He frowns at the picture. “A table?”

“Yeah. Live edge. We have all this family coming in for Christmas, and I don’t have a proper table yet.” What does Roy do for Christmas? Nothing, I presume.

“Why don’t you buy it, then, with all your money.”

I shrug. “I’d rather have something locally made, not mass produced.”

He grunts. “I don’t do custom orders.” But he’s studying the picture, I note.

Toby did tell me that once, so I was prepared for the pushback. I school my expression. “Well … what if you just happened to feel compelled to make this table that seats, say, ten people, and then, when it was finished, I just happened to see it and buy it from you?”

His bushy eyebrow arches. “Compelled, huh?”

“Yes. Compelled.” I pause. “Unless you think it’s too hard for you to—”

“I could make that damn thing in my sleep! It’s nothin’. Just some lacquered wood and legs.”

Jonah said basically the same thing about the overpriced living room tables I want. Something tells me this would be far more complicated.

“Okay, great! So, while you’re sleeping, if you happened to make it …” I back away, moving for the pickup truck, before he can thrust the page back into my hand. I’m excited to get home to see Jonah, anyway. We parted ways soon after he slipped the ring on, both of us having places to be. He’ll be back by now. “Oh! Also, I want to hire a carpenter for some built-in shelves beneath our staircase, if you know anyone who’d be interested. Meals and delightful company included, of course.” I turn before he can see my smile.

“Hey!” he barks as I’m about to climb in.

I turn, holding my breath.

“Congratulations.” He nods once and then turns back to his task.

The ramp where Jonah secures Veronica is still empty when I coast up our lengthy driveway, home from Roy’s. I frown as I check my watch. Jonah’s a half hour late. I know he arrived at Mark’s cabin as scheduled because he called to touch base. Which means he’s likely standing on his float, waiting for a break from Mark’s incessant gabbing to fly home. I look to the north where dark storm clouds hang.

My phone rings and Diana’s mocking duck-face profile picture appears on my phone. An excited thrill bubbles in my stomach as I answer. “It took you this long to call me? What kind of best friend are you?” I say in greeting, a wide grin on my face as I continue up the driveway, past our hangar, toward the house. It’s been exactly four minutes since I sent her a text with a picture of my ring.

“We’re both getting married!” she shrieks.

The truck’s cab fills with the sound of our collective screams and laughter.

I stand in front of the window, huddled in a sweater, the rain and wind pelting the glass as the storm rages outside. “He should have been home by now, and he’s not answering.” My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat.

“Mark likes to gab sometimes—”

“No.” I’m shaking my head, though she can’t see it. “I called Mark. I talked to him.” When the minutes began to stretch, I tried his office. Luckily his wife answered and was willing to pass along their satellite phone number. “He said the storm was coming in faster than expected and Jonah didn’t hang around at all. He was in a rush to get back home.”

Tears stream down my cheeks as the conversation replays in my mind—that the weather looked treacherous, that Mark told Jonah to stay with them for the night. “I have a really bad feeling, Agnes.” Is this what she felt, that fateful day when Mabel’s father didn’t arrive at his destination?

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and then Agnes quietly says, “Call it in, Calla.”

“You’re like a caged bear lookin’ for a way out,” Muriel chides, handing Teddy another mason jar. He wordlessly dries it with a tea towel, sets it on the counter, and waits for the next.

I ignore her, hugging my chest as I pace back and forth in front of our bay window, my gaze locked on the murky sky, desperately waiting to catch a glimpse of the familiar white-and-black-striped plane.

I am looking for a way out, I think to myself.

A way out of this nightmare.

What I’ve feared most is becoming a reality.

Muriel knocked once and then strolled into the house as I stood in the kitchen, reading off details of Jonah’s itinerary to the state troopers, my hands trembling so hard, I struggled to see the words. She listened for a few minutes and then stepped outside, sliding her rarely used phone from her pocket. Shortly after, Teddy and Toby pulled up in Toby’s burgundy truck. They’ve lingered since, Muriel tasking Toby with fetching empty jars from the cellar so she and Teddy can prepare them for canning.

But all I can do is pace, my cell and the satellite phones gripped tightly in my fists, and choke down the mounting dread as I wait for news from the Alaska Air National Guard.

It’s been almost four hours since Jonah was expected back. The storm has already passed, leaving a cold, steady drizzle. It’s darker than usual at this time on account of the weather. Soon, it’ll be too dark to see anything on the ground.

My cell phone rings.

My heart stops as I check the screen, only to see that it’s my mother calling. I ignore it—I can’t deal with anyone right now—and continue pacing.

“Come on. Let’s keep our minds busy with—”

“I can’t!” I shriek, tears erupting in rivulets as I face off with Muriel. “I can’t do anything right now! I can barely breathe!”

All three of them pause, sympathy filling their expressions.

“He asked me to marry him today,” I continue in a hoarse whisper. The ring on my finger suddenly weighs a hundred pounds. “We’re supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. He’s my entire world. Why can’t he just come back?”

Muriel squeezes her eyes shut and nods. She knows what this feels like—this agonizing wait.

How long will it take them to find him?

Hours?

Days?

What if they never find him?

My chest feels like it’s going to cave in with these foreboding thoughts. “I need air.” I rush for the front door.

“Give her some space, Mom,” I hear Toby whisper, warning his mother from following.

Out on the quiet front porch, I curl up in a wicker chair, wrapping the blanket around my numb body.

And I wait, for a fate that I fear was inevitable all along.

With my stomach in my throat, I track the small glowing globes of headlights as they crawl up our driveway, just after eleven.

Have the state troopers come to tell me they’ve found Jonah’s body? Have they decided that a phone call is not enough? What is standard protocol for this sort of news?

I breathe a sigh of relief when the floodlight illuminates a plain black truck with scratched-up sides parking next to Marie’s truck.

Roy came.

Why is Roy here?

It’s a fleeting question that I quickly dismiss. It doesn’t matter why, I decide, as I sip on the tea Muriel wordlessly brought out an hour ago—now cold in my grasp. There’s nothing else for me to do as I wait for news.