Page 33 of Silver Brewer

“How about a protein bar breakfast with coffee so we can hit the trail?” I offer instead, ignoring all my doubts, questions, and fears in need of a distraction for the day. It’s exactly what the land is worth to me. Distraction from reality, and the reality is, Letty’s made it to her three-night minimum, but I wonder if she’ll reconsider. I wonder if I can convince her to go home empty-handed but still holding me.

+ + +

We trek the miles upstream to where I keep my canoe. I explain how I come up here often and return the canoe to this launching area in order to ride it back to camp. I vary my destinations, but it worked out to have the canoe in place this weekend.

“When I was a kid, my granddad brought us up here. I told you about his brewing days, but after things were legalized and we established a brewery near town, he kept the land.” My chest pinches at the memory of Pap bringing me up the mountain and us traveling back down by the stream. “He built the cabin at the base, but I restored it after he died.”

To everyone’s surprise, I inherited the land. It should have naturally passed to my dad, but Pap left it directly to me. The will stated he knew I loved the property as much as he did, and one day, I’d need it to remind me who I was and where I belonged. I’d gone off to fight for my country just as he had. And I’d returned a little lost, like him as well. He told me the mountain and the woods would ground me, and it has. I never want to see brown desert sand again.

“Were you close?” Letty asks me as we flip the canoe and push it into the water.

“Very.” It’s all I can say as my throat clogs. I miss the old man every day. He died while I was still overseas, and I couldn’t get home for his funeral.

“He sounds special. I’ve never been close to someone like that, except maybe my younger brother.” It’s all she offers, not expanding on him or their relationship.

I help her into the bow and then push off the stern, jumping in at the last minute. Letty squeaks when the canoe jostles.

“I won’t tip us. I promise. This water is freezing.”

We travel in silence for a bit. The only sound is the lapping of water as I paddle from one side to the other of the vessel. Letty offers to help, but she hinders us at first even though I’m in no rush.

“It’s so peaceful,” she says, stealing my thoughts with her hushed voice as if she’ll disturb the silence. Nature whispers around us with the rustle of trees and the low ripple of the river. We quietly continue until she says, “Tell me a story about your granddad.”

I’m surprised by the request but immediately know what story to tell her. I begin with the first time he took me fishing. A river runs behind the properties on the Lane. Technically, the dock was on our neighbor’s land—the Chances. I chuckle with the memories of my first catch, which seemed huge but wasn’t. Then I tell her about coming up here and learning to hunt.

“I’m not a fan of guns,” she reminds me.

“Right. The freezer fairy.”

She chuckles. “Tell me more.”

I’m surprised at myself as I chatter on the remainder of our trip. I haven’t spoken of these memories in a long time, and it feels good to tell someone about Pap, even if a part of me is sad at his passing.

“Those are great stories.” She pauses. “I always wanted to be a writer. Tell stories.”

I stare at her. She shifted to her side as she listened to me, but she angles her face forward, reminding me of a sea nymph on the front of a boat.

“Why didn’t you become a writer?”

She shrugs, looking off at the distance before us.

“I guess I changed my mind,” she says, but her tone tells me that isn’t the truth.

“You can always change it again.” I nudge the issue because I don’t believe her, and for the first time, I wonder if real estate possession is really her passion. Could she change her mind about wanting my land?

“Maybe one day,” she states, dismissing the suggestion. We near the curve for our camp, and Letty leans backward to glide her hand in the cool water.

“Careful,” I warn, but her body tips precariously, and her arm flaps to balance her equilibrium. “Letty,” I snap again in warning. Her toe hooks into the edge of the canoe, but it isn’t enough. When I reach for her, I rock the vessel, and she dips farther, arching her back. Not even a second passes before her toe slips from the small lip, and Letty’s awkward position pulls her backward. I stand, which one should never do in a canoe, and Letty falls overboard.

The water is shallow here, but I worry she hit her head on the bottom. She pops up rather quickly, though, swiping at her face before she lets out a scream.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

A deep, uncontrolled belly laugh bursts from me. She’s a wet T-shirt dream with her soaked hair plastered over her cheeks and her drenched flannel hugging her body. Her already-hip-hugging jeans are saturated as she stands in the water and grips the side of the canoe, trying to wobble it and force me to join her. For a big man, I have the balance of a cat, so I move with her efforts. Her irritation grows, and that only adds to her fierceness. She’s adorable.

I use the paddle pitched to the bottom of the stream to hold the vessel in place. “It’d be faster for you to walk to shore.” I nod to the land only a few feet away, struggling to suppress my chuckles as she turns to note the proximity. Letty pushes off the canoe and struggles in her sodden clothing to close the distance to the soft dirt of the shoreline. She stomps up the embankment as I steer the craft and eventually beach it. I tiptoe up the cavernous metal and jump out just as we hear rapid fire.

Three sharp shots.