Page 3 of What We Keep
“Might as well make it official, but I’m still Haven Silver.” I gestured over the rise. “Heartfire Falls, if you recall.”
Elsa’s sharp green eyes studied me, and I wondered what she knew. While I knew her family’s loss, mine was a little messier, and most of it had unraveled after she left town. “Of course I remember you, Haven. We grew up next door to each other.”
The funny part of all this was that even though I had known Elsa and we’d grown up on adjacent properties, she had no clue I’d had a crush on her back in the day. Alaska made it easy to keep your distance from neighbors and accepted distance in a way that maybe other places wouldn’t, even in curious, gossipy small towns.
“I’m moving back home,” she said again.
We both turned to look together at the old foundation. “Here?” I asked, gesturing in an arc toward the spot.
She rolled her eyes when our gazes met again. “Not specifically there. I’m not sure what my plan will be, but I’ll definitely figure it out.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Before I knew what was better for me or even thought this through, I offered, “We have room at the resort. You can stay there if you’d like.”
Her gaze bounced up to mine again. “Oh, wait. Are you rebuilding Heartfire Falls?”
Chapter Three
Elsa
“Haven Silver,” I said aloud in my car.
I knew Haven even though we hadn’t really spent much time together. We’d grown up on the outskirts of the small town of Willow Brook, Alaska, and technically lived next door to each other. Although the concept of next door in Alaska was a little more stretched out than in most places.
The Silver family owned Heartfire Falls Resort, a wilderness and adventure-type place. I’d always been so curious about them. While my family had consisted of my parents and me, the Silver family seemed huge in comparison. Seven siblings: one daughter and six brothers. Although I wouldn’t say we were close, they’d always been nice. All of them.
For years, I’d stayed away from this town until I finally stared down the reality that the only way to banish my ghosts was to storm them. Grief never went away, but sometimes running from it twisted it tighter in your heart.
I glanced in my rearview mirror, taking a glimpse of Haven as I drove away. Even in the objects in mirror may be closer than they appear sort of way, his shoulders were broad against the backdrop of the bright blue sky.
“He’s married,” I murmured to myself in the car as I looked ahead again. I didn’t need to think about Haven Silver being handsome. He had a son who he might as well have chewed up and spit out, they looked so similar.
My car bounced a little over the gravel. Maybe this whole thing of coming home was ridiculous. All that was left of my childhood home were remnants of a foundation.
I remembered reading about the Heartfire Falls Resort burning down in the same fire. Logically, that made sense. Ever since the spruce bark beetle kill claimed swaths of Alaskan forest, fires have kept sweeping through areas. While wildfires were part of life here, clusters of dead, dry trees meant the flames had plenty of fuel. Even then, I’d been shocked when I heard about the wilderness lodge burning up. It had happened maybe five years after we left. I’d assumed it would be rebuilt quickly, but that hadn’t happened. I guess, until now.
Even though my memories of Willow Brook were tangled with loss, I’d always loved the landscape and could never banish my longing for it. The land itself was stitched into my heart.
At the time, I’d needed the change of location when my mom and I moved away. Years later, I still found myself looking up the news in town because I missed it so much. I wondered how far along Haven was in rebuilding the resort and what it would be like. I also wondered about renting a room there. It could be perfect for me.
As it was, Janet—my mom’s old friend, and I suppose everyone’s friend in town—had told me she wished she had a space for me to rent, but she didn’t have anything available. While I had a few friends from my days growing up here, I didn’t have many. We’d lived far enough out of town, and though loving, my father had been offbeat in ways that didn’t invite too many people into our world.
I drove into town, pondering how much I’d missed the area along every mile. For tonight, I was staying at Wildlands Lodge. You’d think my car would be packed to the gills, but all I had was one bag and a tiny crate of clothing, just enough to be ready for winter when it came in a few months.
After checking into my room, I made my way down to the restaurant. It was kind of funny that even though this resort was practically a centerpiece of Willow Brook, I’d only been inside a few times. It had always been a place I was curious about, like so many places.
My dad only ever took us to the grocery store on occasion, the pharmacy, gear stores, and school for me. The rooms here were nice, with big beds piled high with pillows and lots of windows offering beautiful views from all angles. Plush carpets in the hallways softened footfalls. The whole Alaska lodge vibe was strong downstairs, with wide, exposed wooden beams crisscrossing the tall ceilings and polished hardwood floors.
I could hear the murmur of voices spilling down the hallway from the restaurant, and anxiety started to spin inside me. I figured I’d always be a little anxious about social situations. Though I’d loved my dad and missed him a whole lot, his quirks meant “living off the land” was a pretty concrete experience.
The woman at the reception desk smiled at me as I walked by. I slipped past the lobby and into the restaurant, looking around and wondering if I should go to the bar or take a table. I didn’t want to sit at the bar, because then I might be expected to order a drink. It wasn’t that I didn’t drink, it was just that I rarely did.
The host was a tall, lanky man with a bright smile and twinkling eyes. “Hello, hello,” he said. “Where would you like to sit?”
I cleared my throat. “By the windows?”
“You’ve got it.” As we crossed the restaurant, he asked, “What brings you to Willow Brook?”
