Keep it at about 30 degrees, — Arthur explained, turning the axe. — Any steeper and it’ll be brittle. Any shallower and it won’t cut.
Drew nodded, watching closely. Arthur sharpened with a confident, professional touch, as if he’d been doing it his whole life. It was strange to see a CEO in his father’s old work jacket, holding an axe.
— Drew, you’ve got a real knack for this, — Arthur said, setting the axe aside. — You’re handy. You know how to work.
— My dad taught me, — Drew shrugged. — What little I remember.
— How old was he? — Arthur asked, wiping his hands on his jacket.
— Twenty-nine. He was young. — Drew looked at the chopping block.
Arthur was silent for a moment, then laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
— That’s a shame, — he said quietly. — He must have been a good man to raise a son like you.
Drew turned away, swallowing a lump in his throat. A week had passed in a blur. Arthur helped around the house: splitting wood, fixing the chicken coop fence, carrying water. Cassie followed him like a shadow, asking a million questions. Arthur answered them all patiently, joking and telling stories. In the evenings, they played chess. Arthur set up the pieces on the old board, teaching Drew the moves.
— See, chess is like business, — he’d say, moving a rook. — You have to think three moves ahead. What will your opponent do? How will you respond? What’s his next move after that?
— And you didn’t think ahead? — Drew asked, looking at the board. — With Mike?
Arthur sighed, leaning back against the bench.
— I did, — he nodded, — but I was looking at the wrong things. I believed friendship was stronger than greed. I was wrong.
— How do you know who to trust? — Drew looked up.
Arthur looked him in the eye, long and serious.
— Time will tell, — he said finally. — And actions. Words are cheap, but actions are expensive. Remember that, Drew.
Drew nodded, taking it all in. The second week started with a conversation in the kitchen. Arthur was slicing bread for breakfast while Drew boiled the kettle.
— The state university has a great program, it’s true, — Arthur said, buttering the bread. — But there’s also a specialized flight school in the next county. Closer, more focused.
— I’ve looked at it, — Drew nodded. — But it’s hard to get into.
— You’re capable. — Arthur looked at him. — You’ll study, you’ll get in. If you want, I can find you a tutor for the entrance exams. Someone good.
Drew froze, unable to believe it.
— You really would? — he asked softly.
— I promised I’d help. — Arthur smiled. — I don’t make promises I don’t keep.
Elena listened to their conversations from the stove. She was happy to see her son so engaged. Drew had found a mentor. Someone who believed in him. In the evenings, after the kids were in bed, Elena and Arthur sat at the table. They drank tea and talked quietly.
— Arthur, you’re doing so much for Drew, — Elena began, turning her mug in her hands.
— Elena, your son saved my life, — Arthur shook his head. — This is the least I can do.
— But you’re still in danger. — Elena leaned in. — And you’re thinking about us?
Arthur looked out the window at the swirling snow.
— You remind me of a family, — he said quietly. — The kind I never had. Thank you.
Elena reached out and squeezed his hand. Silently. Understandingly.
The third week brought a change. Arthur checked the flip phone more often, frowning at the screen. He made calls, stepping away to the window, whispering. Drew caught fragments: “Yeah, I get it, soon.” One morning, Drew couldn’t hold back.
— Are you leaving? — he asked when Arthur put the phone down.
Arthur looked at him and nodded.
— I have to, Drew, — he said, sitting across from him. — I can’t hide here forever. Mike will find me eventually.
— What are you going to do? — Drew squeezed his mug.
— I’m going to take what’s mine and get out. Far away. — Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. — Maybe another state, maybe another country.
— And you’ll forget about us… — Drew looked down.
— Never! — Arthur grabbed his hand. — I promise, I’ll visit. I’ll help. You believe me, don’t you?
Drew looked up.
— I do, — he nodded.
The day he left was a Saturday. Arthur packed his things; there wasn’t much. Elena gave him his father’s old sweater and a warm jacket.
— So you don’t stand out in that suit, — she explained, packing the bag.
Cassie was crying, her face buried in Arthur’s stomach.
— Arthur, don’t go! — she sobbed.
Arthur knelt down and hugged her.
— Honey, I’ll be back, — he said, kissing her forehead. — I promise.
— You promise? — Cassie looked up with teary eyes.
— I promise. — Arthur wiped her tears away.
He stood up and walked over to Elena. He gave her an awkward, brotherly hug.
— Elena, you’re an amazing woman, — he said quietly. — Thank you for everything.
— Take care of yourself, Arthur. — Elena stepped back, wiping her eyes.
Drew stood by the door, watching. Arthur nodded to him: come on, walk me out. They went onto the porch. Arthur closed the door behind them and turned to Drew.
— Drew, I need your help, — he said, looking him in the eye. — One last thing.
— What is it? — Drew frowned.
— Come with me to the city. To my house. — Arthur put his hands in his pockets. — I need to get some cash. But I’m afraid to go alone, they might be waiting.
— How can I help? — Drew asked.
— You’ll check if the coast is clear. — Arthur stepped closer. — They don’t know you, they won’t suspect anything. I’ll wait in the car. You get the money, come back out, and we’re gone.
Drew hesitated, biting his lip.
— I don’t know… — he started.
— Drew, I know it’s scary, — Arthur put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. — But I can’t get anywhere without that money. And I can’t do it alone. You’re the only one I can trust. After this, I’ll take care of your family. I’ll give you enough so your mom can quit that job, Cassie can have whatever she needs, and your tuition is set. It’ll all be over.
Drew was silent. His mind was racing. His mom really was exhausted, working herself to death. Cassie’s boots were worn out, her toes were freezing. And here was a chance to fix it. Arthur had promised so much, and he was a good man. He’d lived with them for three weeks, helped them, cared for them. He wouldn’t lie.
— Okay, — Drew exhaled, — I’ll go.
Arthur hugged him, a tight, fatherly embrace.
— Thank you, son, — he whispered. — You won’t regret it. I promise.
A taxi was waiting at the road, an old white sedan. The driver was smoking, leaning against the hood. Arthur and Drew got in the back. The car pulled away, rattling down the gravel road. Drew looked out the window. The valley was fading behind them: the houses, the fences, the smoke from the chimneys. Then came the deep, dark woods. The snow was piled high on the branches. Arthur was silent, staring ahead. His face was tense, thoughtful. His fingers drummed on his knee. Drew felt his heart beating faster than usual. He was nervous. But Arthur was right there. Arthur would look out for him. Everything would be fine. It had to be.
The drive felt endless: gray, snowy, and monotonous. The taxi bounced over potholes, and the driver stayed silent, listening to the radio. Arthur sat staring out the window, his fingers drumming on his knee. Drew watched the forest blur past. Two hours on the road. Eighty miles to the city.
— Mr. Sterling, where are you going to live after this?
Comments are closed.