In May, the sandpipers returned by the thousands, flying overhead in a swarm of wings, touching down briefly in the bay before continuing their journey north. So many birds returned to Alaska in this month that the sky was constantly busy and the air was loud with birdsong and squawking and cawing.
Usually, this time of year, Leni would lie in bed listening to the noises, identifying each bird by its song, noting the season’s passing by their arrivals and departures, looking forward to summer.
This year was different.
There were only two weeks of school left.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Dad said as he turned the truck into the school parking lot. He parked next to Matthew’s pickup.
“I’m fine,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “It’s the security, isn’t it?”
Leni turned to look at him. “What?”
“You and your mom have been sorta mopey and glum since our last time at the Harlans’ place. I know you’re scared.”
Leni just stared at him, unsure of what the right answer was. He had been extra edgy since the fallout at the Harlan place.
“Thelma’s an optimist. One of those head-in-the-sanders. Of course she doesn’t want to face the truth head-on. ’Cuz it’s ugly. But looking away is no answer. We need to prepare for the worst. I would die before I’d let anything happen to you or your mom. You know that, right? You know how
much I love you both.” He tousled her hair. “Don’t worry, Red. I’ll keep you safe.”
She got out of the truck and slammed the door shut behind her, then hauled her bicycle out from the truck bed. Settling her backpack strap over one shoulder, she leaned her bike against the fence and headed toward the school.
Dad honked the horn and drove away. “Pssssst! Leni!”
She glanced sideways.
Matthew stood hidden in the trees across from the school. He waved her over.
Leni waited for her dad’s truck to disappear around the corner and then hurried over to Matthew. “What’s up?”
“Let’s skip school today and take the Tusty into Homer.” “Skip school? Homer?”
“Come on! It’ll be fun.”
Leni knew all the reasons to say no. She also knew that today was a minus tide and her dad was going to be clamming all morning.
“We won’t get caught, and even if we do, big whoop. We’re seniors. It’s May. Don’t seniors in the Outside skip all the time?”
Leni didn’t think it was a good idea, thought it might even be dangerous, but she couldn’t say no to Matthew.
She heard the low, elegiac honking of the ferry’s horn as it neared the dock.
Matthew reached out for Leni’s hand, and the next thing she knew they were running out of the school’s parking lot and up the hill, past the old church, and out onto the waiting ferry.
Leni stood on the deck, holding on to the railing as the boat eased away from land.
All summer, the trusty Tustamena hauled Alaskans around—fishermen, adventurers, laborers, tourists, even high school sports teams. The hull was full of cars and supplies: construction equipment, tractors, backhoes, steel beams. To the few hardy tourists who used the boat as a blue-collar cruise
to remote destinations, the ferry crossing was a pretty way to spend the day. To locals, this was simply the way to town.
Leni had ridden this ferry hundreds of times in her life, but never had she felt the sense of freedom on it that she felt now. Or possibility. As if maybe this old ship could sail her right into a brand-new future.
Wind ruffled her hair. Gulls and shorebirds squawked overhead, wheeling and diving, floating on tufts of wind. The seawater was flat and green, only a few motor ripples on the surface.
Matthew moved in behind her, put his arms around her, held on to the railing. She couldn’t help leaning back into him, letting his body warm her. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said. For once, she felt like an ordinary teenager. This was as close as she and Matthew could get to that, to being the kind of kids who went to the movies on a Saturday night and went for milkshakes at the A&W afterward.
“I got into the university in Anchorage,” Matthew said. “I’ll be playing hockey for their team.”
Leni turned. With him still holding on to the railing, it meant she was in his arms. Her hair whipped across her face.
“Come with me,” he said.
It was like a beautiful flower, that idea; it bloomed and then died in her hand. Life was different for Matthew. He was talented and wealthy. Mr. Walker wanted his son to go to college. “We can’t afford it. And they need me to work the homestead, anyway.”
“There are scholarships.”
“I can’t leave,” she said quietly.
“I know your dad is weird, but why can’t you leave?”
“It’s not him I can’t leave,” Leni said. “It’s my mama. She needs me.” “She’s a grown-up.”
Leni couldn’t say the words that would explain it.
He would never understand why Leni sometimes believed she was the only thing keeping her mother alive.
Matthew pulled her into his arms, held her. She wondered if he could feel the way she was trembling. “Jeez, Len,” he whispered into her hair.
Had he meant that, to shorten her name, to claim it somehow as something new in his hands?
“I would if I could,” she said. After that, they fell silent. She thought about how different their worlds were, and it showed her how big the world was Outside; they were just two kids among millions.
When the boat docked in Homer, they disembarked with a throng of people. Holding hands, they lost themselves among the crowd of bright- eyed tourists and drably dressed locals. They ate halibut and chips on the restaurant’s deck at the tip of the Spit, tossing salty, greasy fries to the birds waiting nearby. Matthew bought Leni a photo album at a souvenir shop that sold Alaska-themed Christmas ornaments and T-shirts that said things like
DON’T MOOSE WITH ME and GOT CRABS?
They talked about nothing and everything. Inconsequential things. The beauty of Alaska, the craziness of the tide, the clog of cars and people on the Spit.
Leni took a picture of Matthew in front of the Salty Dawg Saloon. One hundred years ago, it had been the post office and grocery store for this out- of-the-way spot that even Alaskans called Land’s End. Now the old girl was a dark, twisty tavern where locals rubbed elbows with tourists and the walls were decorated in memorabilia. Matthew wrote LENI AND MATTHEW on a dollar bill and pinned it to the wall where it was immediately lost among the thousands of bills and scraps of paper around it.
It was the single best day of Leni’s life. So much so that when it ended, and they were on a water taxi, seated on a bench in the aft, heading for Kaneq, she had to battle a wave of sadness. On the Tusty and in town, they’d been two kids in a crowd. Now, it was just them and the water-taxi captain and a lot of water around them.
“I wish we didn’t have to go back,” she said.
He put an arm around her, pulled her close. The boat rose and fell with the waves, unsteadying them. “Let’s run away,” he said.
She laughed.
“No, really. I can see us traveling the world, backpacking through Central America, climbing up to Machu Picchu. We’ll settle down when we’ve seen it all. I’ll be an airline pilot or a paramedic. You’ll be a
photographer. We’ll come back here to where we belong and get married and have kids who won’t listen to us.”
Leni knew he was just playing around, daydreaming, but his words sparked a deep yearning in her; one she’d never known existed. She had to force herself to smile, to play along as if this hadn’t struck her in the heart. “I’m a photographer, huh? I like the idea of that. I think I’ll wear makeup and high heels to pick up my Pulitzer. Maybe I’ll order a martini. But I don’t know about kids.”
“Kids. Definitely. I want a daughter with red hair. I’ll teach her to skip rocks and hook a king salmon.”
Leni didn’t answer. It was such a silly conversation, how could it break her heart? He should know better than to dream so big and to give voice to those dreams. He had lost his mother and she had a dangerous father. Families and the future were fragile.
The water taxi slowed, drifted sideways into the dock. Matthew jumped off and looped a line around a metal cleat. Leni stepped out onto the dock as Matthew tossed the line back on board.
“We’re home,” he said.
Leni stared up at the buildings perched on barnacled, muddy stilts above the water.
Home.
Back to real life.
* * *
AT WORK THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Leni made one mistake after another. She mismarked the boxes of three-penny nails and put them in the wrong place and then stood there staring at her mistake, thinking, Could I go to college? Was it possible?
“Go home,” Large Marge said, coming up behind her. “Your mind is somewhere else today.”
“I’m fine,” Leni said.
“No. You’re not.” She gave Leni a knowing look. “I saw you and Matthew walking through town yesterday. You’re playing with fire, kid.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Do you want to talk about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You must think I was born yesterday. Be careful, that’s all I’ll say.”
Leni didn’t even respond. Words were beyond her, as was logical thought. She left the store and retrieved her bicycle and rode home. Once there, she fed the animals, carted water from the spring they’d dug a few years ago, and opened the cabin door. Her mind was so overrun by thoughts and emotions that honestly the next thing she knew she was in the kitchen with her mama, but she had no memory of getting there.
Mama was kneading bread dough. She looked up as the door banged shut, her floury hands lifting from the mound of dough. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you say that?” Leni asked, but she knew. She was close to tears
—although why, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Matthew had pulled her world out of shape. He had altered her view of things, opened her up. Suddenly all she could think about was the end of school and him going away to college without her.
“Leni?” Mama wiped her floury hands on a washrag and tossed it aside. “You look brokenhearted.”
Before Leni could answer, she heard a vehicle drive up. She saw a shiny white pickup truck pull into the yard.
The Walker truck.
“Oh, no.” Leni ran for the cabin door, flung it open. Matthew stepped out of the truck, into their yard.
Leni crossed the deck, rushed down the steps. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“You were so quiet at school today and then you ran off to work. I thought … did I do something wrong?”
Leni was happy to see him and scared that he was here. It felt to her like all she did was say no and goodbye to him, and she wanted so, so much to say yes.
Dad came around from the side of the cabin, holding an ax. He was flushed with exertion, damp with sweat. He saw Matthew and came to a sudden stop. “You aren’t welcome on this land, Matthew Walker. If you and your dad want to pollute your own place, apparently I can’t stop you, but
you stay off my land and you stay away from my daughter. You understand? You Walkers are a blight on our landscape, with your saloon upgrades and your hotel and your damn adventure lodge plans. You’ll ruin Kaneq. Turn it into g-damn Disneyland.”
Matthew frowned. “Did you say Disneyland?”
“Get the hell out of here before I decide you’re trespassing and shoot you.”
“I’m going.” Matthew didn’t sound scared at all, but that was impossible. He was a kid, being threatened by a man holding an ax.
Watching him go hurt more than Leni would have thought possible. She turned away from her father and went into the house and just stood there, staring at nothing, missing Matthew in a way that pushed everything else away.
Mama came in a moment later. She crossed the room, opened her arms, saying, “Oh, baby girl.”
Leni burst into tears. Mama tightened her hold, stroked Leni’s hair, then led her to the sofa, where they sat down.
“You’re attracted to him. How could you not be? He’s gorgeous. And you alone and lonely all these years.”
Leave it to Mama to say the words out loud. Leni had felt alone for a long time.
“I understand,” Mama said.
It helped, those few words, reminded Leni that in the vast landscape of Alaska, this cabin was a world of its own. And her mama understood.
“It’s dangerous, though. You see that, right?” “Yeah,” Leni said. “I see it.”
* * *
FOR THE FIRST TIME, Leni understood all the books she’d read about broken hearts and unrequited love. It was physical, this pain of hers. The way she missed Matthew was like a sickness.
When she woke the next morning, after a restless night, her eyes felt gritty. Light blared down through the skylight, bright enough to force her to shield her eyes from it. She dressed in yesterday’s clothes and climbed
down from the loft. Without bothering to eat breakfast, she went outside and fed the animals and jumped onto her bike and rode away. In town, she waved to Large Marge, who was outside the General Store washing windows, and pedaled past Crazy Pete and turned into the school parking lot. Leaving her bicycle in the tall grass by the chain-link fence, she clamped her backpack to her chest and went into the classroom.
Matthew’s desk was empty.
“Makes sense,” she muttered. “He’s probably halfway to Fairbanks after seeing how crazy my dad is.”
“Hey, Leni,” Ms. Rhodes said brightly. “Can you handle teaching today?
An injured eagle needs help at the center in Homer. I thought I’d go.” “Sure. Why not?”
“I knew you’d be my ace in the hole. Moppet is doing some long division and Agnes and Marthe are working on their history papers; you and Matthew are supposed to read T. S. Eliot today.”
Leni forced a smile as Ms. Rhodes left the classroom. She glanced at the clock, thought, Maybe he’s late, and then set about helping the girls with their assignments.
The day crawled forward, with Leni constantly looking at the clock until it finally struck three o’clock.
“That’s it, kiddos. School’s done.”
When the kids were gone and the classroom fell silent, Leni packed up her stuff and was the last person to leave the school.
Outside, she retrieved her bicycle and pedaled idly down the center of Main Street, in no hurry to get home. Overhead, a bush plane puttered in a lazy arc, giving its passengers a good view of the small town perched on a boardwalk along the water’s edge. The marshes behind town were in full bloom, clumps of grass fluttering in the breeze. The air smelled of dust and new grass and murky water. In the distance, a red boat moved among the thick growth on its way out to the sea. She heard hammering at the saloon, but there were no workers to be seen outside.
She came to the bridge. Normally, on a day this bright at the start of the season, it would be crammed with men and women and children standing
shoulder to shoulder, lines in the water, the kids on tiptoes, peering over the edge into the crystal-clear river below.
Now there was only one person standing here. Matthew.
She coasted to a stop, stepped down on one foot, rested the other on the pedal. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.” “For what?” “You.”
Leni dismounted the bike and fell into step beside him as he led her back toward town. The bicycle clanged and thumped over the bumpy gravel of Main Street. Every now and then the bell made a shivering little ringing sound.
Leni glanced nervously at the saloon as they passed it, but didn’t see Clyde or Ted working. She didn’t want anyone to tell her dad they’d seen her with Matthew.
They hiked up the hill past the church and ducked into the Sitka spruce trees. Leni set her bike down and followed Matthew to the point that jutted out over a black rock cliff.
“I didn’t sleep last night,” Matthew said at last. “Me, either.”
“I was thinking about you.”
She could have said the same thing but didn’t dare.
He took her by the hand, led her to the bower he’d made before. They sat down, leaned back against a crumbling, moss-draped nurse log. Leni heard the waves on the rocks below. The ground smelled fecund and sweet. Shade fell in star-shaped patches between the strands of sunlight. “I talked to my dad last night about us. I even went to the diner to call my sister.”
Us.
“Uh-huh?”
“Dad said I was playing with fire wanting you.”
Wanting you.
“Aly asked if I’d kissed you yet. When I said no, she said, ‘What the hell, baby brother, get going.’ She knows how much I like you. So. Can I
kiss you?”
She barely nodded, but it was enough. His lips brushed tentatively against hers. It was like every love story she’d ever read; this first kiss changed her, opened her up to a world she’d never imagined, a big, bright, shining universe full of unexpected possibilities.
When he drew back, Leni stared at him. “Us. This. It’s dangerous.” “Yeah, I guess. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“No,” Leni said quietly. She knew that she was making a decision she might regret, but it felt inevitable. “Nothing matters except us.”
* * *
COME AWAY TO COLLEGE WITH ME, Len. Please …
U of A is beautiful … you could still get in for fall. We could go together. Together …
At home, she put her bicycle away and fed the animals, but she was so distracted she dropped an entire bucket of grain. Then she hauled water from the spring at the top of the hill. An hour later, when she’d finished her chores, she saw her parents go down to the beach and stand by the boat. They were going fishing.
They’d be gone for hours.
She could ride her bike to Matthew’s house, let him kiss her again. Her parents wouldn’t even know she’d been gone.
Stupid plan. She would see Matthew tomorrow. Tomorrow felt like a lifetime away.
She yanked up her bicycle and jumped aboard and pedaled away, past the canoe Dad had dragged home from the dump last week and the rotting husk of a dirt bike he’d been unable to get running again. The shadows of the driveway plunged down around her, chilled her.
She pedaled out onto the main road, back into the sunshine, and rode the quarter mile to the gated driveway. Wheeling around the open gate, she passed beneath the painted arch, with its tanned silver salmon carved into the wood, and kept going.
This is dangerous, she thought, but she couldn’t make herself care. All she could think about now was Matthew, and how it had felt when he kissed
her, and how much she wanted to kiss him again.
Here, the road was not so muddy. Someone had obviously taken the time to regrade the earth and put down gravel. It was the kind of thing her father would never do: smooth out a road to make life easier.
She came to a bumpy, breathless stop in front of the Walker house.
Matthew was carrying a huge bale of hay over to the cattle pen. He saw her and dropped the bale and came toward her. He wore an oversized hockey sweater and shorts and rubber boots. “Len?” She loved how he had renamed her, made her into someone else, someone only he knew. “Are you okay?”
“I missed you,” she said. Stupid. They had barely been apart. “I wish … we need time together.”
“I’ll come over to see you tomorrow night,” he said, taking her in his arms. It was where she wanted to be.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I’ll sneak over to see you.” He said it with such conviction that she didn’t know what to say. “Tomorrow night.”
“You can’t.”
“At midnight. Sneak out to meet me.” “It’s too dangerous.”
“You guys have an outhouse, right? So it’s no big deal to go out. And do they ever look up in the loft for you in the middle of the night?”
She could dress warmly and go out and just not come back for a while.
They could steal an hour together, maybe more. Alone.
If she said no right now, it would prove that Leni could live a sensible life, with the kind of love that no one would ever compare to heroin and she would never cry herself to sleep.
“Please? I need to see you.” “Leni!”
She heard her father’s voice yelling at her. She pushed Matthew away, but too late. Her father had seen them together and now he was striding toward them, while Mama ran along behind him.
“What the hell are you doing over here?” Dad said.
“I—I—” She couldn’t answer. Stupidstupidstupid. She shouldn’t have come here.
“I thought I told you to stay away from my Lenora,” Dad said. He grabbed Leni by the bicep, yanked her to his side.
Leni bit down hard, so she wouldn’t make a sound. She didn’t want Matthew to know her dad had hurt her.
“Leni,” Matthew said, frowning. “Stay back,” she said. “Please.”
“Come on, Leni,” Dad said, pulling her away.
Leni stumbled along beside her father, crashing into him and pulling away on the uneven ground. If she got too far, he wrenched her back to his side. Mama hurried along beside, walking with Leni’s bicycle.
Back in their yard, Leni yanked free and almost fell, scrambled across the muddy grass, faced him. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she cried.
“Ernt,” Mama said, trying to sound reasonable. “They’re just friends—” Dad turned to Mama. “So you knew about them?”
“You’re overreacting,” Mama said evenly. “He’s in Leni’s class. That’s all.”
“You knew,” Dad said to her again. “No,” Leni said, suddenly afraid.
“I saw her leave,” Dad said. “But you saw her go, too, didn’t you, Cora?
And you knew where she was going.”
Mama shook her head. “N-no. I thought she was going to work, maybe.
Or to pick some balm-of-Gilead.” “You’re lying to me,” he said.
“Dad, please, it’s my fault,” Leni said.
He wasn’t listening. His eyes had that wild, desperate look. “You know better than to hide things from me.” He grabbed Mama and dragged her toward the cabin.
Leni followed them, tried to pull Mama away. Dad shoved Mama inside and Leni out of the way.
The door slammed shut. The bolt came down hard, with a clank, and locked them inside.
Then, from behind the door, a loud crash, a bitten-off scream.
Leni hurled herself at the door, banged on it, screaming to be let in.
