Epilogue 1
A Few Weeks Later
Ivy
" N o. They were definitely men."
Jake's house was built without a front porch, just a direct walk to the front door with a small overhang to keep snow from building up in front of the door.
It's the only thing I don't like about our home and Jake says it's an easy fix.
One of the perks of being engaged to a small town lumberjack is having an in with the local sawmill. Lumber isn't hard to come by, so Jake's planning a porch extension project that he and his friends will do this fall after the logging season winds down a few weeks from now.
In the meantime, I set up a sitting area on the side of the house where we have a small patch of lawn.
It's a nice place to read or where I can bring my laptop out to work on my next book or, like today, drop a big blanket and sit on the ground with Phoenix and her adorable baby boy.
Phoenix and I easily turned a passing acquaintanceship into a genuine bond once it was clear I'd be staying in Moonshine Ridge.
Six-month-old Michael rolls on the blanket between us, having much more fun watching a chipmunk run up and down the tree trunk than playing with his stuffed bear. He's such a cute and happy baby and every time they come to visit, Jake gets attacked when he gets home.
We set our wedding date for March, hoping for a mild winter so our families can get up the mountain for the event. But for all our trying, we're still not pregnant.
Of course, it's only been a month. Even Jake tells me to be patient.
"No, what I saw was not human." Phoenix brings Michael back to the center of our blanket so he can roll to the edge again.
He's not quite crawling yet, but he's making a good effort at it.
One thing we've talked about a lot is our separate experiences in the Weeping Wilderness.
Phoenix had convinced herself she must have seen a bear.
One that was standing on its hind legs, curiously watching from behind the trees.
It must have been just a trick of the forest's filtered lighting that made it look more canine.
Then the Diaz pack was confirmed to exist just the week after my own scare in those woods. As a result of my ordeal, new evidence was collected and the mysterious wolf pack that local cryptozoologist, Finch Diaz, originally discovered was confirmed.
One little problem is that DNA samples have been inconclusive, and biologists haven't been able to agree on the species of our pack.
Knowing the wolves are real, has made my friend rethink her bear conclusion. Now she's wondering if it could have been a wolf; maybe standing on something to give it the height she's certain was over six feet tall.
"Well it wasn't Bigfoot, I know that much," Phoenix says. We laugh. We laugh a lot about the local bigfoot legends and all the people they bring to our tiny community.
"At least he's good for business," I point out, picking one the cinnamon rolls out of the box of goodies she brought up from the bakery.
The ginormous bear claws she calls "squatch claws" are too rich for me, but the cinnamon rolls smothered in cream cheese icing are my favorite. They don't have a Bigfoot-themed name, but she sells them with a tag that says "Bigfoot is a cinnamon roll for our cinnamon rolls."
Girl's a marketing genius, her bakery is internet famous around the world. It helps that everything she makes tastes good enough that it'd sell like crazy even without Bigfoot's celebrity endorsement.
Our laughter dies and Phoenix gets serious.
"Any word on who it was though?"
I watch my hands unravel the sticky treat thoughtfully and shake my head.
Jake told the deputy what I heard the day he pulled me out of that forest, but no one's ever found the men who tore my campsite up.
"Hawk is working with the department in Paradise Point, but they admit we might never know who it was.
They're worried it might be traffickers-- or maybe just weirdos-- thinking they can use the forest's history to their advantage.
Maybe just sickos who thought it'd be fun to start the disappearances again. "
Phoenix shudders.
"They really said those things? The men you heard at your camp?"
I nod, swallowing before responding.
"Yeah, the one guy asked if I was female. I mean, he just said 'female?' like a question, you know. Then the other guy must have said yes or nodded or something because I heard the first guy ask if I was 'claimed' and the other guy laughed and said 'not yet.'" Now it's my turn to shudder.
"Like who talks like that? And how would the other guy know if I was single or not? I can't think about it too much or I get really freaked out."
"I'm glad Jake saved you." Phoenix searches the box of pastries and breaks off half a chocolate chip muffin. "And I'm glad you decided to stay on the Ridge."
Baby Michael has rolled himself into an afternoon nap, giving us a chance to concentrate on grown-up conversations without distraction for a while.
"I'll stay where ever Jake is."
This feeling is still new to me, the absolute certainty that I belong with Jake. I look down at the engagement ring sparkling on my hand and smile.
"But I'm glad that's going to be Moonshine Ridge," I add. "This is home." I look up at the house with almost as much affection as I look at my ring.
Outside of field research-- which I'll never do alone again-- I can work anywhere. Jake's been with Murdock Timber for almost a decade already and, even though he talks shit about his bosses being grumpy old men, he plans to stay with the company long term.
Moonshine Ridge is home now. We'll be remodeling the house as needed, but this is where we'll have our babies and grow old together.
"Did you hear about the plane crash?"
Phoenix's questions pops me out of my thoughts.
"What? No!"
"Mable Hart was in the bakery this morning.
She said that Vera said that Marcia said that Terra told her that Hawk told her --" My friend takes an exaggerated breath.
I laugh. We both got used to the way the grapevine works on the Ridge very fast. "-- and, of course, Terra swore her grandmother to secrecy because Hawk said it's super on the downlow still-- but a small plane is missing.
They think it went down somewhere on the Point's side of the mountains. "
"Oh my gosh. They don't know if it crashed? How many people were on the plane?"
Phoenix shrugs, indicating she doesn't have all the details. And, we both know, there's no guarantee the ones she has are accurate.
"Just the pilot. No passengers were mentioned. But the pilot's a woman. That's all I've heard so far."
"I hope they find her," I say.
"I hope she's okay," Phoenix adds.
But our afternoon has gotten away from us. The sunny patch of grass is deep in the shade now and the sun has dipped behind the house. We both have men who will be home soon and Phoenix starts her days at four in the morning to have cases filled with fresh baked goods by the time the cafe opens.
Phoenix folds the blanket up while I cradle the sleeping Michael in my arms.
My baby fever is going to be off the charts by the time Jake is home.
Good thing he's got it just as bad.