So that was how, after I gave her another one of my shirts to wear and she packed a single roller board, I ended up drivingBell to Bear Mountain the next morning . Even though I’d vowed thirty years ago, I’d never step foot in that part of Canada again.
We road-tripped from Minneapolis to Bear Mountain for the next three days.
If it had been me alone, I would’ve done it in one—two tops. But I didn’t want Bell getting sore. So we stopped before nightfall each day, and I got us a room.
With two beds.
Though if it had been up to me, I’d be holding her all night long.
She wasn’t mute with shock and trauma anymore. But she didn’t say much, and she wore the orange coat that had been hanging on her rack pretty much the whole ride over my second shirt, which could have doubled as a trendy dress. Slept through most of Montana. Watched the mountains in Idaho. Asked for coffee in Washington, but barely touched it.
Mostly, she just stared out the window. Occasionally, she sighed.
The last day, just after we crossed the border into British Columbia, “Constant Craving” by k.d. lang came on some radio station that bragged before every commercial break about only playing songs by Canadian artists.
Bell’s head turned from the window. “I love this song.”
Then, so did I. I cranked up the volume. And tried not to think about how close to home the lyrics were hitting for me.Constant craving. Yeah. That about summed it up.
We were just a few hours away from our destination. Bell didn’t know what I was—other than the huge, scary guy who refused to leave when she asked him to politely.
Her making this trip was good progress, but I wasn’t sure what would happen when we got there.
We hit the main road leading up to Bear Mountain proper just a little after ten pm. My gut tightened, even as I said to her, “Alright, here we go.”
She was going to see her daughters. They’d be taking it from here. I’d have no more excuse for lingering like I was.
But the real reason would still be there.
About twenty minutes later, I pulled to a stop at the row of signs next to the dirt road leading into the secret Ayaska village. All warnings—warnings not to go farther if you weren’t a town resident, warnings about bears being in the area, warnings not to ever, ever run from a bear if you happened to see one.
Bell was about to find out why.
“This is it,” I told her, cutting the engine.
In the passenger seat, Bell did that thing she did, making herself go completely still to the point of not breathing. Like some kind of bird in danger. “How about if they’re mad at me?”
“You don’t got anything to be nervous about,” I told her. “They won’t be mad. They’ll be happy to see you. Relieved that you’re alright.”
Bell didn’t answer, just stared at all the signs. Well-lit under several lamp posts so humans wouldn’t have any excuse if they got caught trespassing in the village.
Luckily, I hadn’t let my international satellite service plan lapse, even if I was no longer being called in to help Canadians fight their increasing number of wildfires on their side of the border.But when I called that one Canadian number, it went straight to the RCMP station’s voicemail.
Couldn’t say I was upset about the obstacle. And it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be able to reach them. With Mak being the Tuk’Mara now, they’d most likely be living in the same totem cave where I’d taken measurements with Ravik while waiting for Niska to come around.
Funny how not getting to live in the largest Ayaska totem cave had been a pit eating at my gut for years. And now all I cared about was not fucking things up with the human woman sitting in my passenger seat.
“I can probably still get you to your daughter Noelle’s home from memory,” I told her. “It’s about a twenty- to thirty-minute walk. Which might be a good thing because there are a few things I need to tell you... about me… about the nature of…”
I trailed off. Not because I didn’t owe her the truth about being a polar bear who’d imprinted on her as soon as I saw her handcuffed to that bed.
But because her shoulders suddenly started shaking and she caved forward like she’d been holding herself upright by sheer will—and it had finally snapped.
“Bell! Bell, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head, unable to speak through the sobs. “I can’t… I can’t go there…. I can’t let them see me like this! I can’t…”
She started hyperventilating, even though the bruises were mostly faded and easily covered up.
