Before dinner, I buy gifts. Fancy pencils and a sketch pad for Petra, who’d commented that Dalton’s idea of “art pencils and paper” came from a dollar store. Rose’s Lime Juice for Beth, who shares my love of tequila but prefers hers in a margarita, and the dry mix they serve at the Lion doesn’t cut it. Wool socks for Anders, who comes in from evening patrol and sticks his feet on the woodstove. I get pink hair color for Diana. I’m not sure if I’ll give it to her, but I feel as if leaving her out of the gift-buying process would be a statement I’m not ready to make. I also buy two pounds of coffee, which Dalton spots when he picks me up after his own errands.
“For the station,” I say.
It’s the kind he was drinking in the café. He looks from it to the bag of presents. “You pay attention.”
“That’s kinda my job, boss. What’s on the agenda now?”
“Dinner. Then a side trip.”
* * *
The side trip takes us up a mountain outside Dawson City. When we reach the top …
“Wow,” I say, my nose practically pressed to the window. Dalton puts the window down, and it seems “practically” might be an understatement. My head falls forward as the glass disappears, and he chuckles under his breath.
The view is unbelievable. The sun has just started to drop, and there’s a sliver of pink to the west, over Dawson City, which sits like a toy town nestled along the winding river. To the east … well, there’s nothing to the east except forest. Endless forest. Somewhere in the middle of it is Rockton, our invisible town, lost among the trees and the hills and the mountains and the lakes and the rivers.
With wilderness as far as the eye can see, it should be like the view from the plane, but it isn’t. That was a spectacular painting. This is real. I know this forest now. I know what’s out there—the awe-inspiring and the terrifying.
Dalton parks, and I’m out of the car almost before it stops. There are a few lookout spots up here at the top, and I try all of them, even fighting through the bushes and brambles when I see another I want to check out. Dalton walks to the highest point and watches me from a bench there.
When I’m finally done exploring, I hop up and stand on the back of the bench to get an even better look.
“Okay,” I say. “Time to get to work, right?”
“No work.”
“Hmm?”
“There’s no work here. Just this.” He waves at the lookout. “Thought you might like to see it.”
I grin so wide I can feel the stretch of it.
Here, in the middle of this wilderness, I am something I’ve never been in my life. Free. Free not only of the guilt and the fear over Blaine, but free of expectations, too. I’ve lived my life in the shadow of expectations, and the certainty I will fail, as I did with my parents. Now those are lifted, and I’m happy. Unabashedly happy.
I look down, and Dalton’s staring at me. I flash another grin for him, and he looks away quickly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
“This is okay, then?” he says.
“No, it’s awful. This is my bored face. Can’t you tell?”
I’m teasing, but he drops his gaze and mumbles something I don’t quite catch. I hop down and walk to a campfire ring.
“You want one of those?” he asks.
I look over.
“Bonfire,” he says. “I brought stuff if you do. Wood, tequila, bag of marshmallows.”
My grin returns. I’m sure I look like an idiot by now, but I can’t help it. “Yes. Please and thank you.”
He pushes to his feet. “Like I said, we needed a break. I come up here most nights when I have to fly to Dawson. I’ve even fallen asleep on that bench. Unless it’s a weekend, you don’t usually get anyone else up here this time of year.”
Which is kind of unbelievable. It is truly a once-in-a-lifetime view. But like Dalton said when I first arrived, there’s plenty of scenery here for those who want to see it. This is their normal. My normal now.
“So you come up and have a bonfire?” I say.
“By myself?” He snorts and shakes his head.
“Ah, that’s the real reason you invited me. Someone to roast marshmallows with.”
Again, I’m teasing, but again he looks away and mumbles something.
I watch him build the fire. Soon we’re settled in beside the flames, enjoying tequila in plastic cups and marshmallows on sticks. Darkness falls, and I barely notice. We’re too busy talking. I remember the studies I mentioned, on lethal violence with chimpanzees, that subject I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for a moment just like this, when I have his attention and want to keep it.
It’s not exactly light and cheerful conversation, but it works for us, and by the time we finish, I’m stretched out on my back, staring up at the stars. Impossibly endless stars.
“I really wish I had my phone right now,” I say.
“Huh?”
“I have an app that identifies the constellations. You just point it, and it knows what section of the sky you’re looking at and tells you what you’re seeing. It’s very cool.”
He shakes his head. “Which one are you looking for?”
I smile over at him. “All of them.”
He squints up into the sky. “First you need to find the North Star. You see it up there?”
I point.
“That’s a planet,” he says.
I try again.
“That’d be the space station.” He directs me until I have the North Star and then he says, “Polaris doesn’t move—it’s a fixed point, so you can use it to find your way. It’s not the brightest star, despite what people think. The easiest way to find it is to locate the Big Dipper—Ursa Major, or the Great Bear—and then track it to the Little Dipper—Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear…”