And all the nights interrupted by violence knitted themselves together, and my feet were his feet, my heart his heart slamming in his chest, his whole self one impulse, and when I looked away from Dad, his hands still wrapped round the handle of the axe, Jesse was already gone, already on the run again.
22
Outside, our breath made clouds that evaporated soon as they formed and the stars pierced the sky like holes made by the tip of a knife, and we stood, breathing. Watching the house. The silence between us like the silence after an avalanche.
I moved first. Went back inside the shed and scanned the floor, found the Goodwin knife under the bed where I had kicked it when I’d squeezed Jesse’s wrist enough to make him drop it. Then gathered what he would need, a sweater, his coat and hat. His boots. He’d run into the snow with no shoes on, bare chested.
What are you doing?
Dad, stuck in the doorway. Pinned there like a bug on display.
I pulled my own shirt over my head, the front of it wet with blood. Traded it for one of Jesse’s.
I didn’t mean to— Dad run a hand over his face. I thought he was hurting you.
I know, I told him.
He dropped into the chair at the table. A new day dawning inside him, a truth he’d always suspected, ludicrous as it was, something he’d always hid in his own dark corners and never let fully into the light.
None of this is your blood, he said. It wasn’t a question.
What happened? he asked.
So I told him the truth.
I managed all them years to keep the secrets my mother give me. I only ever told them to the one person I thought would understand what it was to stay hid. The one person I thought I was closest to.
I sat on the edge of Jesse’s cot and talked. Started with what was easy enough to explain, how I come to appreciate Jesse more and more, till appreciation grew into something else. Then Jesse’s secret, something him and me could share. Then Hatch, and what Jesse let me think I had done, and what I had aimed to do about it. I followed the path I had laid myself, explained to Dad how I knew what I knew and why I’d been so keen on hunting all my life. I seen how my words landed, how each one struck him like a fist, but I kept talking, there wasn’t no hiding anymore. Hatch hadn’t never showed up, I told Dad, I had chased everyone away from the house for no reason.
Including Helen, he said.
She was there, in his head. He carried her with him the way he carried Mom. And I thought of Mom, with all her secrets, things she’d took with her when she went walking along the highway all them years ago. She never told me in plain words to keep what I done from Dad. But she did teach me that some secrets you keep because you don’t want to hurt the people you love. He suspected, already. Another thought he wouldn’t let himself fully acknowledge. He needed me to say it plain.
So I left that last wall between us. It wouldn’t never come down.
Including Helen, I told him.
But tonight, he said. What happened?
It’s between me and Jesse, I said.
That’s not good enough, he told me but didn’t press on when I stayed silent. He slumped in the chair, his head in his hands, not looking at me. I saw him, he finally said.
I blinked. Jesse?
He shook his head. Mr. Hatch. Down in Anchorage. The ceremonial start. Spotted him in the crowd. I caught up with him before my turn in the chute. Asked after him. Said after he got patched up, he traveled around a spell, wanted to stick around long enough to see the race. Told me he’d be on a plane the next day. Dad put his face in his hands, his words was muffled. He shook my hand. Said he appreciated the help I gave him.
Funny, how after days of feeling everything, I couldn’t feel nothing right then. My whole self numb. I closed my eyes, and watched Helen fall to the ground. Watched her eyes fill with snow.
I have to go, I said, then cleared my throat. Jesse’s already been gone too long. He’ll freeze out there if I don’t go after him.
Dad stood. I’ll do it, he said. He didn’t understand that I hadn’t aimed to end things with Jesse, only to get at the truth in him.
No, I told him. It’s my mess. I’m better at tracking, too. It’ll be faster if I go. Anyway, somebody’s got to be here in case Scott wakes up.
I could see he was sorting through all his arguments for why I ought to be the one to stay behind.
Dad, I said before he could start in. Please.
He still wanted to argue. He took in the shed, the blood staining the floor. Me. Finally, he heaved a big sigh, and I took that as my answer.
Inside the house, I drug Jesse’s pack out of the closet and gathered what I thought I’d need. I tucked my hair up into my wool hat, put on an extra pair of socks. Then shouldered the bag and headed down the hall. Stopped at Scott’s room. Light from the hallway spilling across the foot of his bed. The older he got, the harder he seemed to sleep. He was even snoring lightly when I pushed his door open. I didn’t have to worry about waking him as I crossed the room, bent over him, and kissed his head.
Outside, Dad knelt next to my lead dog, he’d put Stella up front and I was glad because she could be trusted not to get distracted by sounds or movement in the trees along the trail, and the other dogs would behave, too, on account of her focus.
I buckled the waist belt of my pack and stepped on the runners. Dad come round and stood next to me. For a long minute, neither of us said nothing.
I didn’t know, Dad said.
Know what?
He swallowed. That he wasn’t a boy.
He was, though, I said. If you knew him, you knew that.
He—he could’ve told me. It wouldn’t have changed nothing between us.
My throat tight. He thought he had to hide, I said.
I never meant to make him feel that way, Dad told me.
The dogs chuffed, eager to run. No other sound between us.
I should get going, I said.
He moved away, circled the sled, rechecked the dogs’ harnesses, even give my pack a little tug.
Dad.
Okay, he said. You be careful. Especially on that lake. It’s good and froze over, but that part near the waterfall, the ice is thin there.
My eyes stung and I blinked away the tears that wanted to come. Just another run down the trail, I said. Right?
He didn’t step away or pull the snow hook for me. He was so close, I could of reached out and hugged him. He knew more than he let himself admit to, even then he understood, I think.
Right, he said and stepped aside.
I knew he would stand in that spot till I hit the trailhead, till he couldn’t see me no more, and still he’d have one hand raised.
It’ll be a fast run, I said and he nodded. I’ll be back long before morning.
That was the last lie I ever told him.
Only a sliver of moon to light up the snow, and the branches overhead clasped hands and the shadows drew round us, and only my headlamp to light the way, we glided as if through a tunnel, the darkness closing behind us as we went. The farther away we got, the quieter. I could feel Dad fade from me, the last person whose mind I would really know.
Jesse’s footprints led down the trail, then vanished into the brush. There was a chance he would only stay away the night. He was just as resourceful as Tom Hatch, he could rub two sticks together for a fire or dig himself a hole to curl up in, keep warm till morning. It wasn’t crazy to imagine him returning to the house by daybreak.