Under the Northern Lights(75)

“Please, call me Noah. I look forward to meeting you one day, Mallory.”

We said our goodbyes after that, and I had to admit—I felt a hundred times better. Alleviating someone’s grief had momentarily lifted mine. But realizing that there was something else I could do made me feel even better. Opening my nightstand, I reached inside and grabbed some paper and a pen. Using a thick book for a writing surface, I began pouring my heart out to the man I loved.

Dear Michael,

First things first . . . I miss you. And I love you . . .





Chapter Twenty-Six

Months. That was how long Michael and I had been separated. We’d been apart longer than we’d been together, but my heart still ached for him with the same intensity. I wrote him a letter almost every day now. I wasn’t sure when he’d be going back to Fairbanks for supplies, and I didn’t know if any of the shops I’d addressed letters to would pass them on to him. They could just be throwing them away, cursing my name for sending them so much junk mail. I refused to believe that, though. They cared about Michael; they would want to make sure he knew he was missed.

But even if Michael didn’t get my letters, it didn’t matter anymore. I was done sitting here, waiting around, missing him. It was time for my annual trip, and I was going to take it. I was going to see him again. I’d once thought marrying Shawn was the biggest mistake I’d ever made, but I was wrong. Leaving Michael . . . that was my biggest mistake, one I was going to fix. I’d come home and made peace with my family. Now I needed to make peace with my heart.

“Mallory, you can’t do this. You don’t have a plane.”

I looked over my shoulder at my mother, father, and sister. All of them looked upset; Patricia looked scared. Throwing clothes into a bag, I told them, “I know you don’t understand, but I have to do this. I have to go to him. And as for a plane . . . I’ll hire a bush pilot to take me to him. I’ll be fine.”

Patricia put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. Her eyes were wide and glossy. “That’s what you said last year—I’ll be fine. And your plane crashed. It crashed, Mallory. You shouldn’t have survived, but you did . . . and now you want to tempt fate by going out there again?”

Shaking my head, I put my hands on her shoulders. “I’m not tempting fate . . . I’m answering fate’s call. I was led to Michael. We’re supposed to be together.”

“In the middle of nowhere? You’re really going to live like . . . like a caveman?”

A small laugh escaped me. “It’s not quite that old school, but yes . . . to be with Michael, I’ll live like a caveman. I have to . . . I can’t live without him. Not fully.” Dropping my hands, I looked between her and my parents. “I feel like a part of me is missing. And nothing I’m doing here has changed that. I’m surrounded by people, by love and family, but I still feel . . . alone. I need him.”

Shawn stepped into the room, yet another bouquet of roses in his hand. “The door was open, so I . . . what are you doing?”

Patricia sniffed. “She’s leaving. She’s leaving us for that . . . mountain man.”

I frowned at her comment. “I’m not leaving you . . . I’m going where I’m supposed to be. And I’ll come back. Maybe I’ll spend summers here, winters there . . . I don’t know yet. I just know I’m supposed to be with him.”

“But what about us?” Shawn whispered. “You and me?”

With a sigh, I looked around the room. “Could you give us a minute?”

Mom and Dad turned and left the room. Patricia firmed her lips in a hard line. “We’re not done discussing this,” she said before following our parents.

Another sigh escaped me as I twisted to face Shawn. He still looked shocked and sad. “I’m sorry, Shawn, but there is no us. I’m in love with Michael. I want to be with him . . . I’m going to be with him.”

He shook his head. “He doesn’t want you, Mallory. He let you leave. He chose deer and bears over you. Don’t you see . . . you didn’t mean that much to him.”

Every word he said jabbed a knife right through me, especially since, during dark and insecure times, I’d had that same thought. But Shawn didn’t know the whole story. Michael did want to be with me. It was everyone else he didn’t want to be around. “It’s . . . complicated, Shawn, but it’s real . . . we love each other.”

Setting down the flowers, Shawn took a step toward me. “We love each other too.”

Shaking my head, I grabbed his hands. “We loved each other. Past tense. Now we care for each other, and that’s great . . . but it’s not enough. Sometimes I wish we’d worked out, Shawn. But every moment, I know Michael and I will work.” Squeezing his hands, I told him, “You’ll find your person, I promise, but . . . it’s not me.”

“Yes, it is . . . you’re my Michael.” Frowning, he shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

A sad laugh escaped me, and I tossed my arms around him. “You just think it’s me because you haven’t experienced anyone else. Let yourself let go, Shawn. Let yourself love someone else.”

Shaking his head, he pushed me away. “It’s not that easy, Mallory. You’re all I’ve wanted since the first grade.” I reached out for him, but he held his hand up. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now.”