Page 7 of Force of Nature

Back at the firepit,I arranged the logs in a tripod configuration over the kindling. While I got the fire started, Willow tackled the food. I watched her reach into the food bag—specifically designed to hide the scent of whatever’s inside—and pull out the foil packets for tonight’s meal. I forced myself not to step in when she struggled with setting up the line for the pulley system that would raise the bag at least twelve feet off the ground. By the time she succeeded in bear-proofing our food stores, I had the fire going strong.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said. It was then that I noticed she’d changed out of her swimsuit into a T-shirt and shorts.

“You do that,” I said. “I’m gonna change.”

I zipped myself into my single-person tent, taking advantage of the momentary privacy for a quick mental reset. After a series of deep, grounding breaths, I swapped my trunks for a pair of cargo shorts. When I emerged from the tent, Willow had dinner cooking over the fire. I filtered water from a nearby stream and refilled our bottles while she worked, watching the sun sink below the tops of the trees.

We ate dinner by the fire as the shadows deepened around us.

“This is good,” I said, spearing a chunk of steak with my fork. “You’re going to be the most popular person in your suite.”

“What do you mean?”

“At college. Your dorm suite has its own kitchen. You’ll have a meal plan, of course, but I bet you’ll want to make your own food occasionally.”

“Right.”

Willow stared into the campfire, her expression blank. I wasn’t blind. I’d noticed a long time ago that she wasn’t all that excited about going away to school.

I decided to keep trying.

“I know change can be scary, but college is the best. You’ll make new friends and take interesting classes. The whole world is going to open up to you.” I felt another jolt of anxiety at the thought of her out in the world, unprotected, but I worked my ass off to hide it.

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a sigh. “I just keep thinking that I don’t actually need to move all the way across the country for that. I could get the same experience a few hours from home.”

I nodded. “Sure, but the college you’re going to has the program you want. It’s one of the best schools in the country.”

It was hard to force those words out of my mouth and not just because I was concerned about her safety. The thought of putting Willow on a plane and not seeing her again for three months was devastating. But I didn’t want her to wake up one day and resent me for not pushing her to be independent.

“I guess so,” she said, still unconvinced. “It’s justsofar away.”

“Think of it as an opportunity to spread your wings.”

I won’t hold you back.That’s what I wanted to tell her, but why should she believe me when I’d been holding on too tightly for the past eighteen years? Encouraging her to move away for college was my way of making amends. I wasn’t going to be around forever; she needed to be able to stand on her own. It would be good for both of us—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Part of being a good parent was making tough choices, even when those choices broke your heart.

For now, I let the subject drop. College and independence could wait. We were together now, under the stars, in one of our favorite national parks. That called for a celebration.

I got up to retrieve the s’mores supplies from the food bag. When I came back to the fire and saw Willow’s bright smile, I knew I’d made the right call.

“I don’t know about you,” I said. “But I could definitely use a sugar fix after all that walking.”

“I’ll get the sticks!” She practically sprinted to the brush pile.

Mentally patting myself on the back, I laid out the ingredients and began opening packages. This kind of thing was exactly why we were here. After today’s terrible weirdness, we needed to feel normal.

I kept the conversation light as we made the s’mores and ate them. When I’d had my fill of toasted marshmallows, I considered turning in. But Willow was wide awake, gazing up at the stars with a look of satisfaction.

“Remind me which one that is again,” I said, pointing to a T-shaped grouping of stars. I knew the answer. At the tender age of six, my daughter was already a budding astronomer. That’s how our camping tradition started, with me promising to take her places where she could see the Milky Way.

“That’s Cygnus,” she said. “And there’s Pegasus, and that bright star over there isn’t a star. It’s Jupiter.”

I should’ve been watching the sky, but instead I found myself captivated by my daughter’s features. By the apples of her cheeks and rose-pink lips. Her wide, probing eyes. I was struck speechless by a sharp sense of loss. When had she changed from the curious little girl I used to carry on my shoulders into this bright young woman? With each second that passed, she wasn’t just growing up. She was slipping through my fingers.

“Well, well, well. Would you believe it, boys, we’ve found our old friends.”

My whole body went rigid at the sound of the familiar needling voice. I instinctively reached for Willow’s hand as Duke and his men emerged from the trees like my worst nightmare come to life.

The fear in Willow’s eyes struck me somewhere primal. My daughter was terrified. I had to do something, but what could I do against four men? First, I needed to stay calm and avoid escalating the situation. Then I could come up with a plan.

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