Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Amani,” I can’t help but say. “There was a girl on my plane named Amani.”
“Amani Farrokh?”
“I guess. I haven’t seen her since I arrived.”
He nods, his lips twisting in a somewhat apologetic smile. “Amani left early this morning on the first plane out. She wasn’t feeling well.”
I stare at him, blinking. “Wasn’t feeling well? Is she okay?”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he says. “Homesickness, I think. It can present itself in different ways.”
“But she seemed fine last night.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, his gaze sharp. “You saw her last night? Where?”
“I was at the gazebo, and she came running out of the bushes. Told me to hurry up or I’d be late for dinner.”
His pupils dilate, like a black hole in the fog. “Are you sure?”
I frown. “Well, yeah I’m sure. Are you trying to make me feel crazy or something?”
“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “No, I would never disregard your thoughts. It’s just surprising. Everly acts as the compound’s nurse, and she had given her a sedative and put her to bed early. I suppose Amani could have gone for a walk after…” He trails off, mind going over something. “Anyway, this morning, she was ready to go back home. It was good to see she was making the right choice.”
Something churns in my gut. Perhaps coffee on an empty stomach. “But she seemed so excited and happy to be here.”
“This happens more than you know,” he says sternly. “Every year, at least one student goes back. The isolation can be too much.”
“Even with your weekly counseling?” I remark.
“I’m a psychologist, not a magician,” he says. “Some minds are stronger than others. There is no shame in that.”
“And my mind?” I can’t help but ask. “Do you think it’s strong enough?”
He studies me for a moment, something warm, close to affection, coming through his cold exterior. “I think that remains to be seen. But if I had to take a gander already, I would say yes. Shall we?”
Kincaid gestures to the door, and I follow him as he opens it for me. We step out into the late-morning fog.
“I’ll see you later, Sydney Denik,” he says to me with a faint smile before he disappears into the mist.
CHAPTER 7
After lunch, a hearty vegetarian stew with beans and squash that I picked at, my appetite still not returning, the cohort split into two. Justin, Noor, sea-urchin-loving Albert, and the redhead Christina from Chicago went to the floating dock to do work with Dr. Hernandez while the rest of us were instructed to meet Nick by the totem pole.
The conversation with Kincaid is still on my mind as Nick starts distributing packs and foraging supplies to each of us. I really need to keep myself in check. Kincaid said he wasn’t spying on me, and I believe him, but it’s a worrying sign that I jumped to that conclusion. I don’t know what it is about him, why he’s already getting under my skin, but I’m going to blame it on a sex dream.
I’ve made mistakes before that have cost me dearly, and even though my sexual appetite can be extreme at times, my impulsivity can be restrained. Lusting after your professor is fine—as long as no line is ever crossed, and as long as it stays hidden away, siphoned into a harmless crush. Which means I need to stop being so…I don’t know. I’m not flirting with him, not really, but I’m more comfortable with him than I ought to be. It needs to stop before I become too fixated and make bad decisions.
We head out along the logging road that runs behind the lodge. Nick tells us that it’s rarely used these days since most areas around us were classified as protected land, though there is a logging camp about fifteen kilometers down the road.
“Camp number nine are our closest neighbors,” he says as he walks ahead of us, a gnarled walking stick in hand. “If there’s ever an emergency of some sort, which of course there won’t be, just head up this road. It’s tough going, but you’ll eventually reach them. There’s also the Checleset reservation to the south of us, bordering the entrance to the Brooks Peninsula, but it’s boat access only, and you’d need permission first.”
If it was an emergency, I’m sure they would be willing to help, permission or not, I think. I have to wonder what kind of emergencies happen at the lodge, but I don’t want to bog down the atmosphere with that question.
The fog seems to lift as we walk along, the sun nearly breaking through the tops of the trees, and everyone is in good spirits, the bear bells attached to our packs filling the air with soft jingling. At Nick’s prodding, I take out a compass from my pack and watch it move as we turn northeast, the land flatter to our right and a sharp mountain rising from our left where the Sitka spruce seem to reach into the sky. Ravens call out from the branches, occasionally swooping overhead, while the mournful call of the varied thrush comes from the bushes. I breathe in deeply, the scent of pine and fresh soil.