Page 23 of Aftershock's Fury

He picks up the helmet and moves to put it on me.

“I can do that. Why do I have a full face helmet?”

“Because I want to protect you completely.” He smirks before I allow him to put the helmet on me. I look up when he cinchesthe straps under my chin. “You have Bluetooth so we can talk as we go along.”

“Thank you.”

He closes the front opening, enclosing my face behind the shield. Crue slips on his helmet next. I spot the mic and earpiece built into it. Climbing onto his bike, he holds out his hand for me. Once I’m settled behind him, he pulls me closer, his hand resting on my thigh. The engine roars to life, and I lean against the backrest bar.

“You good?” His voice comes through the helmet.

“Yep, let’s go. Where are you taking me?”

“How would you like to go up to Hatcher’s Pass? We can’t go across to Willow yet, but we can go up to the mine and check it out.”

“Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

I practically bounce in my seat as he turns us around, and we take off down the driveway. He heads out, and we turn onto Parks Highway, heading south into Wasilla. Music plays through the Bluetooth, but I’m enjoying holding tight to him as he weaves through the Saturday traffic.

He turns onto Main Street, and I’m excited. He’s taking Wasilla Fishhook Road out. The two-lane road winds through neighborhoods, and I look around at how much has changed in the ten years I’ve been gone. Some of the fields I remember are now dotted with houses. I’m fascinated by the two-track trail running alongside the road, reserved for four-wheelers and off-road vehicles that aren’t allowed on the paved roads.

It’s striking how, here in Alaska, you can have a brand-new expensive framed house right next to an original log cabin that looks like it’s been standing since pioneer days. He takes the corners, and I lean with him as we move deeper into the Alaskan wild. The trees shade us from the sun as we get farther along.

As we pass Seldon Road, which has a gas station and corner store that weren’t there when I was a kid, I spot cars and trucks. Some are hauling machines or four-wheelers on trailers, others with hikers, all enjoying the beautiful, warm June day.

“You know, if you head that way on Seldon, go to Church, then out to Pittman, you can get to my house.” He points to our left.

“No. I didn’t know that.”

I love that he’s pointing out facts like that to me.

“There’s a gated community back there.” He points to our right a little while later.

“I remember when I was little, Daddy used to take us on day trips, just exploring back here or even heading up the Glenn for fun.”

“Yeah, I occasionally like to get away and do that too. We should take a trip to Seward or Kenai one of these weekends.”

“I’d love that.”

His hand returns to my thigh and gives it a squeeze. A little bit later he points, and I look over to see a moose lying in the shade. I smile behind my helmet, loving that the moose doesn’t care that we are right here. We are invading his space, not the other way around.

Finally, we reach the end of Wasilla Fishhook, and he hangs a left onto Willow Fishhook Road, heading toward Hatcher’s Pass. This area has really grown. Small roadside café, gas stations, and even more expensive houses line the route as we get closer. We ride alongside the rushing river, and I can’t stop myself. I hold open my arms, wishing I could feel the wind and chill of the air against my face. Crue chuckles and rubs a hand along my knee. I wrap my arms around him again, resting my helmet against his back as I watch the white water next to us.

Traffic has picked up as people head down the valley and tourists pull out of the pull-offs. We pass the old boarded-upboarding house and take a sharp left into the pass. The gate, which is sometimes closed in winter due to avalanches, is, of course, open. I feel a change in the air that energizes me. There are several tight turns and corners. Hikers are parked along the roadside, but Crue has only one thought and keeps heading up to the large parking lot. He pulls into a spot among the other weekend visitors, kicks down the stand, and shuts off the bike.

Crue holds out his hand, and I take it as I climb off. My legs are shaky, and he makes sure I’m steady before he dismounts and takes me in his arms. He pulls off his helmet, then works on getting mine off. As soon as the wind and chill in the air hits my face, I tremble.

“Here, babe.” He slips his heavy leather jacket off and puts it around my shoulders. My body is still acclimated to the Texas heat and not the chill in the high mountains of Alaska.

I turn to look back at the road we climbed, taking in the view. I spot the Knik Arm in the distance. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

Taking a deep breath, I recall every memory and moment I spent here with my dad and mom. Tears spring to my eyes, and Crue pulls me into his arms.

“I knew bringing you here would bring up memories. But I thought it would be okay.”

Aftershock

Ilook into her tear-filled eyes, and my heart clenches. I want to tell her the words I shouldn’t. They’re so true, but I hold them back. Instead, I slide my hand along her cool cheek and lean down to kiss her softly.

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