Page 1 of Force of Nature

Chapter1

Willow

The scentof spruce and sagebrush filled my lungs as I stood in the knee-high river, resisting the lazy pull of the current around my legs. There was something satisfying about withstanding the water’s sluggish tug. I hadn’t bothered to remove my trail shoes or to roll up my hiking tights; the late-summer heat would take care of the lingering dampness quickly enough.

My dad paused beside me.

“Don’t quit on me now,” he said. “Mr. Bubbles is waiting.”

I rolled my eyes at his attempt at a joke but couldn’t suppress my smirk. Our goal for the afternoon was a natural hot spring called Mr. Bubbles and I was looking forward to a relaxing soak.

Dad continued toward the riverbank, but I caught the peaceful smile on his face. He appreciated the scenery just as much as I did. It’s why we kept coming back to Yellowstone National Park every summer, year after year. Not only for the beauty and grandeur, but for the chance to escape the constant hum of city life and reconnect with nature, as well as each other.

We’d parked at the ranger station two mornings ago and spent the past couple of nights at different campsites along the trail. We’d been hiking for most of the day today. Both of us were in excellent shape from living active lives, but three straight days of walking—sometimes on uneven terrain—can make anyone’s muscles sore.

I met my dad on the bank of the river where he was putting his socks and shoes back on.

“Do you need a break, Willow?” he asked, now with genuine concern.

It was tempting to roll my eyes at him again, but I held back. Dad could be overprotective at times, but I knew that his need to control stemmed from a place of love. He just wanted me to be safe and happy. When I was younger, it drove me crazy. At eighteen years old, I had a better perspective. My dad didn’t set out to raise me on his own, but then my mom died in childbirth. It’d been the two of us from the very beginning.

Of course, that’s what made this trip so bittersweet. It was set to be our last hiking trip before I left for college. As soon as we got back home, I would only have a few short weeks to prepare for the cross-country move that would separate me from my dad for the first time ever.

I hadn’t planned to attend college so far away, but my dad insisted. He said he wanted me to be independent. I couldn’t help wondering if part of him wanted a little bit of breathing room for himself. He hadn’t dated in years and didn’t go out much on his own. Maybe he was just waiting for me to move out so that he could start living his life.

Of course, he’d never explicitly said anything to make me think this way, but I knew it couldn’t have been easy raising me on his own. Even a well-behaved kid was a big responsibility for one person to shoulder. If anything, my good grades and lack of an arrest record were a testament to his parenting. Which is why I agreed to apply to colleges on the east coast. My dad had sacrificed a lot to be there for me while I was growing up. How ungrateful would I have to be to insist on going to a local college so I could continue living at home?

I was going to miss him though, so much.

“I don’t need a break,” I said, adjusting my backpack so that the straps were no longer digging into my shoulders. “Let’s go. I want to soak in the hot spring for as long as possible.”

I started off down the trail, with him trekking behind. I knew that he’d stay close. We’d never been separated on one of these hikes before, but we always had a plan in place in case it happened. In the event that we somehow managed to lose each other, we were to head for the old fire tower just north of Douglas Knob Meadow. The fire tower was unmaintained and closed for public use, but it was tall enough to be seen for miles, which made it the perfect meeting spot.

The trail took us past gorgeous waterfalls and gurgling pools of steaming water. It didn’t matter how many times we hiked here, the scenery never got old. I could still be moved to tears by the vibrant colors of a sunset.

About half a mile from the hot spring, we veered from the main trail onto the well-trodden path that would take us to Mr. Bubbles. On the way, we passed more pools of water, some of them colorful in a way that seemed almost unnatural. Vibrant blues, deep oranges, and golden yellow rings lined the edges of the pools. I could feel the scalding heat rising from them, though we were careful not to get too close. A breeze blew in from the forest around us, tousling the fine auburn hairs that had escaped my ponytail.

When Mr. Bubbles finally came into view, I couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. A glance at my dad confirmed that he was just as pleased to have reached our destination.

Most of the hot springs in Yellowstone were too hot or too acidic to soak in, but Mr. Bubbles wasn’t technically a spring so much as a natural pool where the hot spring mixed with cool river water, turning it into nature’s perfect hot tub. The pool was large enough to comfortably fit at least thirty people, but there was no one else in sight. We had the place to ourselves for now.

We wasted no time moving to the pool’s edge and dropping our packs. Knowing that we were planning to hit up the hot spring today, I’d put on my black two-piece swimsuit under my clothes this morning. Dad had apparently done the same, I noted, as he stripped off his clothes to reveal blue swim trunks underneath.

The first time we came here, I was so cautious. Dad had made sure to stress that Yellowstone could be dangerous; people had died swimming in hot springs. Mr. Bubbles got its name from the bubbles gurgling up from the natural steam vent in the center of the pool. Back then, I’d held my hand over the surface of the water to test the heat before dipping a finger in to make sure it was safe.

This time, I headed straight into the water with confidence, though careful of my footing. Mr. Bubbles was only a few feet deep, but I still didn’t want to risk slipping on a moss-covered rock. I picked my way toward one side of the pool where I knew I’d be able to see the thermal feature that poured additional hot water into the area. Scalding water fell in a foamy sheet over rocks before streaming into the main pool.

I settled into a comfortable spot that was just the right temperature for me and allowed myself to relax. My dad let out a satisfied groan as he claimed a spot closer to the bubbling center. His strawberry-blond hair looked even lighter in direct sunlight. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back with a smile that convinced my own lips to curve.

We were different here—not that we weren’t happy back at home. But something about being in the wilderness changed our behavior. I became less anxious and more spontaneous. I walked with a spring in my step. Dad became more contemplative and introspective, almost withdrawn. I didn’t mind the stretches of quiet. We understood each other well enough without having to use words. Out here we were just animals, no different from the elk and bison we spotted along the trail.

Dad stretched into a back float, letting his arms and legs drift lazily in the shallow water. I liked seeing him relax. He worked hard in his professional life as an arborist for the city of Walla Walla, Washington, where we lived. As my gaze trailed down the length of his body, my attention lingered over the muscled planes of his chest and stomach. Climbing trees was certainly one way to stay in shape.

He noticed me staring and lifted his head.

“What is it?” he asked.

I glanced away, embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught me watching him since we arrived in Yellowstone. I didn’t know what it was about this trip, but I found myself feeling restless. Part of me wanted something from him that I couldn’t put words to. Some kind of unspoken acknowledgement, a sign that he was going to miss having me around. I knew if I asked him, he would’ve said,Of course I’m gonna miss you, kiddo, right before launching into a hype speech about how much I’m going to love being on my own.

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