Chapter Twenty
My banging makes a thudding sound that rivals the thumping in my ears.
“Lily, open up!” I rattle the knob. I’m exhausted and not in the mood for whatever game this is. What happened between dinner
and the firepit and this moment to make Lily decide to start with me right now? I have an urge to kick the door, but I haven’t
lost my composure yet. I’m still rational enough to realize it will only result in a broken toe. “Are you kidding me?” I snarl.
Then the cogs of my weary brain start to turn and click, and I make sense of the glances cast by Ian and Jace. Goddammit.
Ear to the door, breath held, I listen for confirmation. These cabins are no Fort Knox. The lack of insulation that’s forced
me to add an extra blanket in the night now lets me hear what’s happening inside. At least partially. There’s whispering.
And it’s coming from a male voice.
My sister has lost her damn mind. Dane most certainly has a death wish.
Didn’t we just talk about this? Has Lily gone mad because some guy jumped into an icy lake for her?
And what about that dope Dane? Yessing me to get me off his back?
Placating the older sister with no plans of giving up the pursuit of the younger one?
I gnash my teeth and feel a pain in my jaw.
This time I do kick the door. A worse pain radiates through my foot and up my shin.
That last effort yields no results except to put an end to the whispering.
I need to search for a signal in this godforsaken place, even if I have to climb a tree, and call my husband, the Lily whisperer.
Dealing with my sister’s adolescent behavior well into adulthood is often better left to Tim. Maybe it’s because he’s inherently
calmer and more rational than I. He doesn’t go straight to eleven with her. He’s the good cop. Mostly likely, it’s because
she isn’t his sister with years of entanglement behind them.
But then I realize my phone is in the cabin. With Lily and Dane. I wrap Mimi’s crocheted shawl tight around myself and walk
back up the path. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Sit out here until they are finished? Get eaten by a bear while my
sister does one of the stupidest things ever? I could knock on Luna and Mimi’s door, but now that I know about Mimi, I can’t
disturb them.
No one is at the firepit. The flames are down to a glowing pile of ash. A few empty beer bottles and glasses are scattered
around the ground, and I bend down to pick up after everyone who expected someone else to do it.
“I got those.”
Brick steps out of the barn and takes the bottles from me with one hand, a finger around each neck.
“Old habits, I guess,” I say. “I thought everyone went to bed.”
“Just finishing the dinner cleanup. Something I can help you with, Bridget?” A small-business owner is never off the clock.
I learned that with Sweet Dreams, which is not supposed to be my business, silent partner as I was promised, although from day one Lily had a skewed vision
of silent.
Tears well in my eyes. Frustration and exhaustion make a lethal combo. “How about a place to sleep tonight?”
Brick’s eyebrows rise, and I suddenly realize that might sound suggestive.
It’s been so long since I’ve suggested anything to anyone, it would never have dawned on me that Brick would take it that way.
If this hadn’t been such a shit show, with things blowing up so spectacularly, I might have giggled at the thought of it.
I worry that Brick, seeing my fun and carefree sister in action, thinks it runs in the family.
Before he can start with the “I’m married, I’m flattered, I’m not interested,” I add, “My sister locked me out of the cabin.
She’s . . . she’s entertaining.”
Brick is stone-faced. He’s probably seen it all. Every new group must bring their own problems.
“Hey, I’m almost done here. Why don’t I buy you a nightcap?”
“You seem to always be buying me booze when I get in trouble. I’m going to drink through your profits if you’re not careful.”
Brick laughs but doesn’t disagree. “Here, grab those glasses if you don’t mind. Then we can drive up to Heidi’s.”
The Heidaway is more crowded than it had been last night. The whole town of McCarthy must be here. Brick says hello to everyone
we squeeze past, giving some a grasp of the shoulder or a pat on the back. We find stools at the bar, and my guardian angel
orders two beers. “Unless you want something stronger?”
I consider it for a second. It’s been a day. I could use something to turn off my brain, to chase away the remaining chill
and the thought of what my sister is doing as we speak. “Beer is perfect,” I say. Hold it together, Bridget.
Our drinks arrive, and Brick tips his glass to mine. “To adventures,” he says.
“To adventures.” May they be over with soon.
“Lily seems to be enjoying Alaska.”
“Ya think?” I answer and follow my snark with a long gulp of beer. I can feel the foam sitting on my upper lip, and I dab
with my Xavier’s sweatshirt sleeve.
“Is it really so bad?” he asks. “They are both single, from what I’ve gathered. We’re modern people, aren’t we? No harm, no foul, I’m sure.” I want to tell him so badly. “Although, a bit, er, inconsiderate.”
I harrumph; it’s all I can manage. Anything more would have me sharing what Lily has asked me not to.
“I’m sure if you talk to her in the morning—”
I take a long gulp of my beer, then ask the bartender for a shot of anything he’s got. What the hell. It arrives quickly,
and I swallow it in one—having no idea what I just drank. The thick liquid flows like lava all the way to my toes. I wipe
my mouth with the back of my hand and smile. Holding it together is for the birds. I put the shot glass down with a bang,
ask for another, and meet my host’s startlingly blue, now slightly concerned eyes. “Brick, no offense, but can we stop talking
about my sister? All I do is talk about Lily. All my life it’s Lily this and Lily that. I need a vacation from it.” I cackle,
which is worse than a harrumph. “I need a vacation from this vacation.”
The shot arrives, and I take it out of the bartender’s hand before he can place it on the counter. I squeeze my eyes tight
and swallow, ignoring the fire but relishing the afterburn. In my peripheral vision I see Brick making a swiping gesture at
his throat to the guy behind the bar. He’s cutting me off. Guess I am about to put him in the red.
“Well then, Bridget. Let’s talk about you, then. Who is Bridget?”
I lean my elbow on the bar and my head in my hand. Above me, the stuffed owl peers down wanting to know the same thing.
“Nobody, really.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Okay, I don’t mean nobody. I guess I mean nobody special. I’m a housewife, a mom, a sister, a daughter. Just like a billion
other people. I’ve got a lot of people counting on me all the time. I’m always feeling like I do too much and never enough.”
I signal the bartender, but he doesn’t see me. Or pretends not to.
“Wow, that’s a full plate. And who does Bridget count on?”
“Bridget can take care of herself.”
The real answer is Tim. He’s the guy I turn to. The one I can always count on, have done for the past twenty-eight years,
ever since we met at the construction job. I was only twenty-one, right out of college with a degree in Literary Criticism
and American Studies—a decision my mother had argued against since my freshman year. She ended up being right. Turned out,
knowing the narrative perspective and social, economic, and political implications of Pride and Prejudice wasn’t an easy stepping stone to paying my rent. For that I took a job at Costello Construction and met my own Mr. Darcy.
A pang of guilt clutches me. Tim is the guy I should be throwing back shots with. (Actually, Tim would know not to let me
throw back shots, having fully experienced the aftermath of one of my few and far between sloppy nights.) But Tim is not here
to stop me. Wonderful, steady, dependable Tim will be home when I get there, and our life will continue as it always has.
Instead, I’m staring at this rugged mountain man who is buying me drinks and pretending that if Lily could do it, so could
I. Which is so laughable I let out a guffaw that gets stuck in my throat and sounds like I’m trying to spit up phlegm. I’m
sure my vocalization alone makes me instantly desirable to the opposite sex. Besides, things like that don’t happen to me.
There hasn’t been so much as a flirtation unless you count the time a young man at the coffee shop gave me free whipped cream
on my Frappuccino. Still, the expression married not dead flows through my alcohol-soaked brain. Where is the line, I wonder, after a decades-long marriage? What does it mean to be
flirty but faithful? Is it so traitorous just to admire—from afar? Something my married, albeit not for much longer, sister
is not doing.
That thought brings me right back to why I’m sitting in a bar getting sloshed to begin with, and I’m steamed with my sister all over again.
“You are such a nice guy to hang out with me, Brick. But like I said, I can take care of myself. You must want to get out of here. A wife to go home to or something. You can’t be expected to babysit your clients twenty-four seven. ”
He takes a long drink of his beer and wipes the condensation from the glass on his jeans. “No one waiting—my ex is in Fairbanks—no
home either. I winter in Seward, but during tourist season, me and the crew have a camp spot set up on the other side of the
barn, away from the cabins, to give you all your privacy.”
“Well, some people aren’t shy about taking advantage of that.” I laugh and tap my empty shot glass on the bar. If I’m going
to have to think about Lily right now, I’ll need another drink. The bartender raises an eyebrow for Brick’s approval, which
gets my hackles up. I’m not a child. When Brick nods his head in agreement, he is forgiven.
“Let me ask you a different question, then. You could have vacationed almost anywhere. What brings you to Alaska?”
“Lily.”
Brick rolls his eyes. “I thought we weren’t talking about Lily.”