golden hair framing her face beneath the borrowed sweater’s blue hood.
“Headwaters Forest,” Trisha chimed in. “It’s a beautiful trail.”
“And there used to be this old logging town here,” Chloe added, sounding pleased to be the first to share the fact. “What was the name again, Derr?”
“Falk.” He had done a project on it in a history class once upon a time. It always felt a little odd whenever they spotted remaining artifacts from the town—like the cement stoop of the caretaker’s place, or the old shed. Just bits and pieces of a place where people had once lived and thrived.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, the rain growing steady but not too harsh. He stopped at every sign along the way so Brielle could read about the plant life and the history of the place. When they got close to the old building that now served as an education center, Chloe ran ahead—probably too antsy with their slow pace. He shook his head as Trisha took off after her, their sisterly laughter clutching at something lonely lodged in his chest.
“You know...” Brielle began.
He turned around and walked backward, watching her as she huddled inside her sweater and stared at the wet leaves on the paved path. When she shrugged her shoulders and didn’t say anything else, he asked, “What do I know?”
She met his gaze and gave him a little grin. “Lots of stuff, I’m sure. Just maybe not the stuff you should know.”
He stopped and crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stopped, too, right in front of him. “I’ve barely met your family, but I can already tell that they adore you and wish you were around more often.” She rubbed her arms, her steady gaze faltering. “Maybe it’s okay not to be the best at everything.”
Before he could butt in with some inevitably rude retort—a sour note waiting at the edge of his tongue—she gestured toward the woods on her right. “Think about a town like Falk. The man who founded the town had to have been pretty brilliant and successful. And I’m sure there were some awesome loggers. But what about the people who cooked meals or ran the train or whatever? The town wouldn’t be complete without them.” Her voice floated off to a near-whisper as she asked, “And what about the ones who ran the store? What would the town have been like without them?”
He sighed, hating to burst her optimistic little bubble. “Brielle, it’s not like anyone couldn’t have done those jobs. They were completely replaceable.”
She appeared hurt by his observation, lines growing pronounced in her forehead. “Yeah, someone else could have done the job. But they didn’t. Everyone’s work was important. Each person and family played a part in this town’s story.” Her hands waved as she spoke. “Don’t you see? Success isn’t just the hand that chops down the tree used to build the home. It’s also the hand that feeds that man, or the smile that sustains him.”
Her words resonated within him, even if his mind told him she was being overly sentimental and silly. “If you’re trying to comfort me about my job, I appreciate it. But working at a dying music store is hardly building anything or feeding anyone. It’s just a worthless paycheck and nothing more.”
Without warning, her mouth turned down and she shoved past him. “It will always be that, then, if that’s how you always see it,” she called over her shoulder as she stomped ahead to catch up to his sisters.
He spun around to follow after her, but he couldn’t find an opening to continue the conversation and try to make things right before Brielle reached the education center, which was closed for the day.
“There’s a sign about the train up here,” Chloe said to Brielle. He watched as the two of them walked across the gravel to the large board with pictures and information. Trisha came from where she’d been leaning against the building and stood on Brielle’s other
“Headwaters Forest,” Trisha chimed in. “It’s a beautiful trail.”
“And there used to be this old logging town here,” Chloe added, sounding pleased to be the first to share the fact. “What was the name again, Derr?”
“Falk.” He had done a project on it in a history class once upon a time. It always felt a little odd whenever they spotted remaining artifacts from the town—like the cement stoop of the caretaker’s place, or the old shed. Just bits and pieces of a place where people had once lived and thrived.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, the rain growing steady but not too harsh. He stopped at every sign along the way so Brielle could read about the plant life and the history of the place. When they got close to the old building that now served as an education center, Chloe ran ahead—probably too antsy with their slow pace. He shook his head as Trisha took off after her, their sisterly laughter clutching at something lonely lodged in his chest.
“You know...” Brielle began.
He turned around and walked backward, watching her as she huddled inside her sweater and stared at the wet leaves on the paved path. When she shrugged her shoulders and didn’t say anything else, he asked, “What do I know?”
She met his gaze and gave him a little grin. “Lots of stuff, I’m sure. Just maybe not the stuff you should know.”
He stopped and crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stopped, too, right in front of him. “I’ve barely met your family, but I can already tell that they adore you and wish you were around more often.” She rubbed her arms, her steady gaze faltering. “Maybe it’s okay not to be the best at everything.”
Before he could butt in with some inevitably rude retort—a sour note waiting at the edge of his tongue—she gestured toward the woods on her right. “Think about a town like Falk. The man who founded the town had to have been pretty brilliant and successful. And I’m sure there were some awesome loggers. But what about the people who cooked meals or ran the train or whatever? The town wouldn’t be complete without them.” Her voice floated off to a near-whisper as she asked, “And what about the ones who ran the store? What would the town have been like without them?”
He sighed, hating to burst her optimistic little bubble. “Brielle, it’s not like anyone couldn’t have done those jobs. They were completely replaceable.”
She appeared hurt by his observation, lines growing pronounced in her forehead. “Yeah, someone else could have done the job. But they didn’t. Everyone’s work was important. Each person and family played a part in this town’s story.” Her hands waved as she spoke. “Don’t you see? Success isn’t just the hand that chops down the tree used to build the home. It’s also the hand that feeds that man, or the smile that sustains him.”
Her words resonated within him, even if his mind told him she was being overly sentimental and silly. “If you’re trying to comfort me about my job, I appreciate it. But working at a dying music store is hardly building anything or feeding anyone. It’s just a worthless paycheck and nothing more.”
Without warning, her mouth turned down and she shoved past him. “It will always be that, then, if that’s how you always see it,” she called over her shoulder as she stomped ahead to catch up to his sisters.
He spun around to follow after her, but he couldn’t find an opening to continue the conversation and try to make things right before Brielle reached the education center, which was closed for the day.
“There’s a sign about the train up here,” Chloe said to Brielle. He watched as the two of them walked across the gravel to the large board with pictures and information. Trisha came from where she’d been leaning against the building and stood on Brielle’s other
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