Page 71 of Harper

I go through the motions of working, of sleeping, of eating, but I’m not really here. I’m tired and sad. I’m hormonal and alone. If I wasn’t expecting a child, I’d run away. I’d run so far away from everything here, I don’t know how I’d ever find my way home again.

I knew the ramifications of my decision all those years ago, of course. I knew that Joe and I were finished the moment I signed Raven over to the Calvins. I knew that any possible chance of a future together was destroyed.

He will never forgive me, trust me, or love me again as long as he lives. I’m certain of that.

But I’m also keeping our baby—this baby, and I’m positive, once he cools down, Joe will want to be a part of our child’s life. I have no idea how to co-parent with someone who despises me so thoroughly, but we have months to figure out a solution; I don’t need to think about that right now.

I have other things on my mind today—specifically, the fact that a single mother needs a support network, and because I don’t have Joe, I’m going to need my family.

It happens to be a rare evening when we’re all here—well, except for Tanner, who’s in Haines overnight with McKenna—I’ve decided it’s time for me to spill the beans. All the beans. Every last bean right down to the one growing in my tummy right this minute.

“Pass the potatoes,” says Sawyer to Reeve.

As she does, Reeve turns to Dad, who’s sitting on her other side. “How was today’s Hike and Float?”

“Ask Parker,” says Dad with a chuckle.

Parker takes a long, dramatic breath and sighs. “Five teenage boys all trying to dunk me in the Taiya River for two straight hours!”

“Pshaw! You loved it.”

“Lies!” cries Parker. “I did not, Dad. Two of them were almost as big as me.”

“Well, I would have loved it,” says Reeve, pouring herself a glass of water. She holds up a pitcher. “Anyone else?”

“Refill your Paw-Paw, dear,” says Gran, sliding his glass to Reeve.

“Water’s for bathing,” announces Paw-Paw.

“Tell that to your Gerd.”

“Beers and Brawls was fine,” Hunter says to Reeve. “Thanks for asking.”

“Beers and Brawls is always fine,” says Reeve.

“Sassypants.”

My youngest sibling sticks out her tongue at my oldest sibling, and they both laugh. Then everyone tucks into dinner, and it’s suddenly quiet.

It’s time.

I put down the fork I’ve been playing with and clear my throat. Gran, sitting to my left, looks at me, raising her eyebrows. I smile at her weakly, and as though she knows I have something to say, she places her fork and knife on the side of her plate, then nods at me to go ahead.

“Hey, everyone…I just wanted to…um…”

They all look up at me, in various stages of eating, chewing, swallowing, or drinking. But like Gran, they seem to understand that something important is about to be said, and they give me their attention.

“What’s up, Harper?” asks my dad.

“Um.” I reach for my water glass and take a quick sip. “Yeah. I need to talk to all of you.”

“I’d wager it’s important?”

“It is.”

My father looks around the busy dining room, where four other tables are full. Our guests are having dinner, too. Sometimes we get interrupted during meals—our guests stop by our table with general questions about Alaska or to reconfirm the tour they booked for tomorrow—but right now, blessedly, everyone appears to be involved in their own families’ affairs and conversations.

“Go on,” he says.

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