“You could do the same thing on the backpacking trip with me.”
I scowled at him. Going on a trip with him required trust, and my confidence in Val was at low tide. “No, Val.” I put my hand up, a gesture meaning I would take no arguments from him. “I’m doing this my way.”
He inhaled and blew the breath out fast. “I don’t like it.”
“Of course you don’t, because it means you won’t be in charge. It will be fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Val frowned; a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “That’s what they always say right before something bad happens.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, “but it doesn’t matter. I’m going.”
Chapter Twelve
Skyla met me at the store at first light, an hour so indecently early even the wildlife refused to get out of bed. She helped me find a wetsuit, gloves, and neoprene booties before we hiked to the marina. She led me to a storage shed on the bank near the docks.
“Thorin keeps the rental stock here,” Skyla said, “so we don’t have to haul it back and forth. I keep my boat here too.” She unlocked a door and towed out a silver and neon-green kayak. “This is Molly.”
“Your kayak has a name?”
“It’s good luck.”
“I thought that was only for ships.”
“Shhh,” Skyla said, patting her boat. “She thinks she is a ship.”
“What’s my boat’s name?”
Skyla returned to the shed and lugged out a smaller, faded red kayak, plain and well used. “The rentals don’t get names. You have to form a bond before you can name it.”
“But I need good luck.”
Skyla passed me a paddle. “Don’t worry. I have enough for both of us.”
After we launched our kayaks and paddled to an open area away from the dock, Skyla instructed me on basic techniques. I adapted quickly, but then she said I had to learn to roll, which involved immersing my entire body into the frigid Alaskan waters. Here in Resurrection Bay, glaciers melted into the flow; kayaking in it equated to paddling in a glass of liquid ice. A wetsuit could only go so far in this situation.
“Do I have to?” I whined.
Skyla smacked her paddle on the surface and sent an icy splash over me. I shrieked and splashed her back. “Come on, Mundy,” she said. “Time for a dunk. Do it fast—like tearing off a Band-Aid.” Skyla squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and executed a perfect demonstration of something she called a Pawlata roll. She came up wet and as sleek as a seal.
“I have a feeling that’s a lot harder than you make it look.”
“Practice makes perfect. Now roll, Mundy, before I make you roll.”
I sighed, took a breath, and shifted my weight. Skyla had explained the process and demonstrated the technique, but the moment my body plunged into the frigid water, all her instruction vanished. My breath dispersed. Shock inhibited my coordination. I fought to find the correct grasp on my paddle while the cold sapped my strength.
Where was Skyla? Why wasn’t she helping? My arm muscles burned, my lungs turned to shrunken prunes, and panic screamed in my ear, ordering me to submit. But Skyla’s voice rose above the din: “If all else fails,” she had told me, “just climb out. You’ll have a bitch of a time getting back in the boat, but you probably won’t drown.”
Seizing upon Skyla’s advice, I yanked my skirting free and floated away from the kayak. The moment I bobbed to the surface, I sucked in a glorious breath, and then another, and another, almost to the point of hyperventilation. Skyla paddled close and helped me flip my kayak. Then she held my boat steady as I fought my way onto the stern and scooted into the cockpit—deep water reentry, another necessary skill Skyla insisted I had to master. She patted my back. “You gonna be all right?”
I glared at her and tried to convey murderous intentions. “I… a-almost… drowned.”
“But you didn’t. You saved yourself. It’s important you know that, know what you’re capable of.”
Still panting, I said, “Y-you were just… going… to watch. No help.”
Skyla jerked her chin up and peered at me through narrowed eyes. “That’s not how you learn.” She paddled a circle around me and then stopped and faced me again. “I wouldn’t have let you drown. But I knew you would save yourself before it came to that.”
“How could you be sure? I wasn’t sure.”
Skyla shrugged. “You might not be as brazen as me, but you got guts. Girls with guts don’t drown. We keep our heads above water, and we survive.”
“What are you?” I asked. “An ex-drill sergeant or something?” Skyla’s girl-power speech worked; I felt less like knocking out her teeth and more like giving her a salute.
“Marine,” Skyla said. “Four years—enlisted right out of high school.”
“Are you kidding?”
Skyla drew the tip of her paddle across the surface, making little swirls in the green water. “No. I got out at the end of my tour. Went to Afghanistan. Had mixed feelings about the potential of my career path in the long run. Decided I couldn’t do a job half-assed and declined their offer to reenlist. I came here the day they signed my discharge papers.”
The more I thought about her as a marine, the more it made sense. “I pegged you as a dissident type at first.”
Skyla grimaced. “Well, I can’t say I was in love with the routine and authority. It was another reason I didn’t go career. I probably would have been low ranking my whole life because I would never be willing to kiss the right ass.”
Skyla and I had little in common beyond our dedication to Mani, but I should never have underestimated the value of that common interest. “Thanks, Skyla.”
Skyla shook her head, not understanding. “For what?”
“For all of this.” I motioned to the water and the kayaks. “For loving Mani and for helping me.”
Skyla rolled her eyes and paddled backward. “Don’t get all sappy on me. We’ve got more practicing to do. You’re going to learn to do that roll like second nature before we leave here today.”
By the time Skyla was satisfied that I could hold my own in the open waters, I was frozen, exhausted, and starving. After I helped her stow the boats, we trekked uphill to the store on wobbly legs. Needless to say, I lacked the enthusiasm to deal with Val and Thorin when they met us in the employee lounge.
“You looked pretty good out there,” Val said.
I blanched. “You were watching? I didn’t even see you.”
“I’m like a ninja that way.”
“Miss Mundy,” Thorin said, “I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out if you’re going to accompany Skyla. For insurance purposes, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” I said. “Of course. And let me know how much the fees are. I brought my wallet.” I hadn’t considered the administrative aspects of my last-minute excursion.
“I’m not going to charge you,” Thorin said, “unless something happens to my equipment.”
“That’s very generous. Thank you.”
Thorin waved, dismissing my thanks. “I’ll have the forms at the counter for you to sign. Have a good time, but please be careful. This trip is for experienced kayakers. It would be bad press for my business if something happened to you.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he strode away.
“Is he always so warm and cuddly?” I asked, reaching for my bag of dry clothes.
“I’m warm and cuddly,” Val said. He draped a towel over my shoulders. “But you are cold and smell like a fish. The wetsuit is a nice fashion statement, don’t get me wrong, but I think you’d rather avoid pneumonia.”
I wriggled away from him and squelched to the employee restroom to change clothes. Then, warm and dry in a fleece pullover and leggings, I went to the front desk, where Thorin waited for me to sign the release of liability forms. “Are you sure about this, Miss Mundy?”
“Sure that I want to go on this trip? Yes, of course.”
“You’re making yourself vu
lnerable.”
“To what? I thought you wanted me out of town, minding my Ps and Qs. You should be happy.”
Thorin’s hand darted forward, and his fingers sank into my upper arm. “This isn’t a joke.”
I tried to tug away, but he had an iron grip. I gritted my teeth. “You’re hurting me.” Thorin let go so suddenly that I stumbled. I rubbed my arm and glared at him. “What’s your problem?”
Thorin stared at me, his eyes haunted, but then he shook himself and backed away. “Sign the papers and give them to Val.” Thorin turned on his heel and exited through the stockroom doors.
“What was that about?” I muttered and scribbled my name over the places marked with a highlighter.
Skyla and Val appeared as I finished, and he took the papers from me to put in a notebook.
“Mundy,” Skyla said. “We need to make sure you have all the equipment you’re going to need for this trip. And make sure you get to bed early tonight. We’re meeting again at first light.”
“Again?” I said.
“You can still go with me,” Val said. “You’ll be dry and warm, and you can sleep late. We’re not leaving until lunchtime.”
“Nice try, Wotan,” Skyla said. She lugged me away to go look at waterproof bags and other necessities. “Don’t look bummed,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”
“I’m excited,” I said. “I’m just too tired to show it.”
Late in the evening, Val called in an order for Chinese takeout, and we picnicked on the living room floor. Siqiniq didn’t have much in the way of office supply stores, but the tourist traffic meant hungry folks looking for convenient places to eat. Downtown Siqiniq kept several restaurants going year round, including the Oriental Garden. “Are you going to miss me?” Val asked. He poked chopsticks into his box of lo mein and pulled out a wad of noodles.
“I’m only going for three days,” I said and sniffed. The hot chilies in my kung pao aggravated my sinuses.
“But I’ll be gone for a week,” he said. “You can stay here when you get back.”
“With Hugh and Joe? No thanks. I don’t know how much longer I can justify staying here anyway. Mom and Dad are restless for me to come back to the bakery. And it turns out I’m kind of a sucky detective. The only thing I’ve been able to uncover is more trouble for myself.” I didn’t mention the Adam Skoll and Harold Hati hypothesis. “I don’t know how that’s going to do anything for Mani’s case.”
I’d never voiced my doubts out loud before, not like this, and I regretted sharing them with Val. He probably already suspected I was inept, but he didn’t need it confirmed by the source.
Val swirled his noodles around then stabbed his chopsticks in the box and left them there. “Do you want to go home?”
I looked at him. “Well, yeah, eventually.”
“It might be safer for you.”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Do you like being a baker?”
I set down my kung pao and turned away from Val. I set my sights on a mountain in the distance, framed by his living room window. “It’s all I know. I’ve always done it, and I’m good at it.”
“But do you like it?”
I chewed on my lip while considering my response. Val’s question was one I rarely posed to myself; I was too afraid of the possible answers. Without the bakery, without Mani, I was a dandelion seed in the wind, subject to the currents of fate. That was another aspect of my life I needed to confront and do something about. But I could only handle one overwhelming problem at a time. “I can honestly say I don’t know what else I would do.”
“You don’t have a secret dream you don’t tell anyone about? Astronaut, rock star, brain surgeon?”
I laughed. “Nothing like that, no. I like making things. I draw and paint sometimes, used to do photography in high school, but I’m too practical. I like having a regular income. I never wanted to be a starving artist.” I sipped my Diet Coke. “What about you? You’re happy leading tourists through the Alaskan outback?”
“Yes, actually.” Val leaned back and stretched his arm across the sofa cushions at his back. “It’s ideal. Dense populations and urban settings make me antsy. I don’t like crowds all that much.”
“Ha,” I said. “Anyone with your charm and charisma is a born people person.”
Val shook his head. “I like individuals. Humanity as a whole, particularly in large amounts and in confined areas, overwhelms me.”
“Overwhelms you?” I appraised Val’s broad shoulders, his big hands, the strong jaw. “You don’t strike me as easily intimidated.”
“I like open spaces and small groups of people. I like one person at a time best of all.” His eyes settled on me. “Like you. I like having you all to myself.”
I quirked my lips into a sarcastic grin. “Who says you have me?”
Val’s eyes swept the room. “Who else? It’s just you and me, babe.”
“It’s actually just you.” I yawned and stretched. “I’m going to bed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Our kayak group followed the coastline throughout the morning, stopping once for a quick lunch on the rocky shore of a mountainous island too small and too steep for habitation. I kept up with the more experienced paddlers, perhaps because the years of kneading bread and toting heavy kitchen pans had developed my upper body strength. But my biceps and shoulders would probably still complain about the workout in the morning.
Skyla pointed out wildlife—puffins, otters, bald eagles, sea lions. She also said something about looking for whales. On a large tour boat? Sure. In a kayak made of a few thin inches of fiberglass? Not so much.
In my tiny boat I bobbed on the surface of a vast and ancient ocean, as miniscule and inconsequential as a water bug in a pond. Out here, a tiny fleck on the face of the deep, it seemed as though none of what had happened in the last few months mattered. Oh, it mattered to me, plenty, but Mani’s death had no effect on the world as a whole. Regardless of my heartbreak, the tides still tugged on the oceans. Earth continued to rotate. The world would not stop and mourn for anyone or anything. It was jarring and unsettling.
I had lived most of my life in a small world of friends and family, and everyone spoke my language of grief and heartache. Being out here took all that away. I felt as though I had gone to sleep in my familiar bed but had woken up to find I had been transported to a strange and distant country during the night. No one knew me, and no one spoke my language.
This perspective strengthened my resolve to find out what happened to my brother. His redemption depended on me. Mani had mattered, and the world needed to know it. These realizations also showed me I had a chance to do something with my life that really mattered. I could use this time away from home as an opportunity to break old bonds and stretch in new directions. Reach out beyond the shadows of old expectations and grow into something new—a Solina who was more independent and self-reliant.
Our group stopped for the night on a beach that extended to an open field adjacent to a dense, dark forest. A few women pitched tents. Others started cook stoves for rehydrating freeze-dried dinners. Skyla and I had split the weight of a two-man tent between our kayaks. While she tended to constructing a campfire for the group, I scratched my head and fiddled with our collapsible poles and rip-stop nylon.
“C’mon, Mundy,” Skyla said after setting the kindling ablaze. “It’s not that hard.” Skyla threw several small branches onto the newborn fire and came to my side. She waved her hands, readjusted the poles, and like magic, a tent popped into shape.
“Wow,” I said and clapped like an excited kid. “Do it again, do it again.”
Skyla ignored me. “Maybe you could handle reconstituting our dinner.”
“Will I blow off my face?”
Skyla rolled her eyes but demonstrated the butane stove’s mechanics. I lit it without injury and put a pan of water on to boil.
“We’ll make a survivalist out of you yet,” Skyla said.
I tu
gged a packet out of my dry sack and read its label. “Beef tips on rice? Is this what you call survivalist?”
“Have you ever tried eating that stuff? You might prefer grubs and beetles.”
Once everyone settled down, cups of coffee or hot cocoa in hand, the group talked about plans for tomorrow’s trip. Leaning against a rock, I dozed off and didn’t wake up until Skyla shook my shoulder. “Move it into the tent, Mundy. You’re going to get a knot in your neck, sleeping like that.”
“It’ll just blend in with all my other aches and pains,” I grumbled as I rose to my feet.
I slid into my sleeping bag and fell asleep to the comforting mutter of conversation and soft laughter, but I woke late in the night to the outburst of a military-grade meteorological assault. Thunder exploded like a concussion of large artillery fire. Pounding bullets of rain battered our tent. I kicked off my sleeping bag and rolled closer to Skyla. “What kind of storm is this?” I yelled over the noise.
A distant streak of lightning illuminated Skyla’s outline as she rose to her feet. “It’s an Alaskan storm.” Another boom of thunder delayed her next statement. “We do everything big up here.”
The squall had rolled in on a cold front, and the temperature drop had me scrambling to put on more layers. “Should we be out here in the open like this? These tents don’t seem like much protection.”
“No,” Skyla said, emphatic. “We need to get over to the grove on the other side of this field.”
“I thought being near trees in a storm was a bad idea.”
“Being near one tree is a bad idea, but a big grove or a forest is good protection. It’s better than being out in the open near water like we are now, so get moving, Mundy.”
“Across the field?” Images of lightning bolts licking my heels flashed before my eyes.
“Before it gets worse, yes.” Skyla rose and dug through her dry bag until she found a poncho. She shrugged it on then dug into her bag again until she came out with something dark and heavy. A distant streak of lightning illuminated the weapon in her hand.
Midnight Burning Page 10
