Blood rushes to my ears.
Twelve years plus almost a month. That would mean her birthday is at the end of June. My dad was supposed to fly to Toronto for my eighth-grade graduation twelve years ago, this past June.
Is that merely a coincidence? Or . . .
Is Mabel a defining part of Agnes’s cryptic “it’s complicated” comment?
Do I have a half sister that no one has told me about?
Back when Simon and my mom married, I desperately wanted a sibling. And when I hit high school, I remember wishing my mom would get pregnant accidentally, so she’d be occupied with someone else and stop breathing down my neck.
But to have had a little sister all these years and not even know about her existence?
That’s not something I was prepared to find out when I boarded the plane here.
Is Mabel the reason my dad canceled on me?
Did it not have anything to do with Alaska Wild after all? Is she the reason he ditched me?
Did he choose her over me?
“Calla?” My dad peers at me. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little bit pale.”
“Yeah.” I clear my wobbly throat. “I mean, no, actually. I’m not feeling well.” The last thing I can do now is smile and pretend everything is fine. I need to gather my thoughts.
Agnes and my dad share a worried look.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Agnes says. “My room is to the left—”
“No, I think I should go home.” Across the road.
And then, if I’m right about this . . . get on a plane, back to Toronto.
I sense Jonah’s gaze boring into me as I sweep past him, shoving my feet into my muddy sneakers, stumbling as I hurry out the door.
“Calla!”
I turn back to see Jonah charging down the driveway toward me, his boots unlaced and splayed open. He is the last person I want to deal with right now. I rush on, tripping through a pothole, my eyes stinging from threatening tears as a foggy truth swirls around me.
Jonah’s faster than I expected him to be, and he catches my arm as I’m climbing the steps to get inside my dad’s house. His tight grip keeps me from escaping.
“What was that all about, back there?”
“I’m not feeling well—”
“Bullshit, you were feeling fine and then Wren put his arm around Mabel, and you freaked out. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a twelve-year-old kid?”
Agnes was right. Jonah is too aware. And I guess that’s what it would look like, to anyone on the outside.
I take a deep breath and then turn around. The second porch step puts me at eye level with him, and I find myself peering into an unreadable cold blue sea. “She’s my half sister, isn’t she?” My voice is shaky.
Did they not think I’d figure it out?
Did they honestly think it was okay to hide that from me?
Mixed in with my shock and hurt is a growing anger.
Jonah opens his mouth to speak, but pauses, frowning in thought. “What have they told you about Mabel?”
“You mean that girl in there that I’d never even heard of until ten minutes ago?” His question feels like the confirmation I needed. A single tear trickles down my cheek and I quickly brush it away with my free hand. I hate that I cry so easily when I’m upset.
“Wren never told you about her?”
How much does Jonah know about our estranged relationship?
“Not a word. Not since he bailed on being my father.” But not hers, apparently. Another tear slips out. I don’t bother brushing it away this time. “I’ve had twelve years to come to terms with the idea that he cared more about his planes and Alaska than about me,” I let out a derisive snort, “and now I find out it’s actually because he had another kid.”
Jonah releases his grip of my arm. “God dammit, Wren,” he mutters, along with something else I don’t catch, but there’s definitely a string of curse words mixed in.
I move to climb the rest of the steps, to duck inside so I can be alone with my thoughts.
“Mabel’s father worked for Wren. He was a pilot for Wild,” Jonah calls out, stalling my feet.
“Wait. So . . . my dad’s not her father?”
“No, he is not,” Jonah says slowly and clearly.
My shoulders sink with an odd sense of relief. “So where is Mabel’s father now, then?”
“He died in a plane crash, a few months before Mabel was born.”
“Oh. That’s . . . shitty.”
Jonah pauses a beat, seemingly in thought. “Why’d you come to Alaska, Calla?”
I frown. “What do you mean? So I could get to know my father before, you know . . . Just in case.” I shouldn’t have to spell it out further.
“Maybe you should get to know Wren, just because. And stop looking for reasons to keep hating him.”
“I don’t hate him. And I’m not looking for anything. It’s . . . You don’t understand.”
He sighs heavily. “Look, it’s none of my business what happened between you two. You’ve gotta sort your own drama out. But I do know what it’s like to decide you want to try to forgive someone, only to realize that you waited too long.” His gaze flickers to the ground before settling back on my face. “Trust me, you don’t want that hanging over your head.” Even through that scruffy beard, I can somehow sense the tension in his jaw.