by K. A. Tucker
It’s almost six p.m. on Christmas Day. Dinner is getting cold in casserole dishes and on platters. If it were under any other situation, I would feel bad for all Simon’s hard work gone to waste. But all I can think about is how dark and frigid it is out there, and how Agnes cannot lose her child to the harsh realities of life in Alaska. She has already lost so much.
“Glen said they probably went north along the river.” Toby traces the line on the map with his index finger. “In this weather, even I’ve gotten turned around a few times up there, and I know that area like the back of my hand.”
Björn frowns at the map. “What about west?”
“Nah. They’re not allowed to go that way. Too easy to get lost up in there, even in good weather, especially for a bunch of kids.”
“Then that’s the way they went,” Björn says matter-of-factly.
Toby’s brow furrows. “Kelly’s pretty good about sticking to the rules.”
“Teenagers don’t always do what they’re told. I’ll bet they went west,” Björn presses.
“This isn’t a horse race—” Jonah cuts himself off, gritting his teeth to bite back whatever else he’s about to say.
“Of course, they could have started north, got twisted up, and ended up goin’ west, like those kids a few years ago,” Muriel says. “Remember them? Found them eighteen miles away, frostbitten to hell.”
Not helping, Muriel.
“We’ll start by following the river north and then fanning out along those trails,” Jonah states, sparing Björn nothing more than glare—as if to dare him to counter—before heading over to me. “You gonna stay here?”
“No. I’m going with you.”
He shakes his head. “It could be a long night, Calla.”
“I don’t care.” I reach for him, squeezing his hand. “If you’re out there all night, then so am I.”
He nods. “Okay. But you should add another layer or two.”
Björn walks over, his coat and hat in his hands. “What machine can I take out?”
Jonah frowns, with surprise or irritation, I can’t tell. “There isn’t one. We only have the two, and Mabel’s got one of them.”
“Where can we find another?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t have time to look for one for you.” Definitely irritation.
“What can I do, then?”
“I don’t know. Keep the fire burning.”
Björn scowls. “But—”
“I don’t have time for this.” Jonah tugs his hat over his head. “Calla, you got two minutes.”
I run up the stairs to find more layers.
Jonah’s body is rigid against mine as we sail up the driveway toward the house, and I know it has nothing to do with the chilling cold that has seeped into our bones.
We can’t find Mabel or Kelly.
I lost count of the number of people out, riding the trails for hours. But there’s not a trace of the girls to be found, the falling snow and blowing wind covering whatever tracks they might have made.
“I hate being on the ground like this. I wish I could use my plane,” Jonah snarls, peeling off his helmet.
My heart beats in my throat as we climb the steps, our limbs numb from the ride. The buzz of approaching snowmachines trails behind us. I don’t have to look to know it’s the McGivneys, who have no intention of leaving us tonight, whether we want them to or not.
This is becoming our routine—tragedy strikes and we congregate. It would be uplifting if not inspired by such horrible events.
Agnes is waiting for us at the door. The grief on her face says she has already received the grim news from the state troopers that they’ve called off the search until morning due to poor visibility.
“I’m gonna gas up and go back out on my own,” Jonah says by way of greeting.
“No, you’re not!” we both respond in unison, followed closely by similar reactions from Astrid and my mother.
“You can’t go out again tonight. Look at you both. You’re frozen!” My mom peels my stiff, snow-caked scarf from around my neck as if to make her point.
“And there are two teenaged girls out there, frozen!”
“Jonah!” Astrid scolds.
He smooths a palm over his forehead and tempers his tone. “I’m sorry. But I can’t sit around here while she’s out there.”
“And I can’t have you and Björn going rogue tonight.” There’s desperation in Astrid’s voice.
Jonah’s eyes bulge. “What do you mean? Where the hell did Björn go?” He scans our living room, as do I. Only a weary-looking Simon remains, quietly sitting at the dining table by the dim cast of an oil lamp. All the food has been tucked away and the kitchen is spotless.
“He was upset that he was left behind while everyone else went out.” Astrid hesitates. “He needs to feel useful in situations like this, and you made him feel old and useless.”
Bewilderment mars Jonah’s face. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t give a shit about Björn’s ego right now. You shouldn’t, either.”
“I’m explaining what happened.” Astrid holds a hand up to stall Jonah’s rant. “Kelly’s mother phoned here to see if we’d heard anything. Björn answered. She mentioned not being able to go look for her daughter because of her two young children at home. So Björn asked if he could borrow her snowmachine to go out and join the search. She agreed to lend it to him.”
Jonah looks like his mother slapped him across the face. “Tell me you didn’t let a sixty-nine-year-old man from Norway go out into the Alaskan wilderness in a blizzard, alone?”
“I tried to stop him,” Astrid begins.
“He’s not alone. Roy went with him,” Agnes says calmly. I don’t know how she’s keeping her cool at a time like this. “Roy came by about an hour after you guys left. He heard all the engines and thought it might have something to do with Mabel, so he came looking for an update. When he saw how determined Björn was to go out there, he said he’d go with him. Roy drove him over to the Prichards’ to get the snowmachine and off they went.”
Jonah rubs the back of his neck. “At least he’s not completely alone.”
“He’s in good hands if he’s with Roy,” Muriel says, stepping inside to catch the tail end of the conversation. “He’ll make sure they get back.”
Astrid offers her an appreciative smile. “They took Mabel’s sweater with them. He said Oscar is especially good with scents.”
“In this weather?” Jonah runs a hand through his mussed hair. “Not that good.”
“Actually, I looked it up and research shows wolves can pick up the scent of their prey from two and a half kilometers away, even when it’s buried under several feet of snow.” Simon frowns. “I mean, not that I think they’re—” Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’ll boil some water for tea,” and scurries off to the kitchen.
“Those two went out four hours ago?” Jonah pulls his sleeve up and checks his watch.
“Yes. And it’s been at least thirty years since Björn has sat on one of those things. I can’t imagine he’s too comfortable right now, with his back problems.”
“As long as his ego isn’t suffering,” Jonah mutters dryly.
I bite my tongue against the urge to point out that this all sounds like something Jonah would pull. That’s a conversation for later, once everyone’s safely home.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve gotta go back out.”
“But what will you possibly be able to see when it’s like this?” Astrid pleads.
“I don’t know, but there’s no way I can sit here with my thumb up my ass while Mabel’s out there freezing to death.”
“Why don’t we take a look at the map to mark off everywhere we’ve already covered, before we forget.” Muriel gestures to the table where it’s still laid out. “We’ll get a hot tea in us, and then we can all hop out there again, together. Sound good?”
Jonah nods, his brow permanently furrowed.
“I’d like to go out, too,”
Agnes says, worrying her hands. “I can’t sit here anymore—”
“Tell you what, I’ll ride with Teddy and you take my machine. Toby, you get started on that map. I need a bladder break.” She squeezes Agnes’s shoulder on her way past—a silent gesture of sympathy to a woman whose child is missing from a woman whose child is forever lost.
Trepidation churns in the pit of my stomach as we set to marking off trail after trail. I knew we’d covered a lot of ground, but I hadn’t realized how much.
Twenty minutes later, still frozen to the core, I’m pulling on my bunny boots—a precious Christmas gift from Agnes last year that is saving my feet tonight—when I swear I hear the buzz of an engine. Agnes and Jonah seem to hear it, too, because we all rush for the front porch at once and watch expectantly.
I hold my breath.
Two snowmachines travel up the driveway.
And then another two appear.
It’s impossible to tell from this distance who the riders are—if they’re searchers coming to check in.
That is until I see two four-legged animals racing beside them.
“It’s Roy!” My heart hammers in my chest, desperate for relief. But is it Roy and Björn and volunteers they picked up along the way?
Ten seconds later, Mabel comes to a stop outside our house.
And the dread that’s gripped me for hours lifts from my limbs, leaving me feeling weightless.
“Oh, thank God.” Agnes pushes out the porch door and runs down the path toward her daughter who has scrambled off the snowmachine. Jonah and I are close behind.
They collide in an embrace, their sobs carrying over the hum of the nearby generator.
“We got lost! No matter where we went, it was the wrong way. It was like we were going in circles. I was so scared! I’m so sorry.” Mabel’s words tumble from her mouth in a continuous blur.
She towers over Agnes now and yet somehow looks small within Agnes’s fierce embrace. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
Everyone has filtered out of the house, and a chorus of relieved sighs and exclamations can be heard.
“Oscar found me!” Mabel laughs through her tears. “Can you believe it? Roy said he caught my scent from like a mile away and started running straight toward us.”
“Isn’t that something.” Agnes looks first to the wolf dog, who hangs back, and then to Roy. “Thank you, for finding them and bringing them back.”
“Don’t thank me.” He nods toward Björn. “He’s the one who insisted we go west. I didn’t think they’d go that way, but he wouldn’t let it go. Stubborn pain in my ass.”
“I had a gut feeling.” Björn struggles to climb off his seat. He says something in Norwegian and Astrid rushes over to take his hand for balance, helping him up. “I forgot what it felt like to sit on one of these for four hours. It’s not good.”
“Well, look at that. It all worked out.” Muriel marches down the path and climbs onto the machine Björn just vacated. “How about I get this back to Noreen for you.” She nods at Teddy and Toby, a signal that they should follow suit and swiftly. “Come on, Kelly. Let’s get you home, too. I’m sure your parents will be happy to stop worrying.”
Kelly turns to Roy to offer him a shy smile. “Thank you.”
He grunts in response.
“That’s ‘you’re welcome’ in Curmudgeon. He’s mastered the language,” I explain, earning their giggles and Roy’s pointed glare.
“Okay. Let’s get you inside.” Agnes furiously rubs her daughter’s shoulders. “We need to get you checked out by a doctor.”
“I think they’re gonna be fine. They found an old, abandoned shack and got a decent fire goin’. Stayed huddled. They’re smart girls.”
“And you’re a good man, Roy Donovan!” Muriel hollers over the hum of her engine. “Enjoy the rest of your night!” She takes off, followed closely by Kelly, Toby, and Teddy.
Only Jonah, Roy, and I remain outside in the dark, huddled in our coats and hats, with nothing but the one spotlight fueled by the generator to cast light.
“I’m gonna check on Mabel.” Jonah presses a kiss against my cheek and adds reluctantly, “And eat my words for Björn.”
I smile. As bullheaded as Jonah can be, when he’s wrong, he’ll admit it. “Save the really good groveling until I get there. I like watching that.”
He snorts. “Good night, Roy. And thanks again.” He doesn’t wait for Roy’s answer before he heads up the path because he knows he won’t get one.
I curl my arms around my chest. “Some Christmas Day, huh?” And I thought last year’s was memorable.
“You should get on inside. It’s gonna take you ’til Friday to warm up.”
Speaking of warming up … “You look good in navy blue.” I nod toward his new hat. It’s lined with rabbit fur, which I cringed at choosing, but then I wagered that Roy is Roy and isn’t likely to wear faux fur. “Maybe Bandit will stop hiding when you come by to see Zeke.”
He adjusts his coat sleeve. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had somethin’ new to wear.”
“And now you have something to wear to our wedding.”
He snorts.
“I’m serious, Roy. Please come.” I thought more about what my answer should have been that night out on the road. “We may not be that important to you, but you’re important to us. To me. You and Muriel and Toby and Teddy … you’re my family here. If I didn’t have you, I’m not sure I’d still be in Alaska. I don’t know if Jonah and I would have made it this far.” As fiercely as we love each other, sometimes that’s not enough.
My parents were proof of that.
I feel my eyes well with emotion. “I’m going to set a place at the table for you, and I really hope you’re there to fill it. Even if you’re in dusty old jeans and that terrible Davy Crockett hat.” I back away, not wanting to give him time to formulate another bullshit excuse. “I think we’re having grouse for dinner, and I know you hunt them so don’t even try to tell me you won’t eat that.”
I’m halfway up the path when I hear him admit in an oddly somber tone, “I’m too scared to talk to her.”
My feet stall.
“She lost her mother, and the man who raised her. She’s lookin’ for someone to replace them, and I’m a grumpy old man who’ll disappoint her. I’ve got no love to give anybody. Not her, not her kids.” His lips twist. “I don’t even remember how to love anymore.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” I trek back to him. “And I don’t think she wants to replace them. She wants to get to know you.” I know because I was in her shoes, once.
He studies his worn gloves, and I make a mental note to buy him a new pair of those, too. “Not much to know. I’m a pretty boring guy.”
I chuckle. “You’re a lot of things, Roy, but boring is not one of them.”
He shakes his head, still unconvinced. “After what I did to her mother?”
“Maybe she’ll ask you about that,” I agree. “Maybe she’ll want to know why it happened. And maybe knowing that you’ve regretted it every day since will give her the closure she needs. You won’t know until you talk to her. But what I do know, from experience, is that it’s never too late as long as you’re both willing to try. And she is, Roy. So have the guts to pick up that phone and call her. Or write her. It’ll be the best decision you’ll make for the rest of your life.” I hesitate. “I can be there when you do that. If you want.”
Roy seems to chew on that offer. “You’re gonna turn into a Popsicle if you stand out here any longer. Get on inside now, ya hear?” He starts his engine and takes off down the driveway, Oscar and Gus chasing after him.
I smile as I watch him go. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
I’m halfway up the path to the porch when the power comes back on, treating me to a dazzling display of white twinkling lights.
Chapter Twelve
“One more here,” my mother says around the bobby pin held between her teeth. She uses it to tuck in a stray ha
ir and then steps back to survey the loose updo we spent the last hour crafting. She smiles, her dazzling, hazel-green eyes drifting the full length of my fitted wedding gown. Connie proved to be a magician, working late into the night, several nights over, pulling apart stitches, snipping excess material, and sewing it back together to tailor fit to my frame. “Perfection.”
“Absolute perfection,” Diana echoes, stretched out across our bed as if posed for a photo shoot, holding both bouquets. I told her to wear whatever she wants. She chose a sexy Boho chic dress in cranberry that will pop against the frozen backdrop and matches the shade of my mother’s dress that Diana brought from home.
“Everything is. Every detail.” A lump flares in my throat. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
My mom’s eyes turn glossy as she collects my hands in hers. “Of course, honey. I’ve only ever wanted this day to be memorable. For you.”
I barely notice the pointed lens anymore as Lacey discreetly captures moment after moment, stepping around us almost as if she’s not there. She showed me some of her winning shots and there’s no doubting her talent. I’m already dying to see the pictures and the day isn’t over yet.
The last six days have been a mad flurry of shopping, scavenging, collecting, crafting, and cleaning. We stripped the tackiest of the signs and pictures from the Ale House’s walls, tucking them away in boxes for the time being. Surprisingly, my mom wanted to leave the moose and deer heads. They add to the rustic charm, she insisted.
Now they quietly loom over an astonishing transformation that even caught Muriel momentarily speechless when she walked in this morning, to take in the forests’ worth of greenery and the lanterns we begged, borrowed, and bought to create ambiance. Toby and Jonah hauled tables over from the community center and lined them up into one long, banquet-style table adorned with rented copper and crystal dishes and ornate candelabras, and every available blush and burgundy flower within a hundred miles of Anchorage. Archie smelled like a florist’s cellar when Jonah arrived yesterday with the haul.
