I loved my mom and I didn't want to offend her. Mother often accompanied us to the land when we went to hunt and though she didn't hunt with us, she did help us to process the meat and cure hides. I wasn't sure why she wasn't going on the trip today, but it didn't matter; whatever held her back was obviously important.
Mother was always fair and she never asked us to do anything she wasn't willing to do herself. If she wasn't able to go with us, it was because she had another obligation and not because she wasn't willing to participate in the outing. I had no reason to be jealous or angry. For all I knew, whatever was retaining her was worse than my fate.
As dad climbed into the driver's seat, mom looked at Carolina and I happily. She told us, “I'm proud of you girls. You're doing the right thing and for that, Dad has a surprise for you.”
I felt excited; excited that dad had a surprise for us and excited that my mom was proud of me. Carolina smiled brightly as well. Georgia looked back at us gleefully and I knew she was privy to whatever was in store for us. Georgia being included in dad's plans was no revelation to me, as she was dad's right-hand gal. I think I would've been more shocked if she hadn't known, truthfully. Realizing that just made me more excited to find out what the surprise was.
“Have fun and be safe,” mother called, waving good-bye as dad drove away.
We'd be heading up North, about an hour out of the cities. My mother's parents, Louis and Ana had left land to my parents when they passed away some years back. It was a lovely wooded area that was crossed by the Sunrise River, just south from where the little river merged into North Pool Lake, east of Stacy, Minnesota. It had the perfect elements for hunting, fishing, and camping.
There were areas thick with woods, stretches of open fields, and the aforementioned river that linked to ponds and lakes in the region. Both the fauna and flora were rich and varied. We had everything from the famous Minnesota mosquito to the controversial grey wolf. There was also an assortment of birds and small game that always made our excursions lucrative.
I loved going to the land because it reminded me of my grandparents. They had been such a big part of my childhood and I missed them terribly. Whenever we went to the old homestead, their memory was pulled close to me and it felt nice, like a part of them was still living. The tiny house they had resided in was no longer standing, but their spirits prevailed.
Everywhere I looked I could see my grandparent's fingerprints. This land had been where my grandma Ana had grown up and in turn, where my mother had been raised as well. Wherever my eyes landed was a place my grandparents had touched in some way. The land itself had been fed with the lives of those I treasured dearly, so it spoke to me on so many levels.
The big garden we continued to maintain held many memories shared with our grandma. It hadn't been unusual to find three generations cultivating the earth side by side. I think the time my grandma, mother, Carolina, and I spent in the garden together was a big reason that gardening was so important to us. Though we loved feeling that connection to the soil and growing our own food, it was the tie to Grandma Ana that made it so magical.
The updated tire swing was still hanging from the same sturdy old northern pine oak tree that our mother played on as a child. My sisters and I spent lots of time swinging around under the protective eyes of Grandpa Louis. He would spend hours pushing, pulling, and twisting us about on that old tire. He used to say that it warmed his heart to see his granddaughters enjoying something our mother had loved so much when she was a kid. I guess the memories there spoke to him as much as they did to me.
The old fire pit was ancient. I couldn't say how many of my ancestors warmed themselves at this outdoor hearth. Sitting around it was rather affecting, especially when you thought about the countless people who had occupied your very spot in some distant past. It was kind of surreal.
The basic A-frame cabin with an attached latrine was the only building currently on the property. The cabin was actually constructed from the materials recovered from the demolition of my grandparent's dilapidated homestead. The rough, worn wood still made me wonder.
I knew my grandparents had lived in a ratty-tatty house that had weathered many years, but for the life of me, I couldn't picture it that way. In my mind's eye, my grandparent's lived in a palace that always smelled like baked goods. There basic lifestyle and modest housing never seemed to be lacking. It always felt full and rich to me.
During my grandmother's rearing, the outhouse stood apart from the main house. Though both structures had been wired for electricity sometime in the past, which had been the only modern convenience. Water was retrieve from the well or river. Hot water was the product of boiling large kettles of transported water over the fireplace.
Though Grandma Ana didn't mind having a detached latrine, she had insisted that my Grandpa Louis modernize it when they moved in together. She was content with the lack of plumbing in the main house, but she wanted a proper bathroom. In order to please her, grandpa had the old structure dug up and replaced with a septic system. It was still located on the site of the original outhouse.
After my grandparents passed away and my folks inherited the land, they decided to renovate it. They had the old homestead knocked down and removed. Then they constructed the current cabin as an extension to the modernized bathroom Grandpa Louis had built for Grandma Ana. It was still the only source of indoor plumbing on the property.
Both of my parents had been only children. My dad's parents had died before I was born, while dad was still in the active Air Force. Our family was stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane, Washington when dad received the news. Losing my dad's folks just made my parents want to be closer to my remaining grandparents. It had encouraged my parents to return home as soon as they reasonably could.
My dad had served eight years active duty before he secured his position at the Air Reserve Station. Georgia had been nine years old and Carolina had been seven years old when we permanently relocated back to Minnesota in 1999, so they had vivid memories of that part of their lives. I really only remembered growing up with regular visits to my grandparent's land.
My early years were filled with great memories that included fishing with Grandpa Louis and baking with Grandma Ana. I thought it was so cool to help fillet and then bake the fish we caught in the indoor hearth or outdoor fire pit. I basked in the uniqueness of baking with vegetation we all gathered during our walks on the land or from the garden. It was like my fairy tale stories of old!
My mother had told us that my grandparents were the reason my sisters and I were named after states. My grandparents had thought it was funny that their names combined to make “Louisiana”, so they were inspired to name our mom Virginia. My parents were delighted with our grandparents' sense of humor, so they decided in favor of continuing the tradition. My mother always chuckled fondly whenever she retold the story of how we got our names.
Pulling into the area that had once been my grandparents' yard, the allure of the place helped me to shrug off my irritation about our hunting expedition. I loved the land and the feeling I drew from it too much to remain crabby. I could tell Carolina was feeling just as nostalgic because her mood was also lifted.
As I stretched my cramped body, I asked, “So what's this surprise you have for us, dad?”
Dad smiled brightly at Georgia. “Do you want to tell them?”
“Sure,” Georgia beamed a happy smile back at our dad. “Since you rallied against us and petitioned mom to intervene and end your days of hunting, we came to a compromise.”
“What compromise?” Carolina asked on full alert. “Mom didn't say anything about a compromise.”
“Actually, mom always sides with you guys and says we have to hunt,” I added. “So what's changed?”
Dad looked pleased that Carolina and I were clueless about the plans he had made. He was obviously excited and therefore, unable to wait for Georgia to finish her speech. He said, “It's a compromise between your mom and me in
regards to you girls.”
After he interjected this tidbit of news, he gestured for Georgia to continue. She smiled, entertained by dad's enthusiasm and continued by saying, “Everyone knows you don't like hunting and trapping, but you need to know how to do it. Furthermore, you need to practice the skills more than anything.”
“Yeah,” Carolina replied. I could tell she wanted my sister to get to the point as much as I wanted her to.
“And?” I pressed.
“You don't have to hunt anymore!” our dad announced happily, obviously anticipating our glee. It was apparent that Carolina and I reacted exactly the way he hoped.
“What?” I explained joyfully. “No way!”
“You better not be joking,” Carolina said, unwilling to believe the news. “You - hmmm. You better,” she struggled to speak, afraid to be excited, but clearly pleased to hear the end of our hunting days. “Are you kidding?”
“No, honey,” dad smiled and wrapped his arm around Carolina's shoulders. “I'm not kidding.”
“Really?” Carolina looked hopefully at our dad.
“Really,” he responded, only to be pulled into a choking bear hug by Carolina. Georgia and I couldn't help laughing at Carolina's reaction.
I was thrilled to learn I didn't have to hunt anymore, but then I realized what was actually said; they had said compromise. The word “compromise” meant that there was another part to this announcement. I wondered what was agreed upon and if I'd be unhappy when the other shoe finally dropped. What concessions had been made in agreeing to the band on hunting?
Unable to thoroughly enjoy our victory now that I realized it was tainted by a counter point, I asked, “What do we have to do instead?”
“What?” Carolina asked, my words pulling the definition of “compromise” into the forefront of her mind.
Georgia and Dad gave each other a knowing look. They had expected me to catch the fact that a compromise was an agreement reached by two parties finding a common ground, each giving up something to satisfy all involved. I instantly felt suspicious and nervous. “What did you and mom agree on in place of hunting?”
Carolina pulled away from our dad and looked at him with clear understanding. Dad smiled and placed his hand lovingly against Carolina's face. He said, “Don't look so scared, darling.”
“I can't help it,” Carolina confessed. “I just can't imagine what you would have agreed to and I'm nervous to find out.”
“An obstacle course,” dad told us. “I told your mom that I would stop taking you hunting if you participated in an obstacle course that would hone your skills.”
Carolina looked visibly relieved. “I can do that. Yeah, that sounds good.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I wanted to know.
I was happy with this revelation, but I was confused by the idea of an obstacle course. I understood an obstacle course to be something you crawled through, climbed on, and traversed for physical endurance and strengthening. How did it pertain to hunting?
“Well,” my dad turned to explain it to me, “Georgia and I will setup an obstacle course of targets and objectives that will require you to use your hunting skills. You will need to track us and assault the desired target in order to complete the course.”
“Dad and I will act as the animals and we will make a realistic trail for you to follow,” Georgia added. “If you have followed the path successfully, there'll be a final target for you to shoot or acquire in order to win the game.”
I now understood why our mom hadn't accompanied us on the hunt. She wasn't needed since we weren't butchering and processing anything. Even if she had joined us, my sisters and I would have led the activities; mom would have been here simply because it was such daunting work. It was not only time-consuming, but time-sensitive since you needed to get the meat sliced and smoking before it could spoil.
Processing the meat was always an arduous task. I was thrilled that we would not have to partake in that activity again. That was the best news for me though I knew the lack of killing was the best news for Carolina. She was such a good person. I wished I were as good as my older sister was, but I knew I never would be.
Carolina and I looked at one another and nodded in assent. Yes, this was a good compromise and one that we would be happy to participate in. We could both see how this would achieve our father's goals of teaching us hunting and tracking while putting an end to the killing. Yeppers, we were both delighted with this news indeed!
Chapter Two
“So you didn't have to hunt? Chris asked me as he rotated the tires on his 1996 Chevy K1500 Silverado extended cab truck.
“No,” I replied as I shadowed Chris around his dad's auto body shop. “It was sort of cool actually. Georgia setup the final targets that were meant to represent the animal we'd been hunting and dad laid the trail for us using an imprint of the animal's actual footprint.”
“That is cool,” Chris agreed. “You sound like you liked it better too, uh?”
“Definitely,” I confirmed. “It was so much cleaner. Do you know how many things I've gotten blood stained?”
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I went through more shoes and clothes from the splattering stains produced from butchering kill than for any other reason! Normally, I just dismissed that fact because it was a normal part of my life. Still, I felt more irritated by saying it out loud because it highlighted why so many people thought my family was odd.
Chris laughed at me and gently shook his head at me. “You're one of a kind, Dakota.”
I felt a little confused and my face felt warm as it flushed pink. I wasn't sure why Chris's comment made me blush, but it had and I felt a little self-conscious. “Why do you say that?”
“Most girls I know are only interested in fashion and movies, but you,” he replied. “You constantly amaze me.”
I laughed openly and whole-heartedly. “Okay,” I teasing, responding in a slightly mocking tone.
I knew that Chris meant this as a compliment, but in some ways, it didn't really feel like one. It felt more like a back-handed compliment. I might have perceived it as such, had I not known Chris as well I did. He just wasn't that kind of person. He was very direct, though considerate and equitable.
I had been smitten with Chris for as long as I could remember, but I had only acquired the rank of “good buddy.” Most people considered me to be his best friend, except his actual best friend, Travis. Truth be told, I knew deep down that Travis resented my closeness to Chris because, if given a choice, Chris usually picked me over him. That was flattering, but it didn't mean what I wanted it to me.
I wanted Chris to love me the way I loved him. I wanted him feel the same nervous energy and thrill that I felt by just the mention of his name. I dreamt of the possibilities a future with Chris would hold, though I never believed it was attainable. Chris never acted like anything more than just my dearest of friends and I was too afraid to confess my feelings openly.
I wasn't very good at hiding my feelings, so I had a sneaky suspicion that Chris knew how I really felt about him. With how flustered I sometimes got around him, I reckon he'd have to be pretty oblivious not to notice my attraction to him. For my own comfort, I chose to believe he didn't know because it hurt too much to think he did. I'd rather convince myself of his ignorance than to accept the truth that he didn't reciprocate my love.
I was happy to be endeared to Chris in any way, so “friends” was enough; I guess it had to be. I definitely wished for more, but Chris seemed content with how things were. If I had been right, and he did know how much he really meant to me, then he was making it pretty clear that he wasn't interested. We hung out together practically every, but we were definitely just friends.
I wished that I were beautiful and vivacious. I wished I was attractive enough to make me irresistible to Chris. I thought if I were as beautiful as either of my older sisters then he'd surely be mine, but I wasn't. I was just a plain girl who lacked in comparison to Georgia and Carolina. H
ell, I lacked in comparison to my best friend, Rae.
Chris smiled at me and tousled my hair playfully. His touch sent electricity burning through my body and I was sure I blushed yet again. Chris acted like he didn't notice how his touch affected me, but I was certain he was aware. Sometimes when he looked at me it was like… no! I stopped that thought before I finished it. I wouldn't indulge in things that would only cause me pain.
“Uh-oh,” Chris groaned, breaking into my reverie. I stared in the direction he was looking as he said, “Here comes the hip to your hop.”
“Hip to my hop?” I teased him for his choice of words.
“Yeah, you know,” he got self-conscious for a minute, but when he realized I was just joking, he relaxed. He nudged me cheerfully as Rae jauntily entered into the shop.
“Hi, guys,” Rae greeted us warmly. “Guess what – I got my license today!”
“No way! That's great,” I praised her happily. 'Congrats!”
Rae and I squealed and danced about together, as girls do. Rae cheerfully showed me the paper receipt that would act as her temporary license until her proper one arrived via the mail. She clapped happily as I raved over how cute the picture was.
“Oh, shit,” Chris said, feigning distress.
“What?” Rae asked, getting serious for a moment and worried that something was really wrong.
“No one's safe on the roads anymore,” Chris replied, barely able to keep from smiling.
I just giggled and Rae said, “Haa haa, very funny.”
Rae was good-natured and jovial, just Chris was. We often teased each other, but we were very fond of one another. We had grown up together and people were accustomed to finding us together more than not.
Chris was a year ahead of Rae and me in school and he was about to graduate. He wasn't certain what he wanted to do in life yet, so he was just planning to take some basic courses at the community college while he worked full-time for his dad. Though he was a wonderful mechanic and well-respected by the people in our community, Chris wasn't convinced that it was his life's calling.
A Ripple of Fear (Fear of Dakota #1) Page 2