Chapter Thirty-Two
We stomp through the forest, over soft earth and slick rocks and small creeks and rotted, fallen tree trunks, fear still buzzing
in our ears. Our boots and pant legs soaked from the tall foliage we are battling our way through. Our only compass the downward
sloping of the ground, our indicator we are hopefully heading somewhere that will lead us out of here.
“Someone will find us,” I declare. I say it loudly and with force as if stating my intent will make it happen. “It’s like
that book, The Secret. Think it’s true and it will be—or something like that. We have to stay positive.”
“I’m not sure the Alaskan wilderness gives a shit about The Secret.”
“Work with me here, Lily. Please.”
Lily’s mood has been plummeting since she realized she wasn’t going to make it to the Denali sunrise. She had her heart set
on it. I guess she needed something to hang onto, a hope she could bring back home. After all, I have my fox. And the feeling
that the universe is trying to guide me to find a better path for myself. Today excluded.
“I hate to burst your bubble, Sis,” she says. “But it’s four in the morning. No one is even going to realize we’re gone for
hours. We could end up at the North Pole by then.”
I ignore her and continue walking—our only recourse right now—until something wet lands on my head.
I put out my palm, and fat, cold drops of rain bounce off it.
“Of course,” I grumble. It hasn’t rained once since we’ve been here.
But sure, now’s a good time. I’m also starting to think The Secret might be a load of crap.
The raindrops land faster, and within seconds we are in a deluge. Then comes the hail. At first,
I think it’s snow—it’s Alaska, after all—until pea-size ice starts pelting down on us.
“Ouch,” yelps my sister. “We have to get under something!” She ducks and runs over to a tall pine tree. Its branches are high
enough from the ground for us to sit under, but full enough to stop us from being pummeled. We crawl in on our hands and knees,
streaking our palms and pants with thick mud. We huddle together to fight off the chill from being soaked through. Water drips
off my sister’s nose. We watch the sudden storm hitting the forest floor. If we were in a cozy lodge, with a fire and a hot
toddy, and a large picture window, this would be lovely.
Lily hugs her knees and whispers, “I really fucked up.” She might mean taking the wrong fork, or dropping the granola bar,
or spraying me with toxic chemicals, but I can tell from her face that isn’t it. “I’m going to be alone for the rest of my
life, aren’t I?”
It amazes me that my sister, the woman who draws people to her with the flash of her smile, who’s been ringless for a week
and already managed to break someone’s heart, would think this.
“You’ll always have me,” I say, pinching her cold, wet chin.
“Yeah, although you’re a lot older than me. You’ll die, and then I’ll be alone. No offense.”
I shake my head. Even in the worst of times you can’t un-Lily Lily. “None taken.”
“I mean, I won’t have any kids to take care of me. And don’t say Annie and Cam, because they’ll have Tim after you’re gone.”
“Oh, I’m going before Tim, am I?” Hail bounces off the spongy ground, and we listen to it hitting the branches above us.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it now, Lil, but you’ve got time.
Time to start over. Time to have kids of your own.
You told Ian you couldn’t, and I’m not sure if that was to shut him up, which would have been appropriate, by the way, or because you believe it.
But no doctor has ever said you had medically diagnosed fertility issues, right? ”
“Eric didn’t want me to get tested because if it wasn’t me, it was him.”
Selfish shithead, I think. I grab her hand. “Well, when we are home, let’s go together. Get you tested. Put your mind at ease.” And mine, hopefully,
finally. “Then you can move forward.”
She pulls out of my grip. “Move forward to what? I’m never going to trust anyone again. That kind of puts a kibosh on the
whole meeting a guy and starting a family thing. And I might not have run out of time yet, but I will soon. Nope, the store
will be my baby. If I can keep it.”
“That store is nothing without you. Eric is just the muscle. Muscle doesn’t bring people a great night’s sleep. Muscle moves
inventory off trucks. You can hire someone for that.”
Lily lets out a scoff. “That’s not true. He’s the business side; he’s the money side. And that fucking guy can charm the pants
off anyone, when he wants to. Excuse the expression. Shit, I don’t want to lose the shop. It’s such a brilliant concept. A
once-in-a-lifetime idea.”
I wince, and she sees it.
“You know, Big, I should have said this a long time ago. I haven’t forgotten whose idea Sweet Dreams really was. I guess I
thought you weren’t serious about it, your life was so full. You had everything you always wanted, and I figured you didn’t
care. It was one of a million ideas you throw out there and laugh about and then go back to your kids and husband and making
them an amazing home. I guess I thought it was okay to pick it up. I guess because I was jealous. I mean, am jealous.”
Jealous. She’s never used that word before.
“Well, I always resented that you got the store up and running the way you did. And turned it into such a success. I couldn’t have done it. I’m no Lily Ackerman.”
“Bullshit. Seriously, Big. You should run the store with me. You’re a problem solver. You can be the muscle.” She smiles that
Lily Ackerman salesperson-of-the-year smile.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m pretty busy at home.”
“You’ve got a lot of grown-up boys and girls at home who can fend for themselves. You said it yourself. It’s time for them
to figure it out.”
Now it’s my turn to scoff. “That’s a little rich, coming from you.”
Lily doesn’t get defensive; she doesn’t raise her eyebrows and flap her mouth and act all insulted. “You love it,” she says
playfully.
“I kind of do,” I admit. “Okay, we’ll have time to talk about our future after we find out if we have one. Let’s get the hell
out of here. Listen, the storm has stopped.”
I crawl out from under the pine, and she follows me. The sun is shining now. The rays coming through the branches are laughing
as if to say, “Only kidding about pelting you with that sharp ice.” We are swatting at our butts and pant legs and shaking
off our jackets when Lily grabs my arm. “Look. Over there.”
There’s a clutch in my throat, a fear of another disaster, as I follow her gaze, until I see what she sees. A man walking
toward us. He’s twenty feet way, walking past our line of vision like he’s crossing a stage. If we’d waited under the tree
a few more seconds, we would have missed him. Lily and I run to the hiker, waving our arms and shouting, “Hey, help us, we’re
lost!” He is not as startled as he should be by two women crashing out of the woods and hurling themselves at him. He’s walking
on a flat, wide trail that we couldn’t see from the forest. We’d been so close. Would we ever have found it on our own? Who
cares? Help is here.
“We are so happy to see you!” I shout out even before we reach him.
As he gets closer, a choking smell fills our noses and grinds us to a halt. Lily can’t control her face. Her nostrils flare,
and then her hand goes up to her face. “Is that him?” she asks through her hand.
“Stop it,” I hiss. “We can’t afford to offend this guy. He’s gotta be a seasoned hiker; he’ll know the way back.”
“Seasoned being the operative word,” she whispers. I mean, she’s not wrong. The guy has clearly been out here a while. His T-shirt
and shorts are grubby and stained. Dirt is ground into his knees, and there is a piece of duct tape wrapped around one of
his boots. The sharp odors coming off him are part outhouse, part dead animal, part the skunky smell on every street corner
since pot was legalized. Still, beggars and choosers.
“Hi, hi,” I say inching closer but not too close. “We’re lost. We took a wrong turn somewhere. Can you direct us back to the
trailhead?”
He takes his time answering me. Lily and I look at each other; she shrugs her shoulders. I want to shake his. We are too cold
and too wet and too tired and way too fed up with the what’s-lurking-around-the-corners out here for this nonsense. Finally,
he says, “I’m heading back up past the Kesugi Ridge. I’ve got my tent and shit up there.”
“Right,” says Lily. “But we need to go down. Can you tell us how to get down?”
“Nah, man. You’re going the wrong way. Up top is the place to be.”
“Yes, right,” I say slowly, making sure he understands what we are asking. “It’s beautiful up there, sure. That’s where we
were heading this morning. But now we need to go back. To our camp. Where our friends are.”
“No, dudes. Come with me. I haven’t seen much of humanity in the last few weeks. It will be chill.” He licks his dry, cracked lips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Everyone in Alaska has been so lovely, so helpful and patient. Have we run into the one psychopath out here in the middle of nowhere?
“Big. We need to move.”
“Well, then,” I say backing up slowly. “We’ll be on our way. Like I said, we have people waiting who will be worried if we’re
late.”
The hiker stares at us through glassy eyes. “That’s not very friendly, man. I told you I haven’t had any company in a while.
And now I come upon you two snacks, a little old for me, but we’ll make do. So, let’s party.” He takes a step closer and grabs
my wrist, gripping it with a frightening force. This time I know what to do when we come upon a predator. And it’s not back
up slowly, or appear bigger and wave our arms, or play dead. It’s run.