Chapter 1 — Echoes in the Wood

Jake

The morning light filtered through the high windows of Jake Miller’s carpentry shop, turning the sawdust floating in the air into flecks of gold. The steady rhythm of his hands pushing sandpaper back and forth over the smooth curve of a chair arm filled the space with a comforting sense of order. Here, everything made sense. In this workshop, time could be measured in the strokes of a plane, the setting of glue, the curing of varnish. It was a rhythm Jake trusted when so much else in his life felt uncertain.

Across the shop, Emma sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a colorful scattering of wood scraps and nails. Her curly brown hair bounced as she chattered softly to herself, holding up a small wooden block to inspect it before adding it to the precarious tower she was building. She’d insisted on being an architect today, and Jake had humored her with a handful of non-essential scraps from his supply pile. Now, the structure before her had taken on a wild, asymmetrical shape. It was, by all logical measures, a disaster waiting to happen—but Jake didn’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Careful there, kiddo,” he said, his voice low and steady. “That thing’s gonna need more than hope to stay standing.”

Emma glanced up at him, her toothy grin lighting up her face. “It’s not just hope, Daddy. It’s magic. And magic makes anything strong.”

Jake chuckled softly and set down the sandpaper, brushing his calloused hands against his flannel shirt. “Magic, huh?”

She nodded emphatically, her brown eyes wide with conviction. “Yeah! Like when you make chairs and tables and stuff. It’s not just wood—you put magic in them! Mom said so.”

His chest tightened at the mention of Sarah. It wasn’t rare for Emma to bring her up in these quiet moments, and though that familiar ache surfaced like it always did, he forced himself to meet it with steady calm. For Emma, he’d learned to hold it together. But still, a sharp memory flashed—Sarah laughing as she teased him about his “enchanted” hands, her voice light and teasing as she cradled baby Emma in her arms. The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving only the hollowness behind.

“Your mom was right about a lot of things,” he said, his voice softer now. “But even magic needs a good foundation. Otherwise…” He gestured lightly toward her wobbly tower.

Emma frowned in mock seriousness. “I’m gonna prove you wrong, just wait and see!” She snatched another block and added it to the top, the whole structure swaying dangerously. Jake grinned despite himself, his heart lifting just a little at her determination.

The sound of the shop door opening interrupted them, the familiar creak of the hinges signaling an arrival. Jake turned toward the entrance, his expression instinctively tightening. Few people stopped by unannounced this early in the day.

Liam Bennett stepped inside, filling the doorway with his broad frame and easy confidence. His blond hair was neatly combed, and his blue polo shirt looked freshly ironed, a stark contrast to Jake’s rumpled flannel and worn work boots. Jake caught the faintest scent of aftershave as Liam stepped farther into the room.

“Morning,” Liam said, his tone brisk but familiar. He gave a quick nod toward Emma, who waved back before returning to her tower.

“Didn’t expect to see you today,” Jake said, wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “Need something fixed?”

“No, not this time.” Liam’s gaze flicked toward Emma, and then back to Jake. He hesitated just long enough for Jake to notice. “Can we talk? Outside?”

Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, but he nodded, motioning toward the back door of the shop. They stepped out into the crisp morning air, the faint scent of salt and pine mingling with the earthy undertones of sawdust that clung to Jake’s clothes. The ocean was just out of sight, but the steady rhythm of the waves could be heard faintly in the distance.

Liam leaned against the weathered railing of the small porch, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, here’s the thing. Sophie’s coming back.”

Jake’s mind immediately went to Sophie Bennett, Liam’s little sister—and the last person he’d expected to hear about this morning. It had been well over a decade since she’d left Pine Cove for the city, chasing dreams that had seemed too big for the confines of their small town. Bright and impulsive, Sophie had always been a whirlwind of ideas, her enthusiasm as boundless as it was unpredictable. He’d barely thought of her in years, but now her name stirred something—curiosity, maybe, or just the faintest trace of unease.

“Back to Pine Cove?” Jake asked, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

Liam nodded, his expression tightening. “Just finalized her divorce. She needs a place to stay, and… well, I thought of you.”

The words landed like a misplaced nail, striking something raw. Jake frowned, his fingers tightening on the porch railing. “You’re asking me to—what? Put her up in my guesthouse?”

“Yeah.” Liam’s voice carried its usual bluntness, but there was a flicker of something else underneath—concern, maybe even guilt. “It’s just for a while. Until she gets back on her feet.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the gray streaks at his temples. The guesthouse was a modest space, tucked behind his own home, unused for years aside from the occasional visiting relative. It still wasn’t much more than a dusty, half-forgotten corner of his property. He’d thought about fixing it up more than once, but the idea of someone living there—someone disrupting the routines he’d built for Emma—made his stomach twist.

“She doesn’t have anywhere else to go?” Jake asked, eyeing Liam carefully.

Liam shifted, his gaze dropping to the weathered boards of the porch. “She could stay with me, but… it wouldn’t work. Too much history, too much tension.” He looked back up at Jake, his tone softening. “She needs this, Jake. And honestly, I think it’d be good for her to be around someone like you. Someone steady.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. Steady. He knew what Liam meant—someone who wouldn’t judge her, who’d give her the space to figure things out. But steady also meant safe, and safe meant change. Change that might ripple through the carefully balanced life he’d built for Emma.

A memory flickered—Liam standing at his side the day of Sarah’s funeral, holding a crying Emma as Jake stared blankly at the freshly turned earth. Liam had always been there, always done what he could for Jake when life fell apart. This wasn’t just about Sophie. It was about repaying a debt he’d never put into words.

“I’ll think about it,” Jake said finally, his voice measured.

Liam’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gave a small nod. “That’s all I’m asking. Just think about it.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the quiet punctuated by the distant cry of gulls and the faint sound of Emma’s laughter from inside the shop. Jake glanced toward the guesthouse, its peeling paint and overgrown wildflowers standing out against the neat lines of his backyard. He rubbed the back of his neck, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.

“I should get back,” Jake said, breaking the quiet.

Liam clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed. “You’re a good man, Jake. Sophie’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her.”

Jake didn’t respond, his thoughts already tangled with the implications of what Liam had just asked. He stepped back into the shop, the familiar smells and sounds wrapping around him like a well-worn coat. Emma looked up from her tower as he entered, her big brown eyes filled with curiosity.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Just Uncle Liam.” Jake forced a small smile. “Talking about grown-up things.”

Emma tilted her head, considering this. “Are you okay?”

Jake crouched down beside her, brushing a stray curl from her face. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just… thinking.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned her attention back to her tower, now leaning precariously to one side.

As Jake straightened, his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer. Then he looked toward the high windows, where the light had shifted, casting long shadows across the room. His thoughts drifted back to Sophie and to the tiny guesthouse slowly falling apart in his backyard. He didn’t know what kind of storm her return might bring, but one thing was certain—the fragile peace he’d worked so hard to create was about to be tested. Jake ran a hand over his workbench, his fingers hesitating over a chisel, before letting out a slow breath. He wasn’t sure he was ready. Not yet.