Nick, not because of what he was, but because of who he was—to me.
Snow began to fall again, huge, fat flakes that dotted the windshield and overlaid the gauzy night beyond.
I was staring blindly at that night, wondering how on earth—indeed, on earth—this could ever end okay, when Nick took my hand and leaned near me, speaking softly in my ear. “I'm sorry for this. So sorry.”
I wanted to ask what exactly he was sorry for, but I could hear Vera stir behind us, and anyway, we were getting near downtown, so Nick had to focus on other things.
The foothills rolled around us, bathed in bright starlight that lent the falling snow an ethereal glow. I stared through it, at the ice-crusted firs, remembering the last time Dad and I made this trip—six days before Christmas 2008. That was the last year he’d been able to grow his winter beard.
The way I remembered it, the worn road would take us through a quaint community and over a small river. Once you crossed the river, storefronts became sparser, and the slim ribbon of asphalt led you south down 89, to the historic, brick archway that marked the north entrance to Yellowstone.
I battled feelings of painful nostalgia; this was the first time I’d been back, and the familiar slant of the mountains brought tears to my eyes. I tried to fight my anxiety, too. Nick seemed confident we were safe.
It was harder because he hadn’t explained how. And even if we were safe—it was temporary, unless Vera blew the whistle again and called the summons off. I didn’t think she would.
The worst part, the absolute killer, was not knowing when they were coming. ‘The Rest.’ What if I never saw Mom again? Or Halah or Bree or S.K.? Did the Mackris family even know about their cabin yet?
I actually smiled a bit when I wondered, because it was the least important thing I could have wondered. The whole world was going to be that cabin if Nick couldn’t convince Vera to blow that whistle.
I didn't want to talk to Nick in front of her, but I didn’t think I could stand not knowing anything any longer. Everything—literally everything —was hanging in the balance, and the longer I thought about that, the more confused I felt.
Didn’t I have an obligation to every other person on the planet? Shouldn’t I be Paul Revere? I glanced at Nick and felt how awful it would be. But even if it would be awful—even if he was the Nick I thought he was, and everything was innocent and genuine and true where he and I were concerned—I was nothing to Vera, and humanity was nothing to Vera. And the rest of Nick’s people?
I took a deep breath, because that’s what Dr. Sam had taught me to do if my thoughts started going to dark places. And they were. I wanted to disappear out of existence, or fall asleep and never wake up, because I simply couldn’t stand the wondering.
The town of Gardiner was all around us now. Lots of oversized shutters on big windows, swinging doors painted cowboy red, celebrity-dressing-room style light bulbs around windows that said things like, “Town Café-Casino” and “Reds Blue Goose Saloon.”
My gut clenched when we passed a little Sinclair gas station and I spotted a police cruiser next to a pump. I thought I might pass out when it pulled behind us.
“It’s okay,” Nick said, but I could hear the shortness in his otherwise even tone.
“We need to get across the bridge,” I said, breathless. “I think this is the—” right road. I trailed off when I spotted the bridge, just beyond a traffic light. I glanced in my side mirror, in time to see the cop turn off onto a side street. “Thank you, God.”
In the back, Vera was slumped against the rearmost window, sleeping or pretending to. She seemed completely unperturbed by the danger we were just in—but to her one cop was hardly dangerous.
It took us another few minutesto reach the park entrance, during which a thick fog rolled in on the road. It looked about knee-high by the time we reached
Snow began to fall again, huge, fat flakes that dotted the windshield and overlaid the gauzy night beyond.
I was staring blindly at that night, wondering how on earth—indeed, on earth—this could ever end okay, when Nick took my hand and leaned near me, speaking softly in my ear. “I'm sorry for this. So sorry.”
I wanted to ask what exactly he was sorry for, but I could hear Vera stir behind us, and anyway, we were getting near downtown, so Nick had to focus on other things.
The foothills rolled around us, bathed in bright starlight that lent the falling snow an ethereal glow. I stared through it, at the ice-crusted firs, remembering the last time Dad and I made this trip—six days before Christmas 2008. That was the last year he’d been able to grow his winter beard.
The way I remembered it, the worn road would take us through a quaint community and over a small river. Once you crossed the river, storefronts became sparser, and the slim ribbon of asphalt led you south down 89, to the historic, brick archway that marked the north entrance to Yellowstone.
I battled feelings of painful nostalgia; this was the first time I’d been back, and the familiar slant of the mountains brought tears to my eyes. I tried to fight my anxiety, too. Nick seemed confident we were safe.
It was harder because he hadn’t explained how. And even if we were safe—it was temporary, unless Vera blew the whistle again and called the summons off. I didn’t think she would.
The worst part, the absolute killer, was not knowing when they were coming. ‘The Rest.’ What if I never saw Mom again? Or Halah or Bree or S.K.? Did the Mackris family even know about their cabin yet?
I actually smiled a bit when I wondered, because it was the least important thing I could have wondered. The whole world was going to be that cabin if Nick couldn’t convince Vera to blow that whistle.
I didn't want to talk to Nick in front of her, but I didn’t think I could stand not knowing anything any longer. Everything—literally everything —was hanging in the balance, and the longer I thought about that, the more confused I felt.
Didn’t I have an obligation to every other person on the planet? Shouldn’t I be Paul Revere? I glanced at Nick and felt how awful it would be. But even if it would be awful—even if he was the Nick I thought he was, and everything was innocent and genuine and true where he and I were concerned—I was nothing to Vera, and humanity was nothing to Vera. And the rest of Nick’s people?
I took a deep breath, because that’s what Dr. Sam had taught me to do if my thoughts started going to dark places. And they were. I wanted to disappear out of existence, or fall asleep and never wake up, because I simply couldn’t stand the wondering.
The town of Gardiner was all around us now. Lots of oversized shutters on big windows, swinging doors painted cowboy red, celebrity-dressing-room style light bulbs around windows that said things like, “Town Café-Casino” and “Reds Blue Goose Saloon.”
My gut clenched when we passed a little Sinclair gas station and I spotted a police cruiser next to a pump. I thought I might pass out when it pulled behind us.
“It’s okay,” Nick said, but I could hear the shortness in his otherwise even tone.
“We need to get across the bridge,” I said, breathless. “I think this is the—” right road. I trailed off when I spotted the bridge, just beyond a traffic light. I glanced in my side mirror, in time to see the cop turn off onto a side street. “Thank you, God.”
In the back, Vera was slumped against the rearmost window, sleeping or pretending to. She seemed completely unperturbed by the danger we were just in—but to her one cop was hardly dangerous.
It took us another few minutesto reach the park entrance, during which a thick fog rolled in on the road. It looked about knee-high by the time we reached
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