The Journey Home (11 page)

The boys and Haiwee worked steadily. As it grew dark, Kim lit kerosene lanterns. Soon there were several pairs of repaired snowshoes on the table.

Jake's thoughts strayed to his dad. He wished the man
could meet Haiwee and learn from how she lived. His father's whole approach seemed to be about
fighting
for survival—constant alertness, always just scraping by. Every now and then they'd had a glimpse of the poetic side of living out there. But what was the point of it all? The country was just as beautiful when you saw it from a snowmobile. It wasn't cheating to have a gas-powered generator.

After they completed the webbing, Haiwee showed them how to make the bindings for the snowshoes, using a wider strip of moose hide with a thin ankle strap that could be adjusted.

At last they tied their final knots and made the bindings for the snowshoes. Holding one aloft, Haiwee smiled triumphantly. “Well, what do you think?”

“Very cool,” Jake said, admiring his own handiwork.

Taylor was only a bit less enthusiastic. “My fingers hurt, but they're pretty neat, I guess.”

Haiwee raised her eyebrows. “Only pretty neat?”

“Okay, they're cool.”

“Well, I hope you think so,” Haiwee said, handing a pair to Taylor, “because they're yours.”

“Huh?”

“Are you sure?” Jake asked.

Haiwee smiled. “Oh, yes. They've been collecting dust for a long time, and as you can see, Kim has no interest in them. I think you were meant to have them.”

“Wow!” Taylor said. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Thank you.”

“Besides,” Haiwee continued, “you might need them the next time you find yourself on the side of a mountain! Is it still snowing outside, Kimama?”

“Yep,” said Kim, fixing tea over in the kitchen area.

Haiwee frowned. “I was afraid of that. You are welcome to stay here tonight, but tomorrow we've got to find a way to get you home.”

“It's fine. Our mom knows we're safe,” Jake lied.

“And your dad?”

“Dad doesn't care,” Jake said before he could stop himself.

Taylor opened his mouth to argue, but Jake ignored him. “He's got his own stuff going on, and that's all he cares about.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” Haiwee said gently. “All parents love their children. Why do you think your dad doesn't care about you?”

Kim appeared in the doorway. “Stop being so nosy, Mom.”

“That's enough, Kimama.”

“I mean it. It's bad enough that you're constantly interfering with my life and telling me what to do. Don't go pestering Jake and Taylor.”

“I'm sorry about this,” Haiwee told the boys. “She's going through a rebellious phase.”

“I am
not
going through a phase!”

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
This is all
my fault,
he thought.
I should have never opened my big mouth.

As Kim stood trembling with anger in the doorway, Haiwee went and took her hands in hers. “The reason I want to know what you are up to is because I care about you, even if you find that hard to believe now. I've always been there for you, and I always will be. Even when everyone else lets you down.”

Kim shook her mom off. “Don't say that!”

“Your father's not coming back,” Haiwee said. “He left us. It was his choice. And you need to make your peace with that.”

Jake sat up and stared. He hadn't realized Kim's dad had walked out too.

“He left
you
!” Kim yelled. “You and this stupid, boring, dead-end life! He didn't leave
me
. He still wants to see me again. He wants—”

“Honey, he hasn't been in touch for three years,” Haiwee said, and the sadness in her voice was hard for Jake to bear. “He has a new family in Denver. I know you're angry, Kim. I was too, for a long time. But I had to let go. And you need to do the same.”

“But why would he just up and leave like that?” Kim demanded. “He didn't even leave a note!”

“Sometimes people do selfish things,” Haiwee said. “They do things because they want to, and that's all the reason they need.”

Jake glanced over at his brother. Taylor was glaring at him, his face pale, his lips pressed together.

Haiwee's words sank slowly into Jake's heart, and he understood.
We ran out on our dad. What we did to him was no better than what he did to us.

We left Mom when she needed us most. Now we've done the same to Dad, and it's all my fault.

Jake crossed the room and knelt down by Taylor, who flinched away from him.

“Taylor, listen,” he whispered. “I know what you're thinking. We'll make it up to Dad.”

“You better,” he replied.

“I promise. But we have to get Mom first. We have to make sure she's safe. Then we can make things right with Dad. Okay?”

Taylor bumped Jake's offered fist.

“So when do we leave?”

13
Jake woke his brother before dawn the next morning. Taylor grunted once but didn't complain, and the boys silently dressed and packed their gear, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

“Can't we say good-bye to Kim and Haiwee?” Taylor whispered.

“No. Let them sleep. I wrote them a note.”

Taylor weighted the note down with the little bear that he'd carved. “I hope they like it,” he said.

The boys hoisted their packs and carried their snowshoes outside, closing the door softly behind them.

Above them the clouds had cleared, exposing a waxing moon that cast a dazzling light over the entire valley.

“Wow!” Taylor exclaimed. “It's like daytime out here.”

“Shh,” Jake hissed. “It's about twenty degrees colder than yesterday too. My toes hurt.”

They strapped on the snowshoes they'd repaired and took their first steps on the snow.

Suddenly the door opened behind them. Jake twisted around, heart fluttering, expecting to see Haiwee standing there. Instead it was Kim.

“Wow. Sneaking out before daylight. That's low.”

Cody pranced up to her, wagging his tail.

“Uh, we didn't want to wake you,” Taylor lied.

“Yeah, right,” said Kim. “You know the deal. I told you I was coming with you. Just give me five minutes to grab some stuff.”

Jake took a breath. “Kim, that's a bad idea.”

“Oh really?” She cocked her head. “So maybe a better idea is for me to go tell my mom we've got two runaways in the house? She'll be mad that I lied to her, I guess, but I could always say you threatened me.”

“You wouldn't do that.”

“Try me.”

Kim shivered in the cold, and a puff of steam left her mouth. Jake had no idea what to do. She had him trapped.

So he told the truth.

“Kim . . . if you leave your mom now, you'll regret it. I know it seems like the right thing to do. But you'll just hurt her.”

“Good!” She barked a cold laugh. “Man, you are such a
hypocrite, Jake. You left your dad, and you don't regret it at all!”

“You're wrong,” Jake said.

“What?”

“I do regret it. I wish we hadn't done it.” He glanced over to Taylor. “I was stupid and impulsive, and I just wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Jake could see that that was exactly what Taylor had thought.

“But it's too late for us. We've got to keep going. It's not too late for you.”

Kim's face sagged, and her eyes were wet. She impatiently rubbed them, then nodded.

“It's not fair,” she said.

“I know.”

“You're both on this big adventure, and I'm stuck here. Trapped in the dullest place on earth. I can't stand it.”

“Believe me,” said Jake, “it's not an adventure. It's tough.”

“Yeah,” said Taylor. “And it's scary. I mean, if you hadn't been here, I might be dead now.”

Kim didn't say anything for a moment. Then she said, “Will you send me a postcard at least?”

Taylor grinned. “You bet. I left you a little present inside.”

Kim pulled the carved wooden bear from her pocket and smiled. “I know. I found it. Thank you.” She took a deep shuddering breath and glanced at the sky. “You both better
get out of here before my mom wakes up. Do you guys even know where you're going?”

Jake searched the sky until he found Polaris. He pointed northeast. “I'm thinking that way.”

Kim stifled a giggle. “Well, you could. But you'll have an easier time if you just walk down the valley here, like we went on the snowmobile yesterday. You can't see it, but there's a road there. Follow it down to Thermopolis.”

“Thanks.” Jake grinned. “For everything. We'll see you again. I promise.”

“Go on, get out of here, you hobbits,” Kim said. She waved. “Good luck, Frodo and Sam.”

Walking in the snowshoes took some getting used to, but they quickly realized that they never would have made it out of the valley without them.

“Man, these things are great,” said Taylor. “There's got to be three, four feet of snow on the ground, but it's like we're just gliding on top of it.”

“I wouldn't call this gliding. Scooting maybe,” said Jake.

“Whatever. I'm just glad we have them.”

Unfortunately, they didn't have snowshoes in Cody's size. The terrier did his best to leap from one giant footstep to the next, but after a quarter mile Jake called a halt.

“What's up?” Taylor asked, looking back.

Jake picked up Cody and placed him in the main compartment of Taylor's backpack.

“Hey,” Taylor objected. “Why do I have to carry him?”

Jake grinned. “Consider it payback for almost getting yourself killed in an avalanche.”

“Very funny,” Taylor huffed, but Cody barked happily from the top of Taylor's pack.

The boys continued moving quickly, trying to keep warm and cover as many miles as possible before Haiwee figured out they'd left. After about an hour they linked up with the road Kim had told them about and, without pausing, pushed east. As they trekked down a larger valley, they passed a few farms, framed by more spectacular mountains rising on either side of them. They heard the haunting hoots of a great horned owl and the frantic yips of a pack of coyotes from up in the mountains. Cody barked back at them.

As the moon began to fade in the dawn sky, the boys finally reached the highway. They walked for another mile before a rancher in a pickup truck stopped and gave them a lift into Thermopolis. As they sat shivering in the open bed of the pickup, Taylor spotted a billboard for a hot spring. Moments later they passed another billboard for a dinosaur museum.

“Hey, Jake, did you know Thermopolis had all this stuff?”

“No,” Jake said, “but the name should have been a clue, I guess.”

Dawn was just creeping over the town when the truck slowed to let the boys and Cody out. Jake asked if there
was a diner open anywhere, and the rancher directed them to a café a few blocks away.

So far so good,
Jake thought.

Sure enough, the café was already doing a brisk business when the boys reached it. When they tried to go in, though, the waitress stopped them.

“Sorry, boys, no dogs allowed.”

Taylor opened his mouth to protest, but the waitress's hard stare told him it wasn't going to happen. Reluctantly he studied the street and spotted a sign he could tie Cody to. “Okay, boy,” he whispered as he knelt down beside the terrier. “You stay here, okay? We'll bring you a nice treat when we're done.”

Cody whined.

“It'll be okay,” Jake assured Cody. “We'll be right back.”

The boys hurried inside and sat down on stools at the counter. Jake's stomach rumbled as he looked over the menu. He tried to remember the last time either of them had eaten in a real restaurant.
It must have been when we were with Sharon and she bought us meatloaf at that diner back in Nebraska.

Jake recalled with a twinge of regret how nice the trucker had been to them and Cody. She'd laugh if she could see them now, trekking all the way back to where they'd come from.

The boys didn't order every item on the menu, but they got close: Denver omelets, hash browns, bacon, sausage,
juice, and toast. Jake made notes in his journal as they stuffed themselves, and even ordered apple pie for dessert. As if on cue, Cody barked excitedly outside. Taylor bundled some food into a napkin for him.

Feeling stuffed to the gills, Jake called the waitress over and paid using some of Bull's money. The waitress gave them a wry grin. “You're sure you boys don't want to order anything else? We still have a little food left back in the kitchen.”

“I'm stuffed,” Taylor said, beaming and wiping away flaky pastry from the side of his mouth.”