by K. A. Tucker
“You’re learning how to drive, right now. Get in.”
“You don’t know how to drive?” Mabel exclaims with a shocked frown.
With a sigh of irritation, I hold the keys out to my father.
“Don’t you dare, Wren,” Jonah warns sternly.
“Sorry, kiddo, my hands are full.” He waves the small paper bag with his prescription in the air as he steps around me to duck into the backseat.
“I’ll drive if no one else wants to!” Mabel chirps, her eyes lighting up. “I know how.”
“You hear that, Calla? Even Mabel knows how. She’s twelve.”
“Of course she does.” I climb into the SUV with reluctance. “I don’t want to do this right now, Jonah.” It wouldn’t be so bad if we were on the empty road by my dad’s house and we didn’t have my dad and Mabel with us.
“Hey. Just trust me, would you?” He peers over at me, and I see a raw pleading in those blue eyes.
As if I can say no to that.
“Fine,” I grumble, jamming the key into the ignition. “But for the record, this is a bad idea.”
“That’s what you usually go for, isn’t it? Bad ideas?” he murmurs.
“Oh, you’re so clever.” And relentless, with the quips that keep corralling my mind right back to me and him.
“Do you guys ever stop arguing? God!” Mabel bursts, clicking her seat belt in place.
“Sometimes we do. Right, Barbie?”
We definitely weren’t arguing last night. Or this morning, before getting up to come here.
Twice.
My dad clears his throat from the seat directly behind me. “Just stay to the right and stop when the sign says stop. You’ll do fine.”
“And don’t hit the people walking on the side of the road,” Mabel adds.
“I can’t believe I’m getting driving tips from a twelve-year-old.” With a sigh, I crank the engine. “I can’t even reach the pedals!”
“Here.” Jonah leans forward, gripping the back of my seat with one hand while he slides his arm down between my knees to the floor in front. With a click and a tug, my seat moves forward. “Better?”
I stretch my legs out. “Yeah.”
“All right.” His warm, strong hand lands on my knee, giving it a tight squeeze. “Just do what I say and we might make it home alive.”
I grip the steering wheel, my nerves churning in my stomach. Suddenly, the streets of this dusty little frontier town seem too busy. But at least it gives us all something to focus on besides my dad.
I shake my head and start to laugh.
Damn yeti. That’s exactly why he’s doing this to me.
“Oh my God, no, Calla. Seriously. Forget about the stupid studded shoes.” Diana sighs heavily in my ear.
“Whatever. I’ve already got it mostly done, anyway, with what you sent me.” I toggle over the screen, testing the links to the pictures of Diana posing downtown with the city bustle in the background—the blur of people whizzing by on bikes and in cars, hordes of pedestrians milling at a street corner waiting for the light to change, rows of white tents that signal one festival or another. I can almost hear the buzz of life and I ache for it. “Aaron took some decent shots.”
“And he complained through every minute of it. You wouldn’t believe the things I had to promise to get him to agree in the first place.”
“You’re right, and I’m positive that I do not want to know.” But I’m glad she’s found a replacement for me.
She sighs. “So . . . when do you think you’ll be back?”
I drop my voice. Even though the living room window is closed, I can hear Mabel’s bursts of laughter and goading exclamations as she and my dad hover over the checkerboard. “I have no idea. A month? Maybe two?” Or will it be longer? Will I be here to see the first snow fall? Because, aside from some woolen socks, I am not prepared for that.
“God. That’s . . . a long time.”
“Yeah. But, I’m sure I’ll keep busy.”
“How’s the Hot Viking?”
Oh man. “Still hot,” I murmur, as an odd tingling sense courses through my entire body, like it does every time I think of him now. There’s so much I have to tell her, but now is not the time to even hint at it. “I’ll talk to you later.” We end the call just as Agnes pokes her head out onto the porch.
“There’s still some chicken left, if you’re hungry. I already set aside plenty for Jonah.” Agnes and Mabel walked into my dad’s kitchen around three, while he was napping, Mabel’s arms hugging her latest plucked catch from the farm, Agnes’s laden with potatoes and carrots, and lettuce for a green salad. We hadn’t made plans for dinner, but I was thankful to see them show up all the same.
By the time my dad staggered out of his bedroom, the house was smelling of roasted meat and we’d settled into solitary tasks—Agnes with a book, Mabel with a game on her phone, and me with my computer—as if we all lived here.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t question it. Just smiled at us and sank into his La-Z-Boy.
“I’m full, but thanks.” I offer Agnes a smile before turning back to my screen.
But she lingers, pushing the sliding door shut behind her. “Still working on Wild website stuff?”
“No.” Is there any point? “Just keeping my mind busy.” I toggle over to another screen, one of about thirty I have open, to pictures of my time here so far.
“That looks like Kwigillingok,” Agnes murmurs, edging closer. “That’s a nice one.”
“No.”
“No?” She frowns in thought. “I think it is.”
The more I stare at it, the more I disagree. “It doesn’t do it justice. At all. None of them do.”
She tips her head as she ponders it. “Maybe it has a story to it that I can’t see?”
“Maybe.” On the screen, it is a pretty enough view, I’ll admit. Not the barren wasteland my mother insisted was waiting for me. But it’s just another picture from a plane, high up in the sky. You wouldn’t know why we went—that it’s where the little girl with asthma who needed the ventilator lives with her family and two hundred other villagers, on what feels like the very edge of the earth when you’re landing.
You wouldn’t know that Jonah pounded on my door and practically forced me out that day. Jonah, the broody bush pilot who started off as my enemy and has somehow evolved into something far more important to me than a friend.
Agnes settles down onto the edge of the wicker love seat where there’s room. I sense that she wants to talk, as her gaze roams the porch, stalling on the lights dangling above. “Christmas in summer.”
“Welcome to my life. My mom has lights up in our backyard all year round.” Tiny, white lights that weave around the lilac bushes and Japanese maples and the trunk of the massive century-old oak tree that Simon has had to pay arborists tens of thousands to maintain over the years. This is kitschy by comparison, but it’s still cozy.
“All this old stuff you dragged out . . .” She looks around us at the transformation. “I’ll bet it’s nice out here at night.”
“It is, actually. We were out here last night after the sunset.”
“You and Jonah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
I ignore her curious murmur and keep scrolling. The pictures of Jonah cutting firewood appear and my finger stalls, my eyes caught momentarily on his hard flesh and his statuesque form, his olive-skinned complexion all the more so next to the misty fog.
“Now there’s a fashionable look for your website.” Agnes chuckles.
I keep flipping, pretending that my cheeks aren’t red. I’ll admire the rest of those later, in private.
“Marie was by the house on Saturday night, looking for Jonah. Forgot to mention that to him,” she says casually.
“Big surprise.” My tone
is more clipped than I intend, a reaction to the way my stomach tightens instantly, despite what Jonah told me about their platonic relationship. Marie’s not going anywhere. She’s in Alaska for the long haul. Will he change his mind down the road and decide he can give her what she wants?
The very idea of Jonah with her—or anyone else—makes my chest burn. “Did you tell her we were stuck at the checkpoint for the night?”
“I did.”
Good. I can’t help the jealous little voice inside my head.
I feel Agnes’s watchful gaze on me as I scroll through the rest of the cabin trip pictures, and I’m pretty sure the shrewd little woman somehow heard that. But, as always, she keeps those thoughts—and all thoughts about Jonah and me and whatever is going on between us—to herself.
“Listen, I was hoping you could help me and Mabel. Sharon and Max are leaving next week and we’ve been talking about throwing a little party for them at Wild.”
“A party?”
“Yeah. Sort of a combo baby shower and farewell.”
I hesitate. “I just . . . Do you think it’s right to throw a party now?” I drop my voice. “With everything that’s going on?” I mean, my dad’s got a meeting with the guys from Aro later this week, to start the sale process. And he just got out of the hospital. It’s going to take time for him to recover from that complication.
Plus, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s in shock over his news.
“If not now, then when?” Her black gaze drifts out to the wide expanse, to a regional airline descending from the sky. “They’ll be long gone by the time Wren . . .” Her voice fades. She swallows. “Life will keep moving and changing, whether we want it to or not, Calla. There will be days to mourn, when it’s time. But Sharon and Max are leaving us, and their baby will be born, and we need to celebrate the time we have with them while we have them here. That’s all we can do with anyone.” Her face slowly splits into a wide smile, even as her eyes shimmer. “Besides, it’ll make Wren happy, to see everyone come together like that. He’s always liked a good party.”
I sigh. She’s right. “Of course I’ll help.”
“Good. I ordered a bunch of cake mixes and some decorations and things a while back. They should be here any day now.”
“I guess there’s no such thing as Amazon Prime around here?” I say, wryly.
She gives me a look. “That is Amazon Prime.”
We share a soft laugh.
But then her brow pulls tight. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for coming.” She reaches forward to clasp my forearm. “It feels right, having you here with us. I can’t imagine doing it any other way.”
My throat begins to prickle for the tiny woman, whose own heart has, however unintentionally, also been broken by my father in the past. And still she stands stoically beside him, offering her friendship and unrequited love.
How many hearts have been pained or broken because my dad decided to sit down next to my mom at the bar that night? I wonder. Would knowing what the future held have made either of them stand and walk out?
Something tells me no.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you for calling me,” I respond softly, thinking back to that night on the porch steps, wearing one shoe with Simon sitting next to me. It feels like a lifetime ago.
She inhales sharply. “You know, next to phoning Derek’s parents to tell them about the crash, that was the hardest call I’ve ever had to make.”
And all I heard was a stranger’s voice. Some woman who was in my dad’s life while I was not. Funny enough, she feels like the farthest thing from a stranger to me now. “Are you angry with him?”
Her lips wobble a little before she presses them firmly together, cutting off the rare show of emotion. “I love him and I’m here for him. That’s all that matters.”
The ever-patient Agnes. She would have been perfect for my dad. She is perfect for him.
The sliding door creaks open then, and Jonah steps out with a heaping plate of food. My heart instantly leaps.
“This looks good, Aggie.”
With a gentle pat on my forearm, she collects my dinner plate and moves from the seat. “You’re later than I expected.”
“Lost a rudder coming home.” He squeezes her slender shoulder on his way past, and then settles into the spot she just left, filling the space, his big, warm body pressing against me. He cuts into his chicken with a soft, “Hey.”
I haven’t kissed him since this morning. I feel an overwhelming urge to lean in and do it now, but I hold myself back. That’s something you do when you’re dating, and that’s not what we are.
What the hell are we, though, besides two people finding comfort in each other while we watch a man we both love die?
Maybe that in itself is enough.
“So you lost a rudder?” I finally ask.
“Yup. Must have busted on the gravel bar I had to land on to drop off supplies,” he mumbles.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Need my rudders to steer the plane. So . . . not ideal.”
“Are you okay, though?”
He smirks through a mouthful. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
The memory of Betty’s crumpled body and a bloodied Jonah hits me then. That was just last week. Days ago. It seems like there’s something new every day. Is this what life with Jonah would be like? Him coming home to dinner, telling me about the latest danger he’s encountered as if it’s just another day at work? Because that’s exactly what it is for him.
I think I’m beginning to understand what my mother meant about living in daily fear. Here I am, only days in to this, and my stomach is already in knots over the thought of him crashing. Maybe that’s because I already witnessed it once.
Or maybe it’s because I’m not made for this bush life, just like my mother wasn’t.
“What’s that look for?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just . . . nothing.” What am I supposed to say? This is Jonah’s world, not mine. I’m just living in it for now.
He glances over his shoulder, as if making sure no one’s hovering at the window, listening. “I moved around a bunch of things on the schedule for tomorrow, and the rest of the week. Figured you, me, and Wren could take Veronica and head out somewhere in the mornings. That way you can spend some time with him and he gets to fly. I’ll co-pilot for him.”
“That sounds amazing.” And so thoughtful of Jonah. A small thrill sparks inside me. “Where will we go?”
He shrugs. “Wherever. There’s all kinds of things to see. You haven’t even scratched the surface of Alaska yet.”
That Jonah would go to all the trouble to do this, for both my dad and me, makes my heart swell. “Do you think he’ll go for it, though? I heard him talking to Agnes about going back to work tomorrow.”
“You think we’re gonna give him a choice?” He stabs at a piece of carrot. “If I have to throw him over my shoulder, he’ll be there.”
An overwhelming wave of gratitude hits me. I throw my arms around his thick neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” I whisper, my mouth catching his earlobe.
He lets out a soft groan that reminds me of the sound I woke to this morning, with his hard body molded to my back.
I close my eyes, longing to be that close to him again.
“Hey!” Mabel pokes her head out and I peel away abruptly. Her wide-eyed look tells me she’s finally starting to clue in about what’s going on between the two of us. “We’re gonna watch Notting Hill. Mom’s making popcorn. You guys are coming in, right?” Thankfully, given her crush on him, she doesn’t seem resentful with me about it.
“We’ll see,” Jonah grumbles between mouthfuls, in a way that could translate into “not a chance in hell.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” I assure her, erasing the disappointment from her face. As so
on as she’s gone, I give his shoulder a smack. “Don’t be an ass.”
He sighs with exaggeration. “Fine. I’ll make you a deal.” I wait as he takes his time chewing. “I’ll go in there and watch whatever the hell you want,” he locks gazes with me, “but then you have to come over after Wren’s gone to sleep.”
A nervous flutter stirs inside me. “What, like sneak out of my dad’s house as if I’m some teenager?”
His eyebrow arches. “Why sneak? You don’t want anyone to know about this?”
“No, it’s not that. I just . . . maybe it’s easier if we keep this on the down-low? There’s no having to explain or rationalize anything to anyone.”
He shrugs. “Fine. I don’t care how you do it, so long as you’re in my bed tonight, and every other night that you’re in Alaska.” He sounds so resolute.
“What if I’m here for the next six months?”
His eyes drift to my mouth. “That’s kind of what I’m hoping for.”
I have to tell myself to breathe. “Deal.” Because suddenly I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.
Jonah frowns curiously. “Now, what is that look for?”
“Nothing. I was just remembering something my dad said.” About how he knew it would never work out with my mom in the long run but he wasn’t about to fight what was happening.
I think I’m starting to get it now, Dad.
Chapter 25
“So, people actually choose to do this for an entire vacation.” I curl my arms around my body, readjusting my position for the hundredth time in the uncomfortable folding seat. We’re on hour three of sitting in this rented tin can of a fishing boat. My hand is cramping over the fishing rod Jonah shoved into it, I reek of bug repellent, and I’m getting twitchy.
“They don’t just choose to do it; they pay big bucks to get out here.” My dad reels his line in a touch. “We make tens of thousands every summer, flying people in.”
“Oh, wait! I think I’ve got—” Mabel pauses, then leans forward. “Nothing.” She turns and gives us a toothy, sheepish grin, the same one she’s given the last eleven times she’s mistaken the current for a fish.