Chapter 1

Road Less Traveled Magazine

Portland, Oregon

It was the time of the year Alexa Carrington most dreaded. No, not that time, but a specific monthly staff meeting. Normally she didn't mind staff meetings, but once a year, her boss took the names of a bunch of destinations and tossed them into a hand-woven basket. Each of the four journalists who worked for the magazine had to draw one out, and that was their next assignment.

Their editor, Perry, didn't care what they wrote regarding the selected destination; only that it was featured prominently in the article. Alexa didn't know why she dreaded it—the last couple of years' assignments had been kind of fun. Her trip the previous year to Easter Island, off the coast of Chile, had been enlightening. The island was home to fewer than 8,000 permanent residents. It was so much more than just the famed 887 monolithic statues known as moai. They'd been carved out of volcanic rock by the island's indigenous people between 1250 and 1500 C.E.

For Alexa, the trip had been a turning point. She'd returned home and ended her marriage of eight years not because it was toxic, but because it had become stale. She didn't hate her ex; their paths had just diverged to the point that they no longer had much in common, and neither cared enough to try and change that.

Karen, one of the other travel writers, chose first and whined, "God, what is it with these locations? Ittoqqortoomiit, Greenland? I don't even know how to pronounce that."

"Then I suggest you learn," chuckled Perry. "Next?"

"Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like they're sticking their hands into a basket of vipers?" asked Chuck. He pulled out a piece of folded paper and groaned. "I will buy dinner for anyone who is willing to swap with me."

There was muffled laughter, but no one took him up on it.

"Nepal again?" teased Geordi.

Chuck nodded. He'd had Nepal for the past three years and all three times had come home sicker than the proverbial dog.

"Make it Salvador Molly's, and you've got a deal. I love their jambalaya," said Geordi.

"Hey, you know the rules," said Perry. "No trades."

"Come on, Perry. Let him trade this once," said Alexa, who actually felt sorry for Chuck.

There were murmurs of agreement, and Perry waved a hand in defeat. "All right, but just this once."

"Thanks, Geordi. You let me know when you want to go. So, what did I get?"

Geordi grinned. "The Canadian Rockies—Banff and Jasper, specifically."

"Whoa. Okay I owe you dinner before and after. You know how much I love those areas."

"True. I feel bad that you've been stuck with Nepal and keep getting sick. I figure you're owed a good one, and I've been there, anyway."

Perry looked to Alexa. "Are you okay with what you got?"

"Very much so. Kodiak Island up in Alaska. I've wanted to explore that area for a long time."

"Ah, the Alaskan experience," said Chuck. "No offense, but aren't you going to have to work on finding a new angle?"

"Alexa always finds a new angle," said Perry confidently.

He wasn't wrong, but so much had been written about Alaska. It was really one of the last frontiers for Americans. It was part of their country but so distant, and in many ways, so foreign. Alexa's plan was to book her flight and a place to stay, and let it go from there. Perry was very generous with their expense accounts. He had a top-notch team, and the magazine's readership kept increasing.

"Well, that's it," said Perry. "Let's make this the best edition ever. Let me know if we can do anything to help here at the office."

Alexa remained in the conference room while the rest of them strolled out, and started researching places to stay. She avoided hotels if she could and preferred either a bed and breakfast or an Airbnb.

In spite of herself, Alexa found she was getting excited. She wondered why she dreaded these meetings assigning these remote locations. She hadn't been assigned a bad one yet, and it was kind of fun watching her co-workers squirm. Okay, so maybe she enjoyed them more than she should.

* * *

Kodiak Island

Alexa hated flying and flying in small planes was the worst. Well, flying itself on a large commercial jet in first-class wasn't so bad; it was the take-offs and landings that made her clutch the arms of her seat. The problem with small propeller planes was that there were no seat arms to be clutched. None. Instead, she clasped her hands together, squeezing them tightly, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing.

"Ma'am, I'm a really good pilot. My plane is in tip-top shape, and I promise the flight to Kodiak is beautiful. I can even take you on a little aerial tour."

She forced her eyes open and felt as though she wanted to throw up. She really hated flying and this particular flight on a small prop plane where she could see, hear, and feel every vibration from the engine, the surrounding air, and the movement of the pilot was the worst. She often wondered why she continued to write for a magazine that almost inevitably involved flying in small planes. The answer was that the adventure to be had at the destination was always worth it. Kodiak Island would be no different.

"I'm sure it is," she said, smiling. "As you may have guessed, flying in small planes isn't my strong suit."

"Is this your first time?"

"God, I wish," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Why do you do it?"

She appreciated the pilot trying to distract her and alleviate her fear. "The easy answer is because I don't have a choice. I work for a travel and adventure magazine so flying to remote places is part of the job. The more complicated answer is that I refuse to allow fear to dictate my life. I keep hoping it'll get easier, but it doesn't."

The pilot chuckled. "I appreciate that, and I admire your unwillingness to cave to fear. Sometimes it is that kind of stubborn determination that will get you through whatever it is you have to get through. People up here—a lot of us—came up here to escape something and then found out Alaska will challenge you in ways you never thought of. But for those who can dig-in and stick it out, it is not only a great adventure, but an incredible affirmation of life. So, what's your article going to be about?"

Alexa grinned. "Not sure yet. That's the really fun part of my job—finding out what the story is supposed to be and then sharing it with readers."

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I do."

"Did you always want to be a writer for a magazine?"

The pilot had no way of knowing, but that was a loaded question. "Not really. I went to school to be either a novelist or do investigative journalism."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because it pays the bills, and because I do enjoy it." She didn't add that sometimes, at the end of the day, lying all alone in the dark, she wondered when she'd lost the courage to pursue her dreams to see if she had what it took to take on the world and make it her own.

"I hear that," he said. "There's lots of great stories on Kodiak."

"Like what?"

"People who came to do one thing and ended up doing another. Artisans who came to lose themselves in the natural beauty and ended up finding themselves instead. The wounded who come to heal. Then there's the land itself and all the wild places and creatures that inhabit it."

The plane banked and began its final approach to the airport. Alexa tried hard not to show her fear, but she couldn't help closing her eyes. As the plane touched down, bumping gently along the landing strip, she opened her eyes and began to breathe more easily as they slowed, and the pilot brought them to a stop.

Thanking him, Alexa stepped off the plane. Turning away from the airport buildings, her eyes swept across the rugged beauty of Kodiak Island. And it was beautiful—the air was crisp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and sea salt. She took in a deep lungful. Even standing at the airport there was a primal beauty to the place. It seemed to challenge and welcome her all at the same time.

Adjusting her backpack, her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This trip, like all that had come before and all that would follow, allowed her to explore and experience an untamed wilderness and something new and exciting. But this felt different. She planned to write about either one of the island's hidden gems or about some unique personality that would capture the attention of those who read her article. And while it was an assignment, it also allowed for a personal journey of her own. Maybe this time she would find what was missing. Find what could help her heal the scars of her past and step into a different future.

She tore her eyes away from the panoramic beauty of the landscape and turned back towards the terminal. The back of a lone figure standing apart from the bustling crowd of tourists and locals caught her eye. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a mane of dark hair tied back.

As he turned around, Alexa recognized the man. Max Renner was hard to miss. She recalled knowing he lived on Kodiak Island, but not much more was known about him. His reputation as a reclusive artist with a mysterious past had intrigued Alexa from the moment she first saw his hauntingly beautiful collection of carvings and sculptures at a gallery back in Portland. Each piece spoke to her and seemed to tell a story of its own. The carvings were of shadowy figures, animals and landscapes that spoke of both beauty and pain.

She ran towards him, trying to catch up with him before he moved away and disappeared into the small crowd. "Max? Max Renner?" Alexa called out, slowing as he turned and approaching him with a smile.

He turned to her, his dark eyes assessing her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "I am and you are?"

"Alexa Carrington. I write for Road Less Traveled magazine. I saw your showing in Portland. It was mesmerizing. I'd love to do an interview."

"I don't do interviews," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "But welcome to Kodiak Island."

"Thank you," she replied, extending her hand. "It"s a pleasure to meet you. Your work is really incredible. I think our readers would love to know more about you and your art."

Max shook her hand, reluctantly it seemed. His grip was firm but not overly so. "I doubt it. Hopefully the island will live up to your expectations. It"s a place of raw beauty and unforgiving wilderness."

"I wouldn"t have it any other way," Alexa said, feeling the thrill of anticipation she always felt when she believed she'd found her story. "I"m looking forward to experiencing it all and sharing it with my readers. Would you be willing to talk to me? I won't print anything without your permission."

Max nodded, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "I'm afraid I don't have much choice. You were booked at the loft Joe keeps above his store. He broke his leg last week?—"

"I'm so sorry. Will he be okay?"

Max grinned; the change in his face and demeanor was astonishing. "He'll be fine. I think his pride got more banged up than his leg."

"He sells a lot of your things, doesn't he?"

"Not the sculptures so much as the mountain climbing tools. He's a good friend and didn't want to lose the income from your stay. Because of the broken leg, he's staying with his sister and has closed the loft. If it's all right with you, I offered to let you stay at my place."

"So do I pay you? I already have the payment in place for the loft."

"If you don't like my place for any reason, Joe will refund your money. Otherwise, just let it go through to him."

"That doesn't seem fair to you."

Max shrugged. "It's fine. Joe and I are friends. He'd do the same for me. People on Kodiak look out for one another."

This couldn't have turned out better if I'd planned it. Staying at the artist's place would give her unfettered access to him and time to persuade him to let her write about him. "I don't want to be an imposition."

"You wouldn't be. You won't have some of the conveniences of being right in town, and I'm no chef, but it'll offer you a place off the grid that you can use as a base to explore. I know the area like the back of my hand and could show you around."

"That would be great. Thank you."

Max nodded—more to himself than to her it seemed. "Well then, let"s get you settled in. My cabin isn"t far from here."

She fell in beside him as they walked to his truck, a sturdy vehicle that had clearly seen its fair share of rough terrain. Banged up with a worn-out paint job, it seemed to reflect its owner and still retained a kind of feral beauty. Climbing into the passenger seat, Alexa took in the worn leather seats and the scent of pine and earth that seemed to permeate the vehicle. As Max started the engine and they drove away from the small airport, she felt as though she was on the cusp of another great adventure.

As Max drove, Alexa found herself torn between the man sitting next to her and the landscape that surrounded them. Both were breathtaking. Max was rugged, and yet his hands were those of a skilled artist. As the city fell behind them, Alexa was captivated by the mountains that rose up from the island itself as well as the dense forests and glimpses of the ocean in the distance.

There was something about this place that gave Alexa a feeling of deep connection to it, as if it held secrets waiting to be uncovered. She glanced at Max, who seemed focused on the road ahead, his expression unreadable.

"Your art—both the carvings and sculptures—they have such a powerful presence," she said, breaking the silence. "What inspires you?"

Max glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. "Mostly, the island itself. Its beauty, its wildness, its past. And... other things."

"Other things?" Alexa prompted, curious.

"I haven't agreed to be interviewed."

"I understand that, but I'm curious by nature. I promise, I won't write anything without talking to you about it. But sometimes the best way to show people a new place is to introduce them to people who make it their home. It gives them a better understanding of it."

Max hesitated, as if weighing his words. "Memories. Dreams. Sometimes it"s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins."

Alexa nodded, sensing that there was much more to Max Renner than met the eye. He was an enigma in the art community, a man who lived in a remote area and gave no interviews, shunning publicity. He allowed his art to speak for itself. As they drove deeper into the heart of Kodiak Island, Alexa couldn"t shake the feeling that she was about to embark on an adventure that would change her life forever.