The Alaskan Catch. Beth Carpenter

paid the taxi driver, collected her suitcase, climbed the three steps to the porch and stood there, staring at the doorbell. Nineteen years. Fifty-four percent of her life. A lot could change in nineteen years, although apparently not her brother’s taste in vehicles. The battered blue pickup in the driveway wasn’t too different from the one he’d been in the last time she saw him, through the crack in her bedroom curtains. She could still picture Dad scowling in the driveway, his arms folded across his chest, while Chris burned rubber and burned bridges, roaring out of their lives.

      How would Chris react after all this time? Clearly, he had no overwhelming desire to see her. He could have gotten in touch with her anytime, right where he left her all those years ago. She wasn’t the one who ran away to Alaska, who changed her name. Who obviously didn’t want to be found.

      But, after a long and expensive search, she had found him. Letters from the lawyer had garnered no response, so she came in person. Would she even know him after all this time? What if he slammed the door in her face? But she hadn’t flown thirty-six hundred miles to chicken out now. Maybe he still felt something for the home where they’d been raised. After all, it was only forty-seven percent of Chris’s life since he left. Less than half.

      As always, the mental calculation calmed her. She set down her suitcase and reached for the bell, but before she could push the button, the door flew open and a big brown dog rushed out. Dana stepped back and might have fallen down the steps if the man hadn’t grabbed her arm.

      “Hey, careful there.” The bean pole she remembered had filled out, with a wide chest and shoulders that looked as though he could carry a moose. In spite of the two inches she’d grown after he left, Chris was still a foot taller than her, his rust-colored hair wild and curly with a beard to match. His blue eyes held an expression of puzzlement as he looked at her.

      She studied his face, waiting for a spark of recognition. “Hello, Chris.”

      After a moment, a grin spread across his face and laugh lines formed around his eyes. “Dana!” He dropped the duffel bag he was carrying and crushed her into a bear hug, lifting her from the ground, just as he always had when he came home from college and she would run to greet him. The years melted away as she hugged her big brother.

      Finally, he set her back on her feet. His eyes skimmed over her. “You grew up.”

      “That happens.”

      “I guess so.” He shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe it’s you. How did you get here?”

      “The usual. Airplane. Taxi.” She glanced at the duffel at his feet. “I see you were on your way out.”

      “Yeah, actually.” His face grew more pensive. “But I have a few minutes. Come in. Do you want something to drink? Coffee, maybe?”

      “Okay. Thanks.”

      He picked up her suitcase and led her up the short flight of stairs. A brown leather couch and two recliners faced a giant television. Snowshoes decorated the wall above a rough stone fireplace in the corner. Behind them, a butcher-block island with four barstools divided the living room from the kitchen. “Have a seat. Is instant okay?”

      “That’s fine.” She perched on the edge of the couch. The dog picked a rubber bone from the floor and dropped it into her lap, then sat and tilted his head, looking up at her.

      “That’s Kimmik.”

      “Hi, Kimmik.” Dana stroked the dog’s head, and his tail thumped against the floor. Yellow eyes met hers. “What kind of dog is he?”

      “A chocolate-brown Lab. At least that’s the general consensus. He was a stray.” Chris poured boiling water into two mugs, stirred and set them on the slate coffee table. “I hope black is okay. I don’t have any milk.”

      “Black is fine.” She really didn’t want coffee, but since he offered, she didn’t want to refuse.

      He sat down on the chair next to her. “So—” his mouth quirked “—did you ever get your driver’s license?”

      She laughed. Thanks to his inexpert coaching on driving a stick, she’d failed the driving test the first time. “I did, finally. What have you been up to all this time?” She looked around the room but saw no signs of a feminine influence. “Married? Kids?”

      “Nope. Near miss once. How about you?”

      She shook her head. “Not even close. I went to college and then went to work for Dad.” She’d planned to teach math, but Dad insisted he wanted her there, in the business. Sometimes she wondered why.

      Chris raised his eyebrows. “The old man know you’re here?”

      She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “Actually, that’s what I came to tell you.” She licked her lips. “He died about three months ago.” She handed Chris the obituary.

      He didn’t take it. Instead, his face went blank, his eyes staring into the distance. She set the clipping on the coffee table. After a moment, he blinked and turned to look at her. “Three months, huh?” He picked up the scrap of paper and read it over, his face impassive, but his jaw grew tighter as he read. Dana had helped write the article, all about her father’s success in tool rentals, his contributions to the community and his surviving wife and two children. It, of course, didn’t mention Chris’s absence from the family. When Chris was done, he let the paper flutter to the table, saying nothing.

      After a moment, Dana spoke. “The lawyers tried to contact you, but you didn’t answer their letters.”

      He frowned. “I remember some sort of letters with a return address for a law office, but I assumed they were some sort of scam and threw them away. What did they want with me?”

      “You’re his son.”

      “I’m not.” He shook his head firmly. “We dissolved that relationship a long time ago.”

      “Is that something you can dissolve?”

      He shrugged. “He did.”

      Dana leaned forward. Maybe she was finally going to get some answers. “What was that all about, anyway? The big fight.”

      Chris looked away. “He didn’t want me to come to Alaska.”

      “That’s it?”

      “In a nutshell. He said if I stepped foot in Alaska, I was no longer his son. I came, anyway.”

      There had to be more to it than that. Yeah, Dad could be a little dictatorial, but he’d overlooked much more blatant disobedience from Chris than an unauthorized destination. Like when he was thirteen and drove Mom’s car three towns over to visit a girl he’d met at a basketball game. Or the secret party he’d thrown at the warehouse his senior year of high school that turned out not to be so secret. She was tempted to point that out, but confronting Chris directly had never been the way to get him to talk. She tried another tack. “You’re in his will.”

      His eyebrows rose. “What did he leave me, a cyanide pill?”

      “Same as he left me—fifty thousand dollars.”

      He stared at her. “No way.”

      “I have the papers you need to sign. They say the estate—”

      “What about Mom?”

      “She got the house, the business and all the investments. In trust.”

      He sat very still, as though he was taking it all in. Kimmik whined and laid his head in Chris’s lap. He rubbed the dog’s ears. Dana picked up the mug and took a sip of coffee. After a moment, Chris turned to her. “It was good of you to go to all this trouble to find me, but I don’t want anything from him.”

      “But—”

      “No. Thanks for the offer, but I’m doing fine on my own.”

      This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This inheritance was supposed