“I’ll drop you right back at your house. You can bring your dog. Hey there.” He gave a low whistle and the dog’s ears perked up. “I’ve already tried twice to find the house. I could really use your help.”
“Ok . . .” The girl sounded defeated and the man felt a surge of blood rush through his body. He knew he had won.
“Here, come on in. You can let the dog in the back.” He smiled again. He thought about the eight bullets left; the dog wouldn’t be a problem. “You’re doing me such a huge favor. It will only take a couple minutes.”
The sound of a wail pierced the air. “JO.” A sharp voice. The man looked up to see a woman, holding a shrieking red-faced baby, in the door frame of the girl’s house. “It’s dinnertime!” she yelled. The man couldn’t see her face clearly, but her voice was hard. The baby’s cries filled the air in short metallic bursts. “Inside. Right now.”
“Oh,” the girl breathed out. “I’m sorry, I have to go!” He felt the relief come off her in waves as she backed away, pulling the dog with her. She turned and ran toward her yard, up the front steps and into the house. The mother waited for a second, staring, and then slammed the door shut.
The man pulled his car into drive, eased off the edge of the grass, and back onto Julia Street. He turned onto the main road again, cursing himself, the girl, and the mother. He drove for a few miles like this, until his rage bubbled down to a simmer and then he drove in silence. A sign pointing to a mostly empty parking lot caught his eye and he put on his blinker. He pulled into a space on the far right-hand side of the lot. There were only a few other cars parked. He sat thinking for a few minutes, and then he picked up the gun and put it in his mouth. His thumb found the trigger; he started to squeeze. He released the trigger. A black SUV rumbled through the lot, coming to a stop right in front of the welcome lodge. At this distance, if he squinted, he could make out the last three numbers of the back license plate. The air in the Saab hummed. He moved his eyes up. Two people in the front. A driver and passenger. Both female. He slid the gun out of his mouth and placed it in his lap. If they have dark hair, I’ll let them go, he said to himself. The driver got out. She stood for a moment, took a deep breath and exhaled. Dark hair. The female passenger followed, older than the driver. Dark hair. The man checked the license plate again. The older one buttoned up her coat and circled around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and began pulling hats and gloves out; a red scarf dangled from the edge and then fell, pooling around her feet on the ground. He picked up the gun. Put it back in his mouth. Thumb on the trigger. Two women. He was wrong. The back door of the SUV opened. A third passenger got out.
THIRTY MINUTES
BEFORE THE CABIN
ANNE
As soon as they stepped out of the SUV into the cool stillness of the nature reserve, Anne could feel everyone’s mood improve. They left the lurking disappointment from this morning in the car and took in the peaceful quiet surrounding them. Anne felt her body relax and took a few deep breaths of fresh air into her lungs. The parking lot was empty save a few abandoned cars scattered around—other hikers (or walkers, in their case), she assumed. They parked right in front of a small log cabin that must have also served as a welcome center during peak season but seemed to be closed today. Posted on the door and walls of the cabin were maps of the reserve showing all the different trails: Beginner trails dotted the maps in green, intermediate in blue, and advanced in red with the warning “these trails may contain severe and/or extreme conditions.” Anne made a mental note to follow the green dots.
“Ooh look, it’s snowing!” Thea exclaimed and stuck out her tongue to intercept fat snowflakes as they fell to the ground. “It’s so pretty here.”
Anne grinned, basking in her daughter’s good mood. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed.
“Mom, don’t be cheesy, though,” Thea said. But she linked one arm in Anne’s and the other in Rose’s and pulled them toward the entrance to the trails marked by a wooden arch.
“Should we figure out which trail we want to do?” Rose asked, looking over her shoulder toward the log cabin plastered with maps.
“Mimi, we can just follow the green. Look.” Thea pointed with her nose to a green arrow painted on a tree. “Right, Mom?”
“Sounds good to me.” Anne clocked the next green arrow a few trees down. “It looks like this trail is well marked, Mom,” she said over Thea’s head to Rose. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”
Rose smiled and shrugged, taking one last squint at the welcome cabin. “All right, girls. I’m following you two.”
The path, encompassed by trees thick with snow, ran along a wide, gushing river. Anne watched the water rush forward, moving furiously through jutting rocks toward . . . the ocean? She did a mental check. Yes, all rivers lead to a larger body of water. She gave herself a pat on the back just as Thea asked, “Where does the river go?”
“The Atlantic, honey,” Anne said. It had started in earnest a few weeks ago—her daughter questioning and critiquing everything Anne said and did—but there were still instances when Thea accepted Anne’s words as fact, merely because she fit squarely in the category of “adult.” More and more, though, Anne felt her authoritative façade crumbling. She tried not to dwell too much on how little she actually knew about life, about the world, about raising another human. She wondered if other so-called adults felt this way—that life, and especially parenthood, was a guessing game. Guessing which answer, which punishment, which reward would lead to the least fucked-up young adult. Considering her daughter had spent the majority of her life in and out of hospitals, Anne felt she had quite a bit of catching up to do in the game.
“Brr.” Rose shivered and placed her free hand over Thea’s glove. “Don’t get too close. Look at those rapids!”
Thea sighed. “Mimi, I’m not going to jump in. I would get hypothermia like . . . immediately, right?” Before they could answer in the affirmative, two hikers were almost on top of them. The noise of the river and the bend in the path had masked their arrival from the opposite direction almost completely.
“Whoa!” the woman called out, giving the leash in her hand a hard tug before a huge dog licked Thea’s face. “So sorry about that!” She laughed as the man yelled, “Riley, down!”
“Look at you. You’re beautiful.” Thea was bent over the dog, stroking his huge furry ears before Anne could say, “Thea, you have to ask before you pet.” She turned to the couple and smiled. “It looks like it’s ok.” The husky sat quietly thumping his tail as Thea whispered sweet nothings in his ears.
“He’s humongous,” the woman said, adjusting her sunglasses up to rest on silver hair. “But he’s a big teddy bear, don’t worry.”