Page 45 of Big & Lily

Soon we are on open road, but surprisingly, the van slows down to a crawl.

“It’s like the GSP at rush hour,” I say. “The Garden State Parkway,” I add for those not familiar with the notorious New Jersey highway.

Inching along, we start to see cars parked on both sides of the road.

“This,” says Brick, “is what we call an Alaskan Traffic Jam. Someone spotted an animal, and now everyone is rubbernecking.”

“Or moving in for a photo op,” adds Jace. “Which is bloody stupid. If you like living, that is.”

People are indeed leaving their parked cars and heading up the side of the road. Many of them have cameras with long lenses. Some are letting their young children run ahead. My mom anxiety meter rises, and I fight the urge to jump out of our van, grab the kids by the arm, and chastise the parents for letting them run into harm’s way.

“Why?” I ask, hearing the alert in my voice. “Why ‘if you like living’?”

“It’s probably a moose,” says Brick. “They like the tall grasses by the side of the road, and they aren’t spooked by anything. When you are twice the size of a pickup, you don’t have to be. Their nonchalance fools people into thinking they’re domesticated. Like a cow. But believe me, they are wild animals. People without the sense theywere born with surround them and crowd in. Like I said, nothing scares them, but annoy the crap out of them? Or make ’em think you’re threatening their calf? I’m telling you, you do not want to be trampled by a pissed-off fourteen-hundred-pound animal. Their hooves are the size of a man’s head.”

We roll past a crowd of people, and in a moment, we see what’s got their attention. Brick was right. Seeing a moose from this distance—so close to the road as it chews on the grasses among purple wildflowers, its jaw moving sideways to grind the vegetation, its large, brown doe-like eyes batting away flies—is a different experience than seeing one from the air. I can see why people would name her Bessie and want to give her a pat on the head.

Jace scoffs. “Get a gander at that nob taking a selfie. Yeah, turn your back on it, ya pillock.”

Eventually, we roll past the chaos and the road opens up. “I can’t bear the thought of those children out there so close to a wild animal,” I say. Normally, this is where Lily would spin around in her seat and give me one of her “Big, you’re not their mother” jabs. But today, nothing. I return to my original position, chin in fist, count my breaths, and listen to Brick give us a lesson on the history of the southern sea otter and their near extinction by early fur trappers and then from more modern-day disasters like oil spills.

“Something stinks,” announces Xavier, cutting off the otter’s comeback story.

“It does stink, son,” says his father. “But if you wouldn’t interrupt Brick, you’d hear they’ve made almost a complete return in this area.”

“No, it really stinks. Like something’s burning. Does anyone else smell that?”

“Oh shit,” yells Dane. “Are we on fire?”

Suddenly, thick, gray smoke is billowing out of the old van. The group collectively gasps and grabs their loved ones, includingDane, who leans over me to put a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “I’m right here,” he says. Lily shrugs out of his grip.

Brick turns back to us all and pats his hands toward the ground with what is meant to be a calming motion as Jace quickly pulls the van to the side of the road. “Just a little engine trouble. No need to panic. Let’s all get out of the van. Not take any chances, eh.”

We file out onto the roadside. It’s lined with a narrow valley of tall grass and, behind it, a forest of evergreens rising uphill. “I, for one, don’t mind stretching my legs,” says Luna, trying to put a positive spin on us being stranded, maybe for hours. She and Mimi stroll along the side of the highway, moving slowly.

“Don’t go too far. We could be on the move soon,” Brick warns. Luna gives him a thumbs-up as the couple head down the road. Jace pops open the hood of the van, and Brick leans in. Ian and Dane stand behind them watching as if they’re at a barbecue inspecting how the steaks are going. Now might be the right time to get Lily alone. She and Xavier are standing on sandy gravel between the grass and the asphalt, goofing around and kicking at the stones.

“Well, this sucks,” I say to them both.

“Yeah,” says Xavier without taking his eyes off my sister. He doesn’t seem that bothered.

“Lil, can I talk to you?”

Lily stops smiling but doesn’t answer. Her arms cross her chest, and she glares at me with pressed lips. Wait,she’smad atme?

“Zave and I are in the middle of a conversation,” she says. From the look on Xavier’s face, that’s news to him.

What didIdo?See I knew this was going to end badly, I want to say. I’d love to wag my finger at her about now. Instead, I shrug and walk away, ever the grown-up, and go to stand around the engine of the van with the men as if I could add something to the conversation about carburetors and crankshafts.

“It’s the fan belt,” Jace says to Brick. “She’s going to need a tow, yeah.”

“That’ll take a while. Closest truck is in Glenallen. I’ll call Frank and see if he can come and run us up the rest of the way to Talkeetna.”

“Are we going to make it today?” I ask. “We’re not going to have to stay out here tonight, are we?” I had strict mandates about coming to Alaska, and no sleeping on the ground was one of them. Of course, all my other rules have been broken. Is this one next?

“No, we’ll be all right, Bridget. My buddy, Frank, is in Wasilla, it won’t take him too long if he’s available. We’re here for a while, though, so let’s make ourselves comfortable. Tell the others that Jace and I need some time to clean this all up and then we’ll scout out a place to set up the lunch Heidi packed, and we’ll eat while we wait. Sound good?”

“Sounds good to me,” says Dane. “I’m starving. This Alaskan air works up an appetite.”