If I’d been more open with myself and Tav, would I even be at Deception Gorge? If I’d acted differently, would I have stumbled into a different outcome? My first regret was not walking out the door with Tav that sunny morning. My legs were strong, my balance good and well-adapted to the snowshoes at this point. If anything, he was the one with a vulnerability. His twisted ankle put him at risk, so why would he ask me to stay back?
My mind spun away with every possibility.
I slumped against a giant boulder, leveraging myself up on a small edge that fit perfectly as a seat. I unzipped my pocket, pulling out a jerky strip and tearing it with my teeth.
Something inside of me felt spoiled then, always unsure of what I really wanted just like Tav often said. He’d told Bud I needed a break. It was true. I’d lost almost everyone that mattered, maybe raw solitude was exactly what I needed to find myself again.
I took in the iced-over suspension bridge in the distance, at least three cables whipping heavily in the wind. A fourth looked ready to snap any minute. I thought it was ironic that they’d tried to subdue nature with a modern arch of cables and steel when men like Bud relied on the ice bridge and boats to come and go in the years before they’d erected the bridge.
I leaned back against the boulder, remembering Bud’s instructions:just over the pass, a few hundred yards beyond Deception Bridge, a large boulder is your map marker to hang a hard right. Follow the line of cedars, avoid the cliff path because of false bottoms and winter erosion, and come out right at the mouth of the ice bridge and the other side of the pass.
I groaned, calculating I had at least two hours left to hike before I cleared the far side of the island.
I dug deeper into my pocket, in search of the small bag of dried fruit and nuts I’d stashed inside, when my fingers found the edges of the envelope Bud had handed over earlier. I brought it into the light, flipping it once and opening the sealed edge easily. The first thing I noticed were the three loose pills shaking around inside. They must have fallen out of my purse in the car.
I shook them into my palm now, wondering if I needed them. If they did my head any good. Were my memories clearer or hazier with these tiny white marvels? I tucked them into the pocket of my hiking pants, zipping it closed for safekeeping.
Bud’s words about addiction came back to me then. I hadn’t expected that, and I wondered why Tav might say it. Was he right? Maybe he’d already discussed this with my therapist—she’d often mentioned a couples retreat would do both of us good. In the early days of our relationship Tav had made a joke that therapists feed off of lonely people, was he right then? He’d met me at my appointments on the rare occasion I’d asked—his drive from the city was always during rush hour and took him twice as long as it usually did. He’d always shown up with a smile, but now I wondered why. At one point my paranoid mind had conjured an affair between Tav and my therapist, stolen glances and flirty smiles as they whispered about my fatal flaws and fuck-ups behind my back.
Tav was my hero, so why did he haunt me too?
Looking for a distraction, I tore off another bite of jerky and pulled out an even smaller envelope stuffed with lined paper from a spiral bound notebook. Some of the edges looked singed by fire, but most seemed intact. I flipped them over, heart dropping when I recognized the generous loops of my mom’s cursive handwriting.
My stomach twisted as I began to read.
Freya,
I have so many regrets. There are so many things I wish I would have said.
I’m sorry I could never tell you the one thing you wanted to know.
I promised to die with the secret on my lips, and I will. Even if it tortures me. Don’t let it torture you. Please don’t let my next words alarm you.
I’m being followed.
Maybe I shouldn't send this letter, I’m certain this would put you in harm’s way. If anything happens to me, Freya, know that I love you.
I love you so much.
xo Mom
Thirty-One
I stuffed the letter into my backpack, wondering how it’d found its way to Bud’s cabin. I had so many questions. I strapped my backpack over my shoulders, hopped down on my snowshoes and headed for the opposite side of the clearing. Every towering tree and snowbank left me with a sense of vertigo, the edge of my shoe tripping on a boulder mounded under a few inches of powdery snow.
This place was a winter wonderland funhouse, the effects leaving my head pounding and my eyes blurry. I broke out of the clearing, the ridge and the ocean churning far below a welcome relief that helped balance my perception. I walked closely along the evergreen boughs, keeping clear of the cliff’s edge before the treeline edged around a corner. I looked up just in time to see a hunched figure ducking into a small trapper’s cabin.
Bud hadn’t mentioned neighbors. In fact, he’d specifically given the impression I was better off avoiding them.
I hovered at the edge of the trees, wondering if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. I struggled to remember Bud’s exact words.
When a man used so few words, every syllable was important.
I took in the crumbling roof, shards of ice clinging to the edges and nearly touching the snowbank at the base. One dark window looked out like an eye over the tiny clearing. I shuffled back and forth, wondering if I could cross this clearing at the far edge and not bring attention to myself. The only alternative was tracking backwards and circling around the edge of his property through the trees. It’d be so much easier to follow the water, no way could I miss the ice bridge then.
A shudder passed through me as the smell of charcoal lingered in the air. Just as I was about to turn and head back, a series of yelps and snarls bounded around the trees followed by the long howl of a wolf. I froze, plastering myself against the tree, thinking civilization sounded not so bad right now.
A dark figure sprinted through the trees, shadows playing tricks on my mind as every muscle in my body bunched and surged with the desire to run.
