
With a grin, she knelt down beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So what's the other pile?" she asked, kissing his cheek.
"My wood," he answered, turning into her kiss.
After a long and passionate kiss, his wife pulled away, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, you know," she said, holding his face in her hands.
Connor's smile disappeared. "Irene, stop it. You know how bad I am with compliments."
"But it's true," she cooed, stroking his light brown hair. "It's impressive how much you've learnt in such a short time."
"It's fun," Connor shrugged, "and your dad was a great teacher."
Irene beamed. "He really was, but you had natural talent."
"I'm just happy Mrs. Cranston was impressed."
"She was more than impressed," she replied quietly as if trying to hide a secret. "I'm not supposed to tell you yet, but she's going to give you more than you asked for for the table."
Connor's smile returned brighter than ever. "Really?" he asked incredulously.
Irene kissed his forehead. "Act surprised, okay?"
She kissed his lips one more time and disengaged, standing up. "Don't forget to bring in the firewood before it gets dark, please."
"I will. I love you."
"I love you too."
With that, she walked back into the house, leaving Connor alone.
Connor went back to sorting through the wood, finding the best usable pieces and putting them aside. The menial task allowed his mind to wander. He hated when it did that. He remembered the first time he watched his father cut wood. He was a bulky man, and strong as an ox, but try as he might Connor couldn't remember his face. What he did remember, however, is how he thought back then that his father was indestructible, a pillar of strength and health and an immortal god. He thought his father would be around forever. At least, until that night.
Taking a break from the wood, he stood up and paced around, stretching his legs. He forced himself to stop thinking about the past and all the trauma he had endured back then. His life was great right now; he had a fantastic career lined up, a loving wife, and a happy home.
Why, then, could he not shake off the sinking feeling that everything was about to change?
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