Cadie switched the screen to a map of areas she suspected might be vulnerable, and areas she had not been able to assess yet. “I could tell you about the potential loss of trees, the deer, moose, and bear populations at risk. I could tell you how many homes might be at risk. But if I’m honest with you, those are not the things that keep me awake at night.
“This is my childhood about to burn.” She pointed at Maple Crest on the map. “The forts I built in the woods, my hammock, the chipmunks I tried to capture, the hollow trees where I hid my secrets.” Cadie swallowed to keep her voice from cracking. “This is a disaster for the state of New Hampshire. But for me, it’s personal, and I know it is for each of you, too.”
Cadie moved her hands as she spoke, the smell of the bear wafting closer with each gesture. She paused, afraid the smell might make her gag.
“Politicians don’t want facts. But the people do.” Cadie flipped to the next slide. Muffled sounds of the pounding in the hall rose up through the floor. Fists beat on the door, the walls. Cadie’s presentation notes trembled as the vibrations climbed the table and shook the pages. Each beat resounded in the soles of Cadie’s feet.
The committee members fixed their eyes on the map, assessing their own personal risk.
“You can tell me I’m restricted from doing research on federal lands, but that doesn’t change the fact that the bark beetles are already here. I know the models say they shouldn’t be here. Screw those projections. They’re here. We can protect some of these communities if we collect enough data to predict patterns and thin affected areas. But it’s not just my research in jeopardy.” Cadie pointed to the door separating them from the students waiting, clapping, stomping in the hallway. “I can’t even guess how many environmental research projects this ban impacts. What you decide here today has broader implications than stopping a few fires. Other institutions will look at this decision as a precedent.”
“The research is compelling.” Thea jumped up to distribute copies of Cadie’s map.
“This meeting isn’t about the validity or even the quality of your research. It’s about the fact that you broke the law and violated our ethics standards by illegally collecting samples,” Dr. Spencer said.
“The forests are burning. I’m not going to look away. And neither should you. People are going to die. You want that on your conscience?”
“Cadie,” Thea said.
“I’m willing to put my career on the line because I know I’m right. I’m pretty sure all of you know I’m right too.” Cadie slapped the packet down on a table. “Are you willing to pretend this doesn’t matter because you don’t want to cross a line that shouldn’t exist in the first place?”
Cadie stood in front of the silent room and prayed that she hadn’t destroyed her career.
“This isn’t the most professional presentation, Ms. Kessler,” Dr. Spencer said as he flipped through the pages Thea had handed out. “But I can’t argue with your evidence. I’m from California. I’ve seen what these beetles leave behind.”
“Ms. Kessler, are you hurt?” another committee member asked Cadie. “You’re bleeding.”
Thea pointed to Cadie’s temple. Cadie touched her face to find a crusted smear of bear blood.
“I’m fine.”
“Give us some time to review your materials and we’ll get back to you,” the chairwoman said.
“Thank you,” Thea said. “We—”
“No,” Cadie interrupted. “We can’t give you time. There isn’t any time.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Dr. Spencer said.
“We cannot sit here and publicly condone breaking the law,” the chairwoman said.
“Then fire me now,” Cadie said. “If scientists rolled over every time we encountered some inane obstacle, we’d all still believe the world was flat. Looking back, no one will give a damn about this university’s protocols. They might not remember my bark beetles. But they will remember that we had a chance to stand up for something and we chose not to.”
“You are putting us in an awkward position,” the chairwoman said.
“I’m putting you in an awkward position? I’m the one climbing mountains in ninety-five-degree weather to hunt these beetles. I’m the one risking my career to do the right thing. I’m sorry that’s uncomfortable for you.” Cadie began gathering up her papers. She had not intended to resign when she walked in the room. Her intention had been to fight for her job, but as she addressed the committee she understood it wasn’t her job she needed to safeguard, it was her research. She needed to protect the truth. The bark beetles were in New Hampshire. The beetles would lead to increased fire risk. She might work for the university, but her loyalty remained with the forest, the animals, and the communities at risk.
“Fire me. Report me. Do what you need to do. I’m not sitting on this. I have the data. I’ll publish it without the university’s backing.”
“If she goes, I go.” Thea stood up and looked at Cadie with a furrowed brow offset by a reluctant smile. “If we aren’t willing to fight for the access to do legitimate research, then what are we doing?”
“You don’t have to do this, Thea,” Cadie said.
Thea remained standing.
Dr. Spencer stood up and cleared his throat. “I think I speak for the committee that we cannot officially condone breaking the law. But my house is on that map, and so are the houses of everyone in this room, along with thousands of other residences and businesses. I would rather risk punishment for doing the right thing than have regrets for being a coward.”
Cadie bit on the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. She was winning him over.
The professor made deliberate eye contact with the four other committee members, each of whom nodded their heads in agreement.
“I look forward to reading your full report,” the chairwoman said with a slight smile. “After you finish collecting your data.”
Cadie wanted to scream. No, she wanted to roar from deep in her gut. For the bear, for Juan, for her missing thrush. Do this thing right, she told herself. Don’t be afraid.
“Thank you.” Cadie nodded at each committee member as they shook her hand before leaving.
“God help us if this goes bad,” the chairwoman said to Cadie’s professor as they filed out of the room. “I was hoping to retire in a few years.”
Cadie tried to maintain a professional demeanor until Thea closed the door and they were alone in the room.
“What the hell just happened?” Cadie threw the stack of papers in the air and let them rain down around herself and Thea. “I was half expecting to be led away in handcuffs.”
Thea shook her head. “One suggestion: before your next hearing, wash the blood off your face.”
“I think it added to the urgency of my presentation.” Cadie wondered if Thea could smell the bear on her.
“We need to get serious now. I don’t know what’s up with you, but you need to get your shit together.” Thea’s gray-streaked braid hung over her shoulder, swinging like a pendulum as she bent over to organize her bag. “Your lack of professionalism reflects poorly on me too.”
“I know. I’ll get it together. I promise.”
“Are you okay?” Thea asked.
“I’m fine.” Cadie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push out the image of the bear’s eyes staring at her. “No. I’m actually not fine. But I will be.”
Thea pulled a bottle of water from her backpack, handed it to Cadie, and gestured for her to sit down.
“It just darted out in front of me.” Cadie put her hands up to her face. “I can’t get the smell off of me. And my car—”
“But you’re not hurt. And your research is safe.” Thea pressed Cadie’s hands between her own to calm the shaking. “I know you well enough to tell something else is eating at you. Something that doesn’t have anything to do with fires or bears. I also know you well enough to know you won’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m that transparent?” Unpackin
g the past in recent days had sharpened the edges of compressed memories, making it harder to force them down when they threatened to consume her.
“I’m here if you want to talk, you know.” Thea refused to break eye contact, giving Cadie the feeling that Thea knew exactly how uncomfortable she was making Cadie feel.
Cadie didn’t know how to put the whirl of emotions into words, in part because she couldn’t distinguish between them. Guilt over killing the bear felt less acute than a broader regret about having contributed to the big-picture circumstance that led to the drought, the fire, the bear’s loss of home. She was as guilty as anyone, maybe more so, because she had seen it coming. Indignation at the government’s attempts to squash her research stirred an urgent rage in her belly. And under all of it, Cadie suppressed a low-grade terror at what awaited her when she returned to Maple Crest, what awaited Raúl if an investigation revealed his immigration status, what would happen to Dolores if she were charged as an accessory to murder. And Garrett. She couldn’t allow the flutter in her stomach to disarm her when she needed to remain focused.
Thea smiled gently, letting Cadie know she did not need to respond. For a brief moment, none of Cadie’s regrets or fears seemed quite as threatening now that Thea had put her life’s work on the line because she believed in Cadie.
“Are you one hundred percent engaged in this?” Thea pointed to the map behind her. Thea had bumped the projector, shifting the angle of the image and distorting the map of New Hampshire. The eastern edge of the state swelled with a cartoonish bulge emphasizing the locations where Cadie had predicted fires were most likely to occur. “This is your chance to do something important. If I’m going to risk losing tenure, getting fired, and possibly arrested, I need to know you’re all in.”
“I’m all in.” Cadie threw her arms around Thea. After four years of working together, Cadie had never hugged Thea. They had never gone out for a beer or shared anything personal. For the first time, Cadie wondered why.
24
PRESENT DAY
After the hallway cleared of cheering grad students, Cadie went to the restroom to clean up. She washed her hands four times and doused them in lemon-scented lotion. But the smell of the bear permeated her skin, her hair, her clothes.
It would be easy to go back to her apartment, less than half an hour away from the university, and immerse herself in her work. She could sink into her bed, hide behind her cairn. Never return to Maple Crest. Easy. Safe. She could disappear. Yet something in that town refused to release her. The cord she had worked so hard to sever now felt stitched into her soul in a way that made her insides ache when she thought of breaking it.
She owed it to Daniela to go back.
I’m home. I need you here.
The space Daniela occupied in her mind had swelled from a child-shaped hiding place in the woods to a fortress Cadie could not ignore.
I need you here.
She leaned close to the bathroom mirror and wiped the smear of bear blood from her forehead and smoothed her messy hair. Although she wanted to believe her instinct to return to Maple Crest grew from her commitment to help Daniela, the strongest pull came from the surge of adrenaline that flooded her body every time she thought of Garrett. The Summer Kid. He believed in her work, which fueled her ambition to be right. To protect the forest and the people she loved. To protect the town that wouldn’t let her go.
She crumpled the paper towel covered in the bear’s blood and threw it in the trash.
Cadie had to be all in.
On the two-hour trip back to Maple Crest she drove slowly, watching the shoulders for anything that moved. The smoke had stretched to a thin band, billowing like a slow-motion banner over the mountains ahead of her. Halfway through the drive, she rolled down the windows and let her hair whip around her face. She turned on the radio and sang quietly to a string of familiar songs. The rattle of her loose fender, which she and Thea had duct-taped in place, changed pitch as she sped up.
Maybe she could work the incident with the bear into her future TED Talk. She could tell the story of storming into the meeting late with bear blood on her face and demanding the committee support her work. When someone says you’re overreacting, but you know you’re right, keep reacting until it’s over.
Her ears popped as the road climbed toward Maple Crest. By the time she turned down Garrett’s bumpy dirt road, a sliver of optimism had taken hold. Maybe Garrett was right. Maybe this one truth did not need to rise. Raúl and Dolores would be safe if they could all stay quiet. Maybe no one needed to know what happened in those woods.
Garrett’s driveway crossed over the creek on a wooden bridge similar to the one on Cadie’s driveway. The acres of marshlands that separated her home from Garrett’s had dried up over the last three years, leaving a crusty swath of brown in the aerial photos Cadie monitored. The wetland vegetation had died off, rendering it a tinderbox.
Cadie, I’m down on the dock. A yellow sticky note, curling in the heat, clung to the front door of the small cabin. She took the sticky note with her and pushed the door open.
She expected to feel a prickle of foreboding as she crossed the threshold into the cottage that had once been Clyde’s home. In her imagination, the run-down, windowless house leaned to one side and likely had a dungeon in the basement. Instead, she found herself in a cozy cabin that smelled of aged pine.
Large windows framed a bright kitchen. Cabinets with door hinges but no doors held canisters of coffee, cereal, rice, and pasta in clear containers. Carved into the pantry door frame, etchings marked Garrett’s childhood growth. She ran her fingers over the markings that stopped when Garrett was eight, the year his parents died.
Sun-bleached silhouettes on a yellow pegboard wall memorialized pots and pans that had long since been displaced by mesh baskets full of rubber bands, calculators, duct tape, and fishing tackle. The worn floorboards in the house did not creak as she walked. The lack of feedback made her feel uneasy.
Cadie pressed the sticky note flat on the counter and pulled out the note she’d found inside the beech tree. The handwriting looked completely different. Garrett wrote his sticky-note message in felt tip with tight, neat letters that swished up slightly at the end of each word. The note from the beech tree was written by a heavier hand, with strong, decisive letters that slanted a bit to the left. She folded both notes and slipped them into her wallet.
An open window gave her a clear view of the rock ledge she used to climb to deliver Garrett books. The flat area at the top of the rock had grown over with low, scraggly brush. She forced herself to remember. The lawn chair, the box of fishing tackle. The smell of a gunshot.
Juan died there. Right there. Where exactly had he fallen? How close had Cadie been to him as she clung to the tree root? Her pulse quickened, but she couldn’t look away from the space where she imagined the body must have lain.
A hummingbird crashed into the window overlooking the porch. Cadie jumped away from the glass and froze as she waited for the bird to rise and fly off. When it didn’t get up, Cadie ran outside. The hummingbird lay motionless in a puddle of sunlight below the window. She squatted over the tiny creature and touched a finger to its iridescent wing. It sprang up, almost touching her cheek, and disappeared into the woods.
Cadie fell backward against the porch rail, breathless. She held her hands to her face and inhaled the lingering lemon lotion to calm her racing heart.
Garrett’s property rose from the water at a steep angle, large boulders and a rock face climbing out of the water to the left of a small, pebbly beach. His boat looked too big for the rickety pier, as if the boat held the pier steady instead of the other way around.
Garrett waved as Cadie descended the deck stairs. He stood chest-deep in the water, no shirt. He wore a diving mask and held a wrench in one hand. No longer the pinched boy with a nearly concave chest, Garrett had grown into a chiseled leanness that revealed every twitching muscle in his shoulders and torso as he shook water from his ha
ir like a puppy.
“Give me two minutes,” he said. “I hit a rock this morning during the wakeboard lesson. I’ve never seen the lake water so low. I’m almost finished replacing the prop.”
“No rush. I’m early,” Cadie said.
Garrett drew in a deep breath and disappeared under the boat. After a minute, he burst through the surface with a big smile. He grabbed a towel and dried his face before pulling himself up to sit on the pier.
“Good lesson?” she said. “Other than hitting a rock.”
“We didn’t lose anyone, so it was a stellar day.” Garrett examined the ruined prop. “I was mostly worried about fixing the boat in time to take you out.”
The tips of Cadie’s ears burned.
Garrett put a T-shirt on. “I need to change before we head out. Want to come up?” He walked backward, his wispy hair already drying in spiked tufts that looked like corn silk. He swung his arms as he walked, reminding Cadie of a scarecrow.
The thin cotton of his shirt clung to his damp body. Water dripped off his swim trunks, leaving a trail on the sunbaked boards leading to the kitchen door.
Cadie followed him, training her eyes on each wet footprint so she wouldn’t inadvertently look toward the rock ledge.
“I’ll be right out. Make yourself at home,” Garrett said as they entered the kitchen.
The rusty spring from her door lay on his kitchen counter.
“How’d the meeting go?” Garrett emerged in a fresh T-shirt and khaki shorts. His cheeks glowed pink under his tan.
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