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SUMMER IN Alaska had always been my favorite time of year.

Every animal that called this area home had come alive and roamed freely.

From behind my cabin, sounds of the wild kept me company.

I named each one of the chirps, grunts, howls, and growls as they happened and greeted them with positive energy.

I had become one of those animals. Although my things were stored in the cabin, I camped in the wild more often than I slept in a man-made bed.

All I needed was a pack, which contained a small tent and supplies to keep me alive.

I wasn’t allowed to own a gun due to my history, but because someone left a loaded nine-millimeter under my bed, I took it into the wild for safety.

Most of the terrain had not been explored by humans until me.

The only trails had been created by animals; I felt honored to use their roads.

Oftentimes I felt as if something watched me—probably bears, moose, or mountain lions—but none of them ever bothered me.

Our mutual respect allowed us to live in harmony.

Mountain goats dotted the ledges of the horizon, and I longed to see a reindeer.

I had prepaid Oliver for two seasons because I had the money; Mom had left me enough money to live for a while.

He assured me if I wanted to leave before the two years ran out, he would refund the months I didn’t stay.

I didn’t have any reason to doubt him. From the way I figured, I could find work, either with Pete or maybe at one of the restaurants in the area.

The only reason I needed to go into town was to see my probation officer. I bought a bicycle, so I had a way to get around, but spent so much time in the woods being free, that I didn’t focus on finding work.

While in the wild, I hunted and dressed animals. Cooking the meat from the kill gave me a feeling of being one with the land; I grew vegetables behind the cabin, making the need for groceries minimal. Just like in the Pass.

Fish played a major role in my diet. I rode to the river once a week to catch salmon. Bears usually showed up, forcing me to move downriver. No sense taking a chance that they had cubs.

From what Pete said, fire-roasted salmon tasted way better fresh-caught than in any restaurant. I had to believe him; I hadn’t ever had salmon any other way. One fish would last me two days unless he came to dinner.

At first, I asked Pete every week if any positions had opened up where he worked.

Then, when I realized I wouldn’t get a job at his brother’s company, I only asked every couple of months.

As long as they didn’t mind me living in the cabin—and why would they?

I paid rent—I figured I might as well stay.

I was in no hurry to be a productive member of society. I had no skills and wasn’t able to help anyone, so there wasn’t any use wasting time looking for work.

When my money came close to running out, I’d decided to ask Oliver if he knew anyone in the lower forty-eight who could give me a job. It would be nice to live somewhere warm; the more I thought about it, the more appealing it became.

Pete was nice enough to drive me to my last probation meeting.

My time in Alaska was coming to an end and I didn’t know if I was happy or sad about it.

More sad, I think. But there was a future for me in another area, I felt it.

I asked if he would invite Oliver to Brian’s Burgers so I could treat them to dinner.

“Listen, Oliver. Pete. I want to thank you for letting me stay in the cabin for so long.” I paused and pursed my lips. As many times as I had gone over the speech in my head, I didn’t anticipate getting emotional. “I feel that I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“What? No. Jake, please don’t think that.”

Pete didn’t want me to go, I could see it in his eyes, but I needed something to give me a sense of accomplishment.

“I didn’t think so when I first arrived, but I’m just wasting my life. I need to make something of myself.” I focused on the older brother. “Oliver, do you have any connections in the lower forty-eight? I would really like to try somewhere warm.”

“I do.” He nodded. “When we get back to the house, I’ll give you the name of a contractor friend in Dallas. I’ll even put in a good word for you.”

On my last night at the cabin, a large, majestic male moose came into view. Over the past two seasons, I had only seen three and they were not close to the cabins. An overwhelming feeling of peace relaxed my body.

My mom taught me that the Moose represents the wise elder. It describes someone capable of communicating the joy of life and sharing wisdom and compassion. I wanted to be that moose.

ANCHORAGE to Dallas didn’t sound that far away.

In reality, the trudge through four-thousand miles wouldn’t be as simple as I imagined.

The ticket agent delivered the bad news that trains didn’t cut through Canada, and suddenly Dallas seemed a million miles away.

Then she offered the second blow: buses didn’t drive the route, either.

I thought twice about leaving. I had enough money for a flight, obviously, but had never flown before. I didn’t know what to do or if it was safe. It was my only choice, so I called for a taxi to the airport, paid for a ticket, and waited to board.

“Mom, can you hear me?” Nothing else to do, I gazed out the window toward the mountains, certain that I would never be back.

“I’m sorry, Mom. For letting you down. If I had been big enough to defend you, you would still be here, and I wouldn’t have to leave.

” I sighed and leaned my head against the window.

“I don’t mean to keep disappointing you. I just can’t help it.

“I’m gonna do it, though. It’s about time for me to turn my life around and make you proud. I haven’t lived a life you’d approve of, and I’ve made some bad choices, but I can make it right. One day I’ll have a career and a house and maybe someday a wife and kids.”

A sardine can. The airplane was packed full of people like sardines. I only prayed the top couldn’t roll back as easily. My stomach lurched at the first movement; backing away from the gate had been traumatic enough, how would I survive an entire flight?

On top of leaving everything I had ever known in the past, I was headed toward the absolute unknown.

A new start, I told myself, as if it would help make the thought of moving to Dallas better.

I get it: change is scary. I had good reason to be riddled with anxiety.

Will this new company hire me if they know about my past?

Can I lie about it on a job application?

The counselor at McLaughlin said no. If I did and my employer found out about it, they could not only fire me, but report to the state that I had hidden my past. Especially for murder.

The closer I got to Dallas, though, the more I thought about how leaving the old me in Alaska could be a good thing, the more excited I got. This new start of mine could be whatever I wanted it to be. And so could my past. I had the time to think, and I came up with a plan.

The story I would tell people could be a new me. When people ask where I’m from, I’d just say Montana. I would tell people that I just left the cold after my parents died in a car accident. I smiled as more of my fake-Jake childhood formed in my mind.

I made up an entire past, which was exactly the opposite from reality. My father was a very loving, caring man who gave my mom everything she could ever want. It was almost sickening the way he loved us both so much.

Our ranch style home sat on seventy acres outside of Helena.

I had been an only child because my parents were satisfied with just one son.

While my parents chatted and laughed on the back porch, a cold iced tea in their hand, I cared for all our animals.

We had the perfect life; the only thing I ever longed for was to live somewhere warm.