Under the Northern Lights

by S. C. Stephens

  Relief gushed into me, extinguishing the attack. Any second I could delay moving away from him was a second I would cherish. “I’ll help . . . if you don’t mind.”

  He smiled, his expression brightening for the first time this morning. “I’d love that.” I love you.

  His remembered words rang through the small space between us. My heart skipped a beat. I love you too. And I don’t want to go . . . but I have to. Fighting back tears, I leaned forward to give him a heartfelt kiss. He returned it warmly, softly kissing me back. When we pulled apart, he swallowed. “There’s still time. We don’t have to do this right now.”

  I nodded, fighting back my own rising pain.

  Once our emotions . . . settled, we hopped out of the plane and unloaded Michael’s furs. Selling those was our top priority. Once we were loaded up, Michael found a small car rental place and arranged for a van to use for the day. Seeing him behind the wheel of anything other than a plane was . . . odd. He seemed so natural in the woods that I often forgot he’d had a life before his self-imposed isolation.

  Once we got into town, Michael drove us to the fur trader. When I stepped out of the van, I was assaulted by noise—car engines, horns, whining power tools in the distance, yelling, boisterous laughter, radios blaring, dogs barking, and cats mewling. Combined with the unnatural lighting everywhere and the constant bustle of people ceaselessly moving, it was almost sensory overload after my months of quiet living. It made me long for the forest.

  Michael noticed me cringing. “Takes getting used to again, doesn’t it?”

  Nodding, I told him, “Yeah.” My voice was loud to me, like I was overcompensating for the noise. And what made it even worse . . . this wasn’t even a big city. Not really. It was relatively small in the grand scheme of things, but it felt massive after how we’d been living.

  We stepped inside the fur trader’s shop, loaded up with our bundles, and a small bell above the door announced our arrival. A weathered old man looked up from behind the counter at hearing the familiar sound. “Well, I’ll be . . . Michael Bradley. I was beginning to worry about you. You’re typically here earlier than this.”

  Michael gave him a sheepish smile while I stared at him in surprise. He was known. And expected. For some reason, I imagined him not saying two words to people when he came into town. Hiding in plain sight. “Yeah . . . I had some plane trouble. Took longer than expected to fix.”

  The man nodded. “Yeah, Gary said that was probably it. Told me he couldn’t get your part to you before the weather hit. Hope you stock up on parts earlier this year instead of putting it off to the last minute.”

  Michael laughed. “Well, that all depends on how much you give me for these.”

  As I watched, stupefied by the exchange, Michael laid out his furs for inspection. Once prices were negotiated and Michael had been paid, the old man pointed a stern finger at me. “So, Michael, are you going to introduce me to your lovely lady or not?”

  Michael’s cheeks under his neatly trimmed beard flushed with color. “She’s not . . . we’re not . . .” Scratching his head, he turned to me and said, “Oh, uh . . . this is Mallory. Mallory, this is Billy. Or Grumpy Old Man, whichever you prefer.”

  With a laugh, I extended a hand to Billy. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Billy grunted as he clasped my palm. “You don’t listen to him . . . I’m not old. I’m just experienced.” He smiled at me. “It’s nice to see someone taking care of Michael. The missus and I worry about him out there in the woods all alone.”

  Michael cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Yes, well, anyway . . . it’s good to see you again, Billy. Tell Judith I said hello.”

  Billy waved. “Will do. You take care, Michael . . . Mallory.” He winked at me after he said my name, and I gave him a broad smile as I waved goodbye.

  Oh my God . . . people cared about Michael, and he cared in return. He wasn’t completely shut off. He hadn’t given up. There was still hope.

  The next stop was the general store, where Michael stocked up on all the commodities he couldn’t make for himself. Much like Billy, the clerk behind the counter knew Michael, had been expecting him. They chitchatted for several minutes while he rang up Michael’s purchases, and I watched the exchange in awe.

  I was seeing a completely different side of Michael. I was seeing society Michael . . . Dr. Michael. I’d only known the hurt and broken recluse. It was strange and exhilarating to see him how he must have been . . . before. And it made me realize that he could do this, could reintegrate into civilization. He was already doing it, if only on a smaller scale and for a shorter amount of time. Michael just didn’t realize that he was doing it.

  The last stop on our list was Gary’s—the mechanic where Michael got parts for his plane. Gary looked to be around Michael’s age, maybe a few years older, and had grease in every nook and cranny. Like everywhere else we’d been today, Gary was happy to see Michael and surprised he hadn’t seen him sooner. “Michael, so good to see you up here. I was worried when you didn’t show up a few days after your delivery. I thought maybe the part didn’t work out for you.”

  Michael waved off his concern with a smile. “I was having . . . other problems.”

  He flashed a glance over at me, and Gary’s smile widened. “Ah, I see. Name’s Gary. Nice to meet you.”

  “Mallory,” I said with a smile.

  Gary shook his head as he looked back at Michael. “I don’t know where you found a woman in the woods, but I’m happy for you, man.”

  “I didn’t . . . she’s not . . .” With a sigh, Michael stopped trying to explain what we were. Or weren’t. “I need to stock up on spark plugs, belts, oil . . . the usual. Hopefully nothing else major will go out. Getting here without a plane was brutal.”

  My gaze snapped to him as my jaw dropped. “How did you get here without a . . . ? Wait, did you walk here? From the cabin?” I couldn’t even imagine how long that had taken him.

  Michael shrugged. “Like I said before, I don’t have a phone. My plane wouldn’t start, so I did what I had to do.”

  Gary cringed. “I’m sorry we had to order it in for you. I hate not having every part on hand, but you know how it goes.”

  With a friendly smile, Michael told him, “I’m just glad I was right about what part it needed. Making that trip twice . . . probably would have killed me.”

  He laughed after he said it, but I didn’t laugh with him. His comment had too much truth to it. God . . . what if his plane broke again? And he had to make that hike again? What if he failed next time . . . ? He’d die alone in the woods . . . and I’d never know.

  As we were leaving Gary’s, my mood turned even more melancholy than this morning. Not only was I leaving him, but it suddenly felt like I was leaving him to die.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, studying me as we loaded the van.

  Pausing, I told him, “You walked . . . over a hundred miles, over mountain passes, through wilderness teeming with wildlife. You could have been . . .”

  Michael smiled at me. “It was early fall and still relatively warm. It wasn’t as bad as you’re thinking it was.”

  “And the next time your plane won’t start?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  His lips curled into a frown. “Then I’ll do it again. It’s part of my life out here, and I’ve accepted that.”

  “I don’t think I have,” I whispered.

  His voice was soft when he answered me. “I know. That’s why you’re going home.”

  A tremor of hope fluttered through me as I remembered the many people Michael had connected with here. If he could do it here, couldn’t he do it anywhere? “Michael . . . you know . . . you know you’re not as much of a recluse as you think you are, right?”

  He tilted his head at me like he didn’t understand. “I’ve never really thought of myself as a recluse, but what do you mean?”

  I swung my arm out to indicate the town. “Here, these people . . . you like them, and they lik
e you. You have community here.”

  Michael’s face hardened, and he shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is different. People here . . . they look out for each other.”

  “It’s not just here,” I said, clutching his arm. “Back home, people are just like this. Almost to the point of being busybodies, but still . . . they care. There are pockets of goodness everywhere; you just have to look for them.”

  A small smile cracked his hard facade. “Forever the optimist.”

  “One of us has to be.” Relaxing my grip on his arm, I slowly said, “So what do you think . . . about coming home with me? If my home is like this, do you think you could . . .” Stay with me?

  Michael let out a long sigh and grabbed my fingers, removing them from his arm. “Mallory . . . I’ve never led you on about this. I know you think I can do it . . . and maybe I can, but the point you’re missing is that . . . I don’t want to.”

  “Not even for me?” I whispered, my quiet voice shaking with emotion. “Not even for us?”

  His eyes were anguished as he relentlessly stared at me; I felt like he could see all the way through my soul. “No. I’m sorry . . . I truly am, but my answer is still no.”

  My heart cracked wide open—again—pouring hope and faith all over the frozen sidewalk. I’d so thought he could . . . but no . . . he couldn’t. Or he wouldn’t, at any rate. “Oh . . . okay . . . well . . . I should . . . I should call home, see if my parents will buy me a ticket since I don’t have much on me.”

  I felt dazed, broken. I never should have asked when I already knew the answer. I never should have hoped . . . because it was the hope that was killing me, not Michael. He’d told me from the beginning that he didn’t want to leave his little cabin in the woods. I was a fool to think love would change his mind.

  “Mallory,” he said, stepping forward to engulf me in his arms. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry I fell for you . . . I’m sorry you fell for me.” Pulling back, he studied me with watery eyes. “I’m sorry this is ending.”

  Feeling tears dropping to my cheeks, I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry for loving me—don’t be sorry that I love you. Love is the most precious commodity we have, and . . . even if it’s temporary . . . it should be cherished.”

  A small smile curved his lips. “I am going to miss you.”

  Nodding, I sniffled. “I’m going to miss you too. So much.”

  His lips lowered to mine, and I forced myself to put the past and future aside—to completely stay in the moment with him. Because our moment was quickly running out.

  After our tender kiss ended, Michael wiped my tears dry, then grabbed my hand. “There’s a working pay phone on the corner,” he told me. He began leading me there, and with every step, I found it harder and harder to not think about . . . anything. Staying present was difficult when a tidal wave of emotions was rapidly approaching.

  Michael lifted the handset and handed it to me. He plopped in some quarters; then I entered the number to my mom’s diner. It was the middle of the day, so if she was anywhere, it was there. I looped my finger around the cord as it rang. Nerves mixed with excitement—I couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.

  When the phone finally picked up, my heart was thundering in my chest. “Nana’s Diner, this is Nana.”

  “Mom?” My voice cracked, and I could feel the tears building already.

  “Mallory, oh my God, is that you? Is that really you? Are you okay? Where are you? You were gone for so long—we thought, oh my God, we thought . . .”

  I could hear her begin to sob; my own tears were instantly flowing down my cheeks. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine, and I want to come home.” Now I was sobbing, racked by pain. Pain for hurting my parents, pain from hearing my mom’s voice again, pain for the sentence that had just left my lips. I want to come home . . . and leave Michael behind.

  When we could both breathe again, I had Mom book a flight back home for me. “I’ll call you at the airport so you can let me know the details.”

  “Okay, honey. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re coming home.” Her voice broke again.

  “I love you, too, Mom. I’ll see you soon.” Afraid that I would lose it again, I hung up as quickly as I could.

  Michael rubbed my back. He was smiling softly when I looked up at him. “I don’t want to say this, but . . . if I’m going to make it back to the cabin tonight, I need to leave soon.”

  My heart was instantly in my throat. Leave. Soon. Wiping away a tear I hadn’t felt fall, he said, “I’ll take you to the airport first.”

  My insides were screaming—No! This is wrong!—but I nodded and let him lead me back to the van. The airport we were going to was different than the small one we’d arrived at. It was the largest in town, for commercial flights. Michael and I were silent for some time; then I broke the quiet between us.

  “Would you like me to . . . contact your father when I get home? Let him know you’re okay?”

  Michael instantly shook his head. “No.”

  “Michael, he would want to know that—”

  Michael’s eyes flashed to mine before returning to the road. “No, Mallory. He doesn’t need to know anything about me.”

  “Why?” I quietly asked.

  Michael sighed, and I thought for sure he wouldn’t tell me. Then he softly said, “He gave up on her . . . Kelly.”

  Bunching my brows, I tried to understand what that meant. “I don’t . . .”

  Michael briefly closed his eyes. “He’s a cop . . . in New York. A captain, actually. He’s the one who closed Kelly’s case when it turned cold. He shut the door on my wife and let her murderer get away free and clear. He might as well have helped the asshole do it.”

  “Michael, I’m sure he wanted to keep looking. It couldn’t have been an easy decision for him.”

  Michael’s hands on the wheel tightened. “Don’t. Don’t defend him. He gave up . . . and he told me I should give up too. ‘Move on, son. That’s what Kelly would want.’ And maybe that is what she would have wanted . . . but I wanted justice. He should have kept trying.”

  Just like you should keep trying. You’ve given up . . . on society, on people . . . on life. Don’t you see that?

  I couldn’t tell him that, not without starting a fight, so instead I told him, “Okay, Michael . . . okay.”

  His entire posture relaxed like a weight had been removed from him. “Thank you . . . for understanding,” he told me. I didn’t. Not entirely, but I hadn’t been there. For me, it was just a story. For Michael, it was pain incarnate.

  When we finally arrived at the airport, I felt the weight of change crushing me. This was it. Our last moment. Maintaining an even breath was a challenge, especially when I stepped outside and Michael handed me my bag. It felt heavier than I ever remembered it being.

  As we stood there on the sidewalk, people coming and going around us, words escaped me. What could I say to fully encapsulate what he meant to me? He’d saved me, patched me up, cared for me, fallen for me . . . made love to me. There was no simple phrase to thank him for all that, no easy way to tell him I’d never get over him. He was forever a part of me now. Maybe one day I’d move forward, love someone else . . . but I’d never move on. I was stuck. Right here. With him. For eternity.

  “Mallory . . . I . . .” Michael seemed lost too. The English language just didn’t have enough words.

  “I know,” I told him. He smiled, glad I understood. Setting my bag down, I laced my arms around his neck and pulled him to me for one final kiss. It was soft and sweet . . . and hurt like hell. My insides were acid, burning every single part of me.

  When we broke apart, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Would I ever be able to fully inhale again? Michael’s eyes darted between mine like he was memorizing me. “I will . . . always love you,” he whispered, his voice intense.

  A wail stuck in my throat, but I choked it back. “Me . . . too.” It was all I could spit out
through the grief tearing me in two.

  Michael grabbed my face, kissing me again. There was a voracity to this kiss that sent me reeling. Every movement, every exhale, every sound was a goodbye. Michael pulled away from me without warning. Eyes closed, he turned around and woodenly stormed over to the van like he was forcing every step. I wanted to reach out for him, beg him to stay, but I couldn’t. He had to leave, and I had to let him. It was the ultimate mutual torture.

  I watched in a panic as he started the van, backed up, and squealed away, making people nearby shout curse words at him. A part of my heart stretched away from my body as his van began disappearing from sight, and the second it was completely gone . . . it snapped. Broke. Shattered.

  The tears were falling now, and nothing I did could hold them back. He was gone. We were done. Dropping my head into my hands, I let the grief pour through me uninhibited.

  Goodbye, Michael. I love you. Always.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I cried almost the entire flight home. The man in the seat beside me must have thought I was mental. He kept scooting farther and farther away from me and never once asked me what was wrong. Maybe Michael had a point about society. Still, I needed to be a part of it just as much as he needed to be away from it. In the end, we just weren’t as compatible as I’d thought.

  When the plane finally touched down in Boise, my eyes were dry, but my soul felt drained . . . empty. I couldn’t even feel happy to be home yet. I knew that would come, eventually, but I had a feeling it would take a few days. Or months.

  I didn’t know what to expect when I trudged down to baggage claim to get my bag. Mom had said she’d pick me up; Dad had probably agreed to go with her. What I saw when my foot stepped off the escalator stole my breath—it looked like half the town was here. Mom, Dad, my sister, all of my friends and extended family, most of my neighbors, and my ex-husband, Shawn. They’d all driven over ninety minutes to watch me get off a plane?