Page 87 of The Great Alone

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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.”


Tags: Kristin Hannah Fiction