At ten P.M., the night of Mad Earl’s funeral, the sky above Walker Cove was a layer of deep blue, fading to lavender at the edges. The evening’s bonfire had burned down; logs turned to ash and crumbled into one another.
An extreme low tide had pulled back the sea, revealing a wide swath of mud, a mirror of slick gray that reflected the color of the sky and the snow- covered mountains that rose up on the opposite shore. Clumps of shiny black mussels clung to exposed pilings; the aluminum drift boat lay angled in the mud, its line tied to the buoy.
For hours there had been talk. Stories about Mad Earl, told in halting voices. Some had made them laugh. Most had made them all fall silent and remember. Mad Earl hadn’t always been the crotchety, angry man he’d become in old age. Grief over the loss of his son had twisted him. Once, he’d been Grandad Eckhart’s best friend. Alaska was tough on people, especially once they got old.
Now, quiet. There was only the occasional popping of the fire, the thunk of a falling bit of burnt wood, the lapping of the outgoing tide.
Matthew sat in one of their old beach chairs, his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, watching a young eagle picking at a salmon carcass on the beach. A pair of seagulls flew close, waiting for scraps.
There were only three of them left now. Dad and Large Marge and Matthew.
“Are we going to talk about it, Tom?” Large Marge said after so long a silence that Matthew was sure they’d kicked out the fire and climbed the beach stairs. “Thelma pretty much as banished Ernt from their place.”
“Yeah,” Dad said.
Matthew didn’t like the way his father looked at Large Marge. The worry in his eyes.
“What are you two talking about?” Matthew asked.
Dad said, “Ernt Allbright is an angry man. We all know he vandalized the saloon. Thelma said tonight that he’s been trying to get the Harlans to plant trip wires and explosives to ‘protect’ them in case of war.”
“Yeah. He’s crazy like Mad Earl, but—”
“Mad Earl was harmless,” Large Marge said. “Ernt will not take this banishment well. It will piss him off. When he gets mad he gets mean, and when he gets mean, he hurts people.”
“People?” Matthew said, feeling a chill go through him. “You mean Leni? He’ll hurt Leni?”
Matthew didn’t wait for them to answer. He ran up the stairs to the yard, where he snagged his bicycle and climbed aboard. Pedaling hard on the wet, spongy ground, he reached the main road in less than ten minutes.
At the Allbright driveway, he skidded to a stop so fast his bike almost slipped out from underneath him. Two skinned logs barricaded the scrawny necklike entrance to the land. They were the color of salmon meat, freshly cut, a fleshy pink, studded here and there with bits of bark.
What the hell?
Matthew looked around, saw no movement, heard nothing. He pedaled around the logs and kept going, more slowly now, his heart thumping in his chest, worry expanding.
At the end of the driveway, he dismounted, laid his bike on its side. A cautious examination of the Allbright land showed no sign of trouble. Ernt’s truck was parked in front of the cabin.
Matthew crept forward slowly, wincing every time a twig snapped beneath his foot or he stepped on something—a beer can, a comb someone had dropped—he couldn’t see in the shadows. The goats bleated. Chickens squawked in alarm.
He was about to take a step when he heard a sound. The cabin door opening.
He threw himself into the tall grass, lay still.
Footsteps on the deck. Creaking.
Scared to move and more scared not to, he lifted his head, looked out above the grass.
Leni stood at the edge of the porch, with a wool blanket wrapped around her in a cape of red and white and yellow stripes. She was holding a roll of toilet paper; moonlight set it aglow.
“Leni,” he said.
She looked over, saw him. Worriedly, she glanced back at the cabin, then ran for him.
He stood, pulled her into his arms, held her tightly. “Are you okay?” “He’s building a wall,” Leni said, glancing back.
“That’s what those logs are for out at the road?” Leni nodded. “I’m scared, Matthew.”
Matthew started to say, It will be all right, but he heard the cabin lock hitch.
“Go,” Leni whispered, shoving him away.
Matthew threw himself into the cover of trees just as the door opened. He saw Ernt Allbright step out onto the porch, dressed in a ragged T-shirt and baggy boxer shorts. “Leni?” he called out.
Leni waved. “I’m here, Dad. Just dropped the TP.” She cast a desperate glance back at Matthew. He hid behind a tree.
Leni walked over to the outhouse, disappeared inside of it. Ernt waited for her on the porch, herded her back inside as soon as she was done. The door lock latched with a click behind them.
Matthew retrieved his bicycle and rode home as fast as he could. He found Large Marge and his dad standing together in the yard, beside Marge’s truck.
“H-he’s building a wall,” Matthew said, his breath coming in gasps. He jumped off his bike and dropped it in the grass by the smokehouse.
“What do you mean?” Dad said.
“Ernt. You know how their land is a bottleneck and then flares out over the water? He’s skinned two logs and laid them across the driveway. Leni says he’s building a wall.”
“Jesus,” Dad said. “He’ll cut them off from the world.”
* * *
LENI WOKE TO THE high-pitched whirring of the chain saw and the occasional whack of a hatchet splitting wood. Dad had been up for hours, all weekend, building his wall.
The only bright spot was that she had survived the weekend and now it was Monday again, a school day.
Matthew.
Joy pushed aside the cramped, hopeless feeling of loss this weekend had birthed. She dressed for school and climbed down the ladder.
The cabin was quiet.
Mama came out of her bedroom dressed in a turtleneck and baggy jeans. “Morning.”
Leni went to her mother. “We have to do something before the wall is finished.”
“He won’t really do it. He was just crazed. He’ll see reason.” “That’s what you’re going to rely on?”
Leni saw for the first time how old her mother looked, how drawn and defeated. There was no light in her eyes anymore, no ready smile.
“I’ll get you coffee.”
Before Leni made it to the kitchen, a knock rattled the cabin door.
Almost simultaneously the door swung open. “Hullo, the house!”
Large Marge strode forward. A dozen bracelets clattered on her fleshy wrists, earrings bobbed up and down like fishing lures, catching the light. Her hair was growing out again. She’d parted it down the middle and tied it into two pom-pom balls that flopped as she moved.
Dad pushed in behind the black woman, put his hands on his bony hips. “I said you couldn’t go in, g-damn it.”
Large Marge grinned and handed Mama a bottle of lotion. She pressed it into her hands, closed her big hands over Mama’s small ones. “Thelma made this from the lavender growing in her backyard. She thought you’d love it.”
Leni could see what this small kindness meant to her mother.
“We don’t want your charity,” Dad said. “She smells just fine without putting on that shit.”
“Girlfriends give each other gifts, Ernt. And Cora and I are friends. That’s why I’m here, in fact. I thought I’d have coffee with my neighbors.”
“Would you get Marge some coffee, Leni?” Mama said. “And maybe a piece of cranberry bread.”
Dad crossed his arms, standing with his back to the door.
Large Marge led Mama to the sofa, helped her to sit, then sat beside her. The cushion popped beneath the woman’s weight. “Really, I wanted to talk to you about my diarrhea.”
“Good Christ,” Dad said.
“It’s been explosive. I wondered if you’d come across any home remedies. Good Lord, the cramping has been awful.”
Dad muttered an expletive and left the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.
Large Marge smiled. “Men are so easy to outthink. So, now it’s just us.”
Leni handed out coffees and then sat down in the old Naugahyde recliner they’d bought at a junk store in Soldotna last year.
Large Marge’s gaze moved from Cora, to Leni, and back to Cora. Leni was sure that it missed nothing. “I don’t imagine Ernt was pleased about Thelma’s decision at Earl’s funeral.”
“Oh. That,” Mama said.
“I see the posts he’s dug out on the main road. Looks like he’s building a wall around this place.”
Mama shook her head. “He won’t.”
“You know what walls do?” Large Marge said. “They hide what happens behind them. They trap people inside.” She put her cup down on the coffee table, leaned toward Mama. “He could put a lock on that gate and keep the key and how would you escape?”
“H-he wouldn’t do that,” Mama said.
“Oh, really?” Large Marge said. “That’s what my sister said the last time I talked to her. I would do anything to go back in time and change what happened. She’d finally left him, but it was too late.”
“She left him,” Mama said quietly. For once, she didn’t look away. “That’s what got her killed. Men like that … they don’t stop looking for you until they find you.”
“We can protect you,” Large Marge said. “‘We’?”
“Tom Walker and me. The Harlans. Tica. Everyone in Kaneq. You’re one of us, Cora, you and Leni. He’s the outsider. Trust us. Let us help.”
Leni thought about it for real, seriously; they could leave him. It would mean leaving Kaneq and probably Alaska.
Leaving Matthew.
And then what? Would they have to stay on the run forever, hiding, changing their names? How did people even do that? Mama had no money, no credit card. She didn’t even have a valid driver’s license. Neither of them did. Did they even exist on paper?
And what if he found them anyway?
“I can’t,” Mama finally said, and Leni thought they were the saddest, most pitiful words she’d ever heard.
Large Marge looked at Mama for a long time, disappointment etched deep into the lines of her face. “Well. These things take time. Just know that we’re here. We’ll help you. All you have to do is ask. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night in January. You come to me, okay? I don’t care what you’ve done or what he’s done. You come to me, and I’ll help.”
Leni couldn’t stop herself. She darted around the coffee table and into Large Marge’s arms. The woman’s comforting bulk wrapped around her, making her feel safe. “Come on,” Large Marge said. “Let’s get you to school. Not many days left before you graduate.”
Leni grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. After giving her mother a fierce hug and whispering, “We need to talk about this,” Leni followed Large Marge outside. They were halfway to the truck when Dad appeared, carrying a five-gallon jug of gasoline.
“Leaving so soon?” he said.
“Just a cup of coffee, Ernt. I’ll drive Leni to school. I’m heading to the store.”
He dropped the plastic jug. It sloshed beside him. “No.” Large Marge frowned. “No, what?”
“No one leaves this place without me anymore. There’s nothing out there for us.”
“She’s five days away from graduating. Of course she’s going to finish.” “Fat chance, fat lady,” Dad said. “I need her at the homestead. Five days
is nothing. They’ll give her the damned piece of paper.”
“You want to fight this battle?” Large Marge advanced, bracelets clattering. “If this young woman misses a single day of school, I will call the state and turn you in, Ernt Allbright. Don’t think for one second I won’t. You can be as batshit crazy and mean as you want, but you are not going to stop this beautiful girl from finishing high school. You got it?”
“The state won’t care.”
“Oh. They will. Trust me. You want me talking to the authorities about what goes on here, Ernt?”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Yeah, but I’m a big woman with a big mouth. You want to push me?” “Go ahead. Take her to school, if it means so damned much to you.” He
looked at Leni. “I’ll pick you up at three. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Leni nodded and climbed into the old International Harvester, with its ragtag cloth-covered seats. They drove down the bumpy driveway, past the newly skinned log poles. Out on the main road, rambling through a cloud of dust, Leni realized she was crying.
It felt overwhelming suddenly. The stakes were too high. What if Mama ran and Dad really did find her and kill her?
Large Marge pulled up in front of the school and parked. “It’s not fair that you have to deal with this. But life ain’t fair, kid. You know that, I guess. You could call the police.”
“And if I get her killed? How’s my life after that?”
Large Marge nodded. “You come to me if you need help. Okay?
Promise?”
“Sure,” Leni said dully.
Large Marge leaned toward Leni, popped open the creaky glove box, took out a thick envelope. “I have something for you.”
Leni was used to Large Marge’s gifts. A candy bar, a paperback novel, a shiny barrette. Large Marge often had something to press in Leni’s palm at the end of the workday at the store.
Leni looked down at the envelope. It was from the University of Alaska. It had been mailed to Lenora Allbright, in care of Marge Birdsall at the Kaneq General Store.
Her hands were shaking as she tore it open and read the first line. We are pleased to offer you …
Leni looked at Large Marge. “I got in.” “Congratulations, Leni.”
Leni felt numb. She’d been accepted. To college.
“Now what?” Leni said.
“You go,” Large Marge said. “I’ve talked to Tom. He’s going to pay for it. Tica and I are buying your books and Thelma is giving you spending money. You’re one of us and we have your back. No excuses, kid. You leave this place the second you can. Run like hell, kid, and don’t look back. But Leni—”
“Yeah?”
“You be careful as hell until the day you leave.”
* * *
ON THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL, Leni thought her heart might explode. Maybe she would pitch face-first into the ground and be another Alaskan statistic. The girl who died for love.
The idea of summer, all those long hot days spent working from sunup to sundown, made her insane to contemplate. How could she last until September without seeing Matthew?
“We will hardly see each other,” she said, feeling sick. “We’ll both be working constantly. You know how summer is.” From now on, life would be chores.
Summer. The season of salmon runs and gardens that needed constant tending, of berries ripening on hillsides, of canning fruits and vegetables and fish, of salmon that needed to be cut into strips, marinated, and smoked, of repairs that needed to be made while the sun shone.
“We’ll sneak out,” he said.
Leni couldn’t imagine taking that risk now. The banishment from the Harlans had broken the last thread of her father’s control. He cut trees and skinned logs daily and woke in the middle of the night to pace. He muttered under his breath constantly and hammered, hammered, hammered on his wall.
“We’re going to college together in September,” Matthew said (because he knew how to dream and to believe).
“Yeah,” she said, wanting it more than she had ever wanted anything. “We’ll be normal kids in Anchorage.” It was what they said to each other all the time.
Leni walked beside him to the door, mumbled goodbye to Ms. Rhodes, who gave her a fierce hug and said, “Don’t forget the graduation party at the saloon tonight. You and Mattie are the guests of honor.”
“Thanks, Ms. Rhodes.”
Outside, Leni’s parents were waiting for her, holding a sign that read
HAPPY GRAD DAY! She stumbled to a stop.
Leni felt Matthew’s hand at the small of her back. She was pretty sure he gave her a push. She moved forward, forcing a smile.
“Hey, guys,” she said as her parents rushed at her. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Mama beamed at her. “Are you kidding? You graduated at the top of your class.”
“A class of two,” she pointed out.
Dad put an arm around her, drew her close. “I’ve never been number one at anything, Red. I’m proud of you. And now you can leave that pissant school behind. Sayonara, bullshit.”
They packed into the truck and headed out. Overhead, a plane flew low, making a dull putt-putt-putt sound.
“Tourists.” Dad said the word as if it were a curse, loud enough that people heard. Then he smiled. “Mom made your favorite cake and strawberry akutaq.”
Leni nodded, too depressed to force a fake smile.
Down the street, a banner hung across the half-finished saloon.
CONGRATULATIONS LENI AND MATTHEW!!! GRAD PARTY FRIDAY NIGHT! 9 P.M. FIRST DRINK FREE!
“Leni, baby girl? You look sad as a lost dollar.”
“I want to go to the graduation party at the saloon,” Leni said. Mama leaned forward to look at Dad. “Ernt?”
“You want me to walk into Tom Walker’s damn saloon and see all the people who are ruining this town?” Dad said.
“For Leni,” Mama said. “No way, José.”
Leni tried to see past his anger to the man Mama claimed he used to be, before Vietnam had changed him and Alaska’s winters had revealed his own darkness. She tried to remember being Red, his girl, the one who’d ridden his shoulders on The Strand in Hermosa Beach. “Please, Dad. Please. I want to celebrate graduating from high school in my town. The town you brought me to.”
When Dad looked at her, Leni saw what she saw so rarely in his eyes: love. Tattered, tired, shaved small by bad choices, but love just the same. And regret.
“Sorry, Red. I can’t do it. Not even for you.”
