The leaves spread out against the star-spattered sky sighed out a breath of relief in harmony with Lucie.
The day had been a long one and the axe in her hand seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. The basketful of chopped wood seemed woefully small for the amount of effort she'd exerted that day - at least Lucie knew that it was only a small portion of what she'd felled. It was simply that half of it had disappeared into Robin's hands to build her a new, much needed barn. All she was left with was a wicker basket of firewood which dug a hellish grove into her hip as she trekked back to the farm. With each step further into the wood Lucie cursed her choice to take the scenic route. It had been a stupidly impulsive decision, purely because the broken down bus made her feel a little sad some of the time. Or rather, Lucie projected her own feelings on to the broken, damaged and abandoned bus, and she didn't need confronting with that can of worms at 11pm on a Thursday evening.
She let the basket thump on to the ground with a solid and wet sounding impact, and rested on the handle of her axe. Everywhere ached. Her shoulders burned with the felling of the tree, her biceps from carrying the forsaken basket back to her home, her thighs seemed to just constantly hurt these days; it felt like someone had removed all her tendons, used them to create a string instrument and then crammed them all unceremoniously back into her body. Her neck felt so taut it could snap any moment. Letting go of the axe, she lifted her hands to the sides of her neck, massaging them gently, trying to urge the painful throb away for just a few moments. Her head lolled as she stretched it towards the sky, opening her eyes for a heartbeat to take in the canvas of void and stars that spread out above her, then rolled it to the side, closing her eyes as she moved.
Then they snapped back open again. She'd seen the briefest hints of a figure on the pier, but now that she narrowed her eyes against the dark … yes. It was Shane, Marnie's nephew. He wasn't the most chatty of individuals, but they'd said hello a few times. Lucie hesitated for a moment and then threw her restraint to the soft breeze, picked up her belongings and moved towards the small lake.
"Hey. It's Shane, right?"
Shane glanced back at her, his eyes widening slightly at the noise. His face was utterly impassable. Lucie twitched her lip in what she hoped was a smile. She meant it to be, but so was so tired and it faded so quickly that it probably looked closer to a nervous tic. Shane looked away for a moment, and Lucie's heart faltered. She wasn't sure why she cared what this moody guy, lurking by the water late at night thought of her, but suddenly she did. She shook her head imperceptibly, trying hopelessly to clear the sinking feeling, and was about to turn away when his voice returned back to her.
"Beer?" He offered, holding out a can towards her. Lucie's head lifted again, and she met his gaze warmly.
"Yeah, why not?" She answered, closing the gap between the two of them. Her fingers brushed against his as she took the can off him, and she jolted her hand back quickly. She focused far too intensely on opening the can, and glanced at its contents. If she was being entirely honest, Lucie hated beer. It stank and tasted exactly how she imagined fermented cat urine tasted, but for the sake of making new friends, she'd cope. She drank the thing in one go, and added the can to the growing pile of cans at Shane's feet. It hadn't tasted quite as disgusting as she'd expected; a pleasant surprise.
"Huh, fast drinker," he commented as the can tipped over and clattered against the wood. "You're a woman after my own heart."
Lucie couldn't stop the amused smile from forming. She glanced up at Shane, but his gaze was solidly fixed on the water in front of him.
"Yeah, well, it's just been one of those days," she said dismissively. "A very long version of one of those days." Shane's gaze moved across to her, the tired eyes of a man who knew exactly what she meant. Lucie couldn't help but to notice the bloodshot eyes, the heavy lids that struggled to stay open long enough to look at her, the bags weighed down underneath his eyes.
"Yeah." For moment there was only the sounds of the wood around them, the quiet murmur of fish stirring beneath the surface of the water. Suddenly, Shane broke the silence. "Do you ever feel like no matter what you're going to fail? Like you've fallen into some miserable abyss and now you're so far down that you can't even see the light of day?"
Lucie fought the urge to reach out a comforting hand. Instead, she just waited and let him wrestle with himself.
"I just feel like no matter how hard I try," he sighed, "I'm just not strong enough to climb out of that hole."
"I remember the feeling," Lucie said softly.
An owl hooted incessantly in the background. The rhythm of the two individuals' breathing echoed around the moonlit woods. They could see each other reflected in the water below, ripples sending their limbs tangling into the other's reflection. Merged together in the water, they seemed to be the only thing which moved.
The owl sent out its demanding cry once more and Lucie resolved herself to go.
"I should…" she trailed off, pausing mid gesture. "Actually, could I ask a favour? My arms are killing me and my farm is just over there - would you mind?"
"- Not a problem."
Shane strode over to the basket of wood and lifted it easily. Lucie, a heartbeat behind, silently grasped the axe and thanked him.
"Thanks, Shane. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you," she paused. "No questions asked."
They walked in silence back to her farm, comfortable in each other's presence. It took barely five minutes to reach the farmland, and only a further two to store the wood in the shed. Lucie was certain that, had she been lugging the basket herself, it would have taken her ten minutes at least.
"Thanks, again."
Shane shrugged off the thanks, but didn't move from her porch. He rested one hand on the wooden post, looking as though he was about to swing himself off into the dark, but instead looked back at her.
"I know the favour you can do me," he said, slowly. Lucie nodded encouragingly. "Don't make a habit of the drinking - you've got a future ahead of you still. Promise me?"
Lucie smiled softly at him and placed a hand over his, and promised him in a low, intimate voice. Shane's gaze fell on the hand, and Lucie suddenly flushed, withdrawing her hand. Shane stepped down off the porch and blended into the dark, faltering only for a heartbeat.
"See you around, Lucie."
