Chapter Twenty-Four
We are finishing up lunch when an old van, similar to Brick’s but more road weary, pulls up behind us. A man with a weathered
face and a ponytail hops out and beams at Brick with a crooked-toothed smile. They shake hands and slap each other’s shoulders,
and after a few words, he and our guides begin to transfer our belongings and other supplies into our new chariot.
“Oof, who brought these monsters?” Frank asks, pulling out Lily’s and my suitcases with more theatrics than necessary. “You
got the King of England in your group this time, Brick?”
“We certainly didn’t need all that stuff,” I say to Lily, out of earshot of our new driver. I will not be raising my hand
and admitting it’s us, the foolish sisters from Jersey, who packed like we were going on a ’round-the-world trip when all
we needed was a sturdy pair of hiking boots.
“There’s still a chance in Talkeetna,” she says. “I hear it’s a real town. With bars and restaurants and people!”
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up. ‘Real town’ is relative around here. You could fit seventy-five New Jerseys in Alaska, but it
has seven million fewer people.”
“And where’d you get that data, nerd?”
“The airplane magazine. It was surprisingly informative.” Lily rolls her eyes.
“And don’t forget,” I add. “We’re staying at another campground.
I doubt you’ll find a place to plug in your hot rollers.
And not for nothing, but sprucing up probably isn’t the best idea right now.
I mean, if you’re trying to discourage you know who.
Not that it’s going to help, from the looks of his sad puppy face. ”
“Stop. He’s fine.”
“He asked for a beer, Lil.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, but you’re going to have to—”
Lily doesn’t want to hear another lecture. She turns her back on me and climbs into the van. Except this time, she lets me
sit next to her.
Frank’s ancient vehicle leaves with a sputter and a bang. There are three rows of stained Naugahyde seats covered with duct
tape, and a dashboard covered with wrappers, stickers, and tchotchkes—including a wobbling hula dancer that must be a relic
from the sixties, probably the same year the van was manufactured. The windows roll down with a handle, and there are still
ashtrays in the doors. From the jerking of my spine, it’s also missing shock absorbers. I dig Mimi’s motion sickness wristbands
out of my bag and pat my jacket pocket for the anti-nausea pills I’d tucked in there—just in case.
Compared to no-traffic-light McCarthy, Talkeetna does seem like a bustling metropolis. Part Western movie set, part nineteen-seventies
hippie time warp. The main street is flooded with locals in worn jeans and faded flannels and dusty baseball caps, and tourists
in Patagonia fleece and pastel-colored athleisure and moose-embellished Alaska-themed souvenir sweatshirts.
“We’re here until after dinner,” Brick says to us as we pull out our phones and start snapping photos with the souvenir sweatshirt set.
“Then Frank will run us up to the campsite in Denali State Park. We’re heading out early from there tomorrow, so take advantage of your quiet afternoon.
What’s left of it. The town is charming, there’s tons of history, and you can’t get lost. And keep an eye out for Aurora—not the northern lights, the cat.
She’s the mayor of Talkeetna, yes, the mayor.
Go! Explore, learn, shop, and we’ll meet at the Cafe falling for my sister is easy.
And until her husband, it’s always led to a string of heartbreaks.
Theirs, not hers. She’d met her match with Eric, and he with her.
Or so I’d thought. They had it all. Beauty, charisma, hundred-watt smiles, and an inviting life.
A life I’d envied as the world of domesticity and responsibility closed in on me.
We duck into a shop filled with bottles of birch syrup. The sun streaming through the front window sets the dark liquid ablaze
with an amber glow. A large woman in a lavender tracksuit pushes past us with enough syrup to cover her pancakes for life.
“For the grandkids,” she says as I realize my face gave away my thought.
I turn to my sister. “So, your plan is to lose him in this two-block radius, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“What happened to talking to him, setting him straight?”
“That was your idea, not mine.”
“Right, instead we’re going to hide all day like a couple of teenagers.”
Lily grabs two bags of birch toffee and tucks them under her arm. “You said it yourself. We only have a few days left of the
trip. Let’s enjoy ourselves. You and me.”
“I don’t think it’s right to—”
“That’s you all over, isn’t it? My sweet sister twisting herself into a pretzel to make sure everything is fair, all the rules
are followed, all the i’s are dotted. It must be exhausting in that good old dependable head of yours.”
Any other day, under any other circumstances, I would have become ragingly defensive.
After all, there is a reason I’m like this, and it might have something to do with those who left the shoes for me to fill.
But the past few days, the fox, Brick’s council, Luna’s ring have helped me start to see things through a different lens.
My sister is clearly in distress about what’s happened and what’s coming.
She’s not herself. Sure, she’s always had an edge with me, that’s our schtick.
But these past few days have been something else.
I’m going to try not to take her deep jabs personally.
“Fine then, screw him,” I say. “Excuse the expression.”
Lily snorts. “Don’t worry about Dane, seriously. I already admitted that hooking up with him was a stupid mistake. But I didn’t
drag him into that cabin. He seems like the kind of guy who’s had a one-night stand or two before and was none the worse off
for it. Can we put it behind us?”
“Consider it in the rearview.” Not sure Dane sees it the way Lily’s laying it out, but she is right about one thing. It’s
not my responsibility to manage the outcome of her tryst.
“Oh, cool, birch hot sauce! I’m buying some for Annie and Cam.”
“Okay, now you’re making me look like a bad mom.”
Back out on the street, holding brown paper bags filled with treats for the whole family and sucking on free sample birch
syrup caramels, we glance both ways before we decide where to explore next. With Dane nowhere in sight, we run across the
street, weaving between the tourists, and dash into the general store.
We are laughing like the aforementioned teenagers, having evaded the cat in our little Tom and Jerry caper, and who do we
run into but Mimi, with an actual cat in her arms.
“Guess who this is!” she asks with a glint in her eye. “Mayor Aurora!”
“Your honor,” I say to the cat. “I have a tabby at home, Tiger. I think he’s elected himself mayor of our neighborhood.”
Luna walks up to us, hands filled with paper coffee cups. Past her I see an espresso bar, an actual espresso bar, and I almost
cry. “Oh my, I’m getting the biggest latte they have. I’ve been waiting for this since—”
“Since Anchorage,” Lily chimes in. “We’ve heard all about it.”
Mayor Aurora decides it’s time to visit with her other constituents and wriggles out of Mimi’s arms. Luna hands her the coffee and gives the other one to Lily. “Take this one, I’ll go back with Bridget and get another.”
We stand in line at the register as I gaze up at the blackboard menu with the handwritten possibilities—including a moose-milk
latte, which I decide is probably tongue-in-cheek but not worth taking a risk on. “Mimi looked happy with Aurora.”
“She’s delighted. She’s a real cat lady. Who is sans cat at the moment.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say.
“We lost Figaro while Mimi was in treatment. It was a double whammy for her.”
“And you, I’m sure.”
“Yes, of course. But you won’t believe what just happened. This is why I wanted to sneak off with you for another coffee.
You are the only person I can talk to about this.”
I lay my hand on my heart. Another gift from Alaska, this friendship. “Tell me,” I whisper.
“Well, she was holding the cat, and it was being incredibly patient—think about how many people try to manhandle that poor
thing in a day—and she said, ‘Let’s adopt a kitten when we get home. I’m ready.’ ”
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“She hasn’t said it outright yet, but you don’t bring a new little life into your home if you don’t think you’re going to
be around to raise it.”
“She’s going to do the treatments!” I say a little too loudly.
“Shh, yes, well, most likely, we’ll see. It certainly feels promising, though, doesn’t it?”