I squinted, looking across the deep blue water. He was right. The large roofline and my boathouse were visible from this spot.
“Where the hell are you taking me?” I snarled at Gus while Finn busied himself readying the plane.
“I told you. I want to show you something special. Did Karl pack your backpack?”
I nodded.
“Okay, good. Finn is going to do his preflight checks, and then we’ll go up.”
My instinct was to hustle back to my car and drive away. I hated surprises, and I was tired and cranky and had mountains of work to do. But it was a glorious August day, and my curiosity had been piqued.
Eventually, Finn helped me into the plane, belted me in, and gave me a headset.
I sat behind him, and Gus sat up front in the cockpit.
The plane was tiny, but it was equipped with six seats and a small cargo area. In the back, emergency supplies were strapped to the fuselage and clearly labeled.
I’d been in small planes before and was used to the drill. The vibrations, the noise, the jolt when the aircraft left the water. It was thrilling. Not that I would admit that to Gus.
As we flew, Finn pointed out Mt. Katahdin, several rivers and streams, and a herd of moose. He was great at this, flying, navigating, and narrating along the journey. I could see why he didn’t want to fly for the timber company. Leading wilderness tours was absolutely his calling.
“Where are we?” I asked as Gus guided me out of the plane. We were on a small lake that was surrounded by dense forest. There was another dock on the opposite side of the lake, but no houses, boats, or any signs of civilization.
“Big Eagle Lake,” Finn replied. “This is our side. Technically, your side, I guess. And over there”—he pointed to the other dock—“is the Gagnon side. This lake isn’t accessible by road, so we fly out here on float planes.”
“And what are we doing here?” I asked as Gus took a massive backpack, a soft-sided cooler bag, and what looked like some kind of pole out of the plane.
“Showing you your land, Dragonfly,” Gus said. “You bought it all, so you may as well enjoy it. Come on.” With a tip of his chin, he headed for a trail sign. “We’ve got a bit of a hike.”
As I shifted my backpack, Finn gave us a smile and a salute. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Bright and early.”
“Tomorrow?” I went rigid, looking from one brother to the other.
“Don’t worry,” Gus said, turning and grinning. “I brought supplies.”
Finn’s smile was warm and also a little apologetic. “He’s got a sat phone in there. Call me if you can’t stand him, and I’ll come back early.”
I gave him a nod of thanks, then, with a deep breath in, followed Gus into the woods.
“What is your endgame here?” I asked as I caught up. “I might be small, but I’m scrappy.”
“I’m aware,” he said over his shoulder.
“I will kick you right in the balls if I have to.”
“Damn.” He chuckled, slowing until I was by his side. “Now I’m thinking I should have brought a cup on this trip.”
“You didn’t? Massive oversight on your part.”
“Sadly, I’m realizing this now.” He adjusted his grip on the strap of the cooler. “But hopefully, the tranquility will be soothing to you. We don’t have much farther to go from here.”
I followed behind him, appreciating how capable he looked trekking through the woods with all our gear. It might have been the pregnancy hormones, but he was looking especially manly, and it was lighting me up inside.
His T-shirt was a faded navy color. Between it and the dense forest around us, his blue eyes popped.
“There’s a special place I’d like to show you. I’ve been thinking about what you’ve been going through. All the chaos and change you’ve endured.”
He tipped his head back and surveyed the trees around us.
“And then it hit me. The best thing I could do for you would be to give you a little stillness. Some quiet. A chance to catch your breath and think.”
My heart panged, and my nose tingled, signaling tears that I had to work to hold back. He wasn’t wrong. I’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him that, but the reality of my situation—this pregnancy—along with my work schedule and the madness that had been the last few months, was starting to catch up to me.
“In town, there’s only so much quiet, even in your lakefront compound. But out here.” He held his free arm out wide. “Out here, it’s everywhere.”
“So you want me to be still?” I asked, garnering all the sarcasm I could to hide how touched I was.
“Your mind. Not your body. Keep walking, Dragonfly. We’ve got a little way to go before we hit our campsite.”
“Does that mean I’m required to make polite conversation with you?”
“Since when have you ever been polite to me?” he asked. “And no, I’m very comfortable with silence. I’m here because I need some stillness too.”
“You would hate the city,” I mused, watching the path ahead of me.
“I don’t hate anywhere.” He peered at me over his shoulder. “In fact, I enjoy visiting Owen in Boston. The city has its own type of stillness.”
“But I know what fuels me, what fills me up. To do what we do, to take care of everyone, worry about the details, work nonstop to ensure things run smoothly, we gotta fill our own tanks.”
