Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hikers in ones and twos, some in multipocket, utilitarian hiking pants, broad-brimmed sunhats, and with rubber-tipped walking
poles, some so grungy they might have been out here for weeks, stride by us and disappear up into the hills.
“What was that?” asks Lily, gesturing at the phone I’m slipping back in my pocket. “Did I hear you tell Cam you didn’t know
where something is? You’re like the Criss Angel of household shit. You can conjure up a misplaced scissor, or soup ladle,
or someone’s kitchen clogs out of thin air.”
I turn my face up to the sun and watch a soaring bird off in the distance—or is it an Alaskan air taxi—and say, “You know,
I think it’s time that people in my house tried a little harder to figure things out on their own.”
Lily steps closer and puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay?”
“Never better.”
We end up back on the flat rock, our hands to our brows, surveying the valley, scanning for moose that might be wading into
the slow-moving river, whispering to each about this vantage point being better than the one when their whiskers were practically
tickling our noses. Brick joins us, and I scoot over to make room on our rock.
“Saved the best for last, did you?” I ask him.
“Tomorrow will be special too. We’ll do this again, from another spot. End up at a lake where you can see the mountain range reflected in the water. World-class photo opportunity.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, meaning it.
“Well, Bridget. I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“I’m saying a lot of things that are surprising me these days.”
“Good for you,” says Brick Malone, Earth Walker, Soul Searcher, and Owner of Grizzly Tracks Adventures.
Our guide stands and starts gathering the troops. No one is in a rush to go back down the trail. I bump my sister with my
shoulder. “Hey, Lil. Now it’s my turn to ask, are you okay? What was that with Ian before? I thought you guys were friends.”
“Friends? Hardly.”
“You’ve been palling around with him all week.”
“I was trying to distract myself. Blocks out the tapes playing in my head. But I couldn’t take him bullying that poor kid
anymore. He said he brought him out here so they could bond. The whole father/son Outward Bound thing is bullshit. He’s been
riding him the whole time. Zave told me his mother used to run interference for him, be the go-between, but with the divorce
it’s harder. The weekends he’s with Ian are more intense. Like he’s gotta cram his parenting in over two days every other
week.”
“Well, Xavier is lucky he ended up on this trip with you. You’re amazing with kids, you always have been.”
“If you are referring to my two angels, everything is always better coming from the aunt instead of the mom.”
“The fun aunt.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “It’s probably better that it worked out like this, that I’ll always be just the aunt, never the mom. Eric
would have eventually done what he did, and then I’d be a single mother, trying to run interference for my kid—and losing.”
I want to tell her not to think like that, but part of letting go is learning to really listen. Like Brick did the night at the bar for me. Just listen. If I add my two cents right now, I would be jumping in again. “Thank you for dragging me here,” I say instead.
Lily turns to me with a twisted smile. “Thank Eric.”
“Not on your life.”
“Hey, remember that wizard I met in Talkeetna?”
“You mean the guy from just last night? Yes, I remember. Ven Tarion the Inquisitor. How could I forget him?”
“Well, he told me that I should come up here at sunrise, that the glow on Denali emits the spiritual power to face life’s
challenges with strength and clarity. Something about the summer solstice and dawning solar forces. I didn’t even tell him
I had life’s challenges to face. I didn’t tell him we were coming up here. It gave me a chill when I heard him say that.”
I want to tell her that sounds like the kind of meshuggaas you’d hear from someone who thinks he’s a wizard, but I can see
Lily is being earnest and hopeful, so instead I ask, “How can there be a sunrise in a place where the sun never sets?”
“According to Wizard Ven, it does actually set at midnight this time of year and rises at three thirty.”
“Oof, I take it there are only few who’ve received the spiritual power of the Denali sunrise.”
“I think we should do it.”
“Ha, since when have you woken up early to do anything? Let alone at the ungodly hour of three thirty.”
“Actually, it would have to be two thirty. We’d need time to hike back up.”
“Hike? On our own? Brick would never allow it.”
“We don’t have to tell him.”
“So, completely disregard the rules and go out there in the middle of the night? Alone?”
“You were perfectly happy to disregard the rules and lie to Brick about the moose.”
“That was entirely different. But us going all this way on our own? Without an experienced guide—and no gun? Not to mention,
what do we know about hiking? We’ve had guides. For a reason. Us blindly tramping through the woods? You and me? Lewis and
Clark, we ain’t.”
“First of all. It’s the exact same hike we just did. All we need to do is follow the trail again.”
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“I think that’s what you are trying to give me. Jesus, Lily. This is so dumb.”
I stand up and walk away to avoid going another round with her. But that isn’t the end of it. On the way back down to camp
she positions herself at my back, buzzing around my ear. Jace is behind us again, but this time he’s escorting Luna and Mimi.
I could tell from the way Mimi sat on the ground at the overlook, her eyes heavy and her head resting on Luna, that she wasn’t
having her best day.
“You don’t have to always be such a stickler,” Lily whispers loudly. “Aren’t you tired of always being Miss Goody Two-Shoes?”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I say, swatting the air as if I could shoo her away.
“Try stepping out of your comfort zone for one minute, Big.”
“What do you call this trip, Lily?”
“We’ve been babysat the whole time.”
I stop and turn around. She can’t leave well enough alone.
Can’t just let us ride out the next few days.
She has to come up with some new Lily spectacle just when I was starting to take a deep breath.
“Can you even imagine us? Two out-of-shape, middle-aged suburbanites who think fighting the crowds at the Nordstrom Half-Yearly Sale is a perilous quest, grabbing our compasses and our trail maps and disappearing into the wilderness.” I turn back down the trail and stomp off.
I hear her behind me, but her breathing isn’t right down my neck.
“Don’t you think this would be an awesome way to end our trip?” And she’s back. “We’d see something almost no one has ever
seen, something magical. End the adventure with a bang? A story to tell your grandchildren.”
“Lily, this is the part I want to tell my grandchildren. That Grandma and Great-aunt Lily took an amazing adventure—with a
guide—and they lived to come home and talk about it.”
“My God, Big. You’re acting like what I’m proposing is a suicide—”
“Ba, ba, ba!” I blurt before she can go any further. “Please, let’s just be in this moment. Wouldn’t Wizard Ven agree? Mindfulness
and all that?”
She sighs, but stops and we continue down the mountain until she falls back to talk to Luna and Mimi. She’d better not be
asking them to wake up at two thirty and sneak out of camp with her.
Going down is as expected easier than going up, and soon we’re back in the dark, damp woods. Two late-in-the-day hikers, young
men with nothing on but shorts and T-shirts despite the chill in the sunless forest, approach us with large backpacks and
bedding rolls. This is probably the way to see the Denali sunrise—wake up at the summit—but it would violate my cardinal rule,
no sleeping on the ground.
“Hey,” says one of them. “Watch yourself down there. Some guy just wiped out in the mud.”
The “some guy” turns out to be Dane. When we reach him, he’s back on his feet, but his hands and pants are covered with thick
mud and leaves. The good news is he’s laughing.
“And the klutz of the year award goes to . . .” he says in a game show host voice. Xavier is doubled over giggling. Ian is trying to act concerned but not pulling it off.
“Spills happen,” says Brick. “As long as you’re okay.”
“It’s only a sore tailbone and a bruised ego.”
We all make a detour around the mud puddle, and I decide to lay off searching for a glimpse of my fox. He is probably staying
out of the way to remind me I’d better watch where I’m walking.