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Before
THE DOG STOODstiff and unmoving. He stared hard at me, and I was convinced he was going to attack, but Dad ignored him. My dad looked exactly like the picture, except for a little gray in his beard. He still had the same wrinkly laugh lines, and when he saw me he threw his arms out to the side.
“Baby bear!” he said. I stood and stared at him, my peach-pit fear still lodged in my throat. His grin faltered. “Sequoia,” he tried instead.
“Jess,” I corrected. I’d told him that on the phone, too, and he hadn’t seemed to notice. I hated my first name. It was such a hippy name. It had no good nicknames and no good story behind it; it was just a tree and my dad liked trees, so here I was. I’d been Jess since I was four. “My name is Jess.”
“Jess,” he said, as if teaching it to himself. He dropped his arms. I hugged my duffel to my chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I looked behind him, up at the cabin. It didn’t look much bigger on the ground than it did from the air. I couldn’t see how we’d both live in it.
“I’m going to build an extension,” he said, following my gaze, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“I thought you lived in Alaska,” I said.
“I did. As far as the government’s concerned, I still do,” he said. Chuckled. “But out here, nobody bothers me. I don’t bother anybody. Works out better for everyone that way.” He smiled like it was a joke, but I kept on staring. Mom always said Dad liked the outdoors. Camping and hiking and hunting. But this...
“Does anyone know you live out here?” I asked.
“Griff does,” he said. “Now you do, too. Couple other people.” Something about the way he said that didn’t sit right, and his eyes tracked away from me a moment before he spoke again. “But that’s the way I like it. You’ll like it, too. You’ll see. You won’t have to go to school and learn all those useless so-called facts.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck again, like he’d been gearing up for a lecture and thought better of it. “I know it doesn’t look like much, Seq—Jess, but you’ll love it. You’re my daughter, after all.”
I looked at him a good long while. I wondered if Griff would take me back, if I asked him. And then I thought about what would happen if I did go back. I’d have to explain. I’d go back into foster care. Maybe even back to the Wilkersons, the family I lived with before.
But I couldn’t stay up here. There wasn’t a here up here. I’d thought we were going to a little town with maybe one tiny store and a bunch of grizzled people who hardly ever saw each other—but there’d still be people. I’d seen that forest stretching to the horizon. There were no roads, no vehicles. When Griff left, I’d be stuck out here.
I had to go back.
“Dinner’s about ready,” Dad said. “You all should come in and eat.” Griff made a triumphant whooping sound and the dog started barking, so hard his teeth flashed and his paws bounced on the gravel. I froze up. I never really liked dogs before the accident. After, they terrified me. They didn’t have to be mean to knock me over or crush me to the ground, and here was this dog as heavy as I was, looking ready to charge. I couldn’t keep to my feet if it did. Couldn’t keep its teeth off me, and even if it didn’t bite, I’d be hurt. Hurt again.
Dad laughed. “Bo won’t bite,” he said. “Not unless I tell him.” He winked.
“If he jumps—” I started.
“Not afraid of a little roughhousing, are you?” He gave a bass rumble of a laugh, eyes twinkling. I gaped at him, forgetting about the dog for a moment. I spent every second calculating how to step, how to walk, how to stand to avoid the sharp, immediate pains of a twisted muscle or the later aches of strain and misuse.
I spent every day worried I was getting worse instead of better. That I’d have to go back to walking with a cane, or on crutches. That I’d get hurt badly enough again that I wouldn’t be able to walk at all. And here was my dad, seeing me for the first time in years, grinning at the notion.
The dog kept barking. Dad’s smile dropped, crumbling away over a few seconds, and he shot a scowl in the dog’s direction. “Shuddup, Bo,” he snapped. The dog went quiet immediately and went back to watching me. That’s how Bo and I met. I was still pretty sure he wanted to kill me. Funny since he’s the main reason I haven’t died yet.
