Wild At Heart: A Novel

by Tucker, K. A.

  But how? Where?

  Jonah turns my face to meet his. “You just finished telling me that you don’t want me turning down jobs that I want.”

  I did just do that. But that was when I thought it was for The Yeti. This feels like Jonah is casting it aside. “Why this?”

  His blue eyes search mine. “Back at Wild, I was doin’ things that felt important. I felt like I was helpin’ people and, I don’t know … I guess I need to do something that feels important here, too. I can’t just be flying tourists around and dropping off coffee grinds to hotels. It’s not enough for me. It’s felt like somethin’s been missing. This opportunity from Sam, though? This is the kind of thing I get a rush from. Plus, the interior gets hit with fires every year. Even around here, sometimes. Imagine having to evacuate and losing all this.” He gestures around us. “If I can help stop that from happening, I want to try.” He nods slowly, as if convincing himself that this contract with Sam would be the right move.

  And it probably is, I must admit. This big, burly pilot of mine thrives off helping people. It’s why he gravitated toward Western Alaska to begin with, instead of moving to Anchorage where he spent part of his childhood. He found meaning with aiding the many villagers who populate the roadless tundra.

  “Then you should do it. We’ll figure everything else out,” I offer with a degree of finality in my voice that I don’t necessarily feel.

  “Wait until January, when we’re both cooped up in here because of the weather and on each other’s nerves. You’ll be begging me to take any job I can get.”

  “Highly unlikely.” This place almost feels like home when Jonah is here. “Plus, I may need your help with the outhouse race.”

  “The what?”

  “Muriel.”

  “Say no more.” He chuckles. “It was a smart idea to go to the Ale House tonight. Thank you, for pushing me. You are a big part of making all this happen.” He traces his fingertip along my jawline before leaning in to press a soft kiss against my lips.

  “Glad I could help.” And I am, even though the result has me feeling a mixture of relief—that I’m doing the right thing by pushing him—and an unsettled feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “You know what’s an even better idea?”

  “No. What?”

  He seizes my waist and hoists me up to perch on the edge of the tub.

  “It’s cold!” I grimace, my sopping-wet skin instantly erupting in gooseflesh. I attempt to slide back into the water, but Jonah holds me in place, smoothly pivoting to part my legs and fit his chest in between.

  His icy blue eyes lock on mine as his arms curl beneath my thighs to angle my hips for better access. Despite the shock of the temperature, a thrill erupts inside my belly. I lean back against the porch post and watch with greedy anticipation as he trails soft kisses up the inside of my thigh, all thoughts of the cold temperatures and fighting fires and three weeks without him vanishing the moment his mouth lands on its destination.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  June

  “You know you could build your platform solely off naked pictures of Jonah, right? I mean, you’d have a gazillion followers in no time.” Dishes rattle in the background as Diana cleans her kitchen, her phone on speaker. She has never been one to sit still while talking on the phone.

  I smile, not so much at her words but at the sound of her voice. I haven’t heard it since April. “So, you’re saying I should sexually exploit my boyfriend for the ’Gram.” I crouch to brush off mud that splattered over the carrot marker. Behind it is a tidy row of chartreuse fronds, well-watered by last night’s rain. “I don’t remember learning that strategy in my marketing classes.”

  “It’s called giving the people what they want, and you’re not the only one who does it. The difference is, your guy is universally hot. I mean, look how much traction you’ve gotten on this one!”

  “I haven’t checked. I’ve been too busy out here, weeding.” A never-ending task, I’m learning. In truth, I didn’t post the picture of Jonah in the hot tub for traction, though I knew it’d garner plenty. My Instagram followership has grown exponentially since I started sharing stories about Alaska and the yeti. And ever since I started chronicling our adventure with the log cabin in the woods, people seem to be finding me even faster.

  For those on the outside, there’s something exotic about my life. It seems an enviable dream, even when I share the many trials. Of course, I keep the darkest parts to myself. No one would know that, on our second day in our “romantically rustic” log cabin, elbow-deep in Phil’s trash, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. Jonah doesn’t even know that secret.

  And they’ll have no idea, when they fawn over the picture of Jonah in the hot tub, that I feel like I’ve hardly seen him since the night I took the shot two weeks ago. Sam Reed called him the day after the chili cook-off, enticing him to go out for a day and see how he liked it. It took no convincing and when Jonah arrived home that night, he was buzzing with excitement. I knew, before he confirmed it for me, that he’d already accepted the job, committing to being on call for Sam the entire summer.

  Despite what I’d said the previous night, a part of me felt betrayed, that he is abandoning our fledgling charter company, forcing me to block off the booking calendar until October. But I smiled and offered my congratulations, and I convinced myself that Jonah’s doing something that makes him happy, which makes me happy.

  Which means I’m going to be nothing but encouraging.

  The people who gawk at that photo and read my loving, playful caption don’t know any of this. They have no idea that there’s an inexplicably odd, hollow feeling blossoming in the pit of my stomach as of late; I’m trying my best to be understanding and supportive, but I’m struggling because I like having him around, because I miss him so damn much when he’s not here.

  They won’t know that I posted that picture of Jonah mainly for Jonah, because I know I’ll get a rise out of him when he sees it, which will earn me a night of playful threats and frisky foreplay. He’ll be solely focused on me for a few hours, instead of absorbed by firefighting training manuals and textbooks.

  So, really, I posted that picture for me.

  “Weeding? Did she say weeding?” Diana asks, I assume, Aaron. “Oh my God. It’s happened. My best friend has become countryfolk.”

  “Shut up.” I chuckle. “I have to keep myself busy somehow. The days are long around here.” There’s an official sunrise and sunset but it never truly gets dark. Jonah is up and gone well before I’d ever consider crawling out of bed, stirring my sleep long enough to kiss me goodbye. I’ve fallen into a predictable routine—check emails over coffee and breakfast, decide what I need to buy for lunch and dinner, followed by a heavy dose of bug repellent to come out here. Sometimes Muriel pops by for a quick check-in on the garden—and on me, I sense. I find I don’t mind those visits at all anymore. I’ve begun to look forward to them, even when she offers her opinions, unwarranted and uninvited.

  I passed my road test—with no moose incident—and have gained a degree of freedom I didn’t have before. I’ve joined the gym in Wasilla and now drive in to kill a few hours doing weights and cardio, followed by some shopping. I also visited the car dealership and test-drove a Jeep Wrangler. I’m waiting for a break in Jonah’s schedule so he can go in to help me navigate the conversation to buy what I want.

  My afternoons are spent entertaining myself with various projects. Last week, I finished the guest bedroom that overlooks the back of the house, garnishing it with new bedding and lighting and chic artwork. As soon as the quilt and dresser I ordered for the other smaller bedroom arrives, I’ll be able to finish that, too.

  I’ve booked a contractor to renovate our main floor bathroom and add a shower. He starts next month. I spent a day learning how to style a bookcase, and another two experimenting with surprisingly cute and rustic finds from the Trading Post—antique candle holders, pottery, vintage frames that I filled wit
h pictures from last summer.

  I spent a full week organizing the kitchen properly. I’ve installed additional shelves—by myself, using Jonah’s drill. Everything has its own place now, whether it be on a hook or in a labeled jar.

  With all this time on my hands, the house is beginning to feel like a home—a well-organized, clean home. I’ve also discovered that I enjoy trying out new recipes.

  But the days are long, my meals are lonely, and I find myself counting down the hours until I hear the familiar hum of an approaching plane.

  And counting the months until Jonah’s firefighting and his work with Jack Thomas are over, so I can have him to myself again.

  “Is Jonah working a lot?” Diana asks.

  “Yeah. There’s a fire south of here that’s been burning for a week.” A lightning strike started it, and thanks to the drier-than-normal season, the flames are gobbling up forest like it’s kindling doused in gasoline. The fact that it’s only mid-June is troublesome, according to the news.

  “Oh my God, are you serious? He’s fighting fires now, too?” I can hear the thrill in Diana’s voice. “Do you know how rugged and sexy your boyfriend is, Calla?”

  “I’m sitting right here!” Aaron hollers from somewhere in the background, making me smile.

  I know how rugged and sexy Jonah is. I’m also learning how frustrating he can be to deal with when it has anything to do with flying his planes. But, I’m not about to get into that with Diana.

  “So, how many years are you in law school for?” I ask, changing the subject.

  She groans. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, Calla. I don’t even like lawyers! Tell me I’m crazy!”

  “You’re crazy.” I smile. “But you’re gonna kick serious ass.” People often judge Diana as ditzy and shallow based on her flightiness and obsession with drawing the perfect eyebrow, but she’s one of the smartest people I know. Her LSAT scores got her into the top law school in Toronto. She’s the first paralegal that her boss, a.k.a. Beef Stick, has ever agreed to pay tuition and books for, which tells me how much potential he sees in her.

  I’m so happy for her, and yet I’m also sad. It feels like she has found a new life—one that I don’t have a place in anymore, especially all the way over here.

  “Have you decided if you’re going back to school yet? Or are you just going to flounder in your newfound wealth?” Diana mocks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve looked at the course options but there isn’t anything in Anchorage that interests me.” Plus, do I really want to commit to an on-campus program? What if we end up deciding to go elsewhere in a year or two? “I’ve been looking into some online courses. Graphic design, that sort of thing. Something I could maybe do freelance?” Something. I need … something.

  “Well … you’ve got time to decide, right? It’s not like you guys are hurting for money.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Though Jonah insists on working like we are. “I’m going to a Winter Carnival planning committee tonight.” Toby relayed a message from Muriel to be ready for pickup at five forty-five p.m. sharp. I keep meaning to ask him if it drives him nuts that his mother, who has a phone capable of texting, uses him as her middleman.

  “I guess that makes sense. You are a lady of leisure now, so charitable events and party planning need to become part of your daily schedule.”

  I laugh as I haul myself to my feet and dump a handful of weeds over the fence for Zeke, who trots over to devour them. “Muriel volun-told me so I don’t have a choice.”

  “What does one do at a winter carnival in Alaska?”

  “Carnival-y things in the frigid cold. A parade and maybe a race.” With outhouses, apparently. I tried searching for information online, so I don’t appear completely clueless walking into tonight’s meeting, but the event’s website lacked for anything beyond sponsorship and vendor opportunities, and a few lackluster pictures from past events of people huddling on the frozen lake. “Maybe I can do some of the marketing?”

  “Oh, hey, before I forget, your gift is on back order so it might not come until after your actual birthday.”

  My birthday. Right. I’m turning twenty-seven in two weeks. I haven’t given it as much thought this time around. On the one hand, it’s my first one with Jonah, which is exciting. But it’ll also be the first one without Mom and Simon hovering over my bed with a slice of cake, singing happy birthday, and the first since I met Diana that we won’t be giggling late into the night. “You should fly here and bring it with you, then,” I tease, but I’m not really joking.

  “Calla—”

  “Can’t you spare a couple days for me? Come for a long weekend? Please? I’ll pay for it!” I had no intention of begging Diana or making her feel bad, but the desperate words tumble out before I can stop them.

  She makes a strangled sound. “I’m sorry. I’ll come next year, I promise. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Spin class starts soon, and I need to prepare myself mentally for Sergei.”

  I check my watch, confirming her class doesn’t start for another three hours. I know, because we used to take it together. It’s not a surprise, though, that Diana would find a way out of our call the moment she begins to feel guilty. She doesn’t handle that emotion well. I do my best to keep the disappointment from my voice. “Say hi to him for me.” I used to despise Sergei and his militant spin classes. The woman who teaches the spin class at the gym in Wasilla has a docile voice and cranks show tunes.

  “Talk to ya later. Keep flaunting that beautiful man.”

  I laugh, despite my mood. “You have no shame.”

  “No, what I don’t have is a gorgeous naked Viking and a mountainous backdrop to exploit.”

  “What the hell am I?” Aaron hollers.

  “Not Norwegian!” she throws back, though with that teasing tone reserved for their verbal jabs. ’Kay, gotta go. Love you!”

  “Love you, too. Bye, Aar—”

  The phone clicks before I finish getting my words out.

  I tuck my phone into my pocket and settle back into weeding, trying to smother my letdown. I knew I couldn’t expect my family and friends to fly to Alaska every year—no matter how many times they say they want to come. But what will happen, as my parents get older and Diana is immersed in lawyerly things? How many years will stretch between our visits?

  I toss the weed over the fence and Zeke bleats. “Maybe I should tell Jonah I want to fly home for my birthday,” I say out loud. I know what Jonah’s answer will be—he can’t leave for a week in the middle of summer, especially after he signed this contract. I could go on my own. But the truth is, as much as I begrudge Diana for her unwillingness to leave Aaron on his own, the idea of taking off for my birthday without Jonah doesn’t appeal to me much, either.

  Zeke bleats again. I’ve grown familiar enough with the noises he makes to know this one sounds distressed.

  I look up in time to see him run along the fence line, away from me, toward his pen. And then he suddenly keels over and lays there, in the grass, his legs stiff in front of him.

  “Zeke?” I approach the garden gate, watching with a frown as the goat wriggles his body, struggling to stand. By the time I’ve exited the garden pen and made it to him, he’s on his hooves again. An unexpected wave of relief stirs in my gut. I’ve gotten used to having the dumb goat as company, trotting behind the ATV every morning, nibbling on grass and devouring weeds. Where Bandit is off in a tree somewhere half the time, Zeke has become my faithful companion, a sounding board when I babble.

  He bleats loudly again—that same distressed sound—and darts forward, only to fall over a second time, this time rolling onto his back, his legs held straight in the air.

  It clicks. “Oh my God!” I’ve seen YouTube videos of fainting goats before—compilations of them falling over, temporarily paralyzed, when they’re startled. Diana’s brother was obsessed with them for a time.

  This is the first time Zeke has done it since I’ve been around, though.

&n
bsp; “What is freaking you out so much that—” My question dies in my throat, replaced by a yelp when I spot the wolf standing no more than twenty feet away, watching us.

  No, not a wolf, not exactly.

  It’s Oscar, Roy’s dog.

  It takes ten seconds for my heart rate to resemble something stable, and then I’m left wondering if I should in fact be worried after all, because in this moment, with his cunning, narrowed eyes and the way his head is bowed forward, Oscar looks every bit the wild animal and not at all domesticated.

  But Oscar gives Zeke barely more than a glance as the goat struggles to his hooves again, his keen gaze locked on me. I know for certain now that it’s been him all along, lurking within the trees, scaring me half to death.

  Does he recognize me from that day?

  Why does he keep coming back?

  There are pages in that book Jonah got me about what to do when you encounter wild animals. Yell at some, speak calmly to others; don’t fight back with this one, arm yourself with sticks and rocks for another. Don’t ever run, don’t ever turn your back. Those last two seemed universal.

  I don’t recall any advice about dealing with the grouchy neighbor’s wolf dog that repeatedly stalks you on your property.

  Oscar hasn’t so much as twitched, and when I venture to take a step forward, he takes a quick hobble-step back, heavily favoring his injured hind leg.

  Zeke keeps bleating and running and keeling over, clearly aware of the potential danger an animal like Oscar presents. If Oscar wasn’t making me so nervous, I would be laughing and recording Zeke’s fainting spells on my phone to play for Jonah later. But right now, I need to get the goat back into his pen where he’s protected by electric wire, and I’m too afraid to turn my back on Oscar.

  He’s a dog. He’s just a dog, I remind myself. And I did save his life.

  “Go home!” I say loudly, attempting authority.

  The dog merely blinks.

  “Go home!” I yell. I’m sure I don’t sound nearly as threatening as Roy does.