Hard Evidence by Roxanne Rustand Page A

day off doing this,” Janna protested, when Michael appeared at the door of Cabin One on Saturday morning. “You and Ian could go to town or something. Have some fun.”
    Michael stepped into the cabin anyway, a tool belt slung low at his waist, his denim shirtsleeves rolled back. He looked so competent, so masculine, that she just wanted to stop and stare.
    “We’ll go to town later. I promised we’d help, and I’ve gotten back too late the last few nights to do anything.” He smiled, but his eyes were weary, and she knew he had to be exhausted. She hadn’t seen his patrol car arrive until almost nine o’clock on Thursday and Friday, and then he’d gone out into the timber on surveillance.
    “Really, this could wait,” she said when Ian followed him to the wobbly kitchen table with an armload of tools. “I could just start cleaning up some of the other cabins and get these repairs done later.”
    A sudden breeze stirred up the dust on the floor. She tried to hold back a sneeze, but failed. “Sorry—you could probably find me anywhere on the property by listening to me sneeze.”
    “It is handy,” Michael said with a twinkle in his eye. “You should probably let us do the heavy cleaning, too.”
    Janna laughed. “And miss all this fun? Not on your life.”
    “Then at least let us tackle some repairs. The sooner this cabin is done, the sooner you’ll have more paying guests.” Michael looked down at the legal pad in his hand. “I’ve already made a list. We’ve got to fix this table. Replace the countertops in the kitchen and bath. Repair some of the cupboard doors…and hang a new exterior door. I figure we can get it done in a couple days, easy. Did you pick up a new door at the lumberyard?”
    “I drove up to Jackson yesterday, and all of the supplies you need are in our truck.” Janna surveyed the dark little cabin, envisioning how it would look with new cherry-red countertops and bright-red-and-white gingham curtains. She’d already ordered pretty patchwork quilts for the bedroom, and linens for the bath and kitchen. The image made her smile. “Just tell me what to do.”
    He thought for a minute. “We can handle the carpentry, if you want to do something else. Stop back now and then, though, in case we have questions.”
    “Good enough.” She stayed to watch them, though, entranced by Michael’s loving patience with his son.
    After they set up some sawhorses on the porch, Michael helped Ian measure boards and cut several lengths of pine, then showed him how to brace the table high underneath, where the legs and top met.
    Perspiration formed on Ian’s forehead and he bit his lower lip as he awkwardly managed the screws and screwdriver. He repeatedly dropped the screws and had to search the floor for them, and as the minutes passed Janna could see the tension increasing in the stiff set of his shoulders.
    When the last leg of the table was braced, Ian sat back with a gusty sigh, his face etched with relief.
    “Good job, son.” Michael clapped him on the back. “This sort of thing isn’t easy the first time. Let’s set ’er up and see how we did.”
    They stood and flipped the table over, and Michael grabbed the edge. “Solid as a rock. Perfect!” He ran a practiced hand over the top surface. “You know, this would be a pretty table if we stripped and sanded it. What do you think?”
    Ian stared at it with something akin to horror, probably imagining endless hours of work. “Today?”
    “For now I’d rather just go for the basics,” Janna said, “so I can get this place up and running. I can do the refinishing this winter.”
    Ian’s shoulders slumped with relief. “So, are we done yet?”
    “Nope. Next, the cupboards.” Michael sauntered over to test the doors, one by one, making a chalk mark on the ones needing repair. “It’s a good feeling, when you can work hard and really see what you’ve accomplished. This should be fun.”
    The boy looked so restless that Janna