Chapter 2
Chapter Two
KANE
Walking the forest path to Eliza’s, the chicks nestling in the box under my arm chirp quietly, almost lost beneath the whisper of the wind. Serenity Cove is just half a mile away, but the weather isn’t keen on making my trek easy.
I think of Timber, the Phoenix transplant. It’s quite the switch—scorching desert to unpredictable Alaskan skies. I imagine her gazing out the cabin window at the brooding clouds with that city-bred blend of wonder and worry, bundled up against a chill she rarely sees in Arizona.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t her. Instead of looking every bit the city girl lost in the wilds, with heels sinking between the gaps in the dock and a flimsy coat that wouldn’t ward off the winds, I came across a woman in jeans, sturdy boots, and a jacket that looked warm enough to laugh in the face of Alaska. It’s impressive, to be honest. It could be she is more prepared for this place than I give her credit for, or my sister has been more thorough in explaining the rugged realities of life here. Eliza always has a way of vividly describing things to make anyone listen, even a city girl like Timber. But the look on her face when I mentioned the outhouse leads me to believe that she doesn’t quite have the entire story. However, she seems to be rolling with the punches pretty well.
Despite her looking the part, it’s better to not judge a person’s staying power by the clothes they wear, the gear they carry, or the original determined set of their shoulders. You can buy the warmest boots and the thickest jacket, but the grit within counts out here. I’ve seen enough people come and go, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, only to find that the relentless wilderness isn’t for them. The women, especially those not born in this land, often find the solitude too lonely and the nights too long. Many come, but few choose to stay. But then again, Timber isn’t here for the long haul. She’s here for a check and the adventure. She’s a temporary fixture, a brief brushstroke in the broader canvas of Port Promise. Yet, a part of me wonders if she’ll defy expectations and see the full stretch of her eight-week tenure.
She’s the answer to a problem I wish I didn’t have. I need someone to keep an eye on Hailey so I can pull in enough salmon to buy my new boat. My livelihood depends on her. She’s unknowingly more a caretaker than an educator, which is a deception of convenience, and I tell myself it’s for the good of everyone. My daughter needs looking after. Without Timber Moore, the fishermen and women with small children, are unable to fish.
Sadly, we need her more than she probably needs us. I just hope she stays, but my experience with outsiders keeping their word hasn’t been great.
A thunderclap sounds sharp and close, and I pick up the pace on the wooden walkway. The forest becomes a streak of green and gray as I hurry, the familiar scent of damp earth filling the air—a scent that, to me, means home.
Serenity Cove’s lights twinkle through the trees in the distance. Knowing my sister, she’ll have a pot of something on the stove. Hailey will be sipping cocoa while watching a DVD of Frozen for the zillionth time. Thoughts of my daughter are all I need to move faster. The storm can do its worst, but it won’t stop me from getting to where I’m headed.
As the path opens up to Serenity Cove, I see Eliza’s house perched like a watchful guardian over the waters.
I step onto her property. Her house, a sturdy structure of logs and stone, seems to embrace the rugged charm of the cove. The windows glow with a welcoming light against the dusk, and a well-worn dock juts into the water, its planks bearing the scars of countless storms. The house and the dock stand firm, like everything here in Alaska—built to face the elements, to endure.
The chicks, previously peeping companions on my trek, have fallen silent in their box, perhaps lulled by the rhythmic patter of rain. I set them gently on the bench beside the door, under the small awning that offers shelter from the storm. As I scrape my boots on the worn mat that says, “Wipe your paws,” I knock on the door before I open it.
The heat of the house wraps around me like a much-needed embrace. I take off my jacket and hang it on the hook next to the door. The scent of something rich and hearty—stew or chowder—fills the air, a clear evidence of Eliza’s culinary skills.
Before I can call out a greeting, a blur of energy vaults over the back of the couch. “Daddy!” Hailey’s voice, the sweetest sound, cuts through the day’s heaviness. She’s all flying hair and wide, bright eyes as she races toward me.
I scoop her up into my arms, her small frame as light as a feather, her grip firm and sure. “Hey there, Noodle,” I say, the nickname slipping out with all the affection I’ve stored up while away. “How was your day?”
“I got to hear the baby’s heartbeat, and I got an ice cream for being good.” Her eyes turn to the TV but come straight back to me.
As I hold her close, I realize that, in my daughter’s eyes, I rate higher than Elsa and Olaf. That alone is enough to lighten the load of any storm I might face, both the one raging outside and the quieter, more persistent one that sometimes stirs in my heart.
I glance down at her and realize that time has slipped by so fast. If it keeps going like this, she’ll be eighteen before I know it, off to college or chasing some dream. And then, like everyone does eventually, she’ll move on to her own life. The thought twists my gut.
As I set Hailey down, Eliza turns from the stove, her pregnant belly pronounced against the kitchen backdrop. “Hailey was a trooper today,” she says. There’s a tiredness around Eliza’s eyes that speaks to the weight she carries. Not just the baby but being alone in all of this. No husband nearby to help and no mother to give her advice.
“Looks like you’re ready to pop. Are you sure you have a few weeks left?” I say, my voice filled with concern.
Eliza laughs, a hand resting on her curved abdomen. “It could be any minute now,” she says, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I imagine she’s thinking about Matt, her husband, out on the oil rig, the timing of his return uncertain.
I glance out the window, hoping Matt can make it off that rig and through the weather’s wrath. He should be here, standing where I am, soaking in the cozy atmosphere, the smells of a home-cooked meal, the laughter of family. He should be here to see his son come into the world.
I wish for that for her as well as our father returning to the island in time to see his first grandson born. I’ve wished for a lot of things over the years, and that’s exactly what they are … wishes. They’re breaths of air that get lost in the wind and never come true.
Hailey tugs at my hand, bringing me back from my thoughts. “Uncle Matt will be home soon,” she says with confidence, and she’s right. My brother-in-law wouldn’t miss this for the world.
Eliza glances over from where she’s filling bowls with whatever she’s made. “Grab a seat, will you? I’ve made crab and corn chowder,” she says. “Figured I’d feed you both before you head out. Save you a bit of hassle tonight.”
I nod, appreciating her thoughtfulness. If not for this chowder, we’d be eating grilled cheese sandwiches and a bag of chips tonight.
“How was your appointment?” I ask, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
“Everything is right on track,” she answers. “We had a good check-up in Craig. But, honestly, I’m glad to be back. The noise there was getting to me.” She sets three bowls of chowder on the table and joins us.
I chuckle as I get Hailey settled beside me. With little more than a thousand people, Craig barely qualifies as a town, nonetheless an actual city. “Yeah, the city life,” I tease. “So loud. Coming from Phoenix, the new teacher, Timber, might find our noise level too low for her taste.”
Eliza’s face brightens up at the mention of Timber. “Tell me about her,” she begins, a spark of enthusiasm in her voice that I haven’t seen in a while. “Is she pretty?”
“Didn’t notice,” I lie, giving my sister a shrug that I hope will end the conversation. Eliza raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but thankfully, she lets it slide.
Inside, though, I must admit I did notice a few things about Timber, just not what Eliza’s fishing for. After the shock of me tossing fish her way on the dock, she found her rhythm, packing the bin with surprising efficiency. And when I set a quick pace to the cabin, she kept up without complaint.
It’s clear she’s not afraid of a little hard work or getting her hands dirty. But I won’t give my sister the satisfaction of knowing that. She has a way of taking an inch of information and stretching it into a mile of matchmaking schemes. I don’t need her playing Cupid, especially with someone like Timber, who’s not planning to stick around. I’ve been there and done that. Nope, some thoughts are better kept under wraps.
“Kane, were you at least nice to her?” Eliza asks with a knowing look, the corners of her mouth twitching up in amusement.
“I’m nice to everyone,” I say, trying to keep my expression neutral as I spoon the chowder into my mouth.
At that, Eliza laughs, the sound filling the room and bouncing off the walls. She shakes her head. “Oh, brother, your reputation precedes you. Around here, you’re known to be as gruff as a bear woken up in winter.”
“Daddy’s a grumpy grizzly bear,” Hailey says.
I grunt in response. I’m aware of the image I project, and sure, maybe it’s warranted, but it gets things done and keeps the overly curious at bay, and that’s the way I like it.
“I was nicer than you,” I say, giving her a bit of a stern look. “I told her about the outhouse and the dry cabin. I thought you would’ve at least mentioned the living conditions.”
Eliza’s cheeks redden, a touch of something that looks like guilt flashing across her features as she takes a spoonful of chowder. “I might have left out some of the ... finer details,” she confesses. “But Kane, she was the only one who applied, and you saw the cabin—I made sure it was well-stocked, and there are even new sheets.” She looks up, her eyes earnest and a little defensive. “And I’ll go over first thing tomorrow to check on her. Make sure she’s settled in and has everything she needs before she starts Monday.”
I nod, recalling the cabin’s interior. Despite its basic setup, Eliza had indeed made it as welcoming as a dry cabin can be. The thought of her going out there, especially in her condition, to ensure Timber’s comfort is like her—always looking out for others, even with a baby of her own nearly here.
“I can check on her,” I say.
Eliza shakes her head. “She’s probably already had enough of you. Besides, I want to meet her and tell her about the kids.”
Hailey’s spoon hovers mid-air, loaded with the last bite of chowder. “Auntie Eliza, when your baby comes, will you be its mommy forever, or will you leave too?” she asks with curiosity.
A tightness grips my chest as Hailey’s question hangs in the air.
Eliza sets down her spoon and offers Hailey a reassuring look. “Yes, my little love, I’ll be here with my baby forever, just like I’ll always be here for you.”
Hailey doesn’t often bring up her mother, but Amanda’s absence weighs heavily on her little mind. Postcards with foreign stamps clutter a drawer, and the phone rings once a month—Amanda’s way of reaching out. It’s not the life I had in mind, and damn sure not what Hailey deserves. Since Amanda’s departure, she’s only been back a few times, and those times were because Amanda was between projects and had no place else to go. Poor Hailey’s got that gap in her life, the kind you can’t plaster over, and I see her trying to make sense of it with every new photo of a place she hasn’t been and a voice that’s more distant than the miles it travels.
Hailey eats the last bite of chowder with a contented sigh. The day will come when she asks more questions, but Eliza’s reassurance is enough for now.
“Dinner’s done, Noodle. Time to pack up your things,” I say, standing up from the table. “We need to get back. I’ve got a box of chicks that would prefer the coop.”
Hailey scrambles from her chair. “Can we go to May’s tomorrow for pancakes?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with the prospect of a treat.
“If you’re quick about it, we’ll swing by for those chocolate chip smiley-face ones you love before we run our errands.” She dashes off with enough energy to power the town’s lighthouse on the darkest of nights.
As I clear the table and wash up, Eliza watches me. “You’d make quite the catch for the right woman,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
I shake my head, focusing on the soapy water. “I’m done with all that. My heart’s got room for two—just you and Hailey.”
When I turn to her, I see sadness in her eyes. It’s been just us kids for a while now, especially since Mom passed away a few months back. The absence of Mom’s laughter is a silence that still echoes in the corners of every room. It’s why Dad is gone, too. He can’t sit in the quiet and not wish for something different. Damned wishes.
I finish up with the dishes, dry my hands, and glance back at my sister, who’s now gently rocking in her chair. “Let’s keep it just us,” I add, more to myself than to her, a quiet commitment to trust the family I have in place.
With a parting hug, Hailey and I put on our coats and walk outside. I secure the chicks and Hailey into the ATV I left for Eliza to use that morning. Hers is in the shop, making getting around difficult when you’re pregnant. The town isn’t car friendly. ATVs and snowmobiles reign here, and my Polaris four-seater has been a lifesaver over the years.
The rain has dwindled to a mist that barely whispers against our faces as we wave to Eliza’s silhouette in the window and start up the mountain. The vehicle’s lights cut through the dark, and as we ascend, my thoughts drift back to Timber, and I wonder how she is getting along on her first night in town.