by Lydia Sharp
“I should’ve known,” Hunter says, not loud enough for Kai to hear but still light with relief. “He was just yelling because he was excited he killed something.”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” Vicki says, then shouts, “Hey, Kai! Remember me?”
“Vicki? What the—” Kai stops short, as if his confusion hit a wall, and his eyes lock with mine. For a second I’m not sure if he recognizes me—wearing these puffy snowpants, my hair tied back and tucked under a fleece cap—but then he gives me a familiar, disarming smile. It’s full of sunshine and sandy beaches, as inviting as alcapurrias fresh out of the deep fryer, the kind my mom used to make on special occasions—before she hired a personal chef for all occasions, special or not. “Gabi,” he says, my name sounding more like laughter than a word. No one else’s smile does things to me like Kai’s does, even at a distance. My heart leaps toward those bright teeth and soft lips. Toward him.
But the rest of me is frozen in place. I’m not sure why. I want to move, to run, to shout “Hallefreakinglujah, we found you!” Instead I just stare and drink him in. He holds a rifle in one hand and a dead rabbit by its hind legs in his other. A large rucksack is strapped onto his back, and he’s bundled up, making him look bulkier than usual, but his face seems thinner, his jawline sharper. It’s been only three days since I last saw him. They were three days of worry, frustration, and confusion for me. But three days of what for him?
“Is that really you?” He walks briskly toward me.
That soaring hope in his voice is the push I needed. My feet sprout wings and fly me straight into his arms, planting me hard against his chest, between a dead rabbit and a loaded gun. I don’t care—he’s here, in my arms. My previous determination to say nothing, do nothing, until he gave me something more to go on than his shock at seeing me, was dead on arrival. I worried about him so much that the relief of finding him is almost painful. My heart’s going to burst.
“What are you all doing out here?” he says.
I pull back enough to meet his eyes, soaking up the sun within them but not letting myself melt into him. Not yet, because: “We’re here to ask you the same question.”
Hunter and Vicki stayed in the forest to collect firewood for the night, leaving Kai and me alone by the shelter with a dead rabbit between us. The high I was on a few minutes ago from finding Kai has faded, and the snowflakes are getting heavy again, fat and fluffy.
I can’t believe I’m out here, miles from civilization and cell service, with an oncoming blizzard. But I am—because of Kai, and this journey he’s on. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go after him. It seems silly now. He’s obviously fine.
Did I really think he’d be helpless out here? The Alaskan outdoors is his life.
“We found your hidey-hole a ways back,” I say, unsure of how to get this conversation started. “That couldn’t have been easy. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” His tone is relieved, like he’s glad I’m not going straight to the what-the-hell-were-you-thinking questions. “It works pretty well, but a shelter is safer.” He glances at the snowmobiles, then shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Are you okay?”
“Better now that we’ve found you.” I return his smile, and for a moment it’s like we’re back home and none of this ever happened. But only for a moment. “We’re going to have to stay the night here, Kai. I mean me and Hunter and Vicki. We don’t have enough time to get back to the lodge before dark, and the storm that passed earlier was just one part of a bigger system. According to the radar, this is going to get a lot worse. We might as well wait it out and leave in the morning, when it’s safer.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I was afraid of that. I’m not going to get as far as the next shelter before it gets dark, either. How close is the next wave?”
“Now? I’m not sure. We left the lodge a couple hours ago, and it was getting close then. This is probably the start of it.” I raise a palm and catch some snowflakes on it. Each one is so innocent and tiny, incapable of any damage on its own. But how quickly they can band together and smother anything in their path. “Are you staying here for the night, too?”
“It’ll set me back a bit, but yeah.”
Good. We’ll have plenty of time to talk, and maybe by morning he’ll change his mind and come back with us.
“Night travel is dangerous enough without a blizzard on top of it,” he says. “And since you’re here, I’m not going to eat and run.” He tries another smile on me, but this one is uncertain, and the one I offer back feels sluggish, the corners of my mouth hesitant to rise. His gaze drops away from me and then he pulls a knife with a bright blue handle off his belt.
I guessed preparing a rabbit would be disgusting, but I still wasn’t ready for this. He starts by peeling the skin away from its body, like he’s sliding off a sweater, and then pulls it down the rear legs as easily as removing socks, revealing shiny pink muscle. I turn away, face the river, but the metallic scent of blood is still in the air. And so are the sounds.
Bones crack and snap, once, twice. My whole body tenses, my imagination filling in what I can’t see. Those little rabbit feet being plucked away and tossed aside. The poor thing had just been going about its daily life, and then bam. Gone. Stripped bare to be roasted in our campfire. Is our survival really more important than the life of that creature?
I get Hunter’s aversion to his namesake act. I couldn’t pull the trigger, either. But if Kai hadn’t today, we’d be scrounging for roots or berries or something, and hoping they weren’t poisonous. Unless Kai has a field guide. God, I hope he has some kind of field guide in his pack. And a bar of chocolate.
There’s nothing a bar of chocolate can’t fix, Mom used to say. Before all things sugar became off-limits for us. I can’t remember the last time I craved it. Maybe that’s why her life got so messed up—she stopped eating miracle chocolate.
“Sorry you’re stuck out here,” Kai says. “I know this isn’t your thing.” His tone is neither condescending nor judgmental. Just matter-of-fact.
That’s probably why he didn’t invite me to come along on this trip with him. Dead animals, frigid temperatures, venturing into the unknown—I’ve never given him the impression those are things I enjoy.
I still don’t understand, though. Even if he wanted to be alone … “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”
A pause, then he says, “I almost didn’t leave at all. Walking away from our house, away from my family, away from you … that was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.” He blows out a sigh. “I tried to tell you, though. I know it didn’t come out perfectly, but I thought I’d gotten the important stuff across; you seemed to understand my meaning. Guess I was wrong. And I’m really sorry you misunderstood—no, that came out wrong, too.” Another sigh and a curse under his breath. “This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. And I can’t imagine what you think of me right now, if you thought I just … disappeared for no reason. I am so, so sorry. Are you mad?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” At first I was just relieved. As soon as I knew he was okay, all those negative and insecure things I felt seemed insignificant. But now my initial frustration is creeping back in, along with a new worry. I know things about him now that I didn’t before. About his dad being dead, and his struggle to process it. And he never said anything about it, so I believed his dad abandoned them on purpose. The same way I believed he was just saying good-bye for the day, not good-bye for a month. Or however long this trip is going to last.
“Yeah, I would be mad,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly?”
“Gabi, please look at me.”
“I’ll turn around when you’re done playing butcher.”
“Okay.” He goes back to brutalizing the rabbit. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain myself better. At the time, I didn’t think everything through.” He lets out sigh number three. I’m surprised he’s not gett
ing light-headed. “I know that now, but it’s not like I could just turn back, have a chat with you, and head out again. Once I’m out here, I’m out here until it’s done.”
“Until what’s done?”
“Until I find out the truth.”
“About what? Your dad?” I don’t wait for his answer. “Why didn’t you ever tell me what happened to him? Why did I have to find out from your brother?”
All the sounds disappear behind me. I don’t even hear him breathing anymore.
Then he mutters, “Hunter probably told you his version of the story.”
“That’s not the point. I’ve kept nothing from you. Not even the secret about who my mom is, the one that could force me to move again if it gets out.”
“I haven’t said a word to anyone about that.”
“You haven’t said a lot of things,” I snap, then clamp my mouth shut before I let slip something I’ll regret. We are not my parents. We will not turn every disagreement, every misunderstanding, every conversation of any kind into a fight, like they did. “We’ve known each other for more than three months. You had plenty of opportunities to tell me yourself.”
“Three months of bliss,” he says. “That was kind of the problem. The solution and the problem. And this is why I never talked to you about it. It’s not that I wanted to hide anything from you, Gabi. It wasn’t that at all. My head just hasn’t been right since—” He chokes on his next word. “I didn’t like the person I became. I got better when I met you, though. Being with you gave me a reason to get out and be me again. But that didn’t distract me from dealing with it completely, and I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. You’re dealing with enough of your own.” He pauses for a breath, then says, “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
He walks off, leaving me with nothing but the sight and sound of rushing water as a companion. What he’s told me so far lines up with what Hunter said, so at least I know he’s being honest.
The snow falls thick as a curtain around me. I’m ready to huddle around a fire and eat and try to forget this day long enough to get some sleep. When Kai returns he walks past me, up to the river, and rinses his hands. Dries them quickly. Those hands have held mine too many times to count. Caressed me. Comforted me. Cherished me. Since day one, he’s been protecting and nurturing me, inside and out, helping me navigate this foreign world that’s completely natural to him.
His intentions are too good for his own good. By not “burdening” me with his issues, he created a rift between us—both literal and otherwise. I wonder how much distance and how many secrets would have piled up if I hadn’t come after him and demanded an explanation. Would they have become a mountain? So that all we could see were the issues standing between us rather than each other?
Kai stands and turns to face me, eyeing me cautiously. I’m not sure where we go from here, either, but did I really expect things to be perfect with us forever? We had a conflict—more like a misunderstanding—and he apologized. There are still some things we need to discuss, sort out, and settle, and I can only take one step at a time. This is a really big first step, but like he said, the first step is the hardest.
So, one tentative step at a time, I close the physical gap between us. Every step closer is a promise—I’m willing to try. Let’s figure this out, together.
“Kai … I’m here now. Talk to me, as clearly as you can.” I take off one of my gloves and touch his cheek. He’s a furnace, even in this cold, and I melt under his heat. A familiar tingling sensation zings through me, straight to my core. I don’t just want to move on. I want him. But first, I need to know: “Why are you doing this?”
He leans his cheek against my palm and holds my other hand between his. “I need to know what really happened to my dad, and the only way to do that is to ask him myself.”
What?
My head spins as I try to make sense of his words. “You’re trying to find your dad?” I ask slowly. “I mean, so you can actually see him and … talk to him?”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying all along.” He twists his mouth. “I’m sure Hunter told you he’s dead.”
I hesitate. “Isn’t he?”
“Everyone seems to think so.” His voice softens like butter on a hot plate. “But they have no proof. There were no witnesses. He was presumed dead. That’s not the same as found dead.”
“No, I guess it isn’t.” I want to support him, but Hunter told me they had a funeral, and their mom, their whole family, thinks he’s dead. Everyone grieved him—except Kai.
Hunter also said they didn’t see a body. No one ever found his corpse, and no one actually saw him die. Even Hunter said he didn’t believe their dad was really dead for a while.
As crazy as it sounds, it would explain why Kai never told me about his father’s death—because he doesn’t believe it happened. Understanding his line of thinking and believing it’s the truth are two different things. But the hope blooming on Kai’s face right now, that he might get to see his dad again … I won’t be the one to shatter that. He’s had enough people trying to do that already.
He has to find proof one way or the other. It’s the only way to resolve this; I get that. But he doesn’t have to do it alone.
“I’m with you on this,” I say. “I believe the proof is out there, farther north, wherever your dad supposedly died.” My mind races with the possibilities and grabs the first thing that will put me back in the driver’s seat of the situation. “I’ll look into hiring an investigator for you, who will either find him or find out why he hasn’t returned—”
“No.” He turns and walks away from me.
I’m right on his heels. Well, as close as I can be in the deep snow and with him moving like it isn’t even there. “Why are you so against me helping you with this?”
“Because it’s my problem, not yours.”
“Your problems are my problems. That’s how the whole relationship thing works. And this in particular? Is also your family’s problem. It’s not all on you.”
“Everyone else has moved on,” he says. “I’m the only one who believes he’s still out there. I have to prove it to them myself.”
Trying to talk him out of this journey isn’t going to work. It’s clear he’s going to continue, no matter what I say. And he has that right, no matter how much I don’t like it. But still, I have to ask: “If he’s alive, then why didn’t he come back?”
“I don’t know.” His tone wavers and he stops to face me squarely. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“What do you know?” I can’t help him without more details. “Can you at least tell me what happened to him? Or supposedly happened?”
“Avalanche took out his cabin,” he says, shoulders slumping. “That I know is true. They had evidence the cabin that was destroyed was his. But what they can’t prove is their claim that he was buried under it. He might have gotten swept away and injured or disoriented or …” He shakes his head slowly, as if doing so will help him think up another option. “Something.”
“I—” My throat catches. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
He offers a pained smile. “It’s not your fault.”
A rifle shot thunders behind us, then ricochets off the mountains, followed by a high-pitched squeal of victory. “You gave your gun to Vicki?” I say, wiping away the snowflakes that keep landing on my lashes.
He gives me a nearly imperceptible shrug, like so what? “One hare isn’t going to feed all four of us. We needed to talk, Hunter refuses to shoot, and Vicki knows what she’s doing.”
“How? She’s a waitress.”
“A waitress who spent half her life in the Appalachian Mountains and the other half in rural Alaska. And her dad is a professional hunter with zero gender bias. She’s the only daughter among four sons, and she can outshoot every one of them.”
“How did you know all that? She said you weren’t at the lodge very long. I didn’t think you talked to her about anything.”
>
Kai laughs, and despite the gravity of everything we’ve just discussed, my heart does a somersault at the sound of it. “I wasn’t the one doing the talking. Have you met her? She can tell you her whole life story in under five minutes.”
True.
I open my mouth to resume our conversation, but Vicki trots out of the woods, holding up her kill by its hind legs. “Look at the size of this one!” Hunter appears a moment later, arms loaded with branches. The hatchet he borrowed from Kai’s pack hangs from his waist.
“I’m gonna get the fire going inside,” he says, then disappears into the shed.
Vicki is already skinning her rabbit next to Kai’s on the snow. “I always have trouble pulling the heart out,” she says to Kai. “Give me a hand?”
Kai says, “No problem,” and I avert my eyes from the carnage. “I’m gonna go inside while you do that,” I say. “Can we finish talking later?”
“Yeah.” Kai squeezes my hand. “There’s an extra blanket rolled up in my pack, if you need it. We’ll be in as soon as we’re done with this.”
“Okay.” I enter the shelter and shut the door behind me. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark after being blinded by white outside. This shelter is a little bigger than the last one, but it’s still going to be cramped with all four of us sleeping in here tonight. And there’s only one bed—strike that, there’s only one mattress on the floor. Hunter is squatting by the hearth, blowing on the tiny flames just coming to life in the kindling. “It’ll be nice and toasty in here in no time,” he says.
I sit on the edge of the mattress and crisscross my legs. The pile of logs and branches in the corner doesn’t look up to the job we need it to do. “Is that enough wood to last all night?”
“I’ll get more after we eat. Trust me, I don’t want to sleep in the cold any more than you do.” He blows another long, steady breath, and the flames grow. Smoke shimmies up the chimney. “You and Kai good now?”
“Yeah, I think so. It was just a misunderstanding. And now that I know more about what he’s doing, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”