Chapter Ten
I stroke Lily’s hair as she quietly cries into my neck, her arm and leg flung across me as if I were a body pillow.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I whisper into the top of her head.
“No,” she says in a small, strained voice.
When she was very young and had bad dreams, Lily always ended up in my bed, never my mother’s. She’d stand in my doorway,
the light from the hall casting a tall, thin shadow onto my comforter, which I’d throw back, knowing full well I was in for
a night of wriggling and kicking and cover stealing.
Tonight, my sister is having big-girl bad dreams. Carefree Lily was ditched at the threshold of the cabin, and she’s left
with the demons she came here to escape. I understand if she’s not ready to talk about it. Really talk about it. Start the
process of building up the muscles she’ll need when she’s home. That’s fine. I will try again. I’m not going anywhere now.
How can I?
Sleep never came. Or if it did, it snuck up on me and didn’t stay long enough to prove it ever existed. Now I hear voices
outside the cabin. Luna and Mimi chatting and giggling as they pass by our window on the way to the bathroom. Brick and Jace
and something about trail conditions and weather. Then I hear a motor coming closer, brakes squeaking to a halt, and Brick
shouting a greeting. My luggage!
I wriggle out from under Lily’s octopus grip and fling open the cabin door. Skipping in bare feet across the lawn, wearing the same black leggings and chamois shirt that I’m now going to burn, I get to a pickup truck in the driveway to find Heidi pulling a box of groceries out of the back.
“Morning,” she says. “Breakfast will be up soon.”
I peer into the truck bed as if I’m Dorothy looking into the Wizard’s bag, but it’s empty—except for a very large husky dog
with a bandana around its neck who barks at me and sends me stumbling backward.
“Oof, I got ya,” says Brick as he grabs me under my arms before I go down. “Sorry about Koda. His bark is worse than—”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, dusting off my leggings despite them not having hit the ground. “I don’t see my bag. You said today.”
I try to keep the whine out of my voice.
“About that, Bridget. Looks like it hasn’t made it to Anchorage yet. In fact, Heidi called the airline with the information
you gave me, and it looks like your suitcase is in Cincinnati.”
My heart sinks. Brick reads my face. “We’ve got you, Bridget. Come back to the storage room with me, we’ll find you everything
you need for today.”
I doubt they’ll have my Estée Lauder face cream, and my new wool hiking socks—guaranteed to prevent blisters—my periwinkle
Tencel walking jacket with extra zipper pockets and matching quilted vest, and my pajama set with the little purple flowers
in a lost and found box in the barn.
“Just like a cruise,” I mumble under my breath as I follow behind him.
“You look ridiculous.” Lily is up and at the breakfast table, a steaming mug of coffee wrapped in her hand, looking no worse for wear after stumbling into the cabin last night and then melting down as soon as the door was shut.
In fact, she’s back with the boys, Dane, Ian, and Xavier, leaning in to wait for my sister’s next words. “What are you wearing?”
Now the whole cohort swivel their collective heads as I step into the barn wearing an oversize sweatshirt that reads, it’s always sunny in alaska over a cartoon polar bear in sunglasses, and a men’s windbreaker over my day-old leggings. I can feel the athlete’s foot
chewing into my toes from within these hand-me-down hiking boots.
“Best we could do for now,” Brick says behind me. “Bridget is a good sport, and she’ll be warm and comfortable out there on
the trail, for now.”
“It’s not a fashion show,” I say to Lily.
“Clearly not.” She laughs.
I sit at the opposite end of the table, away from the cool kids and my sister, and join Luna and Mimi. Luna pours me coffee
from a carafe near her elbow, and I almost cry with gratitude at the very smell of it. “I think you look adorable,” she says
as she passes me the creamer.
“Okay, folks, eat up,” says Brick, clapping his hands. “Make sure you have one of Heidi’s homemade scones, and then we’re
hitting the trail,” Brick continues. “I’m recommending bug nets and spray for the first section in the woods, poles for a
long stretch of river rocks. If you don’t have your own, come see me. We’ll also be handing out bear spray for the top. We’ll
go over wildlife protocol again, but I’ll have you covered.” He places his hand on his chest, and that’s when I notice the
harness he’s wearing—with a pistol tucked inside. Firearms were also left out of Lily’s sales pitch to get me out here.
“Are you going to shoot an animal?” asks Xavier, his eyes wide.
“I haven’t yet, and I’ve been doing this a long time,” our guide says. “It’s more of an insurance policy than anything else.”
The teen looks down at his scrambled eggs. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved.
“Speaking of policies. Most of you who’ve done this before know what to keep an eye out for to stay safe, but it’s best practice
to stick together. No wandering off.”
He looks directly at Lily and me. Could be my sister’s outfit that is labeling us as newbies—a formfitting emerald-green tracksuit,
the jacket zipped low enough to show a color-coordinated striped T-shirt, and a matching baseball cap. Her hiking boots are
pristine, having never been out of the box until the day we packed for the trip. Had I not been cursed by the Witch of Lost
Luggage, I would have been similarly dressed. Moveable, breathable, comfortable. I don’t see the problem, although, based
on the rest of the group’s attire, I guess it’s not de rigueur for marching through the woods.
After everyone goes back to their cabins to pack up, and Jace tops off my coffee as he and Heidi clear the table, Brick sits
on the bench next to me.
“I’m sorry, I just remembered you wanted to talk to me last night. My bad. First night is always a little chaotic. Is there
something you need?”
“No, it’s all sorted, Brick. Thank you.”
I had wanted to go home so badly I was willing to climb back into that tiny plane again before my stomach had even settled.
I was so sure I’d made a mistake coming. Or should I say, letting Lily talk me into her harebrained scheme. Yesterday it looked
like my sister was going to be fine on her own—throwing concerns and caution to the wind, all-in on this ends-of-the-earth
adventure, making new friends, needing me here as much as a teenage boy needs his mother at a school dance. Or so I thought.
But it’s all an act. Lily wants to create another persona for herself here, that’s her choice.
She wants to pretend she’s single and carefree and up and down mountains all her life and to go all Reese Witherspoon in Wild.
Fine by me. Last night, I found out the truth.
Lily needs an ear, a shoulder, someone who knows her. She needs her big sister.
So, I’m staying. Hand-me-down clothing and all. God help me.