Chapter 3
Reeve (and Tanner)
When McKenna was a little girl, her Mimi would take her to Bellevue Square, a shopping mall near Seattle, every December to have pictures taken with Santa Claus.
The way McKenna describes it sounds like something out of the movie Elf or Miracle on 34 th Street —in the center of the shopping mall, there’d be a beautifully-decorated throne where Santa held court with a bevy of elves and cheerful Mrs. Claus. Hopeful children would line up to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him their dearest Christmas wishes, while parents would snap a bunch of photos for their holiday cards and newsletters.
When McKenna gave birth to Madden Garrison—named for her Mimi, Madeleine, and our father, Garrison—she told Tanner, in no uncertain terms, that no matter what, she wanted Madden to have his picture taken with Santa Claus every year. She was happy to give up the other comforts of Seattle, she said, but she wouldn’t give up an annual photo shoot of her child with the Big Man.
The problem with this request, however, is that we live in Skagway, Alaska. We have no department stores or shopping malls. The closest thing we have to a drivable city is Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territory, which is two hours north of Skagway on the Klondike Highway. But there’s no three-story glass and marble mall up in Whitehorse like they have in Seattle. No beautiful throne with photo-ready decorations. All you’ve got is a few strip malls, a Walmart Supercenter, and a Starbucks. It’s useful, sure. But picture-perfect? No.
McKenna’s dream of a candy-scented mall Santa seemed like a non-starter, until my father reminded us of an annual event we’d all forgotten about, the Yuletide Express!
“Don’t you remember?” he’d asked at dinner, turning to Harper expectantly. “We did that ride a few times with your mom when you were little.”
Now, I’ve never personally been on the Yuletide Express, but I have seen pictures. Apparently, Santa Claus appears in downtown Skagway at the festively decorated White Pass and Yukon Route Rail Depot the first Saturday morning in December. And after pictures with Santa in the depot, you can take an hourlong round-trip train ride from Skagway to Clifton and back.
From what I’ve heard, the antique train cars are completely decked out in Christmas cheer—pine roping, red bows, and white lights. And while aboard Skagway’s very own Polar Express, you can purchase hot cocoa and apple cider donuts. Santa and Mrs. Claus walk the aisles, handing out candy canes and promising gifts on Christmas morning for good girls and boys. And Christmas carols piped-in on the overhead speakers lead to many a merry sing-along. But more than anything else, as the train weaves its way through the snow-covered mountains outside of Skagway, I’ve heard it’s just a really pretty ride.
When asked by McKenna, I couldn’t ever remember riding on the Yuletide Express. Tanner, on the other hand—once reminded of it—had very clear, very fond childhood memories of taking the train at Christmastime.
“I loved it!” Tanner said. “I can’t believe I forgot about that!”
“It was magical,” agreed Harper, elbowing Joe in the ribs. “I can’t believe we haven’t taken Wren yet!”
Tanner had turned to McKenna with hope in his baby blues. “What do you say? It’s not a mall Santa, but you’d still get a festive photo of Mads with Santa!”
“It sounds perfect,” McKenna had agreed. “But I think Reeve should come with us. Why should she be the only Stewart who’s never been on the Yuletide Express?”
“Oh, thanks,” I’d said, feeling more like the family baby than ever before. “But I don’t need to—”
“Of course you do!” she’d insisted. “Being the youngest can really suck. Tanner and Harper have great memories of it. You need yours, too!”
The new-mom, quasi-feral, bursting-with-maternal-love-for-any-living-thing look in her eyes told me she wasn’t going to let it go. Whether I liked it or not, the path of least resistance would be the smartest way forward.
“Sure, McKenna,” I said, plastering a weak smile on my face. “I’d love to go.”
So, bright and early on the first Saturday of December, I’m waiting for Tanner, McKenna, and Madden at the depot, holding our place in a very long line because while you need to buy tickets for the train ride, anyone can show up for pictures with Santa.
And it feels like the entire town has turned up—kids wearing reindeer antlers and parents in matching elf outfits, babies in red velvet jumpers with shiny black dress shoes, and teenagers in midriff-baring T-shirts reading, “Bah Humbug!” or “Ho, Ho, Ho!”
Everyone in Skagway is here…and guess who’s in charge of crowd control?
Yep. Deputy Adams.
Tall and fit, and crazy handsome in his police uniform, complete with a Western cowboy-style hat that he’s decorated with a sprig of holly, he looks like all of my Christmas morning wishes wrapped up in one mouth-watering package.
He catches my eye as he chats with some folks a lot closer to the front. When he winks at me, I give him a little wave.
To be clear, I haven’t spoken to Aaron since last Sunday, avoiding him twice at rehearsals last week, unable to even meet his eyes after his passionate and unexpected confession. You, Reeve. I want you.
I’ve been avoiding Aaron because I don’t know what to do.
Part of me wants to jump his bones and have a dreamy, three-week holiday fling.
But another, more prudent, part of me knows that it would be pretty stupid to get intimately involved with someone a few weeks before leaving for college.
Not that it’s impossible to date someone long-distance. Millions of people have done it. I’ll come back for the holidays and summer break, of course, and truth told, although it’s not a nice drive from Skagway to Anchorage, unlike a lot of other places in Alaska, it’s possible. It’s fifteen hours from the University of Alaska in Anchorage to downtown Skagway.
So, it’s not about it being impossible, it’s about what I want to get out of my four years in Anchorage. I don’t want to be missing Aaron when I should be fully engaged in my new life at college. I want to be available to meet people and make connections and yes, date someone special without my whole family watching.
The long and short is this—I’m attracted to Aaron, and we have history, and sure, if I wasn’t leaving for college in January, we might be hooking up already. But I am leaving. Soon. The timing’s shit, just like it’s always been for us, and that’s a fact.
“Reeve! Hey!”
I look up to see my brother approaching with McKenna beside him. She’s pushing Madden in a stroller with a big, professional-looking camera around her neck. My four-month-old nephew, oblivious to everything going on around him, sits up straight, aided by shoulder straps. Snug as a bug, he’s bundled up in a bright red snowsuit and has a white pom-pom hat on his head and white mittens on his tiny hands. If there’s a cuter little boy in the entire universe, I’ve yet to see him.
“Hello, Madden!” I coo, squatting in front of him. “Who’s gonna see Santa? You are! You are, baby!” I stand up and grin at my sister-in-law. “He looks adorable.”
“I always wore fancy dresses and Mary Jane shoes for my Christmas picture,” she tells me, “but we’re starting a whole new tradition in Alaska. Our kids will have their annual Santa pictures taken in snowsuits and parkas.”
Woe to the child of Tanner and McKenna who wants a black puffer coat in junior high school, because I’m pretty sure their kids have a childhood of red or green parkas ahead of them. But McKenna looks so pleased about everything, I nod and smile like it’s the best idea ever.
“It’s warmer too! Makes sense.” I look up at my older brother. “So you did this ride with Mom and Dad, huh?”
Tanner grins at me. “Yeah. I remember sitting next to Hunter on the train, facing Harper and Mom.”
Mom. I envy the way Tanner says her name so casually, referring to one of a thousand sweet memories that include her. I have very few real memories of my mother, who died after injuries sustained in an avalanche when I was two years and three months old. My father did a great job raising me, and I always had Gran, Harper, and Parker to help with “girl stuff,” but I’m not sure any child without a mother ever stops longing for her. I certainly didn’t. I still long for my mother every day.
“Where was Dad?” I ask.
“I don’t remember,” he says, scratching his beard. “Sitting nearby, I guess? Or chatting with someone on the other side of the train, maybe? You know Dad.”
“I know Dad.” Our dad can get caught up in a random conversation faster than anyone I ever met.
“Thank God you got here when you did!” says McKenna, pulling gloves from her pockets and putting them on. “This is quite a line. What time does the depot open?”
I check my phone. “Twenty minutes.”
“Oh, there’s Aaron!” says McKenna, waving him over. “Aaron! Hey!”
Last year, when she was the stage manager for Wuthering Heights and Aaron was in charge of sets, they became friends. I know they still bump into each other regularly at library book clubs and other community events.
“McKenna!” Aaron pulls my sister-in-law into a giant bear hug. “You’re looking great! Is this the little man?”
“Sure is,” she says proudly. “You know, I haven’t had a chance to write you a thank you note for the—”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says, squatting down to meet Madden.
“You’re a good guy, Aaron,” says Tanner. “That was a real thoughtful gift.”
And I have to say…I’m curious. What is this “thoughtful gift” that Aaron gave my brother and his wife? So thoughtful, in fact, that it merits a proper thank you note?
“Hey, little one,” says Aaron. He takes off a yellow buckskin glove with his teeth and reaches out to gently grab and shake Madden’s foot.
My nephew grins at Aaron, then giggles with delight, reaching for the brim of his hat.
“You want this?” asks Aaron, taking it off and offering it to the baby.
It’s as big as Madden’s entire head. His face crumples with fear.
“Oh, no!” Aaron stands up quickly, hiding the offending hat behind his back. “Sorry about that!”
Tanner chuckles as McKenna leans down to soothe her son with sweet words.
“Don’t worry about it,” says my brother, slapping Aaron on the back. “We’ll toughen him up when he’s a little older!”
“Way to go,” I say, giving Aaron a sour look and crossing my arms over my chest. Old habits die hard . “You made a baby cry.”
Aaron looks like he wants to throttle me, then bursts into laughter instead. He turns back to Tanner. “Speaking of tough! Your sister’s no slouch!”
“Reeve’s always been a ball buster.”
“Ooo!” says McKenna, standing up with a nose-scrunched grimace. “Someone made a stinky. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the hat that made him cry.” She looks at her husband, her eyes flinty. “We have a situation. Rock, paper, scissors?”
Tanner nods, putting his hand behind his back. He knows the drill.
“Rock, paper, scissors…shoot!” yells McKenna.
She holds her hand flat like paper, while Tanner fists his hand like a rock.
“Paper covers rock!” she crows.
Tanner sighs, reaching for the diaper bag on his wife’s shoulder.
“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll come and help,” says McKenna. “From the smell of it, this could be a two-man job. Let’s get him cleaned up and sweet smelling before it’s time to meet Santa.” She turns to me. “Hold our place, Reeve?”
“You got it.” As they trudge away to a nearby café to use the bathroom changing table, I turn to Aaron. “You don’t have to stand with me.”
“I know that,” he says, putting his hat back on his head. “But no one’s being rowdy, and the doors don’t open for another ten or fifteen minutes, and besides…”
“Besides?”
“There’s no one else I’d rather stand next to.”
“Aaron—”
“I get it,” he says softly. “I took my shot, and you don’t feel the same. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I just…”
“I’m leaving,” I blurt out.
“…want a chance. Wait. What?” His eyes skewer mine, searching them for answers. “What are you talking about? Leaving? Leaving Skagway?”
“I’m going to college,” I say. “For nursing.”
His face brightens a little, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s a devastating smile because I think he’s sad but trying to be supportive. I’d just as soon never see it again.
“That’s…well, that’s amazing, Reeve. Good for you. When do you go?”
“Classes start in January.”
“Eugene or Seattle?”
This is a fair question. My dad went to U Dub, and my mom went to U of O. The rivalry within our family is well-known, almost legendary.
“Actually, neither,” I say. “I’m trailblazing a new path. I’ll be going to U of A. Anchorage.”
That smile that didn’t reach his eyes before? Now it does. Now it brightens his whole face and crinkles his eyes, and something inside of me sings.
“You’re staying in Alaska,” he says. “That’s great.”
He’s so pleased by this news, I can’t help but return his beautiful smile.
“Anchorage isn’t so far,” he says.
“It’s fifteen hours by car. That’s pretty far.”
“Less than four hours by plane,” he counters.
“True,” I say. “But I’m not just going there for school, Aaron. I need a change. I need to try living on my own. Away from my family. Away from Skagway. Away from everything and everyone I know. To be honest—and no offense intended—I don’t want to be distracted by people at home.”
He winces.
For whatever ungodly reason, I take this as a sign to continue talking, my words like a flood now that the dam’s been opened.
“That’s why I can’t date you. I—I need for my whole life to be up in Anchorage this spring. All of my focus. All of me. I can’t be mooning around for some guy I started dating at the ninth hour before leaving for school, you know? Your timing sucks. Sorry, but it does.”
“Wow. Okay. Got it.” He stands beside me, quiet for a long moment before adding, “Good luck with everything.”
“Thanks. I…”
When I look up, realizing that I should soften the blow of my words, I realize he’s gone. He’s walking up to the front of the line with long strides and leaving me behind.
McKenna and Tanner hurry back into line, and a minute later, the doors of the depot open to welcome everyone to “the North Pole.”
The atmosphere is festive, but damn, my heart feels heavy.
***
“Boy! Those folks sure can sing!” says McKenna, sitting down beside me as the train chugs back toward Skagway. She’s been singing Christmas carols with a group at the front of the train car for the better part of half an hour.
I hand her the rest of her ( now cold ) hot cocoa. “Wet your whistle?”
“Thanks!” she says, finishing the paper cup without complaint. “Looks like we’re almost home…which means you’ve officially experienced the Yuletide Express! What did you think?”
“It was fun,” I tell her, but she can see that my heart isn’t in my words.
For the last hour and a half while she’s been making merry, I’ve been thinking about Aaron; specifically about the way his face lit up when I told him I’d be studying in Anchorage, and not in the Lower 48. It was such a genuine reaction of hope and relief, the memory of it pulls at my heart, and I feel worse and worse about shooting him down so brutally.
“Come on,” says McKenna. “What’s on your mind?”
I’m tempted to talk to her about everything, but how can I? Sawyer’s the only one of my siblings who knows I’m planning to leave. My older brothers and sisters, especially Harper and Tanner, are going to shit a brick when they find out. And I don’t want to put McKenna in the awkward position of having to keep a secret from her husband.
“Really. It’s nothing,” I tell her, glancing at the seat across from us, where Tanner and Madden are fast asleep. Tanner’s got his head thrown back against the seat rest, and Madden snores softly from his baby sling, snug against Tanner’s heart. My brother’s a great dad. No surprise there. He’s a great big brother, too. “Look at these two! Do you think they enjoyed it?”
“I think they both had a great nap!” she says, putting her arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. She’s shorter than I am and rests her head in the crook of my neck. “Sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”
What can I say that’s the truth, but avoids the subject of college?
“I just want more out of life. I can’t just be the ‘Stewart’s littlest sister’ forever, you know?” I keep my voice low, just in case Tanner’s pretending to sleep.
“No one expects you to be.”
“They do!” I cry. “They all expect me to be ‘little Reeve’ for the rest of my life.”
“Building boundaries is hard,” says McKenna. “But I find that when I tell people how I want—or need —to be treated…as long as it’s reasonable, of course…people who care about me get on board pretty quick.” She sighs. “Maybe it’s just a matter of you letting them know that while you’ll always be their youngest sibling, you’re also an adult now.”
If only it was that easy.
“Maybe,” I mutter without much conviction.
Hoot! Hoot!
The train whistle lets us know that the depot is in sight, and Tanner sits up, rubbing his eyes. “What did I miss?”
“Most of the ride,” says McKenna, taking Madden out of the sling while Tanner stands up and stretches. He takes the stroller down from the overhead rack, unfolding it in the aisle as the train comes to a stop.
“What’d you think of the choo-choo, little sister?” Tanner asks me.
McKenna, who’s squatting in front of the stroller to strap in a still-sleeping Madden, jerks her head up to look at me.
“Whomp. There it is,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.
“What’d I do?” asks Tanner, looking back and forth between us. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Shut up, Tanner,” McKenna and I say in unison.
I walk my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew to their car, hugging and kissing them goodbye, and thanking them for paying for my train ticket. Tanner says he’ll see me at Parker’s house for dinner this weekend, and McKenna draws me close for a hug.
“Boundaries,” she whispers near my ear.
“The sooner the better,” I whisper back, waving goodbye as they speed away.
I think about doing some Christmas shopping as long as I’m in town, but I’m cold and feeling gloomy, so I decide to go home instead. As I make my way across the parking lot, I see Aaron leaning against my car, waiting for me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he says.
His eyes scan my face as he pushes away from my car. He’s hurt. I get it.
“Listen, Aaron, before when we were talking, I was a little—”
“You’re wrong, Reeve. I think you’re so wrong.”
“About what?”
“About leaving home behind. Home is where the heart is. It’s definitely where your heart is. The chances of you going to Anchorage and not being distracted by people from home? Next to none.”
“Well, I have to try, don’t I? I’m not a little kid anymore! I have to leave the nest, fly the coop, make a break for it! I need to get out there, into the wide world, and…and…and live my life!”
“In Anchorage.”
“Yes.”
“Why Anchorage?”
“Best nursing program in the state and a giant scholarship.”
His consternation fades for just a second. “A scholarship? That’s awesome.”
“I know,” I say, feeling proud of myself. “I’m pumped.”
“So, Anchorage is the game plan? The ‘live your life’ plan? Where you plan to stay? Indefinitely?”
“ Forever? No! No, of course not.” To be frank, I hadn’t given much thought to what happens after my four-year nursing program, but my words come so easily, it’s clear that my heart already has ideas of its own, and they include coming home. “I love Skagway. I want to come back and practice nursing here. Near my family. Near the people I…I love.”
“Then—”
“But I need to break away first . I need boundaries,” I say firmly, putting McKenna’s advice into action. “And the first one needs to be between my life here and my life in Anchorage.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
“Because here in Skagway, I’ll always be ‘little Reeve,’ ‘the little sister.’ I need to show them that I’m an adult.”
“And you can’t do that here.”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “I can’t. Unless I make a change that shows my family that I’m an adult, fully capable of making my own decisions, they won’t believe it. I have to show them how I want to be treated. Not like a little kid. Not anymore.”
“Yeah, okay.” He nods. “I get it.”
“Do you?” I ask, reaching for his arm. “Because I want you to get it, Aaron. I want you to understand. The thought that I might have hurt your feelings earlier had me in knots for the whole train—”
“Go out with me.”
“What?”
“I want to take you out on a date. A real one. Before you go.”
“What’s the point? I’m leaving.”
“That is the point,” he says. “I want you to have the memory of going out on a date with me when you’re up there in Anchorage with all those college boys.”
My fingers squeeze around the rough canvas of his jacket.
“Having the memory of a great date with you might make it harder for me to leave,” I murmur.
“Nonetheless,” he says, his eyes soft and pleading. “I’m asking.”
How can I ensure that things between us don’t go too far? How do I protect my heart? There’s only one way.
“I’ll go,” I tell him, sliding my hand from his arm. “But as a friend. No holding hands or—or kissing, or declarations, or anything else. Just two friends going out to dinner. That’s it.”
“That doesn’t sound like a date,” he says.
“Then the answer’s no.”
“Okay, fine,” he says, holding out his hand. “Friends.”
I reach for it, letting him enfold mine in his. “Deal.”
“Saturday,” he says.
“Can’t,” I say. “I have a family dinner at Parker’s.”
“Friday?”
“Sure,” I say, realizing my hand is still in his. I’m in no rush to pull it away. It feels too nice for our palms to be flush, the heat of his skin pressed against the warmth of mine. His thumb strokes the pad of my hand tenderly, and my breath hitches.
“And I get to plan the date,” he says. “And you go along with it.”
“Are you gonna plan something weird?” I ask. His thumb makes lazy circles on my palm. I work hard to conceal how much it’s affecting me.
“Nope. I promise it’ll be nice. Really nice.”
I recall Tanner and McKenna’s gratitude about Aaron’s “thoughtful” gift for Madden, and wonder what kind of date he’d plan if I got out of the way and let him have free rein. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I agree. “Fine. You plan it. I’ll go along.”
“Awesome,” he says, grinning at me. Suddenly, his face registers surprise. “Ooops!” he cries, yanking his hand away. “You said no hand holding. Sorry.”
But his eyes say he’s not sorry. Not one bit. And my skin feels cold and lonesome without his pressed against it. I stare up at him. My stomach flutters.
“See you Friday, Reeve,” he says, tipping his hat as he gives me a slow, sexy smile.
Damn him!
I watch him saunter back toward his cruiser, my eyes glued to his ass, and my cooling hand fisted in protest.