15. I Like Your Fun Facts
I Like Your Fun Facts
MATTHEW
“Got it,” Lillian says. She screws the top on her latest vial, hazel eyes zeroed in on the water.
“That’s it?” I ask.
She places her sample into her small cooler that sits between us at her feet. “That’s it!” When she looks up at me, she smiles, bright and pretty. “I’m ready to head back when you are.”
I glance back at the boat anchored on the bay.
We’re at the mouth of the Ugashik, early afternoon.
The Ugashik is the farthest river on Lillian’s itinerary, so we started out early from Naknek.
Thanks to the pristine conditions on the water and the lightness of my boat, we made good time.
Of course, that was still seven hours and change on the water, just the two of us.
We won’t get back to Naknek until late. I had half a mind to tell her we should just anchor overnight, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Especially when the conditions below are so cramped.
Though Lillian and I have become familiar as of late, I doubt we’re at the sleepover phase of our relationship.
I wouldn’t mind a sleepover whatsoever, though. Under different circumstances.
“There’s a patch of wild blueberries on the tundra, a short ride up the river. Want to stop and pick some for the ride back?”
Lillian’s eyes widen. “Oh!”
“I mean, we won’t get back until late anyway. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get on the road or—uh—the water, but?—”
“No, I’d like that!” she exclaims. “I want to see a big burly man blueberry picking.”
I chuckle and rev up the skiff. “When you say it like that, you make me sound like a nursery rhyme.”
Lillian grabs her seat as I pull farther down the river, water spraying upward and onto our skin. “Does that threaten your masculinity?”
“Yes. Don’t let the guys hear,” I say wryly.
She laughs and looks at me. I keep my eyes on the river, not willing to break my concentration to have her make me weak with a look. Nevertheless, my skin is warm under her attention. “Gosh, this town is even smaller than Naknek.”
I glance at the buildings peppering the rolling greens as we pass them. “Pilot Point? Yeah. Population is in decline too.”
Lillian frowns, watching the buildings roll by. “That’s sad.”
“That’s Bristol Bay,” I say with a sigh. “Towns are already small enough. Now, everyone knows how much world there is out there. And if they can swing it, they want to see. Can’t blame ‘em, but Pilot Point wouldn’t be the first town to disappear off the map.”
“That’s hard for me to imagine.”
“I’m sure, Miss Queen of Los Angeles.”
Lillian scoffs. “Hardly.”
With her attention elsewhere, I take a moment to look her way.
She’s lost in thought, taking in her surroundings.
A curious fish out of water. I like this side of her.
Not at all aware of the way she looks to others, something I’m sure is hard to shake in the City of Angels.
“The town I grew up in,” she says suddenly, “wasn’t even that small.
I can’t imagine it disappearing either.”
“Yes, but Michigan isn’t nearly as remote.”
Lillian blushes and drops her head, looking at her fingers as she pulls at her cuticles. “It felt that way growing up. Silly now to think of it.”
I spot the gravelly beach up ahead, and point the skiff toward it. “It’s all relative.”
“I suppose.”
A few moments of silence pass between us. “Have you, um, found anything yet?” I ask carefully.
“With my research?”
“Yeah. How’s it looking?”
Lillian cocks her head. “Are you going to tell on me?”
“No! No, of course not, I . . .” I wave my free hand. “Forget I asked, I don’t mean to pry.”
She smiles. “It’s fine. I trust you.”
My heart swells.
“I mean, I have to since I’m out in the middle of nowhere with you. Could have turned out very badly for me, in hindsight.”
I swallow. “Well, I’d never?—”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
My eyes catch hers for a moment. I wish I had my pullover buttoned up, so I could dip the lower half of my face into it like a turtle, so she couldn’t see my flushed face.
“I mean, some things are to be expected. Water temperatures are rising everywhere. So is the turbidity. Water’s getting murkier, thanks to pollution.
I’m still observing bacterial counts and pathogens.
Those could suggest there’s something in the environment impacting the decline in the fish population.
Might also suggest an issue for humans too,” she explains.
“Of course, that’s a leap at this point.
There is some consistency with the data so far, but doing this on my own is a bit of a challenge, I won’t lie.
Especially when I have a makeshift lab.”
I pull us into the shallows and hop into the water. Lillian starts to move, but I grab the end of the skiff and drag it up onto the shore with her inside. She squeals out my name in surprise, and I chuckle. Holding out my hand to her, I say, “Well, if you ever need an assistant . . .”
Lillian takes my hand. Her skin is soft. City girl. But it’s her poise that strikes me every time I touch her. The exact way her fingers curl, elegant and graceful. “Are you offering, Matt?”
“Maybe,” I reply before hauling her up to her feet and onto the shore. Her fingers are cold. I could keep them warm if I kept her hand in mine. Could even pull our clasped hands into my pocket to keep her both warm and close. But I don’t. Of course, I don’t.
We head up the rock-laden patch of beach and onto the tundra.
“Wow,” Lillian remarks.
There’s a strange sense of pride I get every time she takes in a new piece of scenery. Like I crafted it just for her, a new swath of beauty to encounter. If she likes Alaska enough, maybe she’ll come back. “Pretty great, huh?”
Being out on the tundra is a different sort of magic.
The magnificence of Alaska is unfettered out here.
There are rolling grasses and bushes for miles, all under the shadows of the mountains.
Here, you are as wild as the wildlife, which means being careful where you step and how you interact with the world around you.
In the distance, there are antlers just above the landscape. “Caribou,” I say to Lillian.
“Where?”
“Shhh.” I hate to tamper her excitement, but it’s best to be careful around here, especially after her run-in with a bear. I pull her close to me and point over her shoulder so she can follow my finger. “All the way out there.”
Lillian spots them. “Oh, my gosh. Look at all of them.”
I take the moment of distraction as an opportunity to hold her a bit longer.
Lillian looks up at me with a big smile. “Did you know caribou are the only species of deer where both sexes grow antlers?”
I don’t understand my brother’s resistance to brains because I can’t think of anything sexier than a woman who knows what she’s talking about. “I did know that.”
Lillian rolls her eyes. “Of course you did. You live here.”
“I like your fun facts,” I say. “Don’t stop on my account. Now, follow me.”
There’s a path engraved in the tundra to the bountiful blueberry bushes from years of people coming here to collect the harvest. Lillian follows behind me slowly, caught up in her surroundings. “It’s just amazing out here. Quiet.”
“Good place to come and think,” I say. “Although, that could be said for a lot of Alaska.”
“I’m sure you do a lot of thinking out on the water.”
“Naw, out on the water is the only place I’m not thinking,” I say, then immediately feel self-conscious. “Not that I’m not paying attention or don’t care, I just?—”
“I get it,” Lillian says. “I think I do at least.”
After all my years as a fisherman, my actions are innate. Out there, I’m one with the water. I can slow down and just be. No family drama to deal with; no politics to argue over.
Just nature as intended.
When we arrive at the bushes, Lillian once again marvels. “There are so many!”
“That’s what happens when you let nature do the work,” I say, skimming my fingers along a clump of blueberries on the shrub, dusty and plump. I grab a couple off the branch and hold them out to Lillian. “Perfect time of year for them too.”
She takes one of the berries and inspects it.
“These are called ‘lowbush’ blueberries,” I tell her.
I watch her with rapt attention as she holds the berry between her unpainted lips. And while I try my best to be respectful, I am only a man. I am indeed jealous of that blueberry.
Lillian’s eyes light up at the taste. “Oh, wow.” She takes a couple more from my hand and chows down.
“Okay, okay, save some for me!” I exclaim through a laugh.
It doesn’t take long for our hands to be full. I riffle through my pockets. “Let’s see, I probably have a bag in here.” I find a crumpled-up plastic bag, just as expected. “My mom had a nice wicker basket we’d use, but I’m not sure where it is now,” I say, a pang in my chest.
We pick more berries, each one making the bag crumple as it lands against the plastic.
“Gwen mentioned your mom passed away.”
“Yeah. Almost ten years ago now.”
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. Every day without my mom feels like the first, even if the grief is easier to manage. “It’s all right,” I lie. “She had cancer.”
“Cancer’s a bitch,” Lillian says.
I laugh despite the tenor of the conversation. “Yeah, it really fucking is.”
We continue picking berries, and I find myself compelled to say more, like a mounting pressure from the bottom of my throat to my mouth. “That’s when I took over captaining my dad’s boat. He was a total wreck. Still is, as I’m sure you noticed.”
“Of course. I mean, she must have been young.”
I swallow, accidentally squeezing a berry too tight, its juice staining my fingers. “Yeah. We all miss her.”
Lillian’s hand covers mine, loosening my fingers along the broken berry. I stare at our clasped hands for a moment, watching how hers caresses mine. She’s just trying to be comforting. Of course she is. But, fuck, it feels nice. I take a deep breath and look into Lillian’s eyes.
She smiles at me. Sweet. Without pity. Like a port in a storm. My god, she’s a beauty.
“I bet she’d be really proud of you.”
My brows lift in surprise. I didn’t expect that.
“Especially because you’ve been so nice to the new girl,” Lillian adds.
I laugh to keep from crying. Fuck, I haven’t gotten so emotional over Mom’s passing in years. I’ve learned to keep it down and quiet. “Thanks for saying that, Lillian.”
“I believe it. It’s not hard to say.”
Fuck it. You know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to kiss her. I’m just going to kiss her, and if she hates it, then I’ll apologize and bury my head in the sand for all eternity. But I can’t resist the draw anymore.
I lean in slightly, giving her an opportunity to move away.
She doesn’t.
But before I can close the space between us and press my lips to hers, thunder rumbles long and loud.
I tear my hand from hers and turn around. The sky that has been robin’s egg blue since this morning is darkening in the distance. And that darkness is encroaching fast.
“Shit,” I mutter. “We gotta get back to the boat.” I don’t wait for Lillian to wake up to the urgency of the situation. I grab her wrist and pull. “Come on!”
We run all the way back to the skiff, Lillian’s hand fisted around the plastic bag.
“Are storms really that bad out here?” she asks, breathless.
“With clouds like that, yeah,” I say. I’ve been caught in a few tempests in my day. I point at the funnel of clouds. “Cumulonimbus. All the way up. Big storm. Lots of water.”
As if on cue, there’s another roar of thunder. The clouds aren’t even over us yet, and the thunder is loud. I glance back at Lillian. Her face has gone slack with surprise. “Are we going to be able to get back to Naknek?”
I hold my breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe.”
However, the clouds are cinematic, threatening the bay with lightning trapped in the grips of the storm clouds.
“Maybe not,” I add.
As the skiff putters back down the river, neither of us speak. The damn thing can’t move fast enough for my sanity. We make it to the mouth of the river just in time to feel a sprinkling of water. The waves thrum with the wind, and that wind is bringing the storm on faster than I’d like.
But we’re close. At least to the boat. Naknek is a different story.
The skiff crests a swollen wave. I think nothing of it. I’ve seen much worse in my days on the water; waves that make you worry your boat’s about to do a barrel roll and never recover. However, Lillian screeches in surprise.
I hold back a laugh, reaching a hand back to pat her knee. “It’s okay. You’re in good hands.”
My hand doesn’t reach her leg, though. She grabs onto it for dear life, squeezing tight and not letting go. A hold that reaches all the way into my chest and wraps around my heart.