Ends of the Earth

CHAPTER ONE

Although he tried to burrow deeper into his sleeping bag, Jason Kellerman couldn’t escape the finger poking his side. He mumbled, “Five more minutes.”

“Dad, are you going to sleep all day?”

He pried open his eyes and peered up at his daughter’s round face and clear hazel eyes, her bobbed, golden hair grazing her chin. Groaning, he asked, “What time is it?”

She grabbed his phone from beside his sleeping bag and checked the screen. “It’s already six thirty-five.”

Jason groaned again. “Mags, this is supposed to be a vacation.”

“The sun has been up for almost a whole hour. I let you sleep in.”

“Oh, what a kind and generous daughter I’ve been blessed with.” He wasn’t sure how Maggie had ended up a morning person, but she’d woken with the sun since she was a toddler, and at eight years old, it didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon.

“I’ll make you breakfast. But you have to start a fire first.”

“Why did I ever agree to go camping?” Jason rubbed his face and yawned, the air mattress wobbling as he stretched out.

She put on a sing-songy voice. “Because you’re the bestest daddy in the whole wide world.” With that, Maggie pressed a kiss to his cheek and darted out of the tent, the flap left hanging open in her wake.

Jason smiled despite himself. Her sleeping bag was tidily zipped on her side of the small tent, her pillow tucked inside. He supposed she got her neatness and early bird enthusiasm from her mother, since it certainly hadn’t come from his genes. At the thought of Amy, the familiar twinge of guilt rippled through him.

Brushing it off as he did every day, he traded his plaid pajama bottoms and ratty T-shirt for jeans and a sweatshirt and crawled through the opening in their little tent. The sky was a clear blue above the treetops, white-capped mountains soaring high on the horizon. They called it Big Sky Country, and compared to Philly, Montana was a different planet. He breathed the clean air deeply.

“The wood’s ready, Dad.” Maggie fidgeted by the stack of logs and kindling she’d carefully piled, tugging on the hem of her purple hoodie. Her skinny legs stuck out of her too-short capri pants. At the rate she was growing, she’d need a whole new wardrobe to go back to school in September.

Jason’s stomach clenched. He’d spent too much money already on this trip, even with redeeming years of Air Miles. How was he going to afford more clothes and shoes? Maybe he should have put off the vacation until next summer and saved more first. But by the time he’d been eight, he’d already been to Europe, and Maggie hadn’t even been outside Pennsylvania. He had to give her everything she deserved—everything a good father would.

Looking at Maggie’s sweet face, he pushed the worry aside for later. “Good work, sweetheart. Where did you get the kindling?”

“Just from right there.” She pointed to the brush on one side of the campsite. The campground was fairly secluded, and neighboring sites were separated by fifty yards of trees. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not allowed to go off by myself. But I had to pee.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat as he peered into the dense bush. “Why didn’t you wake me up? It could have been dangerous.” Why had he agreed to go camping? In nature, there were so many variables.

Maggie rolled her eyes artfully. “Dad, we’re in the middle of the woods.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.”

She ignored him as she added, “No one was here. The people next door were still in their tents. Besides, I’m not a baby.”

“So you keep reminding me. But you know we’re in grizzly country. Tomorrow, wake me up when you have to go to the bathroom and I’ll take you over to the outhouse. Okay?”

“Okay, okay. Now will you light the fire?” She held out the box of matches.

“Gladly.” Jason took the box, shivering. He was surprised by how low the temperature dropped at night, and it was still too early for the sun to have had much effect.

Jason boiled a can of water for coffee, missing the old machine in their kitchen that whined alarmingly but still produced a delicious brew every morning. He grimaced as he swallowed the instant crap, but it was better than nothing.

“Dad, where’s the ketchup?”

“I think it’s still in the trunk.” Jason fished the keys out of his small backpack and pressed the button on the fob as Maggie raced over. He was continually amazed at the way she rushed into even the most mundane task with enthusiasm.

“Make sure you seal up the cooler.”

“I know.” Her voice was muffled as she rooted around in the trunk of their Toyota rental car. “Always keep food and toothpaste and shampoo and deodorant or anything that smells locked away or hung up in a tree. I taught you that.”