Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ALASKA
“So, how did it go, honey?” my mom asks, her warmth like a cup of tea pressed into your hands on a rainy day.
The kitchen smells of simmering tomato sauce and fresh herbs, sunlight slipping through the small red checkered curtains over the sink.
“Did you have a lot of visitors?” she says as she places a plate of spaghetti and meatballs before me.
Her linen apron is dusted with flour, the ties slightly askew from a busy morning.
My dad, sitting to my right, hums as he grabs his fork and knife, the familiar creak of our old wooden dining table, the same one from our childhood, grounding me in the moment.
“Lots of ladies from the local book club, actually, um, they were looking for their next read.”
“Oh my, must have had a lot of chatter then. I hear from Sherry that they come by for tea at the pastry shop after each session and blabber for hours about the last thriller or handsome dark knight they read about,” my dad chuckles.
He’s wearing the shirt Mom gave him for Christmas last year, dark green with his favorite vintage watch.
His hair turned white a long time ago, but it’s undeniable how he and Matt are alike.
I glance at my twin on my left, and we exchange a knowing look.
Dad’s always making jokes about romance and books not set in the real world.
Says it’s for dreamers. Always told us to keep both feet on the ground.
“Well, I think it’s great, brings people into your shop,” Mom says, sitting in front of me and digging into her plate.
The childhood memories of Matthew and me eating homemade spaghetti will always be imprinted in me.
Even the smallest thing can become special when you’ve lived it as a child.
The smell of fresh madeleines, the sound of your dad’s laughter, or the way your mom praises you after a good grade.
It’s like a big blanket of comfort drawn over me each time I set foot back in my parents’ home.
Matthew and I don’t live here anymore. I rent a small house on the edge of town, where the forest is visible from every window.
It’s small but cozy, with a little book nook upstairs and a large window that hides you among the trees.
Matthew bought a flat downtown since he’s not as introverted as I am.
He even had a special room built with soundproof walls so he could play the piano and practice without disturbing anyone.
I enjoy having my own space while still being close to my family.
It makes things easier when I want to spend time with him, baking in his kitchen while he composes a breathtaking melody.
“Are you guys coming this afternoon?” I ask weakly.
“Sure, honey, we’ll be there. We just thought there’d be too much of a crowd this morning, and you know how your mom, er, but we’ll be there, kiddo, no worries,” my dad says, patting my head.
Mom’s convinced it’s a bad omen to be in the same place as too many people at once. I think she watches the news too much.
“We’ll grab a couple of hot chocolates and bring them to you. Would you like that, hon?” asks my mom, her blue eyes filled with love.
“That’d be nice. I…I think you’ll like it. They, um, did a lot this year. There's a chocolate fountain now, and…a wood workshop. Kids are playing lumberjack and… Yeah.”
Matthew chuckles and murmurs, “Did you tell Mom and Dad there’s a new cop around, too? He’s Jared’s new partner.” I shut my eyes, wanting to elbow him in the ribs. Why is he mentioning this now?
“Also, um, I don’t know if you saw him, but there's a new cop in town; he came by with Jared this morning,” I explain, tugging a strain of hair behind my ear.
“Oh, really? What’s he like?” asks my mom, her fork spiraling her pasta.
“Normal? I don’t know… Tall?”
“Tall? Isn’t that the big guy who’s on probation in our town and comes from a big city? The one Marta told us about, Terry?” Mom asks, resting her palm on Dad’s hand. On probation? What does that mean?
“Marta?” Dad scoffs, pointing a finger toward me. “I don’t believe a word that woman says. She’s always trying to stir things up and play matchmaker. Don’t listen to that old lady, Alaska. Marta Scholtz is a loud snake.”
“Okay, um… Anyway, he seemed nice, that’s all,” I mutter, shrinking in my chair.
“A bit more than nice,” Matthew adds with a smug humph, and I want to disappear into the floor.
Dad ignores him, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin.
“Jared’s a good guy. He deserves a decent partner.
Hopefully, this whole probation thing isn’t true.
” My mom shakes her head, her brown hair dancing on her shoulders, the same color as mine.
She’s wearing a long beige wool dress with a thin belt at the waist, and I hope I’ll be half as pretty as her when I grow up.
“Mom, don’t get upset, it was just rumors,” my brother tries, but her eyes get glossy while she looks at my dad.
“Do you remember what she said when… I mean, this woman—” Mom’s murmurs, emotions taking away her ability to speak.
“Honey, don’t let her stain our nice lunch, alright?” Dad says softly, lifting my mom’s hand and kissing it.
She shuts her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You know how I get when it’s about…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to. The four of us all know what she’s talking about, and we don’t need it to be said out loud ever again.
“How’s work, Dad?” asks my brother, lighting the mood.
“I haven’t told you, but we’re working on a new project,” my dad says, leaning in his chair, “got in touch with an organization helping teenagers who didn’t do well at school and are interested in manual labor.
We got three young men, around seventeen years old, I’d say, and we’re bringing them with us everywhere we go now.
Got one with me. The little guy’s not good at math, but he’s very attentive.
Good to have fresh blood.” He grins, enjoying Mom’s dish.
My dad owns a local plumbing company that grew a lot when other small towns sprang up around Lakeside.
He has about ten plumbers working for him, plus himself, because he gets fidgety sitting in his office for too long.
“That’s great, Dad, I’m happy for you,” I tell him.
“Mom, the pasta’s delicious, thanks.” They keep talking about the weather, Dad’s new intern, and why the oven doesn’t work like it used to.
All the while, the past sits with us, heavy as a ton of bricks.
We pretend not to notice, though sorrow has already settled in like an uninvited guest.
Sunday flew by, the last day of the festival wrapped in a blur of tourists, locals, and loud music.
After closing up my tent and hauling the books and decorations back to the shop, I went for a walk while the sun was still up.
I needed to clear my head before tonight’s dinner with Bella’s family and… Jack.
Handsome, mysterious, out-of-reach Jack.
I’m sweaty and sticky, and everything feels a bit too much right now.
Each step over the fallen leaves grounds me, tugging me back to the present, away from the constant noise of my thoughts.
I pass a tree and spot an insect crawling up its bark.
Slow and unbothered by my presence. I’m almost jealous.
Overthinking drains more out of me than I have to give.
I just want silence. A whole lot of nothing to think about.
I’ve been trying this new thing, walking through the forest near my house a few times a week after work.
Some might say it’s unsafe for a girl to be out here alone, but I need the open air and the space to hear myself think.
I take the familiar tourist trail that winds to a lookout over the main lake.
From here, you can almost see it in full, broad and barely moving, like an ocean without waves.
It stretches out below me, its edges beginning to harden.
Soon winter will be here, and the thin layer of ice covering it will be frozen in time for a few months.
We’ll all get to savor the lake’s raw, fleeting beauty until spring’s first buds return and it slips away.
No one will even remember how cold the air was then, how its icy water felt like pikes on our skin for the brave ones who dared to approach. It’ll come, and it’ll go.
A branch cracks and falls to the ground. A squirrel darts up a nearby tree. My breath curls into white smoke. Silence. Finally. I inhale deeply, trying to hollow out a space in my mind. I’m okay. As I reach for my journal, footsteps echo behind me. A low, velvety voice follows.
“Alaska?”
Jack
Two more minutes and I’ll be done with these ten kilometers of pure bliss.
Can’t say I regret putting my running shoes on after a few rough days.
Between meeting new colleagues, adjusting to a new area, and this…
this girl constantly lingering in the back of my mind, I’ve needed to let off steam more than ever.
The scent of pines fills the air, and my shoes fly over the muddy path.
I haven’t seen a soul out here since I started.
Perfect place to relax, or to hide bodies.
Depends on the perspective. The cop in me can never stay quiet for long.
My watch beeps, letting me know I’ve reached my destination.
I stop at the crest, branches concealing the view over the lake, the cold air slapping my lungs like steel.
The energy shifts and I feel a presence near me.
Someone’s a few meters ahead, standing and watching the lake.
We’re high up the hill, a jump from here would be deadly for sure.
I could stretch somewhere else in peace, but I’m already walking toward the figure, pulled by an invisible magnet.
My heart skips a beat. What were the odds of finding her here?
Alaska.