Page 32 of No Ordinary Hate

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She doesn’t look convinced. “How about when a person’s alone? Like, say, just now when I walked through the brush by myself?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was a little kid and the only grizzlies I’ve ever seen have been running the other way.” I add, “There’s no dump nearby, and we don’t leave food in the cabin or around the campsite, so they haven’t learned to use humans as a food source. At night, we lock everything up in the plastic tubs to keep the smell in.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “But if you’re worried, just make a lot of noise, like whistling or singing, or …”Don’t say it, moron. “Stick close to me.”

Dammit, Digger, you said it anyway.

Harper's eyes search mine. I can tell she’s trying to decide whether she can trust me or not. Which apparently makes me chatty. “Look, I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. And I certainly have no reason to lie to you about this. Knowledge is power, right?”

Her face relaxes a bit as she nods. “I guess I’m just trying to get my bearings.” Then she laughs. “Pun intended.”

It sounds like she’s talking about more than just being out in the wild. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s thinking about what her life will be like as a single mom.

The two of us stand side-by-side staring out at the lake and watching the kids goof around. They’re splashing each other and telling fart jokes—which, as I recall, is one of the best parts of childhood.

After a few moments of a comfortable silence, I glance down at her. “You okay?”

“It’s just hard to accept that this”—she opens her hands to spokesmodel the wildness—“is what it takes to protect my kids. How did this become my life?” She shakes her head while turning her gaze back out to the lake.

I know her question is rhetorical, so I don’t bother answering it. Instead, I have a sip of my beer and give her space to talk.

She watches as Wyatt shows Lily and Liam how to skip rocks. “It’s too much. Waking up to some asshole in a tree taking pictures of them in their own house, then overhearing gossip about their dad’s extramarital love life …” Looking up at me, she adds, “I know it’s doing damage. I just pray it’s fixable.”

I stare into her blue eyes. “Kids are resilient. Better than us adults.” I’m speaking from experience here. “The important thing is that they’ve got you. At the end of the day, all they really need is one solid parent who cares enough to put them first.”

“I hope so,” she says with a deep sigh.

“I know so.” My mind wanders back to the faded memories I have of my own mother. Even before she left, she was never there for us. Not in the way Moira and I needed her to be. She was only a shell of a person that we couldn’t rely on.

“Uncle Digger, can we get back to fishing now?” Ash calls to me from near the shore.

“You bet,” I tell him. “You’d better step up your game or we’ll be hungry come dinnertime.”

* * *

The sun is still high in the sky as the clock approaches seven, when we’re sitting around the campfire, balancing our plates on our laps. Lily managed to catch a good-sized rainbow trout—something she’s not likely to let her brother forget anytime soon. I cleaned it, seasoned it, slathered it in butter, and cooked it over the fire in some tin foil. The kids gobble it up, along with some potatoes and carrots.

“This is thebestrainbow trout I’ve ever had,” Lily announces loudly, proud of her accomplishment.

“It’s the only trout you’ve ever had, you dingus,” Liam tells her. While his words are harsh, his tone is playful. It’s clear these two love each other.

“Don’t call your sister a dingus,” Harper says sternly.

“He’s just mad because I caught supper and he didn’t.” Lily is all smiles.

“Am not,” Liam says.

“Are too,” Lily tells him.

“You know what, Liam? You’ll catch one tomorrow,” I tell him.

He shrugs “I doubt it. I’m no good at it.”

“That’s not true, you’re just new to it. How about first thing in the morning we all head out on the boat. You’re sure to catch something in the middle of the lake.”

Liam’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really,” I tell him. “I can help you work on your technique. The trick is in the wrist.” I make a flicking motion with my hand.


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