Chapter 11
11
Ruth pulled up outside the Caribou Grill in Martha’s old Saab, which was her “nice” car, the one she used when she wasn’t delivering wool or picking up supplies from the airstrip. Martha had insisted that Ruth take the Saab for this momentous event.
A date.
With a stranger.
An out-of-town stranger who had no idea that Ruth wasn’t someone who “dated.”
She knew by now what lesbians were, of course. Instead of asking Gunnar, she’d asked Maura how to use the Internet at the general store. Maura had very kindly given her an iPad that she claimed she didn’t use anymore, and guided Ruth in its mysterious ways. For the last few weeks, Ruth had spent every spare moment exploring the world beyond that screen. Maura had warned her about misinformation and catfishing and scams and misleading videos. So she took it in small doses, little baby Internet steps.
Even so, at times she left the store in tears, wondering what was wrong with the world and the human beings lucky enough to inhabit it. Sometimes she thought it would simpler to be back at the compound. Then she remembered all the things that Luke was responsible for, the ignorance he’d manipulated for his own ends, and she decided there was no safe space, not really. It could only be genuinely safe if things were open and free and transparent—the opposite of what Luke and Naomi had created.
Even after all this time, nearly the entire summer, she hadn’t seen or heard a peep from any of the Chilkoots since their big escape. Luke apparently had bigger things to worry about than two runaways. It surprised Ruth, to be honest. She’d never known her family—her clan—to be this quiet. Whatever they were up to, maybe they were happy she was out of their way.
That thought gave her an ache in her heart. No matter her feelings about the clan, it hurt to think they didn’t miss her at all. Who was teaching the kids? Maybe they’d get the summer off after all.
She’d met John Frank during one of her Wi-Fi sessions at the store. As he’d browsed through the rack of DVDs next to the bench, he’d asked her about some of her favorite trails. Then he kept asking more questions until Kathy had called her over to the checkout counter and whispered, “He likes you.”
Once her eyes had been opened, she’d realized he was cute, in a puppy dog kind of way, eager and open-faced and full of enthusiasm for his Alaska adventure.
He would do very nicely for the next step in her project of reclaiming herself from the hold of the Chilkoots. She wanted to lose her virginity. And she specifically didn’t want it to happen with anyone she deeply cared about.
Martha thought she was making a mistake. “Gunnar is right there. Why would you pass up that gorgeous hunk of Viking manhood? Even I can see he’s a hottie.”
“That’s the whole point. I don’t think I can handle getting intimate with someone like Gunnar. He’s too…much. Baby steps. Baby steps are working for me. Besides, Gunnar’s been ignoring me. I haven’t seen him since he brought us to the farm.”
“He gets busy in the summer, like the rest of us.”
She could guess what Gunnar was busy with. Every time she drove past the gas station, there was some girl in a rental car chatting with him.
As she stepped into the Caribou Grill, the aroma of grilled meat made her mouth water. The Grill was just as down-home as all the other businesses in Firelight Ridge. Guests sat at long picnic tables, sometimes alongside strangers. Its walls were covered in license plates from around the country, along with a stuffed and mounted deer head. She knew it was a Sitka deer, very common around here, and not a caribou, but tourists might not know that.
At a table near the window, John Frank shot to his feet and waved eagerly at her. “Want a beer? I ordered one for you, but I can drink it if you don’t want it.”
But Ruth was distracted by the occupants of the table just behind John’s. Gunnar sat across from a woman whose long hair tumbled down her back in sun-streaked waves. Ruth couldn’t see her face, since she was facing toward Gunnar, but no doubt she was young and beautiful.
Gunnar met her gaze, waved, then paused as he caught sight of John Frank. He went still and alert as he took in the situation, but just for a moment. Then he gave her a wink and turned his focus back to his date.
Fine. If he was going to dismiss her like that, she’d do the same. She brightened her smile as she hurried toward John, even gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek that nearly knocked him off his feet.
The rest of the “date” passed in a blur of distraction. She couldn’t stop herself from checking on Gunnar between bites of her mushroom cheeseburger. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to her. He was entirely focused on the woman across from him, his sky-blue eyes intent on her face, his muscular arms folded on the picnic table. He could probably lift the table up with one hand, spin it around overhead and launch it across the road. She remembered the strength of those arms, how he’d carried Sarah into Martha’s farmhouse without blinking an eye.
John was talking about his backpacking trip through Canada. It was the kind of story she’d normally be very interested to hear, since she’d never been to Canada, or even known Canada existed until a few years ago. But it was so hard to concentrate with Gunnar right over there, the sunlight like glitter in his hair. He looked tired, she realized. Under stress. He was probably working too hard this summer.
Or playing too hard. Yes, that must be it. He probably went on dates like this every other night, all summer long. He and the blond woman would definitely be having sex tonight. Well, so would she. She was going to do this. With John. Ready or not.
Finally, mercifully, Gunnar and his date rose to their feet. Once they were gone, she’d be able to give John her undivided attention. Then she could suggest going back to his room at the Lamplight Motel and they’d….
“Hey, Ruth.” Gunnar paused next to her table, smiling down as if everything was normal between them. “Haven’t see you around in a while.”
“Well, I’ve been busy.” She cast a meaningful look in John’s direction, as if he was the cause of her busy-ness. “So have you, I imagine.”
“Yes.” His expression was serious, sober. More so than the moment required, she thought. “Have you ever met Bridget? She’s my sister.”
“You have a sister ?” In shock, Ruth stared at the blond woman, who, now that she could see her face, was a good ten years older than Gunnar.
“Half-sister,” Bridget clarified as she offered her hand. “You’re Ruth Chilkoot?”
She said it as if she knew who Ruth was. Had Gunnar mentioned her? In what context?
Flustered, Ruth shook her hand. “Yes, I’m Ruth. Nice to meet you.” When Bridget turned her gaze to John, Ruth remembered that she wasn’t the only one at the table. Poor John—she’d forgotten all about him. “This is John. He likes backpacking.”
Which was the only tidbit of information she could retrieve from her scrambled brain. Gunnar wasn’t on a date. He was with his sister.
Gunnar’s lips quirked as he shook John’s hand. “What trails have you checked out around here?”
“Just about all of them. I did Ice Falls, I did the Korch Glacier, went around Smoky Lake. I tried to do Thunder Pass, but there’s some weird dudes in ATVs out there blocking the way in.”
“It’s still closed? Really?”
“For the season, they said. They weren’t the kind of guys you want to argue with. Now I’m trying to get Ruth to hike the ridge with me, but that’s a several-day trip.”
Ruth felt her face burn as Gunnar shot her a curious glance. Hiking for several days with a member of the opposite sex was very far from anything she’d done in her previous existence as a Chilkoot. “I’m pretty busy with the sheep,” she murmured.
“How’s it going at Martha’s? I’ve been wondering about you out there.”
“It’s good. Great. Easy, compared to—” She broke off, since John knew nothing about her history. “It’s good,” she finished.
Gunnar nodded, as if he understood her dilemma. “Okay, see you around, Ruth. Good to meet you, John.”
He didn’t sound as if it was good to meet John. His tone of voice held more of a “watch your step” message.
Bridget shot Gunnar a long glance filled with some kind of silent communication. When it was over, Bridget made a face at him and turned to Ruth. “If you have a chance, could you come by the garage? I’d like to talk to you before I leave town.”
Ruth’s mouth fell open. What on earth could Gunnar’s half-sister want to talk to her about? “Sure,” she managed. “I’ll try my best.”
“I hope you can. I’m leaving in two days, have to get back to work.” Bridget held her gaze, clearly communicating the urgency of her request. “Or if you like, we can come out to Martha’s, right, Gunnar?”
“I’ll come,” Ruth said quickly. Whatever was going on, she didn’t want to burden Martha with it. The poor woman was swamped these days. Harvest season was in full swing, an outbreak of respiratory disease was hitting the flock, and the woofers were all leaving shortly.
After Gunnar and Bridget had left, John planted his elbows on the picnic table and gazed at her curiously. “You haven’t said much about yourself, Ruth. How about I stop talking and you take a turn? Who is the real Ruth Chilkoot?”
She gazed at him blankly, her mind still stuck on Gunnar and Bridget and what they might want to talk about. Besides, how could she possibly begin to explain herself to this college boy from Connecticut via Princeton? Where would she start? I first heard of the state of Connecticut when you mentioned it the other day. That was when I looked up the states and discovered there are fifty of them.
One thing was for sure. She wasn’t going to have sex with John Frank. Her virginity would survive another day.