Beth nodded. “I will. She wanted to be here, but she had to work.”
“That’s all right. I’ll be starting a new job myself when we get to Kodiak.”
Hopefully the new job would do her mom some good and get her out of the house. Maya threw her bag into the backseat of her dad’s SUV.
Beth tugged on Maya’s ponytail and smiled. “Call me when you get there?”
Maya nodded, and then took one more long look at her home, recalling the memories they’d built there, and were now leaving behind.
She remembered it clearly—the day her mom brought Gracie home from the hospital. Maya was fifteen, and still in denial that her mother had another baby after so long. But when she looked at Gracie for the first time—with her light-brown eyelashes and blotchy baby skin—it was love at first sight.
To leave without her baby sister felt so wrong. The ache in Maya’s heart deepened.
Her mother climbed in the passenger seat as her father started the car. “Let’s go,” he called through the open window.
Maya reluctantly joined her parents in the car. Beth closed the door as she buckled and waved, Maya’s father pulling away from the curb.
Her father gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Here we go, Reed family. A new start to our new lives.”
Chapter Three
Maya
Though the inside of the airport wasn’t much to look at, at least it was warm. The single room was little more than several rows of chairs, chipped paint and old Berber carpet. The rental car counter read, Rent a Heap.
Maya’s jaw dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding.” The entire airport was smaller than the cafeteria in her school—or what used to be her school.
She turned and came face-to-face with the bellybutton of a taxidermied grizzly bear standing on its hind legs. She scanned up its furry belly to the enormous head, the animal towering at what must have been fourteen feet tall. She stepped back. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a Kodiak bear,” her dad said from behind her. “They live all over the island.”
Maya raised her eyebrow at the animal’s six-inch incisors protruding from its perpetual snarl. “We’re not going to see any, are we?” She turned with the hope he’d laugh and tell her it was all just a big joke. Or a bad dream.
She’d settle for either.
“It’s possible. Alaska is the final frontier.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to get our bags.”
The airport attendant’s voice blared from the loudspeaker. “All passengers boarding flight 890 to Anchorage, Alaska, please get out your tickets and form a line. We will begin boarding momentarily.”
Maya continued to examine the bear until her focus shifted through the glass to a guy standing on the other side. His dark brown hair curled out from under his beanie and brushed against the top of his ears. He glanced at her. She froze. He smiled, and so did his eyes. She’d never seen eyes so blue.
He watched her through the glass, then gestured hello with a nod of his head. She forced a nervous smile, still too cold and freaked out from the move to conjure up any charm. What would be the point, anyway? He was about to get on a plane, probably to somewhere warm and wonderful like California. A moment later, he fell in line, boarding pass in hand.
“About ready?” her dad called from the other side of the room.
Maya turned, a knot forming in her stomach, as the pile of luggage her father pulled off the carousel continued to grow. She needed fresh air before she got sick.
With a few steps Maya pushed through the double doors and gripped the railing, scanning the distant hills dotted with spruce and pine trees.
Not a single palm tree in sight.
But she could smell the ocean, and though the air was different here—crisp and clean, with no humidity to cling to her skin—at least the salty breeze was something familiar.
The Coast Guard charter bus pulled up, tearing her focus away from the horizon. Her father burst through the double doors with their bags on a cart, her mother close behind with Ginger’s carrier in hand.
“Lieutenant Reed?” The driver stepped out of the van, smiling brightly. “Nice to finally meet you.” He shook her father’s hand. The two men loaded their bags. Maya followed her mother into the shuttle bus and slid to the back seat, overwhelmed by the view.
Untouched mountains and marshes stretched for miles. She leaned closer to the window, peering into the sky where an American bald eagle soared in circles. She’d never seen one in the wild. It was the first of many new things. If she hadn’t Googled the island and checked out the pictures before they arrived, she would have expected it to be covered in ice and snow. Thankfully Kodiak was in southern Alaska, so at least during the spring and summer, it was green and lush.
Her dad and the driver finished loading their bags and climbed in. Everyone chatted while Maya did her best to tune them out and give herself a silent pep talk before they arrived at their new home—God only knew what that would be like. The Coast Guard helped her dad find the house online, and since they only had a few months to pack and move, he had jumped on the first place available.
She slumped in her seat. Maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible as she imagined. There was probably a lot to do during her free time, like camping and fishing. She could focus on her art. Maybe her mom was right. If she tried to look at it like an adventure, this upside down circus ride might end up on her list of positive experiences.
The charter bus rounded a corner, revealing a town in the distance. The harbor housed old fishing boats anchored to a wooden dock. Seagulls and bald eagles shared the skies over glittering waves. Then her gaze moved to the dingy houses and buildings. It seemed like the entire city was packed into one cluster of streets, though in this case, she used the term ‘city’ loosely. No skyscrapers or shiny vehicles with chrome trim. No white, glittering sidewalks, rollerbladers or bicyclists. Just a light fog, grey skies, and a few people on the sidewalks dressed in heavy jackets and work boots.
“Is this it?” Maya asked.
“Pretty much. This is the town of Kodiak,” the driver said, watching her in the rearview mirror. “The Coast Guard base is about twenty minutes that way.” He pointed down a two-lane road.
Maya shifted in her seat. “What about the house?”
The driver made a left turn. “We’re almost there.” The charter bus turned up a hill, then pulled into a driveway lined with trees. They slowed to a stop in front of a two-story house with a wraparound porch and white shutters.
Their home in Long Beach may have only been a small ranch, the paint weathered after years of abuse from the humid, salty air, but at least it was inviting.
From what she read online, this house was a new build, which meant nobody had ever lived in it before. No Thanksgiving dinners around the dining room table. No slumber parties spent giggling and whispering about boys. No foggy mirrors after a hot shower, or stains on the carpet from a new puppy. Just nails, drywall, shingles, and a new coat of paint. The house was a shell, waiting for life to be breathed into it. Maya just wasn’t sure if their family had any left.
The driver shut off the engine and turned in his seat; his arm rested on the back of his chair. “Welcome home.”
***
It took a couple of weeks to settle in. Maya spent her days unpacking, painting, and playing with Ginger. But the peace and quiet was anything but. She hated to be bored. Her father had been at the base non-stop, which didn’t surprise her. He had become a workaholic. Her mother spent the last few weeks unpacking and preparing for her job as clerk at the hotel overlooking St. Paul Harbor.
Maya strolled into the kitchen where her mother sat at their new dinette table. Maya pulled up a chair, tapping her fuchsia-painted fingernails on the wood surface. At least back home she would be busy with school, or trips to the beach with Beth to check out the hot guys. They could have gone to a bonfire or two. The fact that she now shared two cars with her parents only made matters worse. Her da
d’s SUV was almost never available since he was gone so much, and with her mom starting her new job, they’d end up squabbling over the only transportation until Maya found something cheap to call her own.
Maya sighed. “So...”
Her mother glanced up at her from the black and white pages of the Kodiak Daily Mirror. “Good morning,” she said flatly, her lips tightly pressed.
Maya stopped tapping her fingers. Something was up. That placid tone of hers was a dead giveaway she was pissed. “Everything okay?”
Her mother set the newspaper down on the table. “I don’t know, Maya. Why don’t you tell me? Is everything okay?”
So much wasn’t okay, it was hard to pick out just one thing.
“I got this in the mail today.” Her mother tossed an open envelope in front of her.
Maya’s body rushed with heat.
Her mother set her elbows on the tabletop and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d lose your scholarship if you moved out of state?”
Maya picked up the mail and held it the air. “Why did you open this?”
Her mother paused and looked up at her. “Are you serious?” When Maya didn’t respond, she leaned back in her chair. “I thought it was your last semester’s grades. I didn’t realize it was...private.”
Maya set the letter back on the table. Nearly a year of silence, and suddenly her mother cared again? It had been almost eleven months since Gracie was gone, and just that long since the last time her mother showed even an atom’s amount of interest in her life. “What would you have had me do, Mom? It was either stay in California, alone, or go with you. Those were my choices.”
A deep sigh escaped her mother’s chest. “All that work you did in high school. All of those community service hours to bulk up your college applications.” She raised her hand in the air, shaking her head. “Everything, down the drain.”
“You think I don’t know that already?” Maya leaned forward, gripping the table. “It was all of my hard work that was wasted. My hours. My life.”
Her mother’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. “What happened affected all of us, Maya. It ruined all of our lives. Not just yours.”
“I...” Maya’s voice caught in her throat, her defenses stripped away from the sharpness of her mother’s tone. Past experience told her that any attempt at a normal conversation with her mother would result in a screaming match, followed by a three-day stretch of silence. It was pointless. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Her mom pushed out of her chair, and her features softened. She glanced at the letter. “I don’t know what you’re planning to do with your life now.” She picked up the empty cup from the table and set it in the sink. “Any ideas?” she asked, her back turned.
Maya stood; her mother’s shoulders slouched as she leaned on the counter, gazing out at the sea.
“I was thinking, maybe...” In all honesty, she had no plan. She was winging this whole thing with the hope she’d stumble through the next couple of months without screwing up too much, and make it out the other side okay. But her mother was clearly worried, with good reason. Now that they were on Kodiak, there was only one option. Maya cleared her throat. “They have a community—I mean, a university here.” She tugged on her earlobe, playing with the three rows of piercings. “I was thinking of checking it out. Getting my credits transferred. I can probably start as a sophomore if I change my major.”
Her mother turned and smiled softly, which gave Maya a flicker of hope. “Sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”
“I’ll check it out tomorrow. Maybe the admissions office will set me up with a campus tour.” She shrugged.
“All right. Well…” Her mother grabbed her keys off the counter and jingled them in the air. “I’m off to my first day of work. Wish me luck.”
Maya waved as her mother walked out the back door.
Kodiak College it was.
Fantastic.
Chapter Four
Jake
Jake stepped off the plane into the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. With his phone in hand, he waited to catch some signal.
One bar.
He’d take what he could get. It was ancient, as far as cell phones go, but until he could afford a new one, he was stuck with it.
His phone buzzed with a text. He flipped it open to read the message from his mom.
Be there in about twenty minutes. Sorry.
Jake snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He wasn’t surprised, considering her loser boyfriend probably didn’t want to unglue his fat ass from the couch. At least the extra twenty minutes would give him just enough time to get his bag and make it to the pickup area without breaking a sweat.
The carousel spit out his duffel sack almost immediately. It took another ten minutes to get to the rotating glass doors, chauffeuring him outside to the covered sidewalk, into the humid summer air. Car engines echoed in the overpass, the metallic roof reflecting bright lights in the darkness of the night. He glanced at the time on his phone, and then continued to search the line of cars crawling by.
The rusted El Camino pulled around the corner—the beast, as Jake had fondly named his old car.
He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and stepped to the edge of the curb. The car slowed to a stop, and Jake bent down to the open passenger window. His mom looked so much older, so much thinner than the last time he’d seen her. “Where’s Wayne?”
She smiled brightly, waving him in. “He’s at work. Hop in.”
His grip around the strap of his bag tightened. “You shouldn’t be driving. Get out. I’ll drive home.”
She glanced in the rear view mirror. “But there’s people waiting for us to move.”
“I don’t care, Mom.” He rounded the back of the car. “Fucking Wayne,” he mumbled. Her loser boyfriend couldn’t even pick him up from the airport.
She stepped out of the driver’s seat and threw her arms around him. He dropped his bag to hug her back, enveloping her. He frowned. She’d lost more weight than he expected, and her hair smelled like cigarettes. “How are you feeling?” He pulled back to examine the sleepy glaze of her eyes, and the dark rings lurking underneath. “Are you smoking again?”
She gathered her grey-streaked auburn hair over her shoulder. “After all this time, that’s all you’ve got to say?” Her smile widened while she walked around to the passenger door. “Some things haven’t changed.” She kicked at the car. “Still broken.”
The door hadn’t opened from the outside since he’d bought the damn thing. Hell, he only paid five hundred dollars for it, and it had gotten them everywhere they needed to go.
She slapped the sun-bleached roof with an open palm. “Well, come on. We have some catching up to do.” Jake tossed his bag in, leaned over the bucket seat and opened the passenger door from the inside. His mom sat and shut the door, then clapped her hands in delight. “Okay. Now, tell me everything.”
Jake slammed his door and kicked the car into drive, pulling away from the curb. “Well—”
She gasped. “What is that in your mouth?” She pinched his face between her fingers, turning his head toward her while he strained to keep his eyes on the road.
“It’s called a tongue ring, Mom.” The words came out in a slur with his cheeks still pinched together.
She let go, shaking her head. “That thing in your eyebrow wasn’t enough? You had to put a hole in your tongue too?”
He grinned. “It was my birthday present to myself.”
Her features sobered. “Oh.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you, honey. Did you get the card I sent?”
He made a left turn onto the highway. It would take about twenty minutes to get home, and he couldn’t help but wonder what condition the house would be in this time. On his last visit one of the windows was broken, shattered glass still scattered in the lawn that had grown almost three feet tall.
; “Yeah, I got the card. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to send you any money. Things have been...tight.”
He frowned. “Doesn’t worker’s comp cover some of the expenses while the doctors are trying to figure out what’s going on?”
“Well, it does. But the medications are expensive, and the copay is pretty high.” She forced a smile. “Enough about that.” She turned toward him. “Tell me what you’ve been doing. What’s your apartment like? How’s school? Aunt Sara tells me you visit her and Uncle Mike all the time. She said your grades are fantastic.” She pinched his cheek again, this time with a more gentle touch. “My little genius.”
He wasn’t satisfied with her explanation about the missing cash, but he’d let her have this time to be happy. She had been through enough shit in the last six months to bring anyone’s spirits down.
“Aunt Sara and Uncle Mike are good. They told me to tell you ‘hi,’ and they love you.”
She smiled. “And what about work?”
He shrugged. “It’s work. My skipper knows a lot, and I’ll be on the same boat this year, so that’s good.”
“You know I don’t like you working on those fishing boats. It’s so dangerous. I saw this one TV show about catching crab—”
“I don’t work on a crab boat.” Jake flicked on the blinker, preparing to exit the highway. “I’m on a salmon boat, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She exhaled and rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. At least you make some decent money.”
“Enough to afford rent, bills, plus a little extra to send to you when I can.”
She rested her back against the seat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
With the shadows from the street lamps flickering over her face as they drove, he was able to see how prominent her cheekbones had become. “As long as you’re okay. That’s all I’m worried about.”
She patted his hand resting on his leg. “Just me and you, kid.”
Jake clenched his jaw. “And Wayne.” His cold tone wiped the smile from her lips. “Why don’t you kick him out? He’s not doing anything but drinking away the money I send for food.” Her wide eyes made it clear she didn’t expect him to know what had been happening to the cash. So much for letting her have her moment. “Come on, Mom. If you were getting the worker’s comp money and what I send, you wouldn’t have a problem paying the utility bills that I had to cover last month.”
The Edge of You Page 2