Chapter One: The Holiday House

My name is Walter Cross. I’m twenty four years old, I’m an accountant, a painter, an animal lover, an appreciator of nature’s splendor, and, above all else, a lover of my fiance: Alison Smith. She is the pink-yellow rays shining through the morning clouds, peaking shyly from their fluffy hiding spot. She is the wind in my hair on a warm summer's day; the smell of saltwater at the sea and the feel of golden sand between my toes.

We were to be married in autumn.

Alison Smith was three years my junior and still in university, but in intelligence, maturity and wit she was my equal. My brother, Andrew, introduced us - although he doesn’t know it. They were classmates, the two of them. One year, she happened to attend his birthday party: we met and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

Before the wedding was the holiday, taken in the molten core of the summer of ‘63. Januarys in Australia tortured both the mind and skin of those unprepared for it. While we Aussies were accustomed to a little bit of sweat, the promise of some cooler place tempted more strongly than any high-hemmed dress. So my family had devised a cunning solution: the Holiday House.

I really can’t deny the whispered thrill of mentioning our cabin in the Alaskan wilderness at a social gathering. America alone seems exciting enough before the white beauty of its northernmost state was mentioned; jaws hit the floor when she finally was. My father was American, you see, and despite his terrible passing six years ago, he left us with our ultimate getaway destination. As Mother and Father were both only children and all of our grandparents had passed away when we were young; Andrew, Mother and I were the only Crosses left. We had been back to the holiday house a couple of times since we lost dad and it got easier with each tentative trip. Now, you could even say we attend brazenly, but this year was going to be even more brazen. It all started with an innocent question.

Mother had met Alison before of course: many times. And, of course, we had had dinner together. And, of course, they had adored each other. And, of course, they had spoken deeply and heartily into the night. And, of course, they had cackled together like a pair of old witches with warty noses. To think they might be of a mind to conspire against me would not be absurd at all! But, of course, my dear mother, Samantha, still stiffened at my mention of bringing Alison with us to Alaska that year.

Things were not helped when Andrew discovered my plea and demanded his own fiance, Christina should join us as well for the most festive family holiday the crosses had yet seen! Mother, in her sage wisdom, thought this idea dangerous. She planned not to stay with us this year, as she had business elsewhere, although she wouldn’t say what. 

Would it be overly austere to assume something untowards when two brothers brought their fiances with them to a cabin? Separated by a full expanse of house and each other’s perfect alibi? Anything could be said to happen - anything as long as it wasn’t the salacious truth! Mother felt there were more proper ways to acquire grandchildren.

Her fears didn’t last though. We managed to convince her when the guestlist increased: a friend of mine, a friend of Andrew’s and a friend of a friend. Somehow, I feel it has ballooned out of control, but more attendees meant more eyes on wayward hands that might sneak above waist or beneath skirt. Mother’s devilish imaginings of nightmarish adult misconduct were absurd, of course, but a large number of people also meant an equally large quantity of fun. It was hard to find fault with the plan without casting doubt on my purity even if I did long for something more intimate.

And so it was.

Just a few more months! And until then, a memorable trip with friends, family and the love of my life. Our plane would leave the next day. Oh, I couldn’t wait!

On the day of the flight, Mother, Andrew and I initially took a taxi to pick Alison up from her apartment. I got out of the car to help her with her luggage but greeted her with a quick hug first.

“Hey, Hen,” I said affectionately as I took her bag from her. 

“Hen” was one of the many nicknames I had given to Alison, based on an inside joke. Besides “Hen”, she'd also sometimes be called “Chicken” or “Chick”. Her family owned a farm somewhere in southwestern Australia and it was her job since she was little to collect all the chicken eggs, you see. To outsiders, this name might seem odd but Alison seemed to think it sounded cute. 

Alison climbed into the backseat, in between Andrew and I because she was smallest. After everyone was in their seats, seatbelts on, the taxi took off to the airport.

We met up with several of the people that were coming on the trip with us at the airport. It seemed they had already met up ahead of time as they had gathered in a group, looking not unlike a huddle of penguins.

Once we had all begun to intermingle, the air around us seemed to buzz with excitement.  Mother seemed slightly uncomfortable as we huddled toward the check-in desk. She kept sweeping her gaze across our mob, taking in the numbers and muttering under her breath. 

Walking directly behind Mother was Sybil, standing with her honeybrown hair rolling down her neck with a motion like crashing waves. Sybil and I had met in highschool and in truth, we dated briefly, but we were now acquainted with each other only as friends. The relationship was short-lived, and the many years spent together platonically easily eclipsed our puppydog romance. We only spent time together in group settings, of course, to keep things proper.

Next to Sybil was her sister, Iris. She was short in both stature and in hair length, and unlike her sister's rounded features, Iris’ face was angular and intense. Despite knowing Sybil well, I didn’t know much about Iris. I knew that she was roughly two years younger, making her 21 now and that she tended to tail Sybil around like a very obedient dog. Other than that, her personality was a complete mystery to me.

Behind Iris, was Christina, next to whom Andrew was standing. Hair: jet-black and neat, eyes: piercing blue. She had always had a severe aura about her and was fond of speaking in a monotone. She was beautiful but difficult. Andrew often had to insist upon her positive qualities while mitigating conflicts. Apparently, she had a heart of gold but I felt skeptical that she had one at all. Still, my brother loved her and soon I would have to accept her as a sister-in-law, so I tried to hold my tongue and get along with her as best I could.

Alison, myself and Alison’s friend, Rebecca were next in line. Rebecca had a tangled mess of chocolate brown curls that she had long since given up taming, and light, mischievous eyes. Rebecca and Alison had known each other for years, much longer than I had known either of them. Exactly how far the friendship stretched back, I didn’t know. Despite standing next to me, I was apparently not allowed to be privy to their conversation. As they whisper conspiratorially with each other, Alison flashes me her beautiful smile between secrets, as if her form of silent apology. 

All together, that made four girls that were coming with us on this trip. Too many women, my mother was sure to be thinking! She needn’t have worried, I had eyes only for Alison, and while none of the women in this group were bad-looking, she still makes my heart flutter with just a glance. Strawberry blonde hair - usually tied back but why not show off that beautiful bone structure? Tall, athletic, gorgeous. It takes an active effort to tear my eyes away from her enough to even notice Rebecca standing next to her. 

On to the boys: Matthew, Andrew’s friend and Cory, Matthew’s friend were the final duo in our long queue. They both had short brown hair, but where Matthew seemed to put some thought in, gel holding its shape, Cory seemed to let his hairs lay by the same angle they shot out of his head with! I had never met Cory before but he seemed friendly enough, despite his atrocious bedhead. Matthew, I knew a little better, as he had been friends with my brother for a while. Matthew and Andrew often spent time arguing into the night about some football team I knew nothing about, turning my brother into a sport-obsessed alien whose heart I could not comprehend. I quietly hoped Cory would keep Matthew busy this trip so that I might actually spend time with my brother. Real conversations about real topics like art and politics were so difficult to come by, after all! 

Splitting my reverie in half like two even streams of a river, Matthew and Cory’s conversation drifted into my ears. 

“Man, it kinda sucks that only Sybil and Iris are single. What happens if they don’t like me?” Matthew bemoaned.

“Nothing happens.” Cory seemed amused by his friend. “You’re a bachelor now, you’ll be a bachelor then. Something only happens if they do like you.”

Matthew scowled at Cory but you could still feel the affection between them. “I’ve got no more luck than you do,” Cory says. “Don’t worry, we’re peas in a pod.”

As I turned my attention back to those on my left, Rebecca and Alison continued whispering but just as they noticed my eavesdropping attempts, Alison raised her volume.

“Yeah and he has this weird growth on his foot!” Alison said, eyeing me directly. Rebecca laughs, hand covering her mouth. “I think they might have to cut it off.”

Lies! Slander! God, I loved her.

Sybil and Iris are engaging in some kind of grand botanical debate. Sybil was a florist and Iris couldn’t keep herself from talking at length about her garden. Apparently they got their green thumbs from their parents - landscapers. I, on the other hand - well the only green thing I know about was money, so their conversation went straight over my head. I did catch something about fertilizer, so perhaps I should have considered it my victory simply for recognising and understanding some of the vocabulary.

Andrew noticed me daydreaming and gently nudged me in the ribs. “Two guesses on what you’re spending so much time thinking about,” he teased.

“Judgement should never come from a guilty party,” I retorted but he didn’t seem at all fazed by it.

All of us shuffled together as a single unit, like a big fat caterpillar. Soon - and by soon I mean in two hours - we were on the plane, ready to take off. As the loud engines roared alive, I looked out the window and contemplated my home. The plane took off from Sydney to Honolulu and Honolulu to Anchorage then Anchorage to Greenvale by car. It would be a long couple of flights. I half wished I had asked a doctor for some sedatives. However, I managed to sleep just fine from boredom alone.