Forever Wild (Wild 2.50)

“Because I’m not keeping your secrets anymore!” he snaps in English, likely for Jonah’s benefit.

“Watch your tone with her!” Jonah snaps back.

My body stiffens with the rising voices. If this continues, there will be nuclear war–level tension by Christmas Day.

I take the last two steps and holler, “Good morning,” hoping my presence might defuse the impending explosion. “How did everyone sleep?”

Astrid answers with a warm, albeit embarrassed smile. “Not bad. We’re still on Oslo time. It’ll probably take us a full week to adapt.” She adds a moment later, “But the cabin is quite comfortable. Right, Björn?” Her eyebrows arch as she looks to her husband.

“Yes. Comfortable.” Whether he’s been schooled on the appropriate answer or not, I appreciate it.

“Morning.” I stretch on my tiptoes to reach Jonah’s lips for a morning kiss before flashing a three-second warning look at him. When I see the glimmer of recognition there—that he needs to calm down—I continue to the barista machine for a much-needed caffeine jolt.

“I have a run up near Talkeetna this morning that I need to get ready for, but then I can help you guys move your things over here,” Jonah offers, his tone adjusted accordingly. “You can have the room we set up for Agnes and Mabel.”

I frown at his back. What is going on? Didn’t Astrid just say they were comfortable in the cabin?

“There’s no need—”

“I’ll be back around one.” Jonah rounds the counter and leans in to kiss his mother on the forehead. “Have everything packed if you can, okay?”

She sighs but then reaches up to graze her

son’s cheek. “Okay, vennen.”

Despite the curious change of plans, I stifle the urge to giggle.

Without so much as a glance at Björn, Jonah marches out the side door, stalling only long enough to grab his winter hat and gloves from the hook. Seconds later, the snowmachine’s engine purrs, cutting into the awkward silence in the kitchen.

What secret did Björn divulge? What has Astrid been keeping from her son?

“That is quite the contraption,” Astrid murmurs through a sip of her coffee, her attention on the barista machine. “I think I will need to read the manual to figure it out.”

“Would you like me to make you something? Latte, cappuccino, espresso …”

She waves the offer away. “We’re fine with our black coffee.”

“Are you hungry? I have homemade banana loaf.” I pull it out of the fridge and set it on the counter, along with plates. I spent the last week stocking the house with enough food to feed twenty people with twenty different eating habits. “Or I could make you some eggs and bacon. Or, we have fruit salad and yogurt, if you’d rather—”

“This is fine.” She reaches for the knife to cut Björn a slice of bread. She slides the plate to him without a word and he settles down on the stool without so much as a thank-you. “Jonah said you have a Christmas party to attend tonight?”

“Yeah. I got roped into helping with the big annual charity dinner at the community center. I’m sorry, I couldn’t get out of it—”

“Why would you need to get out of it?” She cuts me off abruptly with a frown. “It sounds like an important night.”

“Well, it is, but you guys just got here and I feel bad about leaving you all alone.”

“If you keep fussing over us, you’ll be exhausted and counting down the days until we leave.” She softens her admonishment with a smile. “So, what do you have to do for this dinner?”

“I don’t know, actually. Probably a lot of grunt work. Muriel told me to be there at ten.”

“Is that the bossy neighbor?”

“Yeah. She’s in charge of planning the night. She asked for my help.” More like told me I was helping, after recognizing that my marketing plans might have had a hand in the smashing success of the Winter Carnival—with record attendance and its highest earnings in fifty years. “Teddy dresses up as Santa.”

She quietly admonishes Björn as she picks at wayward banana-bread crumbs on the counter around his plate. “Is that the grouchy neighbor?”

“No. That’s Roy.” I laugh at the thought of Roy donning a red suit and white beard. He’d be Billy Bob Thornton’s version of Santa. He’d be a child’s worst nightmare. “Teddy is Muriel’s husband, and he’s probably the happiest man I’ve ever met—oh, crap! He forgot his thermos.” I spy the tall navy-blue cylinder sitting by the coffee pot. Jonah has taken to filling it on his way out the door in the morning, without fail. Whatever they were fighting over before I came down distracted him.