Chapter 30
Alison
As she made the drive toward the cabin, which probably took twice as long as it would have done if they had simply walked
over from Beck’s place, Ali felt as if the butterflies in her stomach were putting on some kind of Vegas-style acrobatic show.
How would she ever find the right words to tell June the truth? She was going to upend her life completely. How could she
simply blurt out the news that Carson was her father?
While that was the main thing giving her anxiety right now, it didn’t help that she was suddenly—and wholly unexpectedly—stressing
about her trip in the morning with Xander.
She was not nervous about the trip itself. She loved riding into the Wyoming backcountry. The last time she had been to this
particular area of the wilderness had been two summers ago with her father, and she was certain the familiar terrain would
bring back a host of memories, both good and bad.
No. Her nerves seemed to intensify whenever she thought about spending two days with Xander, given the strange shift in their
relationship.
She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about dancing with him the night before, and how she had wanted to rest her head against
his shoulder and stay there all night.
What was wrong with her?
Something seemed to be changing between them. Whenever she thought of him, she felt edgy and off balance.
She had to hope this trip into the mountains would help her regain her equilibrium and return their relationship to its normal moorings.
She would worry about Xander later. Right now she had to face the half sister who had no idea they were related.
She pulled up in front of the cabin and opened her vehicle door before Beck could come around and do it for her.
The clearing in front of the cabin smelled delicious, of chicken and lemons and some kind of subtle spice.
June stood on the side deck wearing an apron while she worked the grill her dad kept there so he could cook the occasional
burger while he was writing.
Ali could almost picture him standing in exactly that spot, in the very same apron. It was still so wrong to be here at The
Painted Sky without him.
If June was surprised to see her arriving with Beckett, she didn’t show it.
“Hi, Ali.”
“Hi. I hope you don’t mind that I made Beck bring me along. I stopped at his place to pick up his tent and when he told me
he was heading over here to start looking through Dad’s boxes, I wanted in.”
“It’s no problem. I’m about to pull some chicken off the grill.”
“Even I wouldn’t be rude enough to invite myself over for dinner. I already grabbed a sandwich when I closed up the bookstore
today.”
“If you change your mind, there’s plenty.”
“Thanks.”
June seemed genuine in her welcome. Ali hoped she was still happy to see her after she told her everything.
“You look great,” she told June. “Every time I’m here, you seem a little more healthy.”
“I think the fresh air here has been good for me.”
“I’m glad.”
“I even had enough energy for a small hike today. Beck and I walked up to the old homestead site.”
“Yay! That uphill walk couldn’t have been easy.”
June made a face. “You don’t have to pretend to be excited that I managed it. I know it’s pretty pathetic for someone who
had been training to run a marathon a month ago.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t pretending, June. I’m thrilled at your progress. You died in front of me, remember? The fact that you’re
here right now feels like a miracle to me.”
She hadn’t meant that to sound quite so dramatic. Fortunately, Beck stepped in to ease any awkwardness.
“I brought along a Greek salad. Hope that is okay,” he said.
“That should be perfect. I made lemon-tarragon chicken. Why don’t we eat out here? It’s a nice evening.”
“Good idea,” Ali said. “I’ll grab some plates and silverware. It’s the least I can do since I didn’t bring any food.”
Inside the cabin, she found that June had already set the table for two. She again wondered if she was intruding on an intimate
evening.
It seemed weird to think of them together, but not completely out of the realm of possibility.
She should make some excuse and back out now. The idea was wildly tempting, but she knew that would only delay the inevitable.
She had to tell June before the secret between them swelled to ridiculous proportions.
She grabbed another plate and silverware and carried all of the dishes to the small teak table on the patio where her dad
would sometimes work when the mood struck him.
“This looks delicious,” Beck said when June had removed several chicken breast tenderloins from the grill and carried them
on a serving plate to the table.
Ali wasn’t hungry, but she had to admit he was right.
“Thanks. I hope it is. I don’t cook very often in Seattle, but this is one of my few specialties. You marinate it for at least an hour in lemon juice, olive oil, tarragon, minced garlic and a little ground black pepper. Grilling makes it relatively heart-healthy. I grilled extra so I can add it to salads throughout the week.”
“Yum,” Ali said. Despite claiming she wasn’t hungry, she ended up taking a small tenderloin and some of the salad Beck had
brought.
“I don’t have anything to drink but water, I’m afraid,” June said.
“That’s fine with me,” Beck answered.
“Did you check the wine cabinet? Dad usually kept a few bottles here at the cabin, but maybe Grandma took them up to the house.”
June smiled ruefully. “I didn’t feel right raiding your dad’s wine collection.”
“You can have anything you want,” Ali assured her.
It’s as much yours as it is mine , she thought.
“I’ll grab some.”
She hurried back into the cabin and went to the small wine rack in her dad’s office. He usually only had a glass or two a
week, but he did like to collect it. She would have to figure out what she was going to do with it all now.
While she was far from a good sommelier, she found a nice California Chardonnay she thought would go well with the chicken.
She grabbed three glasses and carried all of it out to the patio. “I should have asked if your doctor said you can have alcohol,”
she suddenly remembered.
“He said it’s fine in moderation. I’ll try half a glass tonight and see how things go.”
Ali poured for all of them with a flourish and then sat back down at the table.
“So how long are you and Xander staying at Hidden Lake?” Beck asked.
“Only overnight. It’s a quick trip because of his great-aunt.”
“Did you say you’re hiking?” June asked.
“We’re taking horses.”
“Which ones?” Beck asked.
“I’ll be on Nan and he’s going to take one of his brother-in-law’s. We’ll take Hutch along, since he’s a great packhorse.”
“Xander could always ride one of The Painted Sky horses if he wanted.”
“I told him that, but he insists he’s more comfortable with Robby.”
“Understandable. It’s better to go with the horse you know.”
“We’ve been wanting to go up there forever, but never found the chance.”
“Where is Hidden Lake?” June asked. She wasn’t eating much of her chicken, Ali noticed, only a few small bites, but seemed
to be enjoying the salad Beckett had contributed.
“It’s about ten miles into the wilderness and you can only get there by hiking or on horseback. Not many people go, since
it’s hard to access.”
“The fishing is really spectacular, with a unique population of native fish,” Beckett said. “I’m sure you’ll have a great
time.”
“I hope so.”
They talked about other things while they finished the meal. She let the conversation flow around her, aware she was stalling.
“That was really delicious,” Beck said. “Thank you.”
They all carried the dishes into the small kitchen, where Ali took charge of loading them into the compact dishwasher.
When everything was cleaned up, June sat at the dining table, with several of Carson’s journals stacked up in front of her.
“Where do you want to start in our grand quest?” Beck asked.
“I have no idea,” Juniper admitted. “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”
He gave Ali a meaningful look. When she remained silent, he sighed. “We’re specifically looking at something he might have written thirty-five years ago. We know when he published his first book and his second. If he wrote and discarded another manuscript in between those two, it would have dated from that window, according to your theory.”
“Right.”
“He didn’t buy this property right away. He was married to my mom and she was expecting me when they bought it.”
“He must have brought things with him, though, right?” June asked. “I mean, he kept all the journals.”
“He never wanted to throw anything away, especially when it came to his work. During my lifetime, anyway. I can’t say what
he did before that.”
She considered what she knew of her father’s things. “There are boxes of his papers all over this place. They’re a mess.”
“We just have to gather them all up. The curators at Special Collections will organize everything,” Beck said, giving her
another significant look. He was obviously hoping she would get on with it.
“An unknown manuscript or any papers relating to it shouldn’t be that hard to find, if it exists. I’ll go see what I can find
in the spare room.”
With another speaking look at Ali, he left the two of them alone.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being too intrusive. I might be completely off base. I mean, he’s your father. You know him better
than anyone else.”
Did she? She might have thought that before the DNA test came back, but her father apparently had a past she knew nothing
about.
He had been in love, possibly with June’s mother. A married woman. They had created a child together.
“I suppose we never really know everything about our parents. Have you ever known anything about your parents’ romantic lives?”
She was stalling, she knew.
“Not much,” June answered, looking surprised at the question. “I don’t know much about my dad at all. My mom said the two of them met in North Carolina when he was stationed there. They had only dated a few months when they decided to get married before he was deployed overseas.”
“Oh?”
“He came back briefly when I was born and she always said he adored me and loved showing me off to all his buddies. He had
to go back when I was only a few weeks old and he was killed in a friendly fire accident while he was deployed.”
“Oh, how sad.”
“Yeah. My mom was heartbroken.”
“That must have been so tough for your mom. A young widow with a new baby. Did she ever talk about... anyone else?”
“No. Never.” June looked pensive. “And she didn’t date anyone else, either. I was always telling her to go out, assuring her
I wouldn’t mind. She insisted I was her priority, not some guy who probably wouldn’t stick around, anyway.”
A pretty grim message for a mom to pass along to her daughter, and quite ironic when she hadn’t bothered to tell Carson about
his daughter.
“I was fifteen when she died. She might have changed her mind once I left for college. When I look back from the perspective
of an adult, I think she might have been deeply lonely.”
Why hadn’t June’s mother told Carson about their baby? Ali couldn’t imagine being a single mom doing everything on her own
for fifteen years.
“What about your parents?” June asked. “How did they meet?”
“My mother worked at his publishing house. She was an associate editor while she was in law school. She never worked on his books, though. That would have been too weird. They met at a book event and started a correspondence. We might find her letters. If we do, I certainly don’t want to include those in what we’re sending to the archive. They’re personal.”
She had the sudden thought that maybe they would find letters from June’s mother among her father’s papers that might explain the mysteries around Elizabeth’s and Carson’s relationship.
Beck came out with his arms full of three dusty boxes. He looked warily between the two women, and his mouth tightened when
Ali gave a tiny shake of her head to let him know she hadn’t said anything yet.
“I tried to sort through and find the oldest boxes I could,” he said. “These two appear to have documents inside dating them
to right before Carson bought the ranch.”
“That’s too late in our hypothetic timeline,” June said.
“But not everything is perfectly organized,” he said.
“My dad was hopeless at that kind of thing,” Ali admitted. “Especially before he married my mom. I think she was more concerned
about his legacy than he was so she tried to come up with a system to keep things straight, but I’m not sure how far back
in his past she might have gone to put things in order.”
“I grabbed the oldest I could find. Maybe he has others somewhere else, but this is at least a place to start.”
They each took a box and began sorting through the various ephemera. Ali found royalty statements, review clippings, memorable
fan letters and a printed manuscript that had her heart pumping until she realized it was for his fourth book that had come
out shortly after she was born.
“Find anything?” Beck asked, setting aside his own box.
“Lots of interesting things,” June said. “But not what we’re seeking.”
“The other boxes in there all seem more recent. We can look through them, but I don’t think we’ll find anything.”
He grabbed more and they started the process all over again.
“Did he keep any papers anywhere else?” June asked after they each had sorted through four boxes, to the same negative result. “A safe deposit box? A secret vault somewhere in the ranch house?”
“If only,” Ali said with a laugh. “There might be some boxes in the attic over at the house. We could always check.”
“But not tonight,” Beck said. “You’re leaving early in the morning.”
Ali looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was past nine and she still had to throw together a few more supplies for
their trip.
“Thank you both for indulging me,” June said. “As I was telling Beck earlier, I have no idea why everyone here in Wyoming
has been so kind to me but I’m deeply grateful for it. I don’t want to sound like a cynic, but in my experience, people almost
always have an ulterior motive. It’s so refreshing to find people who are kind simply for the sake of being kind.”
Beck turned to look straight at Ali with such a meaningful, unmistakable expression on his features that she knew she couldn’t
put this off any longer.
She drew in a deep breath and faced the other woman.
“Don’t pin any medals on me, June. I did have an ulterior motive. I’ve just been afraid to tell you the truth.”