A Forever Love(25)

“Well, you’re burning daylight, better get yourself started.”

Justin paused for an instant. When was the last time he’d taken orders from anyone? Most likely before his father died. Only Max Travati had been able to order his boys around without any blowback. Not a stitch. They did what the old man ordered without question. This guy in the worn work shirt and jeans and boots looked to be cut from a similar cloth as Justin’s father. He eyed Justin until Justin started to move, and then the old guy wandered toward a tree. He pressed his hand to the trunk, looked up, and then pressed his ear against the bark.

What in the hell? Justin pulled his eyes away and continued to load the cart.

“You from around here?” Justin called.

“You got breath to talk then you’re not working hard enough,” the old man yelled back.

Good enough for Justin. He straightened his spine, then dumped an armload of fresh-cut logs into the back of the wagon. He didn’t need to make small talk with this fellow; all he needed was to complete his part of the bargain so that he could get back to Rockwater, take a long shower, and get some work done. He lifted the final five logs and carried them over to the cart. Heaped with wood, that wheelbarrow would be heavy.

“Now we head back.” The old man started walking uphill.

Justin looked around. What the hell? Who was pulling this cart?

The old man stopped and turned. “Grab the damn handles and let’s go. You got some desire to be out here after dark? You’re not one of them alien watchers come out here to try to spot a spaceship, are you?”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “No, sir, I’m not.”

“Good, because them people about as wackadoo as they get.” The man turned away. “Almost as bad as all them New Yorkers want to live on top of each other.”

Justin ignored the comment. He lifted the handles of the wheelbarrow. Lucky for him, the one thing he wasn’t was out of shape. He might not do manual labor, but damn if he didn’t work out six days a week. Today he was thankful for every kettlebell he’d ever lifted. He strained to push the wheelbarrow forward. Sweat dripped over his temples. He heaved and pushed and heaved one more time and finally the wheel turned. Slowly at first, he kept pushing forward with every muscle he had. He glanced up at the old man ahead of him. He sure hoped the guy didn’t need to go far.

Rockwater Farms and The Red Barn were embarrassingly close. So close that if he’d walked for another five minutes up a hill and around a bend he would have ended up in front of the big white farmhouse. Damn. What an idiot, but he didn’t let on. He kept himself leaned forward as he pushed at the wheelbarrow and followed the old man past the restaurant, up the hill, past the farmhouse, and around the corner to a shed that wasn’t really a shed but more like another barn. The man threw open the door and waved Justin and his wheelbarrow into the wide-open space.

“You can unload the wood there.” He pointed to a spot at the end of a long workbench. On the other side were carvings from wood of varying sizes. Some were giant bears and horses, and even an eagle, while others were miniatures with intricate designs that he couldn’t make out from across the room.

The old man lifted one piece of wood from the cart and set it on his workbench and then sat on the stool beside the bench. Hands on either side of the giant hunk of wood, he sat there and stared. Justin kept unloading wood. What the hell was this guy doing? Obviously he was a craftsman and he worked at Rockwater Farms.

Then it clicked in Justin’s mind. “You’re Roy Hayes.”

The man turned to him with angry eyes as though he’d forgotten there was anyone in the room aside from himself and that piece of wood he was staring at.

“You about done?”

Justin nodded. This was Aubrey’s father and Max’s grandfather. He set the final piece of wood on the ground beside the now very large pile. He turned toward Roy, who still sat at his workbench but instead of staring at the piece of wood was running his hands over the bark and looking at the ends.

This man had been the primary example for Max of what a man was supposed to be. He glanced from Roy to his work. Could have been worse. The man had talent, dedication, and he obviously knew what the hell he was doing. What else did this man know?

“I’m Justin Travati.”

“I know exactly who you are,” Roy said. He lifted the piece of wood and pulled a piece of bark from its side. “Why the hell you think I made you carry my wood?”

The muscle in Justin’s jaw tensed.

“Lucky I didn’t leave you to rot in the timber.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t fight with old men.”