Something of a Kind - By Miranda Wheeler Page 0,10

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.

If her mom’s dead, does that mean she lives here now?

“Of course.” She shook her head, hair falling over her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to be so... It’s… it’s really okay. Um, here’s your phone.”

He dropped his number into he r contacts, thankful it didn’t require much figuring out. Luke had a similar model he paraded around enough to figure out the basics. Noah and Aly traded