Page 15 of Light My Fire

They’d carved out a home in a meadow under the watchful eye of Denali, growing their own food, fishing in the nearby river, raising cattle, pigs, and chickens. Hunting, trapping, making their own clothes, fixing their own vehicles, taking care of themselves in the deepest hollow of winter.

Except for her father’s job as the county sheriff, they might have disappeared off the grid. Her mother was still wary of the government, and frankly, her reasons were well founded.

Especially now.

Alva wore her long, raven-black hair pulled back in a braid and tucked into her jacket as she opened the overhead door to the garage that housed her pickup, their four-wheeler, and their small fleet of snowmobiles.

And, it looked like, Stevie’s old dirt bike. Which Alva wheeled out into the driveway. Her mother had made some modifications—a chain saw attached to the back, a bear gun pouch on the front handlebars. She set it up and headed back to the garage.

When she emerged, she was lugging a runabout tool box, hefting it in both hands.

Stevie slid out of the truck and ran toward her. “Ma. You're going to hurt yourself.” Stevie grabbed one end of the heavy box.

Her mother grabbed the other, not a word about Stevie’s sudden appearance until they’d set down the box by the bike. “Want some coffee?” She motioned to a thermos parked on the roughhewn steps to the house.

Stevie poured coffee into the thermos top and watched as her mother clamped a fuel line. “Why—”

“The four-wheeler’s got a flat. I need to take the tire in to get it repaired, but until then, I need something to get around in the woods.” She grabbed the vent tube and let the fuel drain into an old laundry soap bottle. “I need to replace the fuel line. It’s been sitting too long.”

No mention as to why, but of course, Stevie hadn’t ridden the bike for…well, she knew the math.

Silence as the fuel glugged out. Alva fished through the tool box. “I can’t find the pliers.”

“Did you look on the tool bench? Dad used to keep his everyday tools in that coffee can—” Stevie set the cup down.

Her mother looked up at her, something of a stripped look on her face, and Stevie wanted to grab her words back. Of course her mother would have used the pliers since her dad went away…

But Alva just sat back on her haunches, staring at the fuel line.

Stevie got up, unable to bear the weight of responsibility that crested across Alva’s face. To be alone in the wilderness for three years—what if she’d fallen or gotten sick or couldn’t dig herself out of a snowstorm or—

More what-ifs. Stevie gulped for breath even as she headed into the garage. The reek of oil and gasoline embedded the walls, the packed-dirt floor, and the memories rose, haunting. Her father standing at the table along the wall, sorting through his collection of screws for just the right one. The sparks off his welder as he repaired a snowmobile tread, an axle to one of their four-wheelers. The curl of steam from his coffee always perched on the sawhorse near the door.

Stevie, hand me that Allen wrench.

She found the pliers in the coffee can. Held them in her grip for a long moment. Grimy. Worn. Heavy.

“I try not to move anything,” her mother said. Stevie turned, and Alva stood at the door, her arms wrapped around her waist. “When he comes back, he’ll have a lot to do. I can’t keep up with everything.”

Stevie didn’t know what to say. Except, “I’m sorry, Ma, I—”

“Stop.” Her mother held up her hand. And Stevie waited for it—“It’s not your fault.”

But it didn’t come. Instead, “I forgive you, Stevie.”

She stared at her mother, the words like a hand curling around her heart, squeezing. “I…”

“You didn’t want to listen to your father—I get that. More than you know. But I know you’re sorry about…well, it was just an unfortunate accident.”

Yes, but that wasn’t the worst part. “I was angry. Embarrassed. Horrified.”

Alva said nothing.

“But I shouldn’t have been the one to arrest him. It’s just—I didn’t want Nate to do it. And…”

“And you wanted to prove that you didn’t need your dad protecting you.”

Stevie ran her thumb along the pliers.

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