Twenty-seven

Late the next afternoon, Monday, Dax walked into the minuscule room he’d left a week and a half ago.

The mining camp was well established, not a tent city like some but instead made of modular units. Sleeping rooms were strung in rows off hallways, with central facilities for dining, exercise, and relaxation. Each bedroom held a single bed and a desk with drawers for storing clothes and personal items. At some jobs, he’d had to share a tent, and Dax valued the privacy here. He didn’t mind eating and using the gym with others, playing some poker, or watching a game on TV. But he was enough of a loner that, when weather or darkness kept him inside, he spent much of his time lying on his bed reading.

He hadn’t done much to personalize the room. A few sketches of wildlife that one of the guys had done were taped to the wall. Helicopter magazines sat on the desk.

Also on the desk was a framed photo of him and Lily, taken one long-ago summer. They’d holidayed on Galiano Island, rented kayaks, and found a beach to picnic on. Another picnicker took their picture. Lily was in a blue bikini, Dax in board shorts. Her hair, longer then, was pulled back in a ponytail but the breeze had tugged strands free to dance around her face. His arm was around her shoulders, hers around his waist, and they both smiled widely, eyes squinting against the sun. It was no fancy portrait like the ones from their wedding, but they’d been young, in love, having fun, and it showed.

Dax sank down on the bed. When he’d left for Vancouver, he’d figured he and Lily might end their marriage. He’d thought he was resigned to it. That breaking up couldn’t feel worse than being alone here and worrying whether she was cheating on him, whether they still loved each other.

Well, it did feel worse. Now he knew how Lily felt: she loved him, but not enough. And he knew that he loved her, but couldn’t be what she wanted.

What had she meant when she said, “Can’t be or don’t want to be?”

From across the tiny room, he stared at her smiling face. That young Lily had been happy with him just the way he was. What did the thirty-two-year-old Lily want? A husband who’d live with her and raise children with her. A home and family. Dax had told her he couldn’t be that man. She’d implied that he didn’t want to.

Once, he’d wanted that—or at least dreamed of it, of a real home and loving family, something he’d never experienced. Later, as he and Lily followed their parallel courses, he’d decided the dream was foolish. That he wasn’t that kind of guy.

He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Why had he given up on that dream? Yes, he loved the energy and peace of the wilderness. He loved flying: the challenge, the freedom, the way it offered serenity one moment, excitement the next. But he loved Lily too. Did loving one mean having to sacrifice the other?

He didn’t like how Lily always put her clinic ahead of him. But hadn’t he done the same thing, choosing work that kept him away from her for long stretches of time? Yeah, at the time he’d been messed up, after Afghanistan. He’d believed he needed the wilderness to heal his soul and make him fit company for his wife. Maybe so, but he’d shut her out, and kept doing it for the last four years.

As for children . . . Holding baby Sophia had made him feel warm and fuzzy—but the idea of being responsible for a kid terrified him. His parents had sure sucked at it. Lily’s were no prize either—and his wife didn’t seem to have a clue how she’d juggle work with these kids she supposedly wanted so badly.

He and Lily had handled going to school in different cities and they’d handled his deployment to Afghanistan. Things ought to be easier now, not more fucked up. The two of them weren’t stupid, so—

Wait a minute. Maybe they were. On New Year’s Eve, they’d admitted that they still loved each other. And then they’d broken up. From the perspective of a couple of days’ distance, that seemed pretty damned stupid to him.

The timer on his watch beeped, and he rose. He had another supply run—a short, hour-long one to the closest town—before the workday was done. As he strode to the door, he cast a final glance at Lily’s lovely smiling face. The next he heard from her, it would be with details of their divorce.