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“Nothing. I was just remembering something my dad said.” About how he knew it would never work out with my mom in the long run but he wasn’t about to fight what was happening.
I think I’m starting to get it now, Dad.
Chapter 25
“So, people actually choose to do this for an entire vacation.” I curl my arms around my body, readjusting my position for the hundredth time in the uncomfortable folding seat. We’re on hour three of sitting in this rented tin can of a fishing boat. My hand is cramping over the fishing rod Jonah shoved into it, I reek of bug repellent, and I’m getting twitchy.
“They don’t just choose to do it; they pay big bucks to get out here.” My dad reels his line in a touch. “We make tens of thousands every summer, flying people in.”
“Oh, wait! I think I’ve got—” Mabel pauses, then leans forward. “Nothing.” She turns and gives us a toothy, sheepish grin, the same one she’s given the last eleven times she’s mistaken the current for a fish.
I swat at a fly buzzing around my head. “How long before we catch something and can leave?”
“Never, if you guys keep talking. You’re scaring all the fish away.” Jonah is stretched out in the chair beside me, his boots resting on the edge of the boat, his rod off the opposite side. He looks like a damn model in that pose, with his USAF hat pulled low and his sunglasses masking his eyes. Hour two was all about me stealing frequent glances at him and fantasizing about what we’d do tonight, until Mabel asked me why my skin was so flushed and I had to shut those thoughts down.
“I’m good with never,” I mutter. “When are we leaving? I have to pee.”
My dad chuckles.
Jonah sighs heavily, as if annoyed, but when he tips his head back to see me, he’s wearing a smirk that’s equally obnoxious and sexy.
This sucks, I mouth.
Say that again, he responds, his devilish eyes shifting to my lips, and I can read the dirty thoughts percolating there.
My cheeks heat. Stop it.
“Are you complaining about your tour guide’s choice for today, Barbie?” he says out loud, grinning.
Any more protests I may have had melt instantly. “No. Today is perfect,” I say with full sincerity and a warm smile. Because even if it’s an overcast day and I want to toss this fishing rod into the lake and fly home, I know that I’m going to think back to this tin-can boat and Mabel’s false alarms and the eerie quiet of this remote lake in the middle of the middle of nowhere, Alaska, and I’m going to remember it fondly.
Just like the last three days have been perfect. Because my dad has gotten to do what he loves—fly—and I’ve been there, sitting right behind him the entire time, watching his deeply contented smile for every second of every moment of it.
We’ve cruised through the Alaskan skies for hours each morning, over wide plains and icy glaciers, into deep valleys, circling around to get glimpses of brown bears roaming the wild.
And every evening, the five of us have gathered at my dad’s like some cobbled-together family for a meal and evening that no one asks for but everyone seems to need, gravitating to that lifeless living room, filling it with life.
And every night, when my dad goes to bed, I duck out to Jonah’s, making sure to sneak back in before my dad rises for the next day.
With a small, knowing smile, Jonah reaches across and gives my thigh a squeeze before turning his attention back to his rod. A peaceful, comfortable silence settles over the four of us as we all get lost in our private thoughts.
It’s interrupted again just moments later. “I’m hungry,” Mabel announces.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, I am never going fishing with you two children ever again,” Jonah mutters as my dad bursts out laughing, not bothering to scold Jonah for his language around a twelve-year-old. There’s no point trying to censor that guy.
“Did you pack any snacks?” I reach across to smooth a hand over his shoulder, an excuse to touch him. “Maybe some of that beef jerky from Ethel?”
“Beef jerky?” Mabel frowns with confusion. “Nobody dries beef in the villages. There aren’t any cows!”
I catch my dad’s cringe and my stomach clenches as it dawns on me.
“What the hell did you feed me, Jonah?”
“Your mother had them strung up around the outside, up there.” My dad draws a line in the air, along the top of the screens, before letting his eyes drift to the porch ceiling. “But I think I like this better.”
“It’s nice after dark.”
“I’ll have to stay up and see it, one of these nights.” He butts his cigarette out in a can and pulls the outside porch door shut. “Who knew a morning of fishing would wipe me out like that?”
