Page 28 of Under the Northern Lights

“Are we done yet?” Gage asked with more than a little impatience as he stood in front of the window, where it was a bit cooler than the rest of the room.

His mother had the great idea to have her guests paint a “fisherman” celebrating his catch.

She’d even told their guests, Aurora included, that she planned to display their artwork on the wall behind the check-in desk.

Gage had the misfortune of being the chosen one for that day’s art project.

At his mother’s request, he had changed into a pair of his fishing bibs, his raincoat, boots, and had topped off his wardrobe with a pair of polarized sunglasses.

If standing inside his house dressed like a fisherman wasn’t enough to make him feel ridiculous, his mother had brought out a fish that she’d mostly thawed and instructed him to hold it up in the air in front of him as if admiring his catch.

If he didn’t love his mother so much .. .

“Is everyone close to being finished with their painting?” his mother asked the group seated around the long dining table that she and his father had covered in a plastic sheet and set up with easels and painting palettes.

“Not quite,” Reed said from the far end of the table as he dipped his paintbrush into the glass of water next to his tabletop easel.

“Oh, come on,” Gage groaned.

“Hey, I’m right-handed, painting with my left,” his brother countered. “It’s going to take me a little longer than usual.”

Their mother looked at Aurora and her other three guests who had traversed through the rainstorm to have lunch and then join in that afternoon’s planned activity. “Would any of you like more time?”

“I’m about done,” one of the fishermen replied.

The man beside him leaned back to take a good look at his creation. “I might have to give up fishing and start painting for a hobby.”

The third fisherman gave a hearty chuckle. “Might be a good idea. I’ve seen how small the fish were that you reeled in this week.”

They all laughed at that.

“Mine’s done,” Julia announced, holding hers up for everyone to see.

“You’re supposed to wait for the group’s collective reveal,” their mother said.

“Oopsy. I forgot.”

The only thing in his sister’s painting that resembled Gage, or his pose, was the black blobs meant to represent his fishing boots. The rest consisted of a stick figure with dark, slanted sunglasses that looked more like big, black alien eyes.

“I stood here for nearly a half hour for that?” Gage complained with a frown. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to hold the fish up the entire time.

“It’s not my fault Mom drew your name instead of Reed’s.”

Standing in that silly pose for what felt like hours made Gage incredibly thankful that he flew a floatplane for a living and was not a model.

“Aurora?” his mother said, reminding Gage that his brother wasn’t the only one who might not be finished painting him.

Gage sought out Aurora’s gaze, silently pleading with her to help set him free.

She smiled back at him and set her brush down on the paper towel his mother had placed next to every easel. “I’m good. More time isn’t going to make this painting any better.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s way better than you think it is,” his mother said supportively.

His father leaned over to peek at Aurora’s painting.

Gage watched his father’s thick, graying brows lift slowly upward. Then a twitch appeared at the corners of his mouth. He was battling the urge to grin for Aurora’s sake. “I can s-see the resemblance.”

“You can?” she said, sounding adorably delighted by his father’s comment.

“More than my painting of Gage,” he replied with a nod. “Reed clearly does not get his artistic ability from me.”

His mother tilted her head ever so slightly to study hers. “Judging by my painting,” she began, “I’m starting to think Reed was switched at birth.”

Julia snorted.

“Impossible,” Reed said defensively as he placed his paintbrush in the glass of water beside him. “At least, according to the DNA tests we all got last Christmas. And you’ll be happy to know that I’m done.”

Gage lowered his arm, letting the fish he was holding by its open mouth dangle at his side. He was thankful it was one of the smaller catches his mother had stored in their commercial freezer for the amount of time he’d had to hold it up in the air above him.

“Okay,” his mother said, rising from her seat, “since everyone is finished, go ahead and turn your easels around so Gage can see your artistic renderings of him.”

Raucous laughter arose as the paintings of Gage were revealed.

“You all did such a wonderful job!” his mother said, clapping her hands together.

It sounded like she really meant it, but Gage couldn’t imagine how his mother thought they were anything close to wonderful. Creative? Yes. Realistic? No. His gaze traveled the length of the table where everyone was seated facing him, taking in all the paintings on display.

When he got to Aurora’s painting, his mouth pulled up into a wide grin. Although the details of his face were pretty abstract, what really caught his attention were the broad shoulders she’d painted on him.

Gage nodded. “Not bad.”

“I’m not so sure Emmy would share your opinion, but thanks,” she replied with an appreciative smile.

He continued down the table with his visual inspection, commenting on each of the paintings.

It was kind of amusing, seeing everyone’s rendering of him.

Gage’s perusal came to a dead stop when he got to the end and saw his brother’s work of art.

Gage blinked, brows slowly lifting. “That isn’t a fish I’m holding. It’s a box of fish sticks.”

“I was supposed to draw what I saw when I looked at you standing there. You made me think about that guy on the fish stick commercial,” Reed admitted with an unabashed grin.

Aurora giggled.

“It’s so good,” Julia groaned. “And he painted him opposite-handed too. Ugh.”

“It’s not good,” Gage argued. “I’m not even wearing a hat. And I certainly don’t look like I should be selling fish sticks.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say Reed’s painting doesn’t resemble you,” Aurora joined in.

Gage glanced her way with a questioning look.

“You and your brother’s artistic rendering of you are both wearing raincoats and boots,” she explained.

He rolled his eyes and groaned in defeat.

The three men who had joined in threw their heads back in laughter.

“I’m going to return this fish to the kitchen,” Gage announced. “And wash my hands,” he added, not wanting Aurora to think he was leaving because he was upset by her support of Reed’s efforts.

“There are so many stars out this evening,” Aurora said as she sat bathed in the warm glow of the fire pit on the lodge’s back patio.

“It’s so beautiful. I’m glad it finally stopped raining so I could experience this.

” They’d sat around and visited with his family after the other guests departed following the painting challenge, which had been way more fun than she’d expected it to be.

“You think that’s something,” Gage told her, drawing her back from her thoughts, “you should see the night sky when the Northern Lights are painted across it.”

“I would love more than anything to see them in person, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me this trip,” she said with a sigh.

“Mom and Dad always talked about how magical they were when Jade and I were growing up.” She looked his way.

“They fell in love under the Northern Lights when they were here.”

He smiled. “I never really thought about them as magical. Maybe because I grew up with them being fairly common in my life. But you’re right, they really are something special to behold.

Especially for your parents, it seems. Maybe you’ll have the chance to see them for yourself before you leave for Seattle. There’s still time.”

“I really hope so,” she said softly. “But I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“If they’re as magical as your parents say they are, you just have to believe you will see them before you go home,” he said.

She nodded and lifted her gaze upward once more. The second she did, a shooting star raced across the dark velvet sky. “Did you see that?” she exclaimed.

“I did. Be sure to make a wish,” he replied.

She laughed softly. “I don’t believe in wishing on shooting stars,” she admitted. Not anymore. She’d wished on them so many times before. Always the same silent plea. Aurora wanted to find that one special love. She thought she had found it with Ben, only that wish hadn’t ended up coming true.

“You believe that the Northern Lights are magical but won’t wish on shooting stars?” he said, his curiosity clearly aroused.

“Wishing on them was something I did as a child,” she told him.

“There’s no age limit for wishing. I think you should go ahead and make one. Just in case it decides to come true.”

She sighed. “Okay.” Closing her eyes, she made her wish. Then she looked up at Gage. “Happy?”

His smile lifted a little more. “Happy.”

Aurora shivered and pulled the wool blanket Gage’s mother had given her before they’d gone outside around her tighter.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “No. This blanket and the fire are keeping the evening’s chill at bay. I’m not sure where that shudder came from.”

“Well, if you get cold, just tell me and I’ll turn up the fire. Or we can go back inside,” Gage told her as he joined her in admiring the starlit sky.

“Gage . . .”

He looked her way. “Yes?”

“Can I ask how you met Jess?” Aurora quickly added, “If you don’t mind my asking. I know it’s none of my business.”

He hesitated for a long moment and then shook his head. “For some reason, when it comes to you, I don’t mind opening up about things I don’t normally share with others.”

“I feel the same.”

“She and I met when I flew to Anchorage to pick up some supplies and a couple of parts Dad had ordered for our fishing boats,” he explained. “We try and keep the boats, the UTVs, and my plane updated and properly running. That’s where we first crossed paths.”