Down the Hidden Path (18 page)

Jeremiah dropped a match on the kindling and watched as ribbons of smoke turned to glowing embers. He knelt on one knee and blew across the fire. Flames, bright and hot, coerced by the press of oxygen, rose from the rock-encircled campfire. He brushed the snow from a nearby tree stump for sitting and warmed his hands, holding them above the flame. He’d shoveled several inches of snow to light the fire and now that it was glowing, he wondered what in the world he was doing. His gaze trailed to the lakeside where, a few hours ago, he and David had sat on the pier fishing. If raising kids was as easy as lighting a fire, maybe he could do this. The fishing, much like the snowmobile ride and the videogames, had been a disaster. Miah looked heavenward. He clasped his hands in his lap, fingers cold, but with the warmth of the fire, it was manageable. Night had fallen and, usually, he reserved early mornings for these moments of quiet contemplation. But the fishing excursion had driven him out here. First, David had tossed the fishing pole into the water while trying to cast. Miah had fished it out, but soaked his coat to the shoulder to do it. Then, David had jerked as the worm went onto the hook, and the hook had gone through the meaty part of Miah’s hand. Finally, David had given up entirely.

Miah stared at the heavens. The sky above was a star-bright navy blue blanket. He cleared his throat. “If you’ve got some advice for me, I could really use it right now.”

Wind blew across the valley, curling the flames and making the smoke dance. When it hit his eyes, he closed them tightly, surprised to find moisture already settling there. When no other answer came, he planted his hands on his knees. “It’s just that I’m a soldier. I’m accustomed to taking orders. Going in blind doesn’t scare me half as much as the possibility that there’s no one in charge of this mission. Failure isn’t really an option here. If you could just give me . . . I don’t know . . . a sign or something.”

The night sky remained silent. But footsteps behind him drew his attention. He listened. A wide gait, one foot slightly dragging before each step. Caleb. Miah steeled himself, eyes drifting closed. The last thing he needed right now was a smart-mouthed little brother telling him everything he’s doing wrong.

“How’d the fishing go?”

“Not good.”

Caleb crowded onto the stump beside him. “So no bass for dinner tomorrow night?”

Miah gave him a flat stare.

“I’m just kidding. I already gave the kid a hard time about impaling you and not catching anything.”

Miah bit his tongue because he didn’t need to say what he was thinking.

“Hey! Look at that.” Caleb stretched back.

When Miah followed Caleb’s fingers, pointed at a spot in the winter sky, he saw nothing.

“A shooting star. Ya see it?”

Miah stared blankly. “No.” Was that his sign? Had he missed it because of his inconsiderate brother? “Did you need something, Caleb? I kind of came down here to get a few minutes alone.”

Caleb remained, but didn’t speak, his hands finding the warmth of the fire. He made no attempt to leave, and that irritated Miah beyond belief. “Nah. I don’t need anything.”

Miah used a stick to poke at the fire.

Caleb kept his eyes on the cloudless sky. “Look.”

Miah didn’t bother. If it was another shooting star, he didn’t want the disappointment.

“That’s Isaiah’s star, right?” Caleb stretched again, this time pointing to a section of sky just above McKinley Mountain where a single brilliant star outshined the others.

Miah began to grin. He’d all but forgotten his brother Isaiah’s lesson. “The Eye of God,” Miah whispered.

“Yep. I swear, seeing that thing has kept me going on more than one occasion. Oh, by the way, we’re out of root beer again.” Caleb shoved off the stump and towered over Miah. “Guess I did have a reason for coming down here.”

Miah smiled up at his brother, then let his gaze trail to the star. The Eye of God. The star that Isaiah claimed watched over you in your darkest hours. “Hey, Caleb, thanks for coming to check on me.”

Caleb half grinned and loped back up to the lodge.

CHAPTER 10

David walked the edge of the lake, thinking. That’s what his dad used to do when he was under stress. Of course, he’d walk the neighborhood, not the lake. Hands sunk deeply into his pockets and sort of strolling along. David thought there must be something to it or his dad wouldn’t have done it. His dad was nothing if not prudent with his time, and he certainly wouldn’t have strolled if it offered no benefits.

David thought over the days he’d been living with Jeremiah. Over a week now and Gray was still there. The snow kept the driveway a mess, but he liked her there and he thought Jeremiah did, too, though they tended to fight like the puppies he’d watched at the pet store in the mall.

David stopped at the edge of the water. He didn’t know what his dad used to think about, so that gave him a disadvantage in this whole walking-and-thinking thing. His dad had done quite a lot of walking in the weeks leading up to the accident. David knew his mom and dad had been worried about money. They had hoped to make the business bigger, but David guessed they hadn’t done it right.

He kicked a rock into the lake. None of the business stuff mattered now because his mom and dad were gone.
When one door closes, another opens,
his dad used to tell him. David tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. “I don’t see another door, Dad.” When there was no answer from the sky, he sank his hands deeper and kept walking. Before long, he’d rounded a curve and the tracks from the earlier trip on the snowmobile disappeared. Up ahead, something moved at the lake’s edge. His first instinct was to turn and run—word had it there was a bigfoot in the Ozarks—but curiosity pulled him forward. The snow was silent as he continued to take slow steps. There. A flash of red. David squinted.

The sun was lower in the sky now, shining off the water and making it look like melted gold. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and he saw it again. And then it yelled at him.

“Hi!”

For a second he was frozen, but as he continued closer and the trees and brush gave way to a clearing, he saw the girl, waving, smiling, with two pigtails hung on either shoulder, and she held a fishing pole in her hand. As he neared, he could see her nose was bright red and her hair was blond. “Hi,” he said back.

“Did you get lost?” she said, and flipped the pole, casting it far into the water.

How’d she do that? “No. Just . . . you know, walking and thinking.”

She frowned, her cheek ticking on one side, then she smiled again. “Yeah, I know, I do that a lot, too.” She started reeling, then stopped and looked over at him. “Actually, I don’t. What are you thinking about?”

Well, that was the question. His shoulder tipped up. “I hadn’t decided yet.”

David kicked at the snow until he found a smooth rock. He held it like he’d seen Jeremiah hold one and skipped it out over the water. To his surprise, it bounced twice before falling.

The girl laughed. “I’m fishing here.”

“Yeah.”

She took a few steps closer and he could see her eyes were green. Easy to tell because she had them open wide in exaggeration. “I’m
fishing
.”

He could see that.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll scare off the fish.”

Oh. David wanted out of there. He turned. “See ya.” He started walking back in the direction of the lodge. “Good luck fishing.” She really made it look easy. But he knew it wasn’t.

“Wait. What’s your name?” He half turned to find the girl coming toward him. She’d dropped her pole at the water’s edge. Didn’t she know how dangerous that was? Fishing poles could sink.

“David.”

She stopped at his feet. “What grade are you in?”

“Eighth.”

“I’m in seventh.” She cast a look behind him. “Are you visiting someone here?”

“Yeah.” He pointed behind him to the snow-crusted lodge that was easily seen from their vantage point. From here, it looked really cool, like a postcard or something with the snow on the roof and the dark brown walls. “I live in that big brown place.”

“Oh. The lodge. It looks cool. Can I come see it sometime?”

His mouth was dry. He should have brought a bottle of water with him. He tipped his shoulder. “I don’t care.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you homeschool?”

“No.”

She reached out and gripped the shoulder of his coat and tugged until he was leaned out over the water. Then she pointed at the sky. “See that line of smoke?”

David swallowed.

“That’s my house. Lived here for six months and the lake is my favorite part.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never seen you at school.”

“I go to school in Laver.” Or he did. Before. It seemed every part of his life was dissected into before the accident and after. He was a science project gone wrong.

“Laver has a big deal about basketball, don’t they? My older brother plays. Says he wants to transfer there.”

He nodded. “But River Rock has science. I might even go there when I’m in high school.”

She smiled again and David’s heart did a little flop. “You like science, too?”

His hands were sweaty but he didn’t know why. “Uh-huh.”

She kept looking at him and he wasn’t sure if it meant he was supposed to say more or what. David chewed the inside of his cheek. “Did you catch a fish?”

“Not today, but I usually do.”

He nodded, kicked at the snow.

“You fish?”

“Uh.” He could just say yes. “I’m really not good at it.”

She shrugged and turned to face her gear, and when she did, one of the braids sailed over her shoulder. “So, I could teach you. I mean, first, you shouldn’t throw rocks in the water.”

He blinked.

Her chin jutted out. “That’s a joke.”

“Oh.”

“I have to get home, but if you want, we can meet down here tomorrow. School’s already cancelled. Woo-hoo.” She pumped her fist when she said the last part and David realized he was smiling.

“Okay. What time?”

Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her finger against her chin. “Hmm. Late morning maybe. I’d say early, but it’s too cold then. Let’s meet around ten. Okay?”

“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to do, so he turned and headed home. A few feet away from her he stopped. “What’s your name?”

She was still watching him. Was she going to watch him walk all the way down the water’s edge?

“I’m Anastasia, but everyone calls me Stacey. Or Stace. My grandmother calls me Stasia. But she’s the only one.”

He frowned. “What do you like to be called?”

Her head tilted, curiosity on her face. “I don’t know. I’ve never been asked that. I’ll think about it and tell you tomorrow.”

David nodded and turned away from her. Girls were weird. Hands in his pockets, he started strolling back to the lodge. He had a lot to think about.

The light knock on his door pulled Jeremiah’s attention from the guardianship paperwork in front of him. The documents were pretty straightforward and simple—in fact, the most easily read documents he’d ever seen from an attorney’s office. Still, he stared at each of them for extended stretches of time, as if more instructions would magically appear before his eyes. He’d done this for all of the sixteen days since he’d met with Wilson and Gray in Granger’s office. Another winter storm had dumped a ton of snow and marooned them at the lodge. Not that he was complaining. He let Gray have her space and plenty of time with David. Meanwhile, his own relationship with David was coming along. His relationship with Gray was another story.

“Can I come in?” Gray leaned her weight on the doorjamb, putting up a nonchalant front. He didn’t buy it; she was ready to bring out the claws and draw blood on a moment’s notice, but hey, he’d give her props for trying. They were civil to one another. She’d gone back to working with Caleb in the daytime hours and helping to burn dinners in the evenings. But there was always an underlying something that suggested she could grab David and run off. Or maybe snap. He’d remodeled the room he stayed in, replacing the drafty window with one he’d previously purchased, making it more livable since Gray didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go. And honestly, he wasn’t in a huge hurry to get rid of her. But this wasn’t normal life. And he knew normal life was only a snowplow’s work away. That scared him, but they couldn’t remain forever playing “dysfunctional house” with Gray staying on and David ditching school. The whole county had been out of school for the last several days, so that was a plus, but sooner or later, David would have to return to a regular schedule. And Miah didn’t really know how he’d handle being a regular dad with a regular routine.

She knocked again.

“Oh, sorry. I got lost in my thoughts for a second.” He motioned for her to come in. She wore jeans ripped at the knees, a total turn-on for him. He tried to ignore how good she looked. “Where’s David?”

“With Stacey. Those two have been joined at the hip for days, ever since he met her. It’s great, though. I love seeing him with a friend.”

“Yeah, they robbed all the carrots from the fridge to use as snowman noses. But I think they are leaving them outside for the animals. We saw some deer the other day and David was concerned about how they find enough to eat.”

She pulled a chair over so it sat straight across from him. “You look like a man with a lot of questions.”

“I guess I am. Gabriel and Isaiah have the opportunity to come visit us for a few days. Do you think that would be okay?”

“That’s great. They’re your family, Miah. Of course they should come.” Her full-moon eyes stayed firmly on his. “Why would you ask?”

“David. He’s doing well right now and I don’t want to throw another wrench in the machine.”

She touched a hand to his arm. “David will get the chance to meet his uncles. I think it’s great.”

He nodded. “They’ll love him. He’s such an incredible kid. Plus, I’m planning an all-day fishing trip and he can keep me posted on the weather.”

She smiled. “I’m sure he will.”

“Still, I don’t know how—”

Gray leaned closer.

He tapped the document on his lap and stared at the words
Instruction to Guardian of Minor Children of William and Angela Olson
. “How are we supposed to raise our child by someone else’s set of rules?”

He saw the spark in her eye, even though she tried to hide it. Miah leaned forward and snagged her with his gaze. “Before this discussion goes any further, let me make one thing crystal clear. I won’t give up custody of my child. I’m not looking for a way out, Gray. I’m just still searching for some of the answers.”

She practically deflated before him. “What about joint custody?”

“Gray, he’s twelve. I have maybe six years to make up for the time I lost. He’s living with me. It’s not up for debate. I’m just not sure I know how to do that according to someone else’s set of rules.”

“I’ve spent twelve years helping raise him by someone else’s rules.”

“Which is why I need your help now.”

“Or you could consider letting him live with me. Use the time you have when you visit to just have fun with him. Not have to carry all this responsibility. It’s all so new to you.”

“Did you miss that whole statement a few seconds ago?
Never
gonna happen.” In another six years David would be eighteen, an adult going off to college. There was so much Miah’d missed already. But not anymore. He’d cherish every day.

She clenched her teeth, leaned back, and tried to calm down; it was evident in the tilt of her head, the gleam in those silvery eyes. Gray reached out with a slender hand and slipped the paper from his grasp. For the longest time, she stared at it silently. He couldn’t even hear her breathing.

But the words must have become blurry because she batted her eyes, lips quivering, and if Miah wasn’t careful, he’d feel bad, horrible for what she was going through. And if he felt too bad about it, he’d do whatever he could to make her pain stop.

“I know this hurts.” It was all he could say.

She brushed the back of her hand against her left eye. “Like they betrayed me.”

Yeah, he got that. Gray had apparently spent a lifetime having people betray her. Him included.

Suddenly, his hand was on her knee. Denim and the silk of her skin just beneath his touch. “We’ll get through this, Gray. We have to for David.”

She laughed without humor. “He’s all that matters.” She met Miah’s gaze squarely and what he saw there, in her eyes, looking right into the depth of her soul was the question.
But can’t I matter just a little bit too?

Without realizing what he was doing, Miah gripped the front legs of the chair and drew them to him, pulling Gray closer. She came along easily—beings with no fight left in them were that way. Deep inside her, there was a hopelessness. It reached toward him through the veil of pain, tangible enough it could grow legs and walk around. He hadn’t wanted that. He just wanted to get to know his son.

The chair stopped when their knees bumped. He spread his to allow more room and the ability to drag her just a little closer. She looked so lost, so fragile, like a strong wind could lift her and carry her away. Sliding her toward him, Miah was reminded of that thing, that magnetism that had ultimately drawn the two of them together during high school. Gray was the battery and Miah, the jumper cable. They’d been united then and had weathered every storm side by side. It used to make Miah’s girlfriends crazy. “They were all jealous of you,” he mumbled.