Something Of A Kind (4 page)

With a thunderous clap, they concurrently dropped onto one
foot. Gloved hands collided, and they
balanced one
another
throughout the chain. With whispered prompts from chaperones, the
small spectators applauded. Trading bows, the group shuffled from
the stage.

Withdrawing an enraptured stare, Aly returned to the parking lot.
She found Greg leaning against the hood, engrossed in an array of
papers. As she approached the vehicle, he scribbled a final sentence.
Whipping the binder shut, he shoved the evidence into the duffle at
his feet.

“Did Terri give you a hard time?” he coughed, an accent choking
his self-conscious stutter.

 

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to run in alone.” Unspoken
accusations tainted her tone.

“There was a call from an elder,” he mumbled, as though the
vague title justified him. The set of his jaw suggested irritation. It
was the same expression he used with her mother before spitting, ‘I
am a grown man,’
like
it
was a
threat, a
sentence, and a
rationalization. She
wondered if
he
really
felt
he
was so
untouchable, like he had single-handedly earned the right not to be
questioned.

An elder?

Aly suppressed a startled smile. She could only imagine Greg
sprinting towards the towering chapel in Kingsley, or even pulling
on the lab coat tossed over the basement door and secretively
descending into the Ministry of Magic. Despite the series of guest
rooms upstairs, he insisted on dragging a futon into the cellar and
constructing a slapdash man cave.

Just one more unnecessary means of isolation.

 

After pausing, Greg added, “I have business with Lee Locklear.
You hungry?”

He nodded down the street. She resisted the urge study the
elaborate murals along the raised foundation of
the building.
Squinting to distinguish the letters wrapped around the hook of a
thrown line, she made out the faded title ofYazzie’s Seafood and
Dining.

“I figure we’ll get some food, since you wouldn’t eat anything
earlier.”

 

That’s the most you’ve said to me all morning.

 

“Okay,” she murmured, pausing to evaluate her snarling
stomach.

Adding the groceries to containers in the trunk, she labored to
ignore Greg’s glare. His behavior reminded Aly of her mother’s
when sharing lanes with an oil
rig: as though something
unremarkable was on the verge of an explosion. It altered his
motions, posture –
even speech. The
agitation, and uneasiness was disturbing.
raw mixture
of
distrust,

If not insulting.

She distracted herself with the seaside horizon until she could
shake off the observation. As she followed his hurried gait, she
focused on beachside couples picking through tidal debris until they
were out of sight.

Her fingertips trailed a corkboard coated with event flyers as
they ascended the ramp wound around the building. She felt archaic
paint chipping beneath her feet until they stepped inside.

As she entered the diner, glass doors swung shut and amplified
murmurs of
jovial chatter. Weaving
around
an easel-mounted
chalkboard,
they
obeyed
the
handwritten
direction
to
seat
themselves.

The most animated groups were dispersed amongst the booths.
Along the bar, hunched coffee drinkers stirred their brew. The aroma
pierced the greasy odors of morning comfort foods.

As they eased into beige seats, the awkwardness of their lack
relationship continued to be
discomforting. Despite
the close
proximity, neither made attempts to converse. Furrowing a bushy
brow, Greg shielded paperwork in his lap.

Aly faked captivation with the table setting. Painted coasters
bearing reindeer and caribou, framed coffee cup stains, were strung
across the table. Pinned beneath each was a tattered card stating the
restaurant had proudly supported local fisheries since 1968. The
backs listed the contents of the to-go freezer, composed of Siberian
sausage and pepper sticks.

A flash of a black tee and jeans announced the approach of the
waiter as he slipped out of the kitchen. His tan skin paled as four
men exploded through the entrance with thunderous hoots and
booted footfalls. The boy stiffened as they receded into an unmarked
hallway in the back.

In their wake, an older man, clad in fishermen’s rubber and plaid
flannel, met Aly’s gaze. His shoulders straightened as Greg exited
the booth. With a firm pat on the shoulder, they led one another to an
empty table.

Aly tightened her jacket, surprised to feel unprepared.
Alone
again, business was becoming a synonym for desertion.

 

The same choice he made seventeen years ago.

Smacking
Moosetard: Alaska’s Finest Mustard on the table and
balancing a tray on Greg’s abandoned seat, the server pulled a
notebook from the apron at his waist.

“Welcome to Yazzie’s, I’m Noah and-” he paused, glancing up
during the habitual introduction, “-you’re new.”

“Alyson Glass,” Aly revised, meeting a striking set of chestnut
eyes. He appeared to have fully recovered from the disturbance, his
faltered smirk now a relaxed grin.

Sporting tousled chocolate brown hair, Noah was put together in
a seemingly accidental way. Handsome features flattered a strong,
clean-shaven jaw, and a fitted tee stretched across strong shoulders
and muscular build. Paired with a charming smile, his gaze was both
cautious and curious.

“Glass…” he mused, biting his lower lip. “Like the doctor?”

 

Wow.

 

Dazed, she smiled and quickly nodded.

She thought of her father’s profession, something along the lines
of researcher and field biologist. It was amusing to imagine Greg,
with his flannel and hiking boots and permanently attached baseball
cap, introducing himself as ‘Doctor Glass’. She couldn’t recall if his
degree was high enough for the scholarly title, but she had heard
him toss around the term before.

“So Greg Glass is your dad?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “You
don’t seem much like him.”

 

“He’s lived here for a while. You’ve probably seen him more
than I have,” she confessed, tucking a stray tress behind her ear.

 

“Wow. Where are you from?”

 

“Kingsley, New York.”

 

“That’s a bit far,” he agreed, laughing. “So what do you think of
Alaska? Were you expecting twentyfour hour darkness?”

 

“No,” she said, “sunlight.”

 

“Right,” he breathed. His amused half-smile twisted into an
eyeshining grin. “Are you an Alyson-Alyson or AlyAlyson?”

 

“Just Aly.”
“Understatement of the year,” he smirked. Squinting, his
expression was unreadable.

A burst of air ruffled her hair, drawing her attention to the table
at her back. One of the dancers from the school had lifted and
flattened a cloak across the table, showing another woman a frayed
seam.

“Their performance was beautiful,” Aly confided, meeting his
gaze.

 

“You saw their show?”

 

“Some. The masks, the totem poles, the murals… The arts – the
culturehere is amazing.”

“You noticed all of that?” Noah asked, surprised. “That’s
awesome. You know, if you’re interested in it, there’s these murals
inside the old train tunnels up byGrimsby’s. Every year the teens
here go up and add to it– there’s all sorts of stuff about the legends.
A few of us are taking some ATVs on the trails up that way
tomorrow night. You in?”

“Definitely,” Aly agreed, unable to control the smile flooding her
face.

 

“Cool. Anyway,” he continued, waving a pack of order slips,
“What can I get you?”

 

“Something normal, boring… that has nothing to do with fish.”

A burst of laughter erupted from his chest, receiving pleased
looks from other high-spirited patrons who seemed to find him wellliked.

Me too.

 

“I’m pretty sure they have omelets in the lower forty-eight, Aly.”
He offered a knowing grin.

 

“Sounds wonderful.” She sighed.

 

“Coffee?”

 

“Please.”

 

“Alright,” he smiled, “I’ll be back.”

 

CHAPTER 4 | NOAH

 

“Your dad lives on the outskirts, right? On Thorne Ave’?” Noah
clarified, setting a steaming plate on the table behind Alyson Glass.

 

The booth fit the curve of her back, her long brunette waves
tucked between them.

 

“Yeah, on the edge of that bustling metropolis you’ve all got
here,” she teased, flashing perfect teeth.

 

Noah smiled to himself, blinking as she raised her gaze. She
sparkled with laughter.

 

“Right, right. Are you headed back up there today?”

“I
doubt it. Maybe
to change
or
put groceries away
or
something. Greg made me sell my car before we moved, so he’s my
ride.” Her blue eyes flickered as she spoke.

He had never met someone who seemed so incredibly controlled
and totally relaxed at the same time. Ashland locals were one-sizedfits all. There were archetypal alcoholics and unnecessary gossips –
most people were both. Everybody knew everybody: their names,
their parents, closet skeletons, monumental failures, awkward
phases and all. It rarely got more exciting than a death or a drama
queen.

New identities belonged to fleeting tourists
– mostly families in
their own worlds and venturing elderly or the occasional wildlife
photographer, always ‘just passing through’.

The ships in the night.

The researchers were interesting enough, but they were ghosts.
He’d met exactly four, and of those only recalled Glass, Smith, and
Walker. They dressed like hikers and introduced themselves as
doctor-this or professor-that. They had assorted accents but barely
spoke. They ate too fast and tipped poorly. It was the end of the
story.

Demanding
regulars desperate for scandal had pried it
out
several times, voicing their distorted interpretations, but the
vagueness lead to
rumors and eventual
lack
of
interest. The
mysterious strangers were the concern of the elders and under the
eye of the fish, game, and wildlife warden.

It’s not like they ever stick around, anyway.

Though the doctor had bolted half an hour ago, Alyson still sat
before a slowly eroding breakfast. She seemed irritated in the
moment. Her father sketched an address onto her napkin under her
direct request, dropped cash on the table, and moved through the
doors so fast they swung with the net force. She was good natured
about it, but Greg was clearly a jerk. Noah knew he got under Lee’s
skin often enough, too.

I look at this girl, and I have no idea who I’m taking to.

 

It was fascinating.

 

“Ouch. I can text you when I get off around two and we can
carpool,” he continued, sliding the phone from his back pocket.

Rising from her seat with grace, Aly revealed soft curves,
delicate features, and a lithe frame, quite unlike the rugged and
weather-worn women of Ashland. She pulled her hair behind an ear,
the deep brown a dramatic contrast to her skin. A wave of lavender
and vanilla hit him as they swapped. Relieved to see she didn’t have
any difficulty with his ancient prepaid
cell, he glanced at
the
flashing screen.

Her background was a photograph of herself and an older
woman who looked uncannily similar. Long hair, pale skin, pretty
eyes, happy smile, dressy shirts. The other woman wore the same
silver necklace, a set of overlapping charms unevenly twisted beside
a freckle on the woman’s exposed shoulder. In the photograph, it
looked like leaves. As Noah glanced at the same chain hung loosely
between Aly’s collarbones, he could distinguish a pair of wings.

Parting gift?

 

“Is this your mom?” he asked, twisting his wrist.

 

Aly smiled, but he could tell it made her sad. Peering at the
screen, she squinted like there was a glare. He stifled a groan.

 

Like she doesn’t know what her own phone looks like.

 

“Yes, that’s my mother.”

 

“You miss her,” he said carefully, noting her reaction. “Did she
stay in New York?”

Her eyes watered, just for a second, as she swallowed, nodded,
smiled. Her gaze darted away from him, at the phone in her hands,
at the ceiling, towards the patrons. She wrought her hands. It was
like she was gathering courage or looking for words.

Something.

Before he could dismiss the question, Aly winced.
“She passed
away six months ago. Cancer.” She forced a hallow laugh, clearing
her voice. Gently waving towards the window like a gesture to all of
Ashland, she added, “That’s why I’m here. In Alaska, with him.”

I’ve been talking to this girl for all of two hours and I already
pulled cancer out of her. What the hell’s wrong with me?

His fingers flinched around the phone, unsure what to do with
his hands. If it was his sister, he’d offer a comforting embrace and
some easy words. They would sound cliché and wise but she’d laugh
and it would make everything better. But this was Alyson Glass,
some weird and amazing girl he’d just met. A girl he was totally
unprepared for.

Cancer.

“I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t know,” Noah apologized,
uncertain how to respond. Everyone knew everything in Ashland,
but no one heard about Doctor Gregory Glass’s dead wife or ex-
girlfriend or whatever Aly’s mom was. No one had heard about his
daughter showing up. An unexpected visit was understandable, but it
was remarkable that a total move went undetected.