She doesn’t move.
My dad gives her an encouraging smile. “I’ll be out of here soon.”
“Promise?” she asks, her voice so feeble and childlike, and unlike her.
“Promise, kiddo.”
Unfolding slowly, reluctantly, she climbs out of her seat, her dusty sneakers leaving bits of dirt. She leans in to give him a hug.
“Careful, Mabel,” Agnes warns.
With a quiet nod, she moves to dart past Jonah and me, flashing me a look that is full of sorrow and youthful resentment. She’s figured out why I really came to Alaska and she’s not one bit happy that I kept her in the dark.
“Hey,” Jonah calls out, as she tries weaseling past him. He reaches out and grabs hold of her before she has the chance to get away, effortlessly pulling her against his chest in a hug. She doesn’t struggle, instead bowing her head and burying her face in his jacket. A single sob ratchets up from her lungs and it makes the already painful ball in my throat swell instantly.
Jonah quietly strokes the back of her long, dark hair with his hand for a few moments, and then with a deep exhale, murmurs softly, “’Kay, go with your mom, kiddo.”
They leave, and now it’s just the three of us.
My dad’s gray eyes skitter back and forth between us, before settling on me. “So, Calla? First night stranded in the mountains. How was it?”
“It could have been a lot worse, I guess,” I admit.
“You two stayed at the safety cabin? I’ll bet you’ve never stayed anywhere like that before.”
“No, I haven’t.” And it’s the absolute last thing I want to talk about right now, but I can tell my dad’s trying to avoid dealing with the current situation for just a little while longer.
“Barbie had it pretty damn good, I’d say.” Jonah chuckles.
I shoot him a glare, even as my cheeks flush. “Aside from the mediocre company. I’m looking forward to a hot shower and real food. I’m maxed out on beef jerky.” Who am I kidding? My appetite has vanished.
“Beef jerky?” My dad glances at Jonah, his eyes narrowing curiously.
“From Ethel,” Jonah explains. “Her homemade stuff. Calla liked it.”
“Well . . . that’s good.” My dad lets out a soft cough and then winces.
“Does it hurt?” I look down at his chest, wondering where exactly the doctors stuck that long needle in. The one that drained the fluid that’s been building up in his lungs, that had him wheezing last night.
“It’s actually a lot better than it has been the last couple of days. They’ve got me on some good drugs.”
Despair hits me in a wave. He’s been suffering for days? “Why didn’t you say something—”
“Nah.” He gives me a resigned smile, waving it off. The hospital bracelet slides down his forearm.
“I’m sorry. We should have been there. But the rain and then the fog . . . Jonah said we couldn’t fly.” My eyes begin to burn with tears. It’s all true, and yet I can’t help but ache with guilt for how we spent the night and morning while this was going on.
“If Jonah said you couldn’t, then I know you couldn’t. Besides, I told Agnes not to say anything if he called in. I didn’t want him taking any unnecessary risks to get here sooner. Don’t worry, it’s nothing. Just a complication. Wasn’t even that serious. I’ll be out in a day or two.”
I let out a shaky sigh of relief. “I’m coming with you when you go to Anchorage for treatment.” And I’m canceling my ticket as soon as I get back to my dad’s. I don’t know why I ever wondered if I should be here. Seeing my dad lying there, in that hospital bed now . . . there’s nowhere else I could be.
My dad’s gaze averts to his hands.
“Wren . . .” Jonah’s jaw tenses. “This ain’t right anymore. You need to tell her now, or I will.”
A sinking feeling settles into my body. “What are you talking about? Tell me what?” I turn to my dad. “What’s he talking about?”
“You’re supposed to fly Dempsey and his crew up to their spot today. They’re probably waiting for you.”