“Maybe a mile,” he said. “Can you make it?”
“I’ll make sure I do. But you should drive.”
EIGHT
Ellie held on tight to Michael as they drove through the snow along the dusky landscape. The blanket of white spread over the forest floor, with pine trees and granite boulders jutting out of the earth. It would be too easy to get lost out here.
“The fire lookout is up along this next ridge,” said Michael, his voice in her ear, rising above the buzz of the motor. “A buddy of mine is a park ranger, and I’ve helped him do some clearing over the years around here. He won’t mind us stopping in to use it, as long as it’s empty.”
Ellie gave a little shiver at the idea of seeing anyone else. Though most of her memories were back, that fear lingered, hovering over those last ones that were still buried. She couldn’t shake the feeling Aidan’s words had set off inside her. Your fault. Was she responsible for Sean’s death? That was impossible—he’d died in a car accident—and yet his brother’s accusation resonated. Aidan must have revealed something to her in that cave, something her mind still did not want to go back to.
Right now, she needed to be somewhere she felt safe. Especially since the envelope was burning a hole in her pocket, the one with Sean’s handwriting scrawled across the front. With Michael on the mountain, before they had entered her house, she had told him she was ready to be on her own, and she’d meant it. Now that she understood who and where she was, she didn’t need his help anymore, strictly speaking. But as the relief had rushed through her when Michael had refused to leave, she’d realized how much she wanted him to stay, and not just for the kind of protection he had given her back at the house. Something within her felt settled when she was near him.
The snowmobile raced up the incline toward the ridge. As she gazed out across the dark valley, she saw it: a white tower poking out over the trees.
“I don’t see any lights inside,” said Michael. “That’s a good sign it’s empty.”
Thank you, Lord. She needed a little time to regroup, even if the peace was temporary.
They crossed the ridge, weaving around pines until they came to a stop next to the tower. The building was probably three stories high and shaped much like a lighthouse. The lower parts were mostly wood, painted white, but the top floor was lined with windows. Perfect for looking out—or for seeing inside, if anyone approached. To reach the lookout, an outside staircase wove back and forth up to a deck that surrounded the top floor.
“I’m driving the snowmobile around the building, just to be sure we’re alone,” said Michael.
The darkness was a good sign, but they needed more than that.
“I don’t see any tracks—at least, not human ones,” she commented, studying the ground as they moved.
There were tracks—deer as well as something bigger. She shivered, not wanting to guess what else was lurking out in the darkness.
“That’s the first piece of good news we’ve had in a while,” said Michael wryly as he stopped the sled at the bottom of the staircase.
She took off her helmet and climbed off. Michael grabbed the backpack from the compartment under the seat.
Much of the first flight of the staircase was buried in the snow, but the wind had brushed most of it off the remainder of the steps. She followed Michael as they climbed up to the quiet, dark tower. He stopped in front of the wood door and lifted the metal flap of the lockbox.
“We can stop here for a while and come up with a plan, but we can’t spend the night,” he said, punching in a code. A box with a key came out, and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. “There aren’t any blankets, and any fire will tip him off to where we are. I’m not sure we want to risk that. But it’s a chance to regroup and refuel.”
Michael unlocked the door and entered the tiny place. Ellie followed, stomping snow off her boots. It was a room, no bigger than her bedroom back at the house. The furniture ran along the walls, under the tall windows that lined the space. Everything in the place looked like it was from the last century. There were two single beds and a small kitchen counter with a sink and cabinets. Along one wall was an old-fashioned propane stove, the only heat source, as far as she could tell, and in the corner next to it, there was a wooden table, covered with a blue-and-white-checked vinyl tablecloth and two chairs. In the center of the room was a stand made out of wood just as old as everything else, and on that stand was some sort of brass contraption. It looked a little like a sundial, but with movable parts. She moved to take a closer look.
“It’s for measuring the exact location of fires. You line up the pin and the needle with the fire, and the compass points give you the location.”
He came up next to her and pointed to the markings around the rotating disk.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “The whole place is.”
“It is.” There was a wispy hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Let’s sit down.”
Ellie collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs and glanced out the window. A bank of clouds rolled over the dark valley. “Sean and I never really spent time in the area, and definitely not out in the wilderness. The house was supposed to be temporary, and I guess we never got around to thinking about it in any other way.” She gestured to the landscape. “The strange thing is, I prefer this little lookout to the house.”
“Your house was a little warmer,” he said, rubbing his gloved hands together.
She looked at the view of the mountains in every direction. Above them, rocky peaks jutted up into the clouds, and all around, pine forests spread out under the blanket of snow. Ellie set her helmet on the floor next to Michael’s, and he unzipped the backpack and pulled out a thermos. Ellie’s mouth watered as he unscrewed the lid and poured hot chocolate into the cup. He offered her the tiny metal cup, and she took a long drink. The sweet, warm liquid danced inside her, giving her a burst of energy.
“Your friend must love being a ranger up here.”
“He does, but this place hasn’t been used as a fire tower since the 1930s,” said Michael. “It’s a camping rental, but the forest service keeps it up.”
“It’s so quiet,” she said. “I’d love to come back here some other time.”
“Sunny and I always meant to ride the horses up here and stay a night.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t our path.”
“Sounds like the path was rough for both of you.”
Ellie’s mind raced as she thought about all the questions she had for him. She didn’t want to pry, but as she looked across the table at this man, she felt a connection. And connections only grew if both people were willing to share parts of themselves.
Was that a step he wanted to take?
She wanted to try. “How did you meet?”
“In a study group for calculus. Neither of us were very good at it,” he said with a wry smile. “Luckily, the class came more easily for our other partner, Jimena. I knew I wanted to ask Sunny out right away, but I waited until after finals. If she turned me down, neither of us could give up the study group, which would have been painfully awkward. But it turned out she was thinking the same thing.”
Ellie gave him a small smile. “You met your perfect match in college, but it turned out not to be forever. Sounds familiar.”
Michael laughed, those lines in the corners of his eyes creasing. It was so brief, but in that moment she could see another side of him, one filled with joy and laughter, not sorrow.
“I think my biggest regret is getting caught up in arguments and irritations in that time after the diagnosis,” he said, and the last of the laughter died in his voice. “Why did I use our time together like that?”
A surge of empathy and closeness rushed through Ellie. The closeness that came from a deeper understanding, not just of him but of herself. She’d never talked about it, but she felt the same way.
