Page 16 of Big & Lily

Chapter Eight

The road to Chitina Airport is indeed long, as promised. Mile after mile of blacktop. Mile after mile of evergreens lining the highway. Occasionally and more frequently, as we travel farther away from Anchorage, thunderous mountain ranges appear above the trees, gray and ominous looking from this distance, clouds sitting on them like dingy cotton candy. What I don’t see anywhere is a Target.

“You’re not radiating the energy of someone who’s about to take the adventure of a lifetime.”

Luna Song-Diaz is sitting in the row in front of me. She hooks her elbow over the back of her seat and turns toward me. She has a blue bandana around her neck and a tattoo—all I can see of it is a rock-banked river—peeking out from the sleeve of her T-shirt. Her arm is tan and sinewy and veined. Her fingers are wrapped with silver rings. At her wrist is a stack of beaded bracelets. Her wife Mimi is looking out the window, her forehead pressed against the glass.

“That’s not true,” I say. “I’m just a little carsick.”

“Your aura says differently.”

“My aura is an unreliable narrator.”

Luna seems sweet, they both do, but I’m not going to tell her that my narrator is indeed quite reliable. That, in fact, it is worried this was a bad idea and that, based on the short introduction to our traveling companions, this adventure of a lifetime will be toochallenging for either of us. My narrator also has concerns about my sister disappearing into the wilderness of her grief, and along with looking after her on this “guilt trip,” I also need to prove to my family I can have a spontaneous adventure while simultaneously making them realize they can’t manage without me. All with the possibility of never seeing my luggage again. It’s a lot for one little narrator to manage.

Luna reaches back and squeezes my forearm gently. “All will be well.” Is she talking about my car sickness, or has she been reading my mind along with my aura?

“The trip was my sister’s idea—a last-minute thing. Not much time to plan. She’s the jump-in-with-both-feet type. I’m trying to follow her lead, but I’m lost without my lists and my due diligence. I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Then your sister is giving you a gift.”

That caught Lily’s attention. She’d been twisted around, gripping the back of her seat like the kitten in theHang in Thereposter, deep in conversation with Just Normal Dane and Ian. Xavier is in the last row with his AirPods in, his arms crossed, and his eyes closed. Smart kid. I’d heard Lily and the guys figuring out where we were all supposed to recognize Dane from—he’s an actor in a cop show I’ve never seen. My police procedurals are strictly limited to the British variety—BBC America, Masterpiece Theatre, BritBox—all the Chief Inspector and Guv and handsome vicar and cups of tea make the criminality seem so much more civilized.

“Did you hear that, Big? I gave you a gift. And it’s not even your birthday.”

The van bounces and creaks as we come to a red light in a one-light town. My stomach lurches, and I dig in my handbag for a ginger candy.

“I heard. Now I’m going to have a gift for you if we’re not there soon.”

Lily pulls an airplane sick bag out of her tote and hands it to me. “I got you covered. You think this is my first rodeo? I took a bunch before I got off the plane.” Then she leans past me toward Luna. “She’s so dramatic. She’s fine.”

Getting there quickly turns out to be wishful thinking. I manage not to bestow any presents on my sister or traveling companions, and finally we pull off the highway onto narrow local roads until a left turn brings us into a gravel parking lot bordered by a river and guarded by a ridgeline of mountains behind it. Three cars and a few tiny planes, like the one printed on Jace’s T-shirt, sit on the edge of the parking lot near a field of patchy overgrown grass. In the middle of it all is a squat log hut with a red tin roof.

“We’re here, Chitina Airport,” announces Jace.

“What? No!” I gasp. Where’s the terminal, where’s the arrivals drop-off, the short-term parking, the shuttle buses, the travelers with their wheelie bags, the Starbucks?

If anyone else is as shocked and dismayed as I am, they don’t show it. They file out of the van until only Lily and I are left in our seats. I hike up my eyebrows at my sister, my eyes intentionally wide to communicate my dissatisfaction. Lily’s shoulders are bobbing up and down until the laughter she’s failing to hide bursts out.

“I guess no latte for you.” She shoves me to get me up and out of my seat, and I elbow her away from me.

Everyone gathers around Jace as he unloads our belongings from the back of the van. I leave my sister to wrangle with her own bag—the one perk of waiting for the airline to deliver your lost luggage to your doorstep—and wander over to the log building in the middle of the parking lot. What are the chances of there being a quaint little coffee bar inside? I get my answer when I reach an unpainted wooden door that’s padlocked shut. I raise my hand to my eyes and scan the so-called Chitina Airport. I don’t even see a runway. A gravel path up a hill leads to an outhouse. The clouds,on a steady journey across the sky, move out of the sun’s way, and the mountains beyond the river, which were gray and ominous moments ago, shine green and blue. The yellow and white flowers burst out of the tall grass. It is beautiful here. Still, I would have loved a coffee—and maybe a postcard from the gift shop for the kids.

“There’s Brick,” Jace says, and we swivel our heads in the direction he’s pointing. Which is up. I hear a rumbling in the distance. As it gets louder, I see a plane; first just a speck, then it grows larger. I swivel my head, looking for the runway I must have missed in my earlier scan. I still don’t see it.

Like every spaceship coming out of hyperspace in every sci-fi movie, the plane is suddenly upon us, the roar of it filling our ears. It lands as quickly as it appeared. In the parking lot. No runway required. The plane taxis a short distance (that’s all it’s got) and makes a tight U-turn, heading toward us, stopping only yards away before the engine is cut and the air is quiet again.

The pilot jumps nimbly out of the plane and strides over to our group. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses, jeans, and the same T-shirt as Jace, minus the holes. The gray streaking his full beard gives him the air of seniority. So, this is Brick Malone, Earth Walker, Soul Searcher, and Owner of Grizzly Tracks Adventures.

Jace raises an arm and yells, “Boss!”

Brick takes off the aviators. His tanned face is etched with lines. His smile, wide and white, is genuine and relaxed. The knots in my stomach loosen. I take a deep breath, letting the Alaskan air fill my lungs for the first time. I’m suddenly calmer than I’ve been since I got on the plane in New Jersey. Brick Malone isn’t going to let anything bad happen to us.

He stands with his arms spread wide, and our merry band of travelers gathers around him. “Welcome to our little corner of the world!”

Luna wraps her arms around Mimi. Just Normal Dane crosses his and gazes around the parking lot as if he’s seeing the setting for the first time. Ian pats Xavier on the back. Most surprisingly, the boy flashes Brick a half smile—first I’ve seen from him. I lean my shoulder against Lily. This is what she wanted, to find a little corner of the world where her life at home doesn’t exist.

“There’s no place like Alaska on the planet,” Brick continues. “And we’re honored to share it with you this week. You will see and experience things you never have before. Your life will be touched and changed by the magic of this land. All we ask is that you enjoy it, revere it, and respect it as we do.”