Chapter 51 Clementine #2
“Oh my god, some of these little booths are so cute!” a bright voice says behind us.
A girl with lilac hair appears carrying a tote stuffed with booth finds.
This must be Daphne. Her boyfriend, Cameron, looks at her.
He has a quiet presence that reminds me of Alec.
“Look at these tiny little jars of jam!” She holds the glass jar in her palm.
“If you like jam, you have to try my gran’s gooseberry jam,” I say.
“Gooseberry! Oh my god, that is perfect for you, Cameron!” She shakes his shoulders. It must be an inside joke. “Sorry, I’m all over the place. I’m Daphne Quinn.” She sticks out her hand. She’s wearing a beautiful plum fisherman’s sweater with a striped scarf.
“I’m Clem.”
“I made you something.” Without hesitation, she presses a knitted bundle into my hand.
“Made me something?” She doesn’t even know me.
“It’s kind of her thing,” Alec whispers. “She’s a knitter.”
Nestled in my palm is a tiny knitted charm, a ballet pointe shoe, the palest shade of blush pink. A little loop of silver thread is stitched through the back so it could hang on a tree or dangle from a keychain.
My throat closes. “Oh my god. This is…you made this?”
“Of course,” she says. “I like to knit things that remind me of people. You’re a ballerina, so pointe shoes felt right.”
I blink fast, but my eyes still sting.
Beside her, Cameron folds his arms, but his voice is warm when he finally speaks.
“She’s underselling it. She’s brilliant.
Knit me a pair of socks last season with tiny stars.
Haven’t let in a penalty since.” His mouth barely tips up at the corner, but it’s there.
Pride. “She never gives herself enough credit.”
Daphne swats at him. “Cameron.”
“What? It’s true,” he says simply.
The affection between them is so easy, so obvious, it makes my chest ache.
“You all…you make it look so easy. Loving each other like this. It’s just—” My voice cracks, embarrassingly vulnerable. “I’ve never been around a family like this before.”
“You’re here now,” Daphne says simply, pulling me into a hug.
Behind her, I spot Gran. She’s waving her hot dog in the air like it’s a conductor’s baton, ketchup dripping onto her blanket. Her long gray hair is loose today, held back with a floral silk bandana that makes her look like a gorgeous woodland witch in the best way possible.
“There she is! My girl!” she crows. She kisses both my cheeks, smearing mustard across one. “Look at you, string bean, scaling cliffs like my Bill! Nearly gave me a coronary.”
“Made Grandpa proud today,” I say.
“You sure did! You should have heard the crowd when this one jumped into the water after you.” She elbows Alec.
“Sorry about that.” Alec’s fingers squeeze my shoulder.
“It’s fine. You showed up, and that’s all that matters.”
“You two did so well!” Yura says, hugging me tightly.
Mozart leans back on his haunches, pawing at me, and I bend down to let him kiss—more like devour—my face.
“Thank you for coming!” I get out between licks and nips of sharp little puppy teeth.
“Mozart, heel,” Finn commands, and immediately Mozart sits and turns back to Finn, who tosses him a treat.
“You two have been busy.” I stand gawking at my perfectly behaved pup.
My heart feels overwhelmed and happy, and I’m attempting to take it all in as the loudspeaker rings out over the crowd. “If you’d please make your way to the stage, where we’ll announce the winners of the thirty-second annual Wild Trails.”
“Guess we gotta head over there,” Alec says.
A hush falls, the family rustling to their feet. Alec’s arm is heavy around me, my heart is going a million beats an hour, and I feel something I’ve never felt before.
I feel rooted.
I croon, leaning my head into the crook of Alec’s neck, letting the heat of him soak into me as the mayor clears her throat and the crowd settles.
“The times are tallied, and we are ready to announce this year’s Wild Trails winner.”
Alec laces our fingers together, his thumb brushing mine once. I said I didn’t care if we won, but my heart is lodged in my throat. Because I do care. Because that prize money will pay off debts and will give me the kind of clean slate I’ve been clawing toward for years.
“Every year,” the mayor continues, “we hold this event to shine a light on our beautiful Alaska, this incredible park, and the local businesses who make this place our home. It’s a celebration of grit, community, and this wild land we get to wake up to daily.
Unless you’re passing through. In which case I say, sucks to be you. ”
The crowd laughs, but my pulse hammers.
“We had a record-breaking time this year of fifteen hours. The winners of this year’s Wild Trails are—” She drags out the pause, and it’s working. I squeeze Alec’s hand until my knuckles ache.
“Patti and Remi Ko!”
The cheer goes up. My shoulders drop, even as I clap with everyone else. The Ko sisters take the stage, identical grins flashing, and they deserve it. They’re Misthaven locals, and they’ve lived this land, breathed it since birth. They’re everything Wild Trails is meant to celebrate.
Still, my chest hollows out. The debt won’t vanish. The prize money won’t come.
“I’m sorry, Clem,” Alec whispers into my hair, the words only for me.
I turn, and the crowd blurs. My gran’s clapping, the Hastings crew are whooping, and Finn is trying to teach Yura how to whistle with her fingers. They’re happy. They’re proud.
I realize I am too.
“It’s okay.” I swallow. “Sure, it would’ve been nice to win. To walk away with a check big enough to make everything disappear. But I feel like I’ve won something else, something I needed more.”
Alec tilts his head, eyes searching mine. “What’s that?”
“Proof,” I say. A breath leaves me like it’s been locked up for years. “That I can do what I set my mind to. I didn’t just come for the prize money. I came here to see if I could do this, if I could be this version of myself. And I can.”
“You can.”
I kiss his knuckles. “The debt’s still there. It took me years to make it, and it’ll take time to pay it off. Slow and steady. One step at a time. But I’ll clear it. I don’t have to be afraid of that.”
His eyes soften, molten and proud all at once. “No, you don’t.”
I laugh. “I’m richer than I’ve ever been.”
His smile breaks through his disappointment. “Then we’ll call this year a win.” He squeezes my hand. “And next year? We’ll win it all.”
I kiss him, fierce and grateful, because I hope there is a next year, and a next after that. Years until our hair turns silver and wrinkles carve our stories into our skin.
“Maybe Mozart can join us,” I tease against his mouth.
“If he can resist launching himself out of the kayak every time he sees a fish, maybe.”
“A fisherman, like his daddy.”
Alec’s eyes spark, dark and heated, but then they soften. He cups the side of my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone like he’s memorizing me. “No. Not like his daddy. Better. Because he’ll have us. He’ll know home.”
Just like that, the loss doesn’t matter. The debt doesn’t matter. The future is here, in the press of his hand, the roar of his family behind us, the wild beating of my own heart.
I lean into him, breathing him in. “Then we’ve already won.”