More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
from the internet. He handed it to Harper. “This is the victim. Ever see him on one of your tours?” Harper studied him. He was a nondescript older man. Sixties. Gray, balding hair, glasses. Short beard. A thick neck leading her to believe he was stocky. Harper handed the photo back to Dwayne. “Not that I can remember.”
“No, and I asked. ‘What brings you to Helena Springs?’ I’d said. She got this faraway look on her face and then told me she was here to try to right a wrong.
“I heard yelling,” she whispered, glancing back down the hall over Mark’s shoulder as if someone might suddenly appear and overhear her say something she shouldn’t. “I couldn’t hear everything, but I did hear him yell, ‘How could you? How could you? You ruined everything.’” “And it was definitely a man’s voice?”
“There have been accidents where people lost their lives. The Ward family comes to mind, of course.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “That poor girl, Harper, losing both her parents that way.
She’d lost both her parents in that unforgiving terrain.
The door opened, and a man stood there, staring down at him. He gave Jak a strange kind of smile, but Jak was too relieved to care about that. “You found it. Then it’s yours. You’ve earned it.”
“Isaac did a lot of volunteer work for social services programs. We did many studies on the foster care system—still do—and it was one of the areas of research that particularly bothered Isaac.”
He regarded her for another moment and then turned, walking to the wood stove and feeding it a few logs. It was then that she finally took in the room. There were four metal beds lined up on the wall to her right, though three of the beds were barren of mattresses or blankets. The fourth was obviously the one Lucas slept on, a dark-gray wool blanket pulled to the top of the mattress and a single pillow. They reminded Harper of beds she’d seen in prison movies, and she frowned.
Like..... the 4 boys from the beginning?
“But, see, survival is the greatest training of all. It’s that inexplicable something that makes a man keep going despite the obstacles before him, despite miserable conditions or impossible feats. That’s the thing that makes the most fearsome of all warriors. Any strong, dexterous man can learn to wield a weapon, but it’s an extraordinary soldier who never gives up. Ever.”
Yeah something's up with this guys obsession for "survival" and not his own
“They understood that sacrifices must always be made for the common good of society. They knew that without sacrifice, humanity would fall to selfishness, greed, and ruin. One is never as important as all. That’s what’s brought us to this point, you see?”
Driscoll blinked, and then his eyes moved over Jak’s head, his brow scrunching. “What?” He gave his head a shake. “Yes. Boots. Right. Yes, bring me a pair of boots. And I’ll give you a box of matches.” “Two boxes,” Jak corrected. “You said you’d give me two boxes.” Driscoll waved his hand as though there was no difference between one or two. But he couldn’t mean that. The difference between plenty of matches and not enough was life…or death. “Two boxes. Yes, fine.”
Mf....
He turned away for a minute but couldn’t help turning back. He wanted to look at her. She’s beautiful. But could he trust her? He rubbed his head. The woman with red hair, who had taken her clothes off for him and kissed his mouth, had been beautiful too. Not as beautiful as the girl drooling in her sleep on his floor but still beautiful. But anyway, they were different, right? He knew this woman. Didn’t he? He sort of felt like he did.
When he’d first seen her, he’d thought she looked like a fawn—fresh and young, her large brown eyes blinking at him with curiosity. He’d never seen anything prettier. Not even the almost-night when the colors of the bleeding sun filled the sky and came down to kiss the earth.
He needed time to think, to figure out what he was going to do now that Driscoll was dead and his tie to the outside world was gone. He had to figure out what he was going to do about a lot of things, and he had no idea where to start.
Interesting he doesnt say killed or murdered
The feeling was so strong that if the rules of nature were the rules of humans, he would have claimed her right that minute, fought a battle against other males for her. And won. Whatever he needed to do so he could call her his. She’s the one I choose, he wanted to tell all the other males. That one.
Sigh. So primal. So hot.
wherewithal
proverbial
The way it was books, not people, that had finally allowed her to step outside her own mind enough to process her grief and come out of her shell.
It was another boy like him, his blond hair past his shoulders, in a fighting stand, his left arm held out and something shiny in his hand.
“Okay, I wanted to double-check with you. I’m still making my way through this thing, but it’s…odd. It almost appears as if Driscoll was watching one specific possum, one specific deer, and one specific wolf.”
The boys, he was observing the boys
“I wanted you to know that…I visited them. I…talked to them too. They weren’t alone.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Those words feel too small. I… You’ve given me a gift. The gift of peace.”
“I’m glad it…helped you. To find them.”
“My name’s Emily.” She turned back toward him. “But you can’t mention me. Don’t tell anyone I’ve been here, okay?”
She nodded, still turned away from him. “Jak’s a good name. I called you Lucas.” She sounded very sad. “I know that’s not your name, but when I was carrying you, that’s what I called you. I’m sorry that in the end, I never even gave you that.”
Her heart twisted, half joy, half sorrow, as she realized that, yes, the forest had nourished his body, but her mother’s words had nourished his soul.
“She did love her books, didn’t she? I remember her asking me if I missed the characters when I told her we’d read Charlotte’s Web in class. I had no idea what she was talking about. She literally missed people who didn’t exist.”
Why should he fight? For what? Why should he survive? He understood the look in the blond boy’s eyes now. The happiness that it was finally over. Jak should have died on that cliff that night, with the other two boys, maybe three. But he had fought to live. Why?
vengeance. It means feeling mad and then getting even.
Sometimes miracles—like love—arrived gently. Softly. Without fanfare. Without a lightning strike. For true miracles needed no such thing.
“You make me see beauty where I didn’t see it before, Jak,” she said, turning her face and closing her eyes as she kissed his palm. “You make everything new. Even me.”
starless black.
exultant,”
Triumphantly happy
And below that, the scent of a strange campfire, something Driscoll had burned using wood Jak had never smelled before. Strong. Ashy.
Grandfather's Cigar!!!
He took another step inside the room, looking around for an enemy. “Who did this?” “I don’t know. I didn’t know him…tall…man.” His breath made a high groaning sound, and his face screwed up.
“You beast! You uncivilized savage!” she screeched. “You’ll kill them! They’ll all die out there!” He walked past her, heading for the door. Yes, he knew that. Creatures couldn’t live where they didn’t belong. But at least they’d die laughing.
“You’re crying,” he said, but he didn’t sound upset. “Yes.” “Female wolves cry when they find their forever mate,” he said, smoothing her hair back.
“You think everyone you love will leave you behind.” “I…” She looked away again but then raised her eyes, unable to look away for long.
“People have left me too. Lied to me, betrayed me. I know I have a lot to learn about the world. But, Harper, I’m not a child. I’m a man, and I know who belongs to me and who I belong to.” He looked straight into her eyes, her soul.
I’d been angry with my parents, my mother specifically, because I’d gotten gum in my hair at school and she’d made me get it cut. It made me look like a boy.”
“Anyway, the other thing I kept hearing in my head was this voice telling me to live. It was like a shout, a demand almost.”
“But it felt so…real. And that one word, it came to me again and again over the years when I wanted to give up. That demand. That…yes, that whisper. Deep down. It made me keep going, helped me hold on, helped me survive.”
She knew this pocketknife, and she held it tightly, knowing what she would see on the back before she’d turned it over. Mother of pearl. “My father carried this in his pocket. Was it in the car? Is that where you got it?”
“You gave this to me,” he said softly, incredulously. “You put it in my hand.” “I…what? I don’t understand.” “It was you. You went over that cliff with me.”
“But I can’t wait to see you at your apartment. I’ll ask Agent Gallagher to drive me when we’re done.” She smiled, nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
The three best words he’d ever heard from the woman he loved. I’ll be waiting. He had someone waiting for him. And he’d never leave her waiting long. He grinned, kissing her quickly and getting out of the truck.
were round targets. Jak squinted, looking more closely at the trophy. The words on the front said “First Place Archery” and his father’s name.
Fuckin KNEW IT
The whispers inside him—his intuition—spiked. He’d already known it, hadn’t he? He’d smelled him there, the lingering scent of what he’d thought was a campfire but had really been the smell of his grandfather’s cigar.
BomBOM
Live! The words he’d said to her on the side of that cliff a lifetime ago rang through her head as they’d done before—down deep in her subconscious and floating to the surface now and again, the rallying cry not to give up. And she hadn’t. Because of him.
He’d curled his fists. It came to her in a flash, the rush of the water filling her head, her mind’s eye conjuring that dreamlike moment. He’d curled his fists. He’d trembled like the rest of them, but he’d curled his fists…and she had known.
