The Truth, Tucked Away

Emily’s breath hung there, puffs of mist in the crisp air, a fleeting wisp that dissipated as quickly as it appeared. The pine trees loomed tall and silent around her, their branches quietly creaking secrets of a land untamed. Their sharp, earthy was scent a familiar friend. This was her world, a realm of solitude and silence, broken only by the occasional distant howl of a wolf or the sharp call of an eagle. Emily was alone, save for her father who was often absent, his presence a shadow that came and went with the cycles of the moon.

The small log cabin they called home stood at the edge of a vast forest in the great Alaskan wilderness, its walls a testament to years of weathering harsh winters and torrential rains. Inside, the warmth of the fire did little to chase away the chill that seeped into Emily's bones, a chill not just of the body, but of the heart. Her father’s sporadic returns were marked by brief exchanges and averted gazes, and though she had learned to fend for herself, the yearning for a mother she had never known gnawed at her soul. Who wouldn’t want a mother? Or a companion, at least. Someone to talk to, to share secrets and laugh and play with.

One day in early Spring, with her father gone on another of his long trips, Emily decided to clean up the small, cluttered cabin. It was an idle task, meant to pass the time and keep the gnawing loneliness at bay. She moved with practiced ease, sweeping the wooden floors, dusting the shelves, and straightening the meager furnishings. As she made her way to her father’s room, she paused, her hand lingering over his bed. It was an intrusion into his private space, a boundary. But curiosity and a strange sense of destiny compelled her forward.

Lifting his pillow, she found a photograph tucked beneath it. The edges were worn and the colors had faded with time. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw it. The image was of a younger man, her father, with an arm draped casually around someone. A woman. The woman’s eyes, so familiar yet so foreign, seemed to look right through Emily, piercing her with an intensity that made her heart ache. My mother. The realization hit her like a thunderclap, and she sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face. 

With trembling hands, she flipped the photograph over and saw a message scrawled on the back. “Never going to leave this place,” it read, and she mouthed the words but no sound came forth. She read the next words, a location: “With love, from Glacier Lake.” It was a place even deeper into the Alaskan wilderness than they already were, a name that held no meaning for her previously, but it could hold answers she desperately needed.

Determination ignited within her. Emily gathered what supplies she could find: a small rucksack, a canteen, some dried meat, and a thick wool blanket. She dressed in layers, pulling on sturdy boots and her warmest coat. With a map her father had once shown her and a compass in hand, she set out into the vast, indifferent expanse of the forest.

The journey was arduous. The forest, once a familiar sanctuary, transformed into a labyrinth of leafy limbs almost grasping for her. Obstacles she never anticipated stretched out before her as she waded through icy streams, clambered over fallen trees, and pushed through thickets of thorny underbrush. Each step was a testament to her resolve, her hope to better understand a mother she had never known.

On the third day, as she traversed a narrow trail along a steep ravine, she heard, and then saw, a large hairy form rustling through the bushes ahead. Whether a moose or a bear, or something worse, she had to defend herself. Her heart pounded as she gripped the hunting knife she carried for protection. A black bear emerged from the foliage, its massive form blocking her path. Fear paralyzed her for a moment, but she remembered her father’s teachings. Moving slowly, she backed away, her eyes never leaving the bear. A long, tense moment passed between them, and she saw the bear weighing possibilities in its mind before it turned and lumbered off into the woods, leaving her path clear once more. She let loose a sigh and slumped against the nearest tree to catch her breath, adrenaline now coursing through her veins and overwhelming her senses.

Bruised, battered, and exhausted, Emily finally reached Glacier Lake. The sight took her breath away. The lake was a mirror of the sky, its pristine waters reflecting the surrounding snow-capped peaks. It was a place of haunting beauty, a sanctuary of tranquility. Emily felt a connection to this place. Some sort of bond with these mountains. With the chill of this fresh air.

She set up camp by the water’s edge, building a small fire to ward off the evening chill. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, she felt a presence beside her. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel her mother’s arms around her, a whisper of love carried on the gentle breeze.

Emily knew that her journey was far from over. There were still answers to be found, mysteries to unravel. But in that moment, by the shores of Glacier Lake, she found a piece of her heart that had been missing, a fragment of the family she had always longed for. And with that, she found the strength to continue.

As the first light of dawn crept over the mountains, soft hues of primrose pink and cornflower blue cast a gentle glow across the lake. Two ducks alighted from a patch of reeds at the edge of the lake. Something stirred within her. Yearning. The serene beauty of the lake was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her, a near silent witness to her newfound resolve. She packed her belongings methodically, the ritual grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The wilderness had become a canvas for her thoughts, each step forward painting a path toward a future she had not dared to dream of before. She might discover something, anything, about her mother.

Emily had spent the night under the stars, the crackling fire providing warmth and a false sense of companionship. She tried to allow it to be enough, as she did in her hearth at home. She had slept fitfully, her dreams a tangled web of faces and voices, echoing memories she did not have. Now, with the day ahead, she set out to explore the area around the lake. There is more to uncover here. I can feel it.

Her search led her deeper into the forest, where the trees grew denser and the underbrush thicker. The air was filled with the earthy scent of moss and pine, and the ground was soft beneath her boots, muffling her footsteps. As she pushed through a thicket, she stumbled upon an overgrown path, barely visible beneath the foliage. Following it, she soon came upon a clearing where an old, weathered cabin stood, its wooden walls gray with age and its roof sagging under the weight of time.

The cabin seemed almost a mirage, a relic of a forgotten past. Emily approached it cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. She pushed open the creaking door, which gave way with a reluctant groan. Inside, the cabin was dim and musty, filled with the smell of old wood and decay. Dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight that filtered through the broken windows, illuminating the remnants of a life once lived. Love once shared.

Taking in the space, Emily was drawn to a table in the corner, covered with a thick layer of dust. On it lay a collection of photographs, their edges yellowed and curled. She picked them up one by one, her fingers trembling. The first photo was of her mother and father, smiling and carefree. There were more—her parents hiking, laughing by the lake, and then, a photograph that took her breath away: her mother, visibly pregnant, standing in the doorway of this very cabin, her hands resting gently on her swollen belly.

Overcome with emotion, Emily sank to the floor, clutching the photographs to her chest. Sobs wracked her body as she wept for the mother she never knew, for the lost moments and untold stories. The loneliness she had always felt now had a face, a name, a tangible reality that made her heart ache with a profound longing.

The hours passed unnoticed as Emily let her tears flow, releasing the grief that had been buried deep within her. When she finally stood sometime that afternoon, her resolve was stronger than ever. Her father had kept these memories hidden, buried in the stark silence of their lives. My life. Nothing but silence. He owed her an explanation, and she would no longer accept half-truths and evasion. 

Then she noticed them. More stacks of photographs. Littering the floor and various surfaces were hundreds of them. She sat down in an old chair in the living room area, one that, she noticed, wasn’t quite as dusty as some of the other surfaces out here. She realized, then, her place at the table had looked recently used, as well. She shuddered. On the side table next to her was another stack, and she braced herself for more pictures of her mother. Instead, she saw someone else. Another woman. 

Her face turned to horror as she saw flipped through the stack, beginning in casual date photos of them and her father, days she’d been stuck at home while he was out ‘hunting’ and ‘trapping varmints’ but then she recognized the cabin she was in right now in the background of a photo, but the face of the woman had changed. She was out cold. There were more photos after that. Her fingers trembled, as she took in the stacks around her, all different women, all ending the same way. She was uncertain what she should do, but she couldn’t stay. She could barely process anything beyond the swell of blood in her ears, blotting out all sound. All thought. She panicked, and ran out of the cabin in a flurry of photos.

She took one last look at the tranquil waters, the reflection of the mountains a silent promise of the journey ahead. A chill ran through her when she realized her father might beat her home.