Page 17 of Tusk's Fury

I’m not an idiot, so I know that traveling with this much cash is dangerous. I don’t flash it when I buy things and fill my gas tank, nor do I talk to strangers, and I lock my car and sleep in well-lit public places that are open twenty-four hours. It’s exhausting, but I just need to make it from A to B safely.

It takes me five days to get to Washington from my eastward trek. This is turning out to be much harder than I ever imagined it would be. By the time I roll into Seattle, I’m wiped out. I take a short nap and press on, trying to stay as hydrated as possible. I make it to Bellingham and catch the thirty-six-hour ferry to Alaska, arriving in Dutch Harbor. I had to bribe the ferry conductor to travel without ID. It cost a good chunk of change, but it was worth it.

Finally, in Alaska, I rent a room with cash. I’ve been safe for five years, I know returning to my hometown was risky—even if no one recognized me, I’m going to show up on the radar—but I just hope I’ve done enough to disappear again. Surely, they wouldn’t think to look for me all the way in Alaska, especially when I led them east? I fall into bed, and don’t get back up for fourteen hours. When I do, I feel jet-lagged even though I didn’t fly. I prowl around the port town of Dutch Harbor. I filled up my gas tank before getting on the ferry, so I don’t need to worry about that. I’m tired of eating junk food, so I find a small restaurant and settle down for a warm meal. As I eat, reality hits me that I’m all alone. I don’t know a single soul in Alaska. It’s just me and my unborn child. I miss Tusk like crazy. I know I shouldn’t because he went back to his ex-wife, and it’s not appropriate to miss another woman’s man.

I try to throw my conflicted feelings about Tusk into a little box in the back of my head alongside all the other boxes, like the one that carries memories of being raised in the church. And the one from when I was a Mormon teen who liked to listen to my grandparents talk about old-fashioned gazing parties, where young people met—under strict supervision, of course—and talked, sang, and read the word of God while they also looked at each other with an eye to marrying.

Halfway through my meal, memories come flooding back of what my father tried to do to me, and I lose my appetite. Some small part of my brain realizes that’s why I stopped at the Savage Legion MC clubhouse that night five years ago. There, I could at least choose my own partners. And if I’m being totally honest, I wanted to defile myself to the point that no one in my parents’ church would ever want me again. Only then would I be truly safe.

I shove myself up from the table, pay my bill, and walk out into the chilly night air. Forcing the memories away, I walk along the coastline for a few miles and back again to clear my head. Anchorage is eight hundred miles away, and I can drive there using the Alaska Marine Highway. Only this time, I can at least rent hotels along the way. It will give me a chance to recover a bit before I hit Anchorage and begin looking for work, and a place to stay. It’s a good plan, and I’ve made it this far. Now, if I can just manage to wake up without a bout of morning sickness, I might be able to make some headway on getting settled. I’ll make a life for my baby and me one way or another. I’m clever and resourceful, after all.

Chapter 7

Brittany

Six And A Half Months Later

Irub my hands over my belly. Since I’m trying to fly under the radar and be as safe as possible, I’ve opted for a home birth. My midwife shoos my hands away to place a stethoscope against my belly. She listens intently as I stand quietly. I know the drill. We’ve been doing this every week for the last six months.

My anxiety finally drops down a notch when I see her smile. “Your child has a nice, strong heartbeat.”

“So, is everything okay?”

My Native American midwife is certified and well-experienced and has delivered numerous healthy babies in her twenty years. She stands back up from her bent position and loops the stethoscope back around her neck. She’s wearing light blue scrubs topped with a brightly colored knitted cardigan. Her smiling face says it all. I laugh when she helps me smooth my shirt back down.

“Everything is fine. Your baby might be small, but they’re strong. Based on measurements, the baby weighs close to six pounds. This is a thriving weight for a baby. You are due any day now.”

We talk for a while longer about the birthing process we have planned. Instead of going to an approved birthing center, I’ve elected to have my baby at home.

“I read through the material you left and have been taking it easy, trying to stay hydrated, eating healthy foods, and taking warm baths to help me relax,” I say.

“You would be less anxious if the father were here to support you.”

This is the first time she’s brought up the father of my child in any meaningful way. It catches me by surprise.

I tell her, “Unfortunately, he’s totally out of the picture. I only have myself to rely upon.”

“There are many eligible bachelors in this area. Many would be happy with a ready-made family.”

I look into her wrinkled face and have to smile. She’s seventy and has the highest success rate for live births in the whole state.

“Are you perhaps a matchmaker as well as a midwife?”

She cackles with laughter and begins packing up her stuff. “No, but that would be the perfect side hustle for me. Did I say that right?”

I nod. “Yeah, side hustles are still a thing. But I don’t want a man. I’ll be doing well to take care of myself and my child.”

“As you wish, Brittany. Call me when you feel your first contraction. Don’t wait. The roads are not always clear. That means I need time to arrange a helicopter.”

“I’ll call you right away,” I promise.

At first, I thought it was weird how many choppers do light duty in this area, then I realized that it’s more out of necessity than convenience.

After she leaves, I start fussing with my little cabin on the frozen lake, trying to make it as comfortable as possible. Clara told me it’s called nesting.

Yeah, I’ve been talking to Clara again. I wanted to cut off everyone I knew from the Savage Legion, but Clara has been good to me. She doesn’t deserve for me to go no-contact with her.

I fuss around with my bed, making it cozy. Then I stoke my fire and add another log. I’m using smaller logs because they are easier to lift. That means I need to bank the fire down more frequently. I have electric heat, but I like to use the fireplace. It makes the whole cabin feel warm and tranquil.

---