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Hazel’s hand went immediately to the compass pendant she wore. She squeezed it, then rubbed her thumb over the smooth brass as she examined the photo of Celine.
I put my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “She’d be proud to see you wear it.”
She wiped a tear away and pulled free of my hold. “Show me more,” she ordered quietly, wandering down the hallway.
* * *
After the tour, we returned to the cabin, where Hazel sat on the bed, typing furiously. In the center of the room, I stretched, basking in the effects of being out in the woods. It had been so long since I’d been up here, so long since I’d felt the freedom of the wilderness. And I was in the honeymoon cabin with my wife.
Who was now pulling papers out of her bag and furiously spreading them across the quilt. Hmm. Not the sexy fantasy I had envisioned.
“I have this feeling,” she said, pushing up her glasses. “It’s probably nothing.”
I dropped to the mattress beside her and scanned the array of papers, feeling totally useless. “Explain.”
“The photo we saw. That old outpost.”
She squinted at her computer screen, moving her finger along the track pad, then turned the whole thing so we could both see the documents on the screen.
“It’s Sinistre Nord. Look at this map.”
She’d pulled up a map from the seventies that was covered in scribbles in what looked like my dad’s handwriting.
“This.” She poked her finger at a spot. “That’s what your dad was talking about. What he was researching.”
“That whole area was destroyed in a massive wildfire decades ago.”
“Have you been out there, seen it for yourself?” she asked, tapping her temple with a pencil and squinting at the screen.
“No. I’ve flown over it with Walt. There’s a wildflower meadow and some new growth, but it’s in no-man’s-land. An area we don’t cut anymore. It’s technically owned by the state.”
“But that area used to be logged, right?”
“Yeah, that whole section was used. There used to be trails and everything. Before we built the roads.”
“Great, so we can go see it,” she chirped, sitting up straight.
“Hold up.” I put a palm on her knee. “Just because there were trails forty years ago does not mean there are any left. No one goes up there.”
“Okay,” she pouted, shoulders slumping. “I guess you’re right.”
Blowing out a long breath, I shook my head and grinned. “You want me to drive you up there, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I have a weird feeling. I promised Henri I’d help figure out what your dad was working on.”
Of course I’d take her. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my wife, and I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to understand more about my dad.
“Is it close by?”
I pulled her laptop closer. “Let’s map it out.” I was a decent navigator, having spent so much time up here. “We can drive this far.” I pointed at a spot where the most passable road disappeared. “And then we’ll have to take one of the ATVs up the dirt trails.”
She studied the map. “Is it safe?”
“Sure. Most of the trails are probably grown over, but with an ATV, they’re passable. Adele will only kick my ass a little if we borrow one.”
With a little more plotting, we worked out where to leave my truck and which paths to try.
“It’ll probably take an hour to get to the drop-off point, and then another hour on the ATV. Obviously, if we can’t find a trail, we’ll have to turn around.”
