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“Yeah.” Because what else am I supposed to say?
“It’s just that—”
“We don’t need to talk about it now,” I interrupt. The room—Hettie’s bedroom—is dark and warm from the fire. The hiss from a white-noise machine masks the sound of Tema’s breathing. She looks so tiny in the bed.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“I do. I want to know why, and how, and everything about her. I want to know it all. But not tonight. It’s been… a lot.”
“It’s been a long day. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I definitely didn’t plan on ending up here.” Hettie spreads her hands. “I thought you would have reacted… differently.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Get advice from your brothers?” she asks with a smile.
I shrug. “And Spencer.”
“I missed him.” Her gaze meets mine as my heart gives a spasm of envy until— “And you, too,” she confesses.
“Hettie…”
“No, I know.” She shakes her head, The braids are gone and she’s piled her hair in a bun on the top of her head. It wobbles with the motion. “We can talk about it later. I just… I wanted you to know.”
Does that make it better or worse?
I’m not sure but, with a last glance at the sleeping Tema, I follow her into the other room, where Spencer and Abigail fall silent. It’s obvious they were talking about us.
I’d be talking about us too.
Despite what I said, it takes all I’ve got not to demand answers of Hettie as I sit down and grab another slice of pizza. Spencerrefills my glass of wine and opens another bottle. I follow Spencer’s lead, letting him tell the girls all the latest town gossip, including the reunion he’s had with his half-sisters. Abigail counters with news of her family.
I don’t mention mine, nor does Hettie.
But I do talk about the lumberjack competitions I entered—and usually won.
“We watched you on TV,” Abigail tells me, looking comfortable on the couch beside Spencer. The two of them aren’t touching, but it looks like that would be easy to change. “I have to admit, I was very surprised when Hettie found out. The first couple times, we watched on YouTube—”
“You watched me compete?” Buck Marsden got me into the competitions when he was frustrated with, what he called my inability to get a life. It had been a year after Hettie left, and I knew I was floundering, only I didn’t know what to do about it. My brothers tried, but they were grieving, themselves. I never told my father how bad it was for me, too ashamed that I had never told him I was responsible for my mother’s death.
I’ve never admitted it, but Buck saved me; he and the competitions that let me unleash my anger and pain on helpless logs.
Because I stay in the background of my family, I sometimes forget that I’m a public figure, and for some reason, people find my life interesting. Even so, it feels strange to know that while I was missing her so much, Hettie was watching me chop and saw… and win.
I won quite a few of the competitions and eventually used my winnings and the money I earned from sponsors to open the first of my wildlife reserves. I set up one for bears about an hour outsideWabush, and last year opened one for wolves on the edge of the National Park.
Taking care of animals helped as well.
“Why did you stop?” Hettie asks. “You were…”
“Incredible?” Abigail offers.
“You should see him in real life,” Spencer says, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a while. “Those chips really fly when he’s got an ax in his hand.”
“You and your brothers really like weapons,” Abigail notes. “Odin and his sword-play, you and the axes; Kalle with his curling—”
I give a bark of laughter. “I would think a baseball bat would be a better weapon. Or a hockey stick.”
“Are you kidding? Remember I curled when I was younger, and those rocks really pack a punch. If you could pick one up and throw it—”