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“And what is the color of the sky in Fairy Tale Land?” Miranda asked, batting her eyelashes at Mary before crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.
But Mary was undeterred and smiled beatifically. “Someday you’ll know, too. Mark my words. Fate has a way of working these things out. You wait and see. Maybe it’s even Otter!”
Ugh. Mary was an incurable romantic that no amount of sarcasm could affect. “It’s not Otter,” she assured Mary with a shudder. “You know I would destroy someone as sweet as your brother. If there’s someone out there for me, that person would have to know how to shoot a gun at the very least. Otter isn’t what you would call the outdoorsy type.”
“True,” Mary agreed with a sigh. “Poor Otter. He’s more of a city boy than a rugged Alaskan.” A coy, delighted smile followed as Mary added, “Unlike my Jim. He can split a round of wood with one chop.”
Mary was newly married to her second husband and Miranda could fairly see stars in her eyes whenever Mary talked about Jim. Their gooey lovefest was cute—if you liked that sort of thing—which Miranda did not, and it certainly didn’t make Miranda feel compelled to seek out the same. She scooped up her papers and smiled brightly, saying, “Well, sounds like he’s a handy guy to have around when it’s time to chop a couple of cords. Did you happen to notice if the permits came through for the Dickens Trail Excursions?” Miranda asked, eager to change the subject before Mary started in on her for still being single in spite of plenty of offers to put a ring on her finger. “They usually come in by now and I haven’t seen them.”
“No, not yet. That’s odd, isn’t it?” Mary agreed. “All the expedition outfits usually have their permits in by now.”
“Yeah, I’ll give them a call and remind them. Maybe it slipped their minds.”
“Maybe. Probably,” Mary added definitively. “When there’s so much going on, things slip through the cracks.”
Miranda nodded and returned to her office with her papers. It was moose hunting season but the fish-and-game office always held a Women’s Outdoor Training course and they were gearing up for the promotional push, which included putting flyers into the mail along with a seasonal calendar of events. It was busywork that Miranda hated but it was a job that needed to be done.
Perhaps the reason she hated office busywork was because when she had no choice but to complete a menial task, her brain traveled to places that she’d rather not visit.
Most days she felt completely competent and able to face any challenge—unless it involved Talen. Her boy was her Achilles’ heel and she worried that she was screwing him up like her parents had obviously screwed her up somehow.
She had to be mother and father for her son and it was a tougher gig than she’d ever imagined it would be. Sure, the job came with unbelievable sweetness but there were days that she felt lost and confused about everything except the fact that she was doing everything wrong.
She leaned pretty heavily on Mamu for advice, seeing as her own mother wasn’t a beacon of motherly input, but sometimes she wished she had someone else to help shoulder the weight of all that responsibility.
Ha! Miranda shook herself from the muck of her own melancholy and called herself on that thought. Like you’d want someone else telling you how to raise your son? Not likely. Be thankful Johnny wasn’t around any longer to put in his two cents about how to raise a child, she reminded herself with a derisive smirk at her own conversation. This was why she didn’t spend too much time in her own head—it was too cluttered with junk to navigate safely.
* * *
JEREMIAH FINISHED UNLOADING the last of his meager belongings and felt a sense of relief. No more sounds of neighbors’ activities—both carnal or otherwise—to rouse him from a fitful sleep and no more choking down terrible instant coffee as he tried to force his eyes to open after a less-than-restful night.
It was a nice enough place, nothing fancy just as Otter warned, but that was fine with Jeremiah. He’d had the fancy house back in Wyoming—a chalet-type monstrosity that he’d gladly given his ex-wife in the divorce settlement—and the simple accommodations appealed to his desire to start fresh.
Here there was nothing remotely connected to his life in Wyoming. Nothing of Tyler, either. He’d brought a few framed photos in the move but they remained tucked away in the boxes. He didn’t have the heart to stare at his son’s precious face smiling back at him, knowing the boy was gone forever. Jeremiah scrubbed his face with his hands and rubbed the grit from his eyes that seemed a permanent part of his body now. He never felt rested; never felt at peace.
