“Of course!” she replied, knowing that Nathan wouldn’t be able to muster his anger again — not until she gave him another reason to, at least. Proud of her cunning, she hurried after him out the door.
***
An hour of running to and fro later later, Nathan found himself in his neighbor Cynthia’s cabin, sitting in a hand carved oak chair next to the bearded stranger. The man was lying in bed under a sheet, comatose. Earlier, after Emiko had explained the man’s location, a group of four men — including Nathan — had gone out and hastily carried him back to the village.
The man passed air in and out of his lungs in deep, extended breaths, as though he was in the middle of a profound slumber. He didn’t smell of alcohol or appear otherwise ill. Nathan could only wonder why he wouldn’t wake up.
He hoped Cynthia would have an answer. She’d stepped out to get medical supplies from the Co-op, leaving him to watch the man momentarily. Cynthia was Nathan’s next-door neighbor. Her cabin was eerily similar to his — it felt like he was sitting in his own bedroom. His golden tan skin glowed in the sunlight cast through the lone window, just like it would in his own cabin.
The homes in Frontier View had gone up quickly, leaving little time for customized architecture. The people of the then newly settled village worked together, constructing cabins according to family size. Nathan had come with his father and sister, Cynthia had come with her two small children. That had been nearly nine years ago; now only two people lived in Nathan’s cabin. As much as he missed his father, he had to wonder how the three of them would have managed in the small cabin as he and Emiko continued to mature.
He sighed, gazing out the lone bedroom window. Life had changed since their father died — changed considerably. Emiko ran wild now, doing whatever she pleased. Their father had commanded her respect and obedience, but try as he might, Nathan couldn’t get her to listen. This was what … the third time she’d stayed out all night?
Nathan still vividly recalled the last time she tried creeping in after dawn. He had exploded, yelling and screaming at her, but she just brushed it off. “You’re not my father,” she said, like the bratty kid actor from a long gone TV show. He’d always assumed the characters on TV exaggerated the traits of real people; his experience with teenage Emiko suggested otherwise. How would his father have dealt with her? Not that the answer to that question would help. As a mere older brother, he could never match the authority of their father.
Nathan heard the front door open and looked toward the bedroom entrance. A moment later Cynthia appeared in the door frame, with a bundle of medicine jars in her hands. She wore a modest sky blue dress — thin at the waist, unrevealing otherwise. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back and tied in a ponytail. Nathan guessed she was about thirty-five.
“How’s our mystery man holding up?” she said, walking over to the bed.
“No change,” Nathan said. “Still sleeping like a baby.”
Cynthia leaned over and felt the man’s forehead.
“No temperature to speak of,” she noted.
“Any idea what’s wrong with him?” he asked.
“Not the slightest,” she replied. “Not yet, anyway.”
Nathan watched as Cynthia pulled the sheet down, revealing the man’s upper body and his dark plaid shirt that was unraveling at the seams. She felt the man’s wrist, checking his vitals. Cynthia really knows her stuff, Nathan thought. Technically she was only a nurse, but Frontier View considered her the village doctor. She could dress wounds, set bones, relieve flu symptoms — all the important things.
No, she couldn’t work miracles; not that anyone could anymore. Even the best doctors in Duluth had trouble with advanced ailments — a fact Nathan had painstakingly learned. If he could go back in time, to his father’s final days, he would have let his dad spend that time at home with friends and family, rather than within the whitewashed confines of the Duluth General Hospital …
“Earth to Nathan!” Cynthia said, snapping her fingers to get his attention.
“Yeah?” Nathan said as he came out of his daydream, yanking his head back upward.
“I can take it from here,” she said with a smile. “And I bet you still have to give Emiko a piece of your mind.”
“Don’t remind me,” Nathan groaned. Why couldn’t his sister just grow up? He stood up and headed for the door.
“Thanks for your help, Nathan,” Cynthia said.
“Anytime,” he replied, nodding at her as he left the room and made his way out of the cabin.
Was it already late afternoon? The sun had sunk low into the western sky, yet the stifling midsummer heat remained. Nathan looked across the way at the row of cabins. Sometimes it still amazed him that he had gone from growing up in Minneapolis to living a quaint hamlet in the middle of the woods. He had long since realized that life in Frontier View wasn’t better or worse than the hustle and bustle of Minneapolis — just different, though he did occasionally miss the conveniences of the city. He didn’t imagine Frontier View would be implementing a light rail system anytime soon.
He trudged to his cabin, where a confrontation with Emiko awaited. The initial rush of anger had subsided, but it was still his responsibility to try to talk a bit of sense into her. Every time Emiko disappeared, it felt like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Nathan never knew if she had stumbled into trouble or she was just rebelliously gallivanting around the woods.
The cabin door creaked open. On Nathan’s left was the entrance to the bedroom. Behind it in the far corner was a kitchen area. The kitchen extended into the dining and living areas that comprised the right half of the homely cabin. Old family photos and a few pieces of childhood artwork adorned the walls, reminders of the days when Nathan was still an elementary school student in the city.
Emiko sat in the same rocking chair where he’d kept his vigil. She was reading a book from the bookshelf behind it, trying to pretend nothing had happened.
“Hey, sis,” Nathan greeted.
“Hey, how is Beard?” Emiko replied without looking up from her book.
“Beard?” Nathan asked. “That’s what you call him?” His sister was definitely trying to avoid a serious discussion, but he didn’t feel like pushing the issue.
“Well, we don’t know his name,” she said, setting the book on her lap, “so I figured I’d give him a nickname.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. Though the name was oddly endearing …
“You know, ‘Beard’ might blow your head off if he hears you call him that.” He stepped closer to the rocking chair and looked down at Emiko sternly. “It’d save me the trouble.”
Emiko stood up and walked past Nathan.
“What would Mom and Dad think if they saw us now?” she asked, looking at a drawing above the bookcase — a family portrait drawn in crayon, drawn by Emiko many years ago.
“They’d be proud, I’m sure. Happy to see we’re getting by,” Nathan answered. “What do you think?”
“Huh? Since when do you care what I think?” Emiko replied.
“Since … well, since always,” Nathan said. “We’re in this together, right?”
His sister paused to think.
“I think they’d be proud of us, too,” she said.
“Proud of me, at least,” he said with a grin. “I don’t know about you. I mean, look at that drawing — you couldn’t even spell my name correctly.” Wasn’t he supposed to be scolding her? And yet here he was, smiling and joking around. At this rate, he’d never rein in her irresponsible teenage escapades.
“That’s no fair!” Emiko said, glaring at her brother. “By the way, what’s for dinner?”
Does she really think I don’t know what she’s doing? Nathan wondered. He’d let her get away with changing the subject — for now.