CHAPTER 22

Isla

Well, I got my Christmas.

The tree Ben and Uncle Al ended up dragging down the mountain, not quite as big as I would’ve liked it, but it also wasn’t as small as Ben initially suggested. We kept the decorations simple and Mak’s enthusiasm made trimming the tree fun.

Compromise.

I’m pretty sure we’ll see a lot of that.

My elaborate dinner suggestions had been voted down, in favor of deep fried turkey the guys planned to cook. Ben had taken Mak into Cortez to pick up groceries and came back three hours later with the back of his SUV loaded to the top. For a man who vows to hate shopping, he was awfully proficient at it.

“Wait until you see your present,” Mak twitters, clapping her hands excitedly. She was describing every item being pulled from the Toyota by the two men.

“Pixie,” Ben called, drawing my attention. “Got no place to hide this thing until tomorrow, so you’re getting your gift early.”

“We’re not supposed to be doing gifts!” I protested, but Ben turned his glare on me.

“Yeah? So how come you’re hiding shit in the back of the closet in our bedroom, and in the rafters of the shed out back?”

“I didn’t put anything in the shed out back.” My eye flicked to my uncle, who suddenly seemed very busy studying the big outdoor fryer Ben picked up as well.

“It’s Christmas,” Uncle Al finally muttered with a shrug when I stared him down. 

In the end, it appeared we’d all caved. No lavish amounts of gifts under the tree, but thoughtful ones, every one of them.

The gift Ben got me is easily my favorite: a beautiful wooden bench. It apparently is an old church pew he found at a thrift store. The arms and backrest were ornately carved, albeit crude. The snout of a bear, a forest of pines, elk antlers, and what looked like a salmon, were all hewn out of the rustic wood, with just enough detail to recognize the image. It’s weathered, and has a long crack running along the backrest that someone haphazardly braced by hammering a two-by-four to the back, but it fits perfectly out front, on the deck.

I’m sitting there now, bundled up against the chilly temperatures but unable to resist the first warm beams of the sun. They predicted a few days of warmer weather this coming week and I’m ready for it.

I take another sip of my coffee, listening to the relative silence around me. It’s funny, in the early morning during the spring and summer, you can’t miss the sounds of everything waking up around you, but in the winter you have to listen for it. The distant screech of an eagle looking for an early morning snack, the clucking of a chipmunk detecting the threat overhead, and the creaking of frozen limbs as the tops of trees sway in the breeze.

I grab my camera from the bench beside me and quickly zoom in on the bird of prey, diving down and catching something on the campground below. I adjust my lens, sharpening the image of the eagle; its feathers gleaming in the morning sun, as it tears the head off a mouse or maybe it’s the chipmunk I heard earlier. It’s a swift death, the eagle’s beak curved dangerously with edges sharp as a knife.

All I hear now is the whirr of the camera, a soft click of the shutter counting the images I take.

Brutal—but also beautifully raw. There is honesty in the wild—balance. A certain justifiable order in the way of things, in only taking what you need.

We, as humans, tend to take what we want and are rarely satisfied just having our needs met. There are times when I wish I could live off the grid, sustain myself only by taking what I need, but I’ll be the first to admit; I like some of my comforts too much to give up.

I think the inherent difference, between man and animal, is that man has the capacity—or maybe the curse—to dream. We dream of better, bigger, more, and when we reach it, we simply create new dreams. The constant drive forward with an objective in mind.

Nothing quite as simple as a next meal or another day survived.

I lower the camera and lift my head at the soft thud of the front door and the crunch of boots on the snow. I’m expecting Ben, so it surprises me when Stacie steps onto the deck, carrying a steaming mug of her own.

“Am I interrupting?” she whispers, mindful of the peaceful morning.

“Not at all,” I assure her with a smile. “Did you sleep okay?”

“It’s unbelievable how well I sleep up here. The first couple of days I was a little headachy, but now I feel fantastic.”

“Probably a touch of altitude sickness,” I guess. “Isn’t Albuquerque at about five thousand feet, on average? McPhee is at seven thousand. It may just be enough of a difference to make you feel it a bit.”

“Possibly,” she concedes. “I could live here, you know? If I could bring my job with me, I’d be here in a heartbeat. Mak loves it, too. I actually like the idea of her not growing up in the big city.”

“I wouldn’t complain.” I give her hand a squeeze and smile. “And I can pretty much guarantee that Ben would be over the moon. It’s food for thought,” I add, carefully gauging the other woman.

This is one of those decisions you don’t make in a day. Not if you have a complete life built somewhere else. It was different for me; I had more here in my uncle, and the familiar surroundings, than was left for me anywhere else.

“That it is. But for now I’m enjoying the sunshine on my face, and I’ve had enough of lazing about. I feel like doing something.”

“Come fishing.”

Both Stacie and I swivel our heads around to find Ben heading toward us.

“Not going fishing,” Stacie says, making it sound like it’s the most disgusting proposition she’s ever heard. I bark out a laugh. She may be thinking about moving closer, but I’m afraid she’ll never be an outdoorsy girl.

“Mak is,” Ben returns, shrugging his shoulders.

“Of course she is,” Stacie fires back. “She’d shovel poop if you told her it was the cool thing to do. You ask and my daughter jumps, but I ask her to pick up her dirty clothes; I don’t even have to wait for the answer to know it’ll be no.” She turns to me with an exasperated look on her face, and I have to bite my lip not to laugh. “I swear I thought I had years before puberty hit.”

There’s nothing for me to say. I don’t even think she expects me to, so I just pat her knee, while Ben chuckles behind us.

“Morning,” his voice is suddenly right by my ear and I tilt my head back.

“Hey,” I whisper, as his hand slips around my neck and forces my chin even higher. His kiss is soft and sweet, and I could stay like that forever, if Mak didn’t come barreling around the corner.

“Can we go now?” she chirps, bouncing up and down impatiently.

“Lord have mercy,” Stacie groans.

“Right behind you, kid,” Ben says, and with a wink at me, follows the skipping girl around the corner, only to turn back at the last minute.

“Sis,” he calls to Stacie. “If you’re looking for something to do, ask Isla to show you where the stain is for the Deville trailer.”

Ben

Of course Mak hasn’t eaten yet, or brushed her teeth, and it takes a little convincing to get her to sit down at the kitchen island and eat the oatmeal I made her.

“Why is oatmeal good for you?” she asks, right after I tell her that.

“I remember my mom making oatmeal every morning before school,” I tell her. “I didn’t like it much, but she called it brain food, explained that if I wanted to be smart and strong, I’d eat oatmeal every day of the week.”

“Did you like it then?” I chuckle as she tentatively puts another spoonful in her mouth.

“Not right away, but I learned to love it.”

“Well, I love Isla’s pancakes best for breakfast. They’re much better than oatmeal,” she declares, her stubborn streak showing.

“That’s easy,” Isla says, as she walks into the kitchen, looking for a refill. “And you’re so lucky.” She taps Mak on the nose. “Because it just so happens you haven’t even tried my best pancakes yet.”

I chuckle at my niece’s face, full of expectation as Isla takes her time filling her mug and doctoring it up the way she likes, before she turns back around.

“You’ll never guess the secret ingredient for my best pancakes.” Mak is not stupid. She knows exactly what’s coming next as her face falls.

“Oatmeal,” she says, a little defeated.

“You bet. I ground it real fine, mush in a banana, and add just a little milk and an egg. They’re easy to make, I can teach you.”

“Cool,” the now widely smiling Mak breathes.

“I’ll go grab some bananas and eggs later. We’re running low on supplies anyway. Maybe we can make them tomorrow?” Isla winks at me, as I grab the vibrating phone from my pocket and slip into the hallway.

“Neil,” I answer, when I see his name displayed.

“Hey, hope you had a good Christmas?”

“What’s up?” I ask right away, dismissing with the pleasantries. The guy is probably nice enough, but he’s too damn pretty and smooth, and his soft chuckle on the other end irritates the fuck out of me. I found out from Isla he’s married to an older woman. Her age, Isla felt the need to inform me with a smile, which really pissed me off.

“Do you know if Isla’s checked her emails recently?”

“No. I don’t think she’s touched her laptop since our family arrived. Why?”

“Good. If she does, I don’t want her to worry. I’ve temporarily rerouted her emails.”

“Why?” I ask again.

“There was a video this time. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you. At least I hope the fuck it wasn’t, or I’ll have to wash my eyes with goddamn bleach. Way too many hairy parts.” He audibly shudders, and I feel rage bubbling up, as I realize that this fucking crazy bitch upped the game in trying to scare Isla off. 

“Not me,” I bite off.

“God, please don’t tell me how you can know for sure. Knowing each other’s grooming habits is way too fucking intimate.”

“Did you pin her?” I want to know, ignoring his jabs.

“Back in the Durango area. It came in on Christmas Day. I noticed it hadn’t been opened, downloaded it, and then deleted it from the server. That’s when I rerouted any incoming emails. Figured you guys didn’t need your holidays messed up.”

I breathe in a small sigh of relief that Isla’s not around the corner somewhere, but make a mental note to check back in with Geoffrey Banks after I take my niece fishing.

“Thanks,” I tell Neil. “Appreciate it.”

“Anything for that beautiful woman of yours.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he fucking yanks my chain again. I’m about to tear into him when I hear a woman laugh in the background. “Would you quit torturing the guy?”

“Did you hear that?” he asks. “That’s Kendra, my wife. Be assured she’d have me castrated, with my balls shoved down my throat so far, I’d need a surgical team to dislodge them, if she suspected, even for a second, that I was being serious.” There’s the sound of a bit of a scuffle, and then a woman’s voice comes over the line.

“He’s right. This is how he is, always the jokester—the tease. Just don’t think for a second he’s not deadly serious about his job, because he is. And once this mess is settled, you two should come over for dinner. We’re not that far from Cortez.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, a little taken aback by the unexpected invitation.

“Well, now that my wife has ruined all my fun, I’ll let you go. Anything moves on this, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see if I can get anything out of the stepfather. I’ll let you know.”

I end the call and make my way back into the great room, where my sister is hoisting her grumbling daughter into a snowsuit.

“Ready, Freddy?”

-

“Why are we fishing for just that fish? Whatever that name is?”

Mak is standing at the edge of one of the two ponds off the reservoir. She’s still a little uneasy with the large rod in her hands, but over the past few hours, she’s managed to pull a few little fish out of the water, even taking them off the hook herself.

We walked down here, Mak chatting excitedly the entire way, and Al following behind riding one of the ATVs, loaded with the gear.

“Kokanee salmon,” Al answers for me. “Because you can only fish for it between September and the end of December. We only have two days left.”

“Why?”

I bite back a smile at Mak’s nonstop questions. Her curious nature is such a big part of why I love her to pieces, but from the look on Al’s face, it’s testing his patience.

“Salmon spawn in the spring. Here they run up the Dolores River and deposit their eggs...”

I walk away, letting Al do his best to explain the Kokanee salmon’s propagation to my niece, while I answer my buzzing phone.

I’m surprised to see Neil calling again.

“Ben. Everything quiet up there?”

The hair on my neck stands up at the question.

Why?

Why do they force me to this?

My mother, she’s so frail, so sick. I can already see death in her eyes. It’s all moving too fast on one side and not moving at all on the other.

My nails score over my scalp, drawing blood, forcing myself to feel. I’ve been numb––at the mercy of those pills for too long.

My mother is the only one who loves me, but I will win Brent’s love back. I know I will. He’ll understand why I had to shut him up. That disgusting, fat, nosey slime bucket, who just wanted my mother for himself. He was always in my face about everything. Asking questions he had no business asking. Embarrassing me in front of my mother.

The pain on her face. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to make him stop.

“I’ll be back for you,” I’d whispered, with my lips against her forehead. “It’ll all be alright.”

And it will be. This cabin is perfect. It has no running water but there is enough snow up here to melt. The wood stove is enough to keep it warm and it was only temporary anyway. I can see the reservoir below and the sharply peaked roof of the house I will be living in soon, to my left.

I’ve been invisible to everyone. No one has seen me watching. No one has heard me move. No one knows I exist only in the darkness.

I’m tired of living in everyone’s shadows. I want to step into the light.

There is just one person left standing in my path.

One person, who keeps me from claiming what’s rightfully mine.

So I wait, and I watch for a time when their guards are down, and I can clear the final obstacle to him.