Chapter 13
Hunter
“Imagine hundreds of prospectors arriving every day to mine for gold,” I say to my tour group of sixteen. “Skagway was a burgeoning town of twenty thousand permanent, temporary, and transient souls. To put that number in perspective, there are about two thousand people living and working in Skagway this summer, and anywhere from six to ten thousand tourists visiting on any given day. So, look around, folks. Skagway is packed this afternoon, right? But if you want to imagine what it was like during the Gold Rush, go ahead and double the number of people you see in town today!”
My small group looks around, mumbling to one another as they try to imagine the streets of Skagway packed with hopeful miners, canny shopkeepers, and scantily clad dance hall girls.
“Mr. Stewart?”
I look to my left where a little girl has her hand raised. With twin blonde braids, a gap-toothed smile, and a Princess Cruises T-shirt, she’s about as cute as can be.
“Yes, darlin’? You got a question for me?”
She nods. “Did they all find gold?”
“Nope.” I grimace theatrically for her. “They sure didn’t. Most didn’t, in fact.”
“That’s sad,” she says, frowning at me. “They came all the way here for nothing.”
“Well,” I say, “some of them opened businesses and stayed. Others had a grand adventure. And there were the lucky few who made their fortune.”
I don’t mention the 60,000 who died en route to the Klondike goldfields. It’s too depressing for my young friend.
“Who here has heard of the department store, Nordstrom?” I ask the group.
All of the ladies and most of the men raise their hands.
“One prospector by the name of John Nordstrom spent two years up north looking for gold. And guess what? He hit a mother lode. He left Skagway with $13,000—that’s about half a million by today’s standards—returned to Seattle, and started his business.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. When we’re leading tours, we have a strict rule about staying totally engaged with our group with the exception of one beer and bathroom break, which isn’t for another thirty minutes.
“Now, if you’ll all follow me down Broadway, we’re going to take a peek inside the Purple Parsnip, which is one of the oldest continually running businesses in town.”
We’re just in time to catch Bruce’s crowd-pleasing Soapy Smith reenactment, then continue to the Skagway Museum, followed by a quick stop at “The House of Negotiable Affection,” a 120-year-old, still-standing crib-style brothel.
By the time we get to the Skagway Brewery for our scheduled beer-flight stop, I’m as parched as my group and grateful for a fifteen-minute break from talking. After I have them set up at a table with samples of the local brew, I fish my phone out of my pocket to see who was calling me earlier.
Missed call from Kit Walsh.
It takes me a second to register who “Kit Walsh” is because my coworker from The Astonishing Race hasn’t been in contact with me since Isabella and I left Nome several weeks ago. In fact, aside from a long phone message from someone in HR at UPN, reminding me that I signed a non-disclosure agreement, and a direct deposit wired to my bank account, I haven’t been in contact with anyone from the show since returning home.
I tap on Kit’s voicemail message and hold the phone up to my ear.
“Hey, Hunter. It’s Kit. Um…from the show. Um…I just wanted to say that, you know, I’m sorry about how everything went down in Fairbanks. I mean, we didn’t really get to talk before you left, and I’m guessing you’re still pissed at me. I made a big mistake in not telling you what was going on. I should’ve put our friendship over the production…and, I mean, I didn’t. And I really, really feel shitty about that. You wouldn’t have done that to me. Ugh. I’m so fucking sorry.”She pauses for a second before continuing. “Anyway, I finished up the show, but I also lodged a complaint with the HR department at UPN about what they did to you guys, and I’ll never work with Nat-fucking-Keegan again.” Another pause. “I know that doesn’t change anything, but I wanted you to know.”
The message cuts off, and I look down at my phone, realizing I’ve just listened to message one of two. I click on the second one.
“Um, it’s just Kit again finishing up. Anyway, I’m not working for UPN anymore. I left LA, too. I always liked Seattle, so I decided to relocate. Turns out that AMC+ is rebooting Twin Peaks next year, and they’re just starting some preliminary shooting this fall. They needed someone to do location scouting, and I got the job.” She pauses again, talking to someone nearby for a second before returning to her message. “Sorry about that. Anyway, I’m allowed to hire a few people to work with me on the show, and I…I don’t know…you probably hate me or don’t trust me or whatever, but I had to reach out…you know, to try to make it up to you. If you’re interested in working on another show, or, you know, giving me a second chance to prove I can be a better friend, reach out. You were one of the best people I ever worked with, and if I could go back in time and warn you about what they were planning, I would. In a second. Anyway, sorry again, Hunter. I hope you’re doing okay. I really hope that. Bye…”
I stare at my phone for a second, processing Kit’s message.
The truth is that I could tell—at the Spur that awful night—that Kit knew exactly what was going on and had decided not to clue me in. And because I thought we were friends, it hurt. I felt betrayed, and so I avoided her for the rest of my time in Fairbanks and Nome. At one point, she caught me in the elevator in Nome and tried to apologize, but I didn’t look at her, acted like I couldn’t hear her, and walked out of the elevator while she was still speaking.
But since I got home, my anger has cooled, both toward the show and toward Kit. Yeah, it was a super shitty setup, but at the same time, I signed on to work for a reality show, and I broke the rules by dating a contestant. If Isabella and I were that protective of our privacy, we had no business participating in The Astonishing Race in the first place. And although I still don’t approve of the way things went down at the Spur, I understand why they did it; why they used us. There’s even a (grudging) part of me that’s the littlest bit grateful; I mean, without the show, I may not have reconnected with Isabella, and having her in my life is worth whatever path I walked to get here.
“Mr. Stewart?”
I look down to find my gap-toothed friend looking up at me, a half-finished mini-mug of root beer clasped in her little hands and a foam mustache over her upper lip.
“What’s up, darlin’?”
“Did you know the Alaska state land mammal is the moose?”
I squat down to chat with her at eye level. “I sure did.”
“Do you have a husky?”
“No, I don’t. I love dogs, but I don’t have one.”
“Everybody says Alaska is cold. But it’s not that cold here.”
“I agree. It’s hot today.”
“Why wasn’t there enough gold for everyone?”
“Just wasn’t,” I tell her. “Too many people. Not enough gold.”
“Do you like Christmas?”
“Definitely. Do you?”
“Yep. It’s my favorite. Have you ever seen a grizzly bear in person?”
“How about we join your mom and dad, and you can ask me as many questions as you want, okay?”
She grins at me and nods, taking my hand and leading the way back to her table.
***
I find myself with some free time at the end of the day. My tours are over, but Isabella’s not finished for another hour or so.
Turning my mind back to Kit’s offer, I think about what it would mean to relocate to Seattle, and whether or not that’s something I’m willing to do. I never really thought of taking a job outside of Skagway, but until now, I was never offered one either.
Checking the time again, I decide to walk over to Harper and Joe’s place and see if I can bend my sister’s ear for a spell. I sure could use a little advice.
When I get there, I knock on the screen door, and Harper yells, “Come on in!”
“Hey,” I say, stepping inside. “I could be a robber. You should be more careful about who you let in.”
“Pretty dumb robber to make trouble at the sheriff’s house,” she says, all saucy.
“Well, lucky for you,” I say, joining her on the couch, where she’s folding a mountain of warm, clean, tiny clothes. “I’m not here to make trouble.”
At our feet, five-month-old Wren lies on her back on a colorful playmat, reaching for mobiles hanging just within her reach. When she grabs onto one, she coos and giggles with glee.
“Hey. Look at that! She’s playing!”
“Yep. She loves this playmat. She can roll over now, too. We’re working on sitting up.”
“How’s the sleeping?”
“Better!” says Harper. “We put her down at eight, and she sleeps until one. She has a boob or bottle for fifteen minutes, then sleeps until six.”
“Not bad.”
“I’ll take it,” she says. She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me. “What’re you doing here?”
“Wanted to talk to my very wise sister.”
“As in wise ass?”
“Nope. As in almost married and sagely.”
“Wow. Okay.” She sits up straighter and faces me. “What’s up?”
“I got offered a job in Seattle.”
She blinks at me. “I had no idea you’d applied for jobs in Seattle.”
“I didn’t,” I tell her. “I heard from a work colleague from The Astonishing Race. She’s putting together a team of location scouts for a TV show shooting there.”
“And she wants you.”
I nod. “Yeah. She offered me a job.”
Harper’s lips twitch. “I thought everyone who worked on that show was an asshole.”
“Kit was the best of them,” I tell her. “And—so far—the only one who apologized.”
“Points for Kit.”
“So…what would you think if I worked in Seattle for a few months every year?”
“How many months are we talking about?”
“Five, maybe. Six, max.”
“Which months? Summer or off-season?”
“Off-season, for sure! I don’t want to hurt the business. I would never leave Stewart Tours or the campground permanently. This is my home. I love it here. I love all of you. I’d come back every spring like clockwork.”
“Like a grizzly emerging from torpor.”
“Yeah,” I say with a grin. “More or less.”
“That’s good. Dad would have a conniption if you weren’t here for the high season,” she says, picking up a onesie and carefully folding it into fourths.
“Harp, I’d always be here from the beginning of May until the end of September. No problem. No question,” I reassure her. “But let’s face it, the off-season is slow. There’s barely enough work to go around. We make ninety percent of our annual income in the summer. From October to April it’s one-off tours, the occasional family reunion or corporate retreat, and repairs and maintenance on the campground. Would it really be that big a deal if I lived somewhere else during those months? Between Tanner and McKenna, Parker, Sawyer and Reeve, Dad, Gran and Paw-Paw, everything would get handled. I wouldn’t be missed.”
“It’s quiet in the off-season. That’s true.” She gives me a pointed look. “But make no mistake, Hunter, you would be missed.”
“Yeah. I know.” I grimace. “That’s the hardest part about all of this.”
“But that said, when Isabella told me she’s coming back next summer, the first thing I thought was: Why should she spend months away from her family if you don’t spend months away from yours? It felt like she was making a bigger sacrifice. It didn’t really seem fair. I think relationships are more successful in the long run if both parties have to compromise, not just one.”
She rolls up two tiny socks into a light pink ball before continuing.
“It’s actually more common than you’d think—a couple living in two places instead of one. McKenna says it’s called a ‘time-share’ relationship. It’s when a couple lives in one place for part of the year, and somewhere else for another. It got popular during COVID because people worked remotely, realizing they didn’t have to live in one place all the time. She read about an America-Canadian pair that spent winters in San Diego and summers in Banff. Worked great for those folks.”
I think about what she’s saying.
Leaving Skagway every October first and living half my life in Seattle feels…daunting.
“I guess it could work for us, too. I don’t know,” I say uncertainly, taking a deep breath and exhaling it so loudly that Wren starts, her wide blue eyes looking accusingly at mine. “Sorry, baby girl.” I lie down on my side next to my niece, swinging a bright green monkey over her head. She grins at it, reaching up to grab it with her tiny fingers.
But saying goodbye to Isabella again without a plan for our future feels…agonizing.
I look up at my sister. “I love her, Harp. I love her terrible.”
“Yeah,” says Harper, grinning at me. She picks up a tiny pink sweater and folds it in half. “I know.”
“It could work, I think. I mean, we could also come back for Thanksgiving, you know, to break up the year a little. And New Year’s, too.” I scan Harper’s eyes, suddenly feeling like my whole decision hinges on my sister’s reaction. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she says, “it sounds like a plan.”
***
Isabella
Toward the end of the day, the boutique often gets quiet, and Freya heads home early, leaving me in charge. Today, I decide to use that time to call my mother and talk to her outside of Hunter’s earshot. My parents don’t know about my plan to return to Skagway next summer, and I’ve put off telling them for long enough. I figure I’ll tell them now, softening the blow by letting them know I’ve also signed my contract for the upcoming school year. Hopefully one will balance out the other.
“So you’re definitely returning to Alaska next summer, mi hija? You’ve decided?”
“I have,” I tell her. “But don’t worry! I’ll keep my job at the academy during the school year. That won’t change.”
“Ah-ha. I see. So, you’ll be home from September to May?”
“That’s right.”
“And then back to Alaska next summer.” She sighs. “Isn’t it cold there? What does Alaska have that Seattle doesn’t?”
“It’s not that cold. It can almost get hot during the day. And it stays light until midnight,” I say. “Plus, I can make a lot of money. They pay so much more here.”
“That’s good. Money is important.” She pauses. “But we miss you, mi hija. It’s been a long summer here without you.”
My heart clenches. The last thing I want to do is hurt my parents.
“Next year I could try to come home for a weekend in July to break up the summer a little. Or Mama, you and Papa could come here. It’s so beautiful! You’d love it,” I say. “And don’t forget, I’ll be home in three weeks, and I’m staying put until Memorial Day weekend. I’ll be around so much, you’ll get sick of me.”
“Never, mi hija.” She pauses. “How is McKenna?”
“She’s great. It’s been amazing to spend so much time with her.”
“I’m sure,” she says. “But then…you’re not only spending time with her, are you?”
I laugh nervously. Something in her tone makes me feel like a six-year-old all over again. “I’ve made a lot of new friends.”
“Friends.” She clears her throat. “Any new friends in particular?”
I gulp nervously. I’ve only mentioned Hunter in passing up to now. I was planning to tell my parents about him—about the show and how we fell in love and how we were outed and how I’ve been living with him this summer and how he means everything to me—when I saw them in person.
“Tu primo nos dijo sobre tu amigo. Hunter.”
Your cousin told us about your friend. Hunter.
I gulp again.
“I wish you had told me yourself, Isabella.”
“I didn’t want you to worry, Mama.”
“Why don’t you tell me now,” she suggests.
So, I do. I start at the beginning, only leaving out the parts about how hot and steamy things got between us. I tell my mother that Hunter is McKenna’s brother-in-law, and that I met him last summer. I tell her that his eyes are the color of the sky, and he makes me feel like the only woman in the world. I tell her that we already liked each other, but that we fell in love during The Astonishing Race, and I can’t imagine my life without him anymore. I tell her—even before I tell him—that I love him.
“Why didn’t you mention him before?”
“Because it’s complicated.”
“You love him. He loves you. What’s complicated?” Without letting me answer her question, she asks, “Is he coming home with you in September? We can’t wait to meet him.”
“And you will. Eventually. But he lives here,” I say. “I don’t know when he’ll come to Seattle, but he promises he’ll visit.”
“Visit? He plans to visit? I thought you said it was serious.”
This is why I wanted to wait to talk to them in person…because he lives in Skagway, and I live in Seattle, and besides the fact that I’ve accepted a seasonal job next summer, neither of us has plans to relocate in any real or permanent way. I know our lack of future plans will worry my parents, and I wanted to be there in person to reassure them.
“It is serious.”
“How can it be when you live so far from each other?”
That tone. It makes me wince. I imagine a drop of acid landing on the hood of a car and eating through the paint.
“We don’t know yet. He loves his family, and I love mine. He lives in Skagway, and I live in Seattle. We just…we need to figure things out. I don’t have all the answers right now, Mama. Give us time.”
“You can’t set sail in a leaky ship.”
I roll my eyes.
“Either you will move there, or he will move here, and from what you’re telling me—that you’re going back to Skagway next summer—the choice has already been made.”
“No, Mama. I told you. We haven’t figured it out everything ye—”
“Your father and I have one child,” she says. “Only one. You.”
“I know that,” I say. My heart beats faster, and my eyes start to burn. “But I love him, Mama. I love him so much.”
“More than us?”
“Not more or less,” I say, trying to keep my voice level as I swipe at tears. “I love you both. I love you all.”
A small group of tourists enters the shop, looking for last-minute gifts before heading back to their ship.
“Mama, I have to go. There are customers here,” I tell her. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice despondent. “We’ll talk again.”
She hangs up, and I wipe my tears away, grateful, for now, to offer my attention elsewhere.
***
“It wasn’t good,” I tell Hunter on the ride home. “She got really upset about my coming back next summer. She reminded me that I’m their only child…” I sigh pitifully. “It was rough. And it’s just the beginning.”
“You know,” says Hunter, “we’ve been avoiding it to some extent…the future. We’ve just been living in the present and enjoying our time together. But now, here we are in mid-August, and we haven’t figured it out yet. We don’t have a plan.”
“I haven’t been avoiding it,” I say. “I’m coming back next summer.”
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe I’ve been avoiding it.”
I don’t say anything, because part of me—a significant part of me—agrees with him. We haven’t talked about the future in any real terms. Aside from me coming back next summer and him visiting Seattle a few times, we haven’t really addressed it at all. And I want to. Moreover, I need to. Summer’s ending, and I’m getting more stressed out by the day.
“I was having trouble envisioning how it would work,” he tells me, driving by the Skagway airport on the way back to Dyea. “But I may have figured out more of it today.”
I look over at him, my curiosity piqued.
“What happened today?”
He grins at me. “I was offered a part-time job in Seattle.”
Until he says this…until the moment these words leave his lips…I don’t realize exactly how worried and scared I’ve been. Losing him felt impossible, but so did a long-term, long-distance relationship. Hearing him say that he was offered a job in Seattle? It’s an answer to every prayer I didn’t realize I’d made.
My face crumples. My eyes well with so many tears, I can’t hold them back. Embarrassed, I reach up to hide my face behind my hands, silent sobs shaking my shoulders.
The car stops moving, and Hunter’s fingers gently pull my hands away from my face. I throw myself half over the console between us, and he pulls me into his arms as best he can.
“Baby, it’s okay,” he says gently. “It’s all going to be okay.”
He holds me as I cry, as sobs rack my body, and a deluge of tears burns my cheeks.
Two major memories play like a movie on a screen in my mind—leaving Santos behind all those years ago and being forced to give him up, and leaving Hunter behind last summer and forcing myself to give him up.
I didn’t realize how frightened I was that it was about to happen all over again. Only my profound and intense relief in this moment clue me into the fact that I’d been living in a pressure cooker and didn’t know how to turn it off.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “Shh. It’s okay.”
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm down. When I lean back to look up at Hunter, I hiccup, sniffling softly.
“T-Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what happened.”
“Kit called,” he says, reaching for the Kleenex he keeps in his side door and handing me two.
“Kit…from the show?” I wipe my tears as I nod for him to go on.
“Yep. She said she was sorry about what happened. She complained to human resources in LA about how we were treated, then quit UPN and took a job as a location scout in Seattle for AMC+.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah. She’s building a small team down there and said she has a job for me…if I want it.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to say more. Moving to Seattle, even on a part-time basis, has to be his choice, not mine. I can’t make this decision for him.
“Just to be clear, I have to be back in Skagway every summer, Bella,” he says. “My family’s business is important to me.”
“I know it is.”
“But from October first to the end of April, it’s pretty dead here, honestly. I figure, if Kit could use someone from October to April, that’d work out fine for me.”
“So you said yes?”
“I haven’t called her back yet, but I will. There’s just one thing…”
It’s too good to be true.I look down at my lap where I’ve balled up the Kleenex. “What?”
“I have nowhere to live in Seattle.”
My head snaps up to find him laughing, his beautiful blue eyes alight and sparkling, his face so young and hopeful and happy, it almost hurts to look at him, but I can’t look away either.
“I love you,” I say, the words tumbling from my lips for the first time as I reach up to cradle his cheeks. “Live with me.”
“Sounds good,” he says, leaning forward to press his lips to mine. “And I love you, too.”
I wind my hands around the back of his neck as his tongue slides into my mouth, gliding against mine. It was over a year ago that we met each other and started falling. How close we came to losing one another. How terrifying that had one piece of our puzzle been cut differently, it wouldn’t have fit together into the picture I see now.
When I draw away from him, I’m breathless and panting and longing for our cozy bed in the yurt behind his almost-finished house.
“So you’ll take the job?” I ask him.
“Yep.” He nods. “We can live at your place in Seattle from October to April, and at my place in Skagway from May to September. I’ll have to come back before you in May, but I’ll be waiting for you when you get here, baby.”
“I’ll do the same,” I promise him, holding his eyes with mine. “On October first, mi vida, I’ll be waiting.”