Page 21 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

Cooper’s cabin comes into view, and Hunter pulls up next to the silver Ford.

I jump out of his SUV, Cooper’s keys clutched in my fist. “Let me know when I can babysit so you and Petra can go sailing.”

His eyes shine. It’s completely adorable that my big, tough Navy SEAL brother is so completely head over heels for his wife.

He waits for me to start Cooper’s truck before he backs out of the driveway, making enough room for me to go first. At the bottom of Cooper’s road, I wave to Hunter and turn right, towards Soren Lake Lodge. I need to beg our outfitting shop for a quiver of fly rods, plus there’s just enough time to squeak in a few hours on Kodiak Creek before my shift in the dining room.

From McKenzie Pass, I turn down a long gravel road flanked by thick forest, a cloud of dust filling my rearview mirror. After I park in the lot for the lodge, I trot past a row of wheeled luggage carts and the wooden sign blazed with WELCOME TO SOREN LAKE LODGE and take the sandy path toward the house.

When I arrive, Charlie leaps from his dog bed on the porch to greet me while I slide off my shoes.

“Hey, boy.” I stroke his soft head.

I slip him a cookie from my pocket and he snarfs it up, his warm tongue flicking between my fingers. Laughing, I swing the squeaky screen door open and we both slip inside.

The pile of mail I dumped on the side table the other night is still there. Tucked between an Orvis catalogue and Grandma’s weekly audio CD from the library is a narrow package addressed to me from Fish2Forever, one of the nonprofits I support. It feels like a book, or maybe it’s the stack of pamphlets I agreed to distribute around town. I don’t have time to open it now, so I stash it in my room for later.

Grandma’s at the counter making tea, her sleek white hair braided down her back. I hurry over and give her a peck on the cheek, then wash my hands.

“Kettle’s hot if you want a cup,” Grandma says, adding a blob of blackberry honey to her mug and giving it a stir.

“Thanks, I’ll take a thermos.” I lean into the fridge to grab the fixings for a sandwich. “You want to join me?”

A bad hip has curbed her fishing activities these last few years. Though she walks daily, donning hip waders and walking the uneven creek bottoms for hours on end is too much for her, but I invite her anyway.

Grandma smiles, her narrow cheeks rising to pink mounds. “Charlie and I have a date with a patch of huckleberries.” At the mention of his name, Charlie stretches out on his dog bed by the stove and huffs a deep sigh.

“Did you find anything in Granddad’s papers?”

Grandma releases an exasperated huff. “He wasn’t exactly the most organized person.”

“He never talked to you about this mystery claim?”

Grandma shakes her head.

This doesn’t help me, but it’s a starting point.

“I think we need to start preparing ourselves,” Grams says, giving me a look.

I finish making my turkey and cheddar, purposefully avoiding her gaze. Instead of replying, I plan my afternoon, starting with which flies to use. Lately, hex nymphs have been working, but I might try my green caddis. I’ll have to see what bugs are hatching, then go from there.

“Lexie,” she warns.

Time to go. I know what’s coming and I can’t talk about it. “You need me to bring in more wood?”

“There’s plenty,” she replies.

I complete the chore anyway, just to stay in motion. Then I change clothes and grab my gear.

“We can talk later, okay?” I say to Grandma on my way to the door.

Outside, I draw in a long, full breath before hurrying up the trail. The sun heats my shoulders and the breeze carries the coppery-rich scent of the creek.

I don’t want Grandma’s consoling or promises that everything will be okay. She knows as well as I do that a mine in the Soren Creek watershed isn’t just some nuisance. It would jeopardize the entire valley for generations to come. It’s why I have to finish Granddad’s work, and preserve Soren Creek once and for all.

With a fifty-thousand-dollar miracle fund now at my disposal, maybe it’s possible.

The fishing is mediocre this time of day, but it lifts my spirits just the same, and by the time I return home, I’m feeling more hopeful than I have since Monday’s visit to the Alaska Land Office.

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