Love In Alaska (The Love In 50 States Series Book 2) (6 page)

My fingers shook as I took the crackers and tore off the cellophane wrap. I shoved two of them in my mouth and then twisted the cap on the water bottle. I drank half of it in two swallows.

“It's hard work,” Evan said, uncapping his own bottle and taking a drink. “Especially when you don't have a trail.”

I reached for two more crackers. “I thought the climbing was harder,” I told him.

“Yeah, I guess. We can slow down, though. I'm tired, too.”

He wasn't saying it derisively. He wasn't mocking me. He saw that I wasn't fit enough to keep up at the level we were going and was offering me a graceful way out. I appreciated that.

“Do you do this every place you fly to?” I asked after another long drink.

“If I have the time, yes,” he said, stretching out his legs. “My job gets me to the places, I do my job and then I explore.” He smiled. “It's part of the reason I came up here. I knew I could find work and still have time for fun.”

“Had you been here...to Alaska?” I asked, folding up the cellophane. “Before your divorce?”

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to but couldn't ever get her to commit. Not her thing.” He shrugged. “So when I was free, I took off. Just left everything behind.”

There was something in the way he said the word 'everything' that made me think he was talking about a lot of things and not just a job.

“Did it end badly?” I asked. “Your divorce?”

He ran a hand through his hair and offered me a sideways smile. “Don't they all?”

I shrugged. “I've only ever been divorced once.”

He picked up a small rock and bounced it in his hand. “I don't know if it was bad. I guess it could have been a lot worse. But I was just...done. I needed to step away and let it all go. That was it.”

He was purposely being evasive. It was as closed off as he'd been with me and I didn't want to press him.

“What about you?” he said, eyeing me. “What did you do when it ended?”

I thought for a moment. “Pouted. Sulked. Felt sorry for myself.”

“You didn't want it to end?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, no. I did. I needed it to end. I just didn't know what to do with myself. I'm still not sure I do, actually.”

“Hence, the trip.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Hence the trip.”

“Worse things, I guess.”

I looked around the mountainside. “Far worse things that sitting halfway up some mountain in the middle of Alaska.”

He chuckled. “Amen.” He finished his water. “You okay to keep going? Not much further and we can set up camp for the night.”

I retied my hiking boot and stood. My legs were steadier. My hands weren't shaking. My thighs burned less. My feet still ached, but I could deal.

“I'm okay,” I said. “Let's go.”

We gathered up our stuff and started working our way up the mountain side. We walked in silence, which was good so I could conserve my energy. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, just to check on me. I gave him a thumbs up.

An hour later, we were near the top of the mountain. The air felt thinner, lighter, the thin white clouds practically within reach. 

Evan turned around. “One more minute and this will hopefully have all been worth it to you.”

I nodded my assent.

He stopped when he got to a small ridge and put his hands on his hips. He didn't say anything, but watched me as I planted myself next to him.

I took a deep breath and pulled off my sunglasses. As far as I could see was an open valley of forest and water. In the distance, two deer wandered toward a copse of trees, their noses close to the ground. A bald eagle soared over us, swooping into the valley, heading toward a small river that snaked toward a mountain range. A thin layer of clouds hung suspended in the air, like feathers from a down pillow.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Evan laughed. “Yeah. Holy shit, right? I found this spot about a year ago. I came here for a few days, hoping to just wander around and explore. I found it on the second day and just parked myself here. Didn't see a soul the whole time. I haven't been back since. Looks exactly the same, though.”

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the view. “I didn't know places like this existed. I mean, I guess I did but I never thought I'd be able to visit them.”

“Alaska is like the ultimate nature documentary,” he said. He pointed off in the distance to the right side of the valley. “We can make camp down there. It's flat and there's a small opening in the trees.”

I followed him down the hillside, my feet slipping a little as I navigated the steep, leaf-littered terrain. The ground was damp, the leaves shiny with either lingering dew or moisture from recent rains. I glanced up at the sky. The white clouds had thickened a little, the sun playing hide and seek. The temperature had cooled and I welcomed the breeze on my sweaty, heated skin.

We reached the valley floor and followed a narrow trail along the river to the first cluster of trees. We ducked into the woods and, two minutes later, found ourselves in a very small clearing under a canopy of leaves.

Evan dropped his pack to the ground and fell with it on his back. “I'm dead.”

I shrugged off my pack and laid down next to him. “I thought it was just me.”

“I think I could sleep now.”

“I could eat one of these trees, I'm so hungry.”

He laughed and propped himself up on one elbow. “Don't do that. Lots of things you shouldn't eat around here.” He sat up. “But I'll get us set up so we can eat dinner.”

“Can we order pizza out here?” I asked, staring up at the tree-shrouded sky.

He dusted off his hands. “Don't I wish. Hot dogs, chips and apples for us,” he said, rattling off some of the food he'd picked up at the little store in town. “That work okay?”

“I said I'd eat a tree, so yeah, that works great.”

“Just checking.”

Twenty minutes later, just as I was picking myself up off the ground, Evan had our tent up, our sleeping bags unrolled inside, and a fire started on the opposite side of the clearing. He'd gone about it all quietly and efficiently, completely at home in the wilderness. I'd lain there, watching him, exhaustion in competition with the guilt I felt for letting him do all the work. But he'd whistled as he'd set up the tent and gathered wood for the fire, his tune indicating he didn't seem to mind.

“Why did you build the fire over here?” I asked, sitting up.

“For cooking,” he said. “We don't want it too close to our tent.”

I nodded. “Embers?” It probably wouldn't be a good idea to build a roaring fire next to a flammable nylon tent.

“Yeah,” he responded. “But bears, too.”

“Bears?” My voice squeaked.

“We're sort of in the mountains of Alaska,” he said, grinning. “Kodiak bears live here. A subspecies of brown bear,” he added.

“Are they...dangerous?”

“They can be,” he said. He tossed another stick on to the fire, then used a longer branch to rearrange the burning logs.

“Should I be worried?”

“Relax,” he said, smiling. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I told you I'd keep you safe.”

“While we were flying,” I reminded him. “You didn't say anything about bears.”

“You don't have to worry about bears,” he said. “One person has been killed on Kodiak Island by a bear.”

“That's one too many,” I muttered.

“In seventy years,” he added. “Anyway, we just need to keep our eyes open and take some precautions. Like not cooking near the tent.”

I sat down next to him. He'd pulled out a few hot dogs and something that looked like a miniature metal pitchfork. He skewered the dogs, then began rotating them slowly over the edge of the flames. Warmth drifted from the fire and I moved in closer, breathing in the scent of woodsmoke.

“So this is far enough away?” I asked. “From the tent?”

“It'll do,” he said. He glanced back at the tent. “We don't have a ton of space to play with but we're away from the river and there aren't a lot of edibles around here that would attract them. We'll be fine.”

“You sound like a true survivalist,” I said, smiling. “Maybe you should try out for that show. What's it called?
Naked and Afraid
?”

He laughed loudly. “Uh, no. I prefer roughing it in places I'm familiar with. And keeping my clothes on.”

I laughed, too. “Especially here.” An involuntary shiver ran through me. “It's getting chilly.”

He glanced skyward. “Clouds are moving in,” he said. I looked up, too and could just make out the gray sky visible through the trees. “That rain I mentioned earlier? We might be in for a bit of a wet night.”

I hugged my knees to my chest. “Is
that
something I should worry about?”

“Rain?” He kept turning the hot dogs and the smell was making my mouth water. “No. It's not cold enough to snow and there shouldn't be much wind. Just a little rain storm.”

I opened my mouth to ask more questions, then closed it. I was not going to worry about rain.

“We may be tent-locked for the rest of the evening.” He wrinkled his nose. “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back on my hands. “Fix the weather.”

He laughed. “I just meant it would've been nice to sit out here by the fire in the dark.”

“So the bears could watch us?”

“Exactly.” He examined the dogs. “Okay, I think these are good. You wanna grab the buns?

“I never thought I'd be dying for a hot dog,” I said, “But those smell like steaks to me.”

There was a small velcro container between us. I unzipped it and pulled out four buns for the four dogs on his pitchfork. I opened one at a time and he deposited a dog in each one. We wolfed them down immediately, two for each of us, and he stuck the remaining four dogs on his pitchfork and held them out over the fire.

“Okay, confession time,” Evan said, scratching at his chin with his free hand.

“I'm afraid of bears,” I said automatically.

He rolled his eyes. “It isn't a confession when it's already been established.”

“Oh. Hmm.”

He shifted the roaster to his left hand and grabbed a log with his right. Gently, he places it on the fire. “Why'd you get divorced?”

“Well, there's a change of subject...”

“Sorry. I was just trying to make conversation.” He flashed me a smile. “And I was curious.”

I sighed and leaned back on my hands. “Is there ever a single reason?”

“No,” he admitted. “So give me three.”

I thought for a minute. “Three,” I repeated. “Okay. I don't think we were ever really in love. We had nothing in common. And I couldn't talk to him.”

“Why not?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Because I don't think he cared,” I said. There was a pinecone next to me and I picked it up. “Not that I cared what he had to say, either, but I'd at least pretend to listen. He didn't even pretend. So eventually I just stopped talking to him. Talked to my friends instead.”

He nodded. “It gets quiet at the end, doesn't it?”

I picked at the pinecone. “Especially when he's fucking someone else.”

He winced. “Ouch. Sorry.”

“Don't be,” I said, shaking my head. “We were already done. My ego took a hit, but we were already over. His affair just solidified everything I knee was wrong with our marriage.”

He stared at the hotdogs. They'd gone from pink to brown, the skins cracking a little. “I actually caught them.”

“What?”

He looked at me and smiled. “I caught my wife with her boyfriend or whatever he was. I was in my first year of law school.”

“Law school?” I made a face. “But you're a pilot.”

“She wanted me to be a lawyer,” he said. “Didn't want me flying all over the place with some commercial airline so I'd agreed. So dumb.” He shook his head again. “Anyway, it was my third week of classes, but my afternoon one was canceled—professor had appendicitis. Came home and they were on the couch, going at it. Was like a bad movie.”

“Oh my God,” I said. I'd never caught Brian in the actual act with his colleague. “What did you do?”

“I laughed,” he said simply. “I literally laughed. The guy jumps up off her, is scrambling for his clothes and I'm standing there in the doorway, my keys in my hand, my backpack on my shoulder, just laughing. Amanda is doing the same thing, trying to grab her clothes, talking a mile a minute, all red-faced and flustered. And I'm just laughing. Dude grabbed his pants and ran past me. Amanda finally got dressed, then got pissed that I wasn't having the reaction she expected.” He smiled and shook his head. “But I didn't know what else to do. We were such a cliché. It felt like a fitting end.”

“You weren't mad?”

“Oh, sure, later,” Evan said. “We had a huge fight the next day when I packed up to move out. I called her every name I could think of, told her I hoped they both got hit by trucks. Awful stuff, you know? I regret saying that stuff now...sort of. But, honestly. I wasn't supposed to be married to her. It was like I just needed a massive sign to realize it. And that guy's hairy, naked ass pumping up and down in my living room was it.”