Unless you’ve been there, it’s almost impossible to understand her beauty and her savageness because they’re intertwined so brilliantly they can’t be separated. You have to love both to love the whole. Alaska isn’t merely a piece of land to be lived upon; she breathes and embeds herself into your heart and soul mere minutes after you bow in her presence.
She’s demanding and regal, temperamental and savage. She’s unconquerable. And humans are foolish to think they can.
There are so many pieces that make up Alaska. She provides rare but distinct praise for those few dynamic souls who sustain their lives there. You know there was a time when I believed I could be one of them. Almost sixteen years ago, to be exact. Now, between all the years in between and everything that’s happened, it seems like those years belong to a story that should begin with the words “once upon a time.” Back then, I thought I had the mettle to build my dreams conquering sweeps of ice while breaking down walls built around a man’s heart. I had my chance at the first.
It took a long time for me to realize I was blessed by her when I left; that Alaska gave me a gift to make up for my original one being lost.
Pausing in my letter, I sigh. It doesn’t matter how long it takes me to write it. Dean’s gone. He’s never going to receive it anyway. I glance to my right at the tall figure in the seat next to me. His dark hair flops over his forehead as he frowns down at his iPad. Slowly, I reach over and brush the hair away from my son’s forehead.
His head turns toward me before he pulls the noise-canceling earbuds from his ears. With a frown, he asks, “Are you okay, Mom?”
Mom. Alaska made me a mother to a son whose heart is easily the size of her landscape. Well, technically, that’s not correct. Jennings did, I think with a touch of lingering anxiety I shove aside knowing what’s going to happen the moment Jed’s will is read. After ignoring all of my attempts to contact him over the years, he’s finally going to be forced to admit he’s a father.
My breathing accelerates. I acquiesced to Jed adding in the codicil to his will because he accepted my conditions. It still doesn’t mean what’s about to be set in motion isn’t affecting me because I know it’s just going to add another level of emotional upheaval to the person I love more than anyone else in this world—my son.
Kevin frowns again when I don’t respond fast enough. Quickly, I pull myself from my thoughts and answer, “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just woolgathering. Go back to your movie.”
“Are you…” He doesn’t finish his sentence before he shoves in his buds again.
I wish he would just tell me what’s on his mind, talk to me about what’s bothering him. Because if there’s anyone in the world who understands what he’s feeling, it’s me. There’s so much pain locked inside of him since he lost both of his uncles a few short weeks ago in an accident that’s left the three of us devastated and floundering.
And here we are—heading right back to the place where it all started. After ensuring Kevin’s attention is back on the movie, I close my laptop and tuck it into the seat back in front of me. Looking out the window, there’s nothing but clouds from our current vantage point.
I know from my conversation with Maris the letters from the lawyers were going out today, as was the notice of Jed’s death to the local Juneau paper. But that’s not how he was known for the decades he lived in Alaska before taking a vacation to Florida and never returning. It’s why, despite the local media coverage that invaded our lives for weeks in Florida with the death of the “Misters Malone,” we haven’t been faced with Jed’s closest friends.
Yet. That’s going to change the minute we touch down, and I know it.
We’re about to endure a second viewing and funeral. Then, the second will reading. And a second chance for John Jennings to turn my world upside down.
We hit a pocket of turbulence that has Kevin’s hand shooting out to grab mine. God, I want to laugh and then let silent tears fall, much like I’ve been doing late at night when I know Kevin’s barricaded himself in his room. Our worlds have drastically changed. And they’re about to be shaken more; he just doesn’t know it.
But I do.
And I’ll do everything possible to protect my son from the pain I’ve endured each time an email I sent to his father and it was ignored.
What I won’t do is feel shame for the decisions I made, starting with the one where I walked out of my parents’ life, moved in with my brother, and never looked back. Not once.
Not ever.
Eighteen hours after we left Jacksonville, we’re waiting for Maris to pick us up at the Juneau International Airport when Kevin takes a deep breath of the cool mountain air and sighs contently. “Mom, I thought you said Alaska was cold?”
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I wonder how time went by so fast that I now have to look up into his eyes to answer. “This is a warm day.” My lips curve faintly at the shock on his face. “This sixty degrees you’re basking in is almost sweltering for a native Alaskan.”
“But—”
“Yes?” I answer distractedly as I scan for Maris’s SUV in the darkness.
“But that’s like our winter!” he sputters.
The words are out of my mouth before I can censor them. “Why do you think your uncle Jed loved our winter so much?” I tease. Then I curse myself a million times a fool as Kevin’s body goes rigid beneath my arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” My voice is as cracked as my heart.
My son, my baby, is learning lessons he should never understand. He’s been taught too early the agonizing loss of those you love. It’s then I spot the vehicle Maris described over the phone. “There’s Maris.” I give his waist one more squeeze before I step away to pick up my carry-on, using my other hand to wave.
My best friend, and sister-in-law through marriage, pulls to a stop next to us. As she jumps from the driver’s seat, her head of mahogany hair gleams in the fluorescent lights. Running around the front of the car, she opens her arms wide to wrap us both in the one thing we need more than anything.
Strength.
Leaning my head down on her shoulder, I take just a moment of it. Because it’s not just the memorial service that has me on edge. It’s what I know I have to do after.
And to honor the two of the three men I love beyond anything, I agreed, which is why it looks like I have enough luggage to last a lifetime when the reality is Kevin and I are only moving to Alaska for the rest of the summer.
Juneau, Alaska, is only accessible to an outsider by air or by sea. But for some indescribable months many years before, I never cared if I left once I stepped foot on her shores. I easily pictured myself living permanently in the state capital that drew me because of one love, introduced me to another, and finally, gave me the one I cherish above all others.
Driving from the airport to Maris’s family home on the outskirts of downtown keeps me quiet despite the catching up between my son and my best friend. Reaching over the back of the seat, I grab Kevin’s hand. “Are you sure you want to stay here this summer?” It’s not that the reunion between father and son I agreed to leaves me much choice, but I’d be willing to fight unlike the way my parents did for me, but very much like the way my brother did for me every single day. Including the ways he often went against his husband when it came to matters of my son.