looked pissed. He parked, jumped out of the car and hurried over. The instructor looked pointedly at her watch.
“There was an emergency. I’m sorry.”
Her face didn’t change. She’d probably heard a million excuses. I bet you haven’t heard this one.
“Where were you, Uncle Dixon? We’ve been waiting and waiting.” Sienna’s piercing blue eyes locked on his, more accusatory than her words.
“Uncle Dixon!” Ginger ran and leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.
His chest tightened and his lungs seemed to shut down. He loved these girls so much. They had giant hearts, boundless energy and huge spirits. How would this tragedy harm them?
He would not let them suffer. He would keep them safe and secure, and make certain they knew they were loved. He loved them more than words could say already, but he would love them more. He would love them the way his brother had, the way their mother had.
Was that even possible? How could he possibly replace their parents?
He felt like he was running on air. He didn’t dare look down.
The girls clambered into their booster seats.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “How about Bernie’s Burgers?”
“Yes! Yay! Bernie’s, Uncle Dixon. Bernie’s, Bernie’s, Bernie’s!” Ginger bounced up and down.
“Mom said only once a week because of the salt and the bad fat,” Sienna said. “We already went.”
“It’ll be our little secret,” he said, sick inside.
Soon the car filled with the comforting smell of fries and hamburgers. He bought milkshakes, too, which was too much, especially for Ginger, whose eyes were bigger than her tiny stomach.
He didn’t care. And when they started a French fry fight, he didn’t try to stop them. Go for it. Enjoy every last second of carefree fun. He listened hard to the light music of their sweet voices, the cheerful shriek when a fry hit its mark. How long before they would laugh like this again?
He blinked against the blur before his eyes.
At the house, Dixon set the girls up at the kitchen table to eat, leaving his own food untouched. Why had he even ordered? His stomach was in turmoil, and a bitter taste clogged his throat.
Once the girls were occupied, he grabbed Brianna’s emergency notes and the phone book, and ducked into the guest room to make the necessary calls. He left a message on his mother’s cell phone and alerted the cruise line, which would make contact with her.
Now Aubrey. Holding his breath, jaw clenched, he braced for her reaction, but the call went straight to voice mail.
“This is Dixon Carter. Call me. It’s urgent,” he said. He wasn’t about to leave the terrible news on a recording.
Next he called the mortuary with the largest ad, figuring they’d be busy and efficient. The funeral director would contact the mortuary in Reno, then call back to schedule a time to arrange the funeral.
The funeral.
The word rang in his head. Images poured in: flowers, caskets, gravestones, hymns, everyone in black and sobbing. Meanwhile, the girls chattered happily in the kitchen, oblivious to what he was doing.
Dixon was finishing with the funeral director when he heard the landline ringing from the kitchen. By the time he reached it, the caller was leaving a message: Hi, guys. Rachel here, checking to see if you need anything for the party Saturday. Should I bring ice? An appetizer? Watch the girls? Is there any way I can help?
Rachel was Brianna’s best friend. He picked up. “Hello, Rachel. It’s Dixon.” Glancing at the girls, he carried the handset down the hall. “There is something I need you to do....”
She could call everyone and tell them that instead of attending the couple’s anniversary party, they’d be attending their funeral.
* * *
HER SPEEDOMETER HOVERING at ninety-five, Aubrey Hanson scanned the interstate for highway patrol cars lurking on the shoulders. She didn’t have time for a ticket. Not today. Not with the good news she had to share with her sister.
Every time she thought about it, an electric thrill ran through her, making her forget altogether the scrapes and bruises she’d gotten in Norway.
She was this close to being sponsored by ALT Outdoors, the top recreation outfitter in the U.S., possibly the world.
The timing was crucial, since her inheritance was almost gone, and the ads on her blog and podcast barely paid her rent, let alone her travel costs.
She’d been saved. She could keep doing what she loved and get paid for it. She couldn’t wait to see the sunburst of pride in Brianna’s brown eyes when she heard. She couldn’t wait to hug her sister, jump around with her, shrieking their joy to the sky. Why did Phoenix have to be almost four hundred freaking miles from L.A.?
It wouldn’t quite be real until she’d told her sister. Brianna alone knew how much this meant. With the sponsorship, Aubrey’s blog—Extreme Adventure Girl: Ordinary Girl on an Extraordinary Journey—would reach thousands more women—hell, millions—and change more lives.
Calm down. It’s not official. The test run would be at the adventure race in Utah next month. Still, she was so close she could taste the triumph.
She was especially glad to tell Brianna because of the odd talk they’d had on their mother’s birthday—they always called each other then—right before Brianna left for Tahoe and Aubrey for Norway.
Brianna’s question had come out of the blue:
You’re sure this is what you want—the blog and the travel and all?
Aubrey had sucked in a shocked breath. Of course. This is what I’ve worked for. You know that.
Aubrey’s blog and her podcast shared her trips and challenges, mostly outdoors. Her purpose was to prove women didn’t have to be amazons or athletes—or even that coordinated—to achieve difficult challenges. The secrets were training, tenacity and guts.
The women who followed her lead became empowered. They found the courage to break up with bad boyfriends, demand raises, go to graduate school, snatch stars they’d thought out of reach. Aubrey was proud to have had an impact on their lives.
I’m saying you don’t have to push so hard, Brianna continued. If you wanted to quit, have a family, go to school, whatever, you can. You’ve done more than Mom could ever have wanted.
Their mother’s bedtime stories had been tales of all the places she’d biked, hiked, climbed and kayaked before she’d had them. They’d lost her to breast cancer the summer after they graduated high school.
Where is this coming from? Aubrey had asked, her stomach bottoming out at her sister’s abrupt doubts about Aubrey’s chosen path. Brianna was her number one fan. I feel like you’re out there for Mom and for me, she’d always said. Now she wanted Aubrey to quit?
Then
