Chapter Text
The scenery unfolded slowly, wrapped in lush green forest, as a well-loved blue Subaru made its way down the uneven rural road. The car jolted over a pothole, and Gabriel muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the wheel as he steered around the next one. He reached for the radio, turning the dial back and forth, but caught nothing except static.
The midday sun spilled across the dashboard, warm and heavy, making him feel faintly lethargic. Before long, his thoughts began to drift again as he slipped into the automatic motions of an experienced driver.
He hadn’t planned a trip like this at all. The weekend was supposed to be quiet, filled with chores, catching up with friends, maybe a visit to his aunt. Instead, he had spent the better part of the week drafting emails, making calls, and filing paperwork for a temporary detail assignment to Northfork Ranger Station. Thirty days attached to a small Idaho post, reviewing and digitizing historical field materials from the early eighties. It had been easier to justify than he expected. Gaps in the archive were usually enough to spark interest.
Georgina’s call had set everything in motion. She had sounded casual, almost amused, when she mentioned the discovery. Something overlooked. Something that probably should have been cataloged years ago. She had asked if it was the sort of thing he might want to look at.
He hadn’t hesitated. Gabriel had been waiting for a reason like this for years. Maybe his whole life.
So here he was, fifteen hours into the drive. He had left Denver straight after work, barely taking time to pack a small bag, and had been on the road ever since, stopping only once, four restless hours in a run-down roadside motel, before continuing north.
About an hour later, he passed a sign that read “Trudid – 20 miles.” Beneath it, a second sign pointed to a right turn: “Pine Hollow Inn – 7 miles.” Gabriel switched on his blinker and rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck as he slowed for the turn.
Georgina had recommended the inn, insisting he leave his car there. “I know the owner,” she had told him during their last phone call back in Colorado, her tone carrying that familiar mix of authority and teasing. “She won’t mind. And we might as well sleep somewhere civilized for a night.” Gabriel had huffed and raised an eyebrow. “And why would we? The station has cabins. Why not drive straight there?” Her laughter had cut through the phone, loud and unapologetic, almost violent. “Ah, no offense, Gabe, but your car sucks. Severely. And I’m not missing a chance to sleep in a bed that hasn’t been claimed by generations of rangers, or possibly wildlife. ”So Gabriel had yielded, deciding to humor his old friend. She was impossible to argue with, anyway, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, if this discovery was what he suspected it might be, he would owe her more than just a night at a decent inn.
After another stretch of winding road, he pulled into the parking lot of a small inn, a weathered two-story building tucked against the tree line as if it had grown there by accident. The siding, once painted a deep green, had faded unevenly under years of sun and snow. A wooden porch ran along the front, its boards pale and slightly warped, though clean and well kept. Two sturdy timber posts framed the entrance, and above the door hung a modest, fairly new sign, the lettering hand-painted with care. Behind it, the forest stood close and unbroken, tall pines rising like a dark wall, as though the building marked the last deliberate clearing before the land reclaimed itself.
A small bell chimed as Gabriel pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer. The place was crowded with old furniture, armchairs with carved arms, a narrow table stacked with yellowed magazines, a grandfather clock humming quietly in the corner. It wasn’t to his taste, strictly speaking, but there was a kind of comfort in it. Old buildings had a way of settling into themselves. The air smelled faintly of pinewood and the coolness inside cleared the last of the road haze from his head.
Behind the reception desk sat a large man with a newspaper spread wide in his hands. He lowered it when the bell rang, folding it with slow care. His shoulders were broad enough to fill the chair, but when he spoke his voice came out low and gentle, almost a whisper. “Afternoon. Welcome to Pine Hollow Inn. What can I do for you?” Gabriel blinked, taken slightly off guard by the softness of it. Then he noticed the bassinet behind the desk. A baby lay inside, bundled in a quilt, making the faintest snuffling sounds in its sleep.
He instinctively lowered his own voice. “Hello,” Gabriel said quietly. “I’m—well. I’m meeting someone here. Georgina Strongarm.”
Recognition spread across the man’s face at once, the polite innkeeper expression melting into something warmer. “Ah. Then you’re Gabriel.”
“Guilty as charged.”
The man smiled faintly. “Thought so. Georgina’s been talking about you all morning. Parlor’s this way.” He stepped out from behind the desk and led Gabriel down a short hall. Despite his size, he moved carefully, like someone used to being mindful of the space around him. “Sorry for the whispering earlier,” he added, voice rising just a touch once they were a few steps away. “Family business. Sometimes the family part comes with the job.”
Gabriel glanced back toward the bassinet. “No, I get it.” he said. After a moment he added, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Melvin. Melvin Watts.” He offered his hand. His handshake was solid, steady, without being overbearing. “Well,” Melvin said with a small nod toward the room beyond, “she’s been waiting in there, working herself up into a storm.”
Gabriel sighed quietly through his nose, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “That sounds like her.”
Melvin chuckled under his breath and started back toward the desk.
“I’ll be up front,” he said. “Holler if you need anything. Just…”, He gestured vaguely toward the sleeping baby “maybe not too loud.”
Gabriel nodded and made his way into the parlor. It was a small room, but the old, reliable furniture gave it a cozy feeling rather than a crowded one. A pair of armchairs sat near an unlit fireplace, their cushions worn smooth with use, and a low table stood between them with a few scattered pamphlets and a half drunk mug of coffee. The armchair facing the hearth was occupied by a stocky woman that sat there with a worn map spread across her knees. She wore a wrinkled short-sleeved button-up ranger shirt and olive green trousers. Her flat-brim ranger hat hung crookedly on the top rail of the chair, and her scuffed hiking boots were firmly planted in the plush carpet. She hadn’t noticed him yet, too absorbed in the map.
Gabriel approached quietly, but the creaky floor betrayed him. She looked up. The moment her eyes landed on him, they brightened, and a wide smile spread across her face, deepening the lines at the corners of her mouth. “Well, well, well! Here’s the man of the hour!”
She pushed herself out of the chair and strode over, wrapping him in a powerful bear hug. Though she was a little shorter than him, the force of it nearly knocked the breath out of him. The fluffy brown knot of her hair bumped against his jaw.
Gabriel chuckled softly and patted her somewhat awkwardly on the back.
“Hello, Georgina,” he said once she let him go. “Long time no see.” He straightened slightly, then added, “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“Gosh, I forgot how aloof you are,” she said with a short laugh. “Anyway, I got here this morning.”
She tapped the back of her armchair. “Sit down, sit down. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
Gabriel sank into the armchair across from her and stretched his legs out slightly. Georgina, ever the energetic and boisterous woman, quickly fell into telling him all about her life. The words came easily to her, one thing leading into the next without much pause.
He listened, feeling deeply comfortable. Gabriel was, by nature, a taciturn man, and he appreciated, more than he would ever say, that Georgina never seemed to mind filling the silence on her own. He interjected from time to time, answering her questions and asking a few of his own. About her relatives, whom he had never met but by now felt he knew almost as well as his own. About her previous ranger station. About the relationship she mentioned in passing, which he was only just learning about.
At some point, Georgina finally circled back to the reason Gabriel was there.
“I knew the shed was there, of course. So did the previous rangers,” she said, taking a sip of her long-cooled coffee. “But the door was locked, and no one had the key, so I didn’t bother with it at first. There’s plenty of storage space at the station without it. Then the storm hit, and the north wall of the shed collapsed. No surprise there, the thing was old as hell. But it did let me take a look inside. That’s when I found the box. And the tapes.”
Gabriel leaned forward, his usually neutral expression shifting, something tighter slipping through, something caught between curiosity and something deeper. Something desperate
“And… you’re sure they’re…” He hesitated. “I mean, the dates match, but it could still be someone else.”
Georgina looked at him, her expression softening into a warm, sympathetic smile.
“I wouldn’t have called you if I wasn’t sure, Gabe,” she said. “Hope you don’t mind, but I listened to the first tape. Just the first few seconds, but… I’m sure. Your father’s name isn’t that common.”
Gabriel let out a slow, shaky sigh. He nodded, not trusting his voice just yet.
“So,” Georgina said after a moment, “the report they sent me says you’ll be here for a month, right?”
“Yes.” Gabriel nodded again, faintly relieved by the shift in tone. “Thirty days. I had the option of staying at the ranger station, or taking temporary housing in Trudid.”
“Oh?” Georgina raised an eyebrow, her coffee mug hovering near her lips. “And you chose to join me at my dusty, crusty, musty station? I’m flattered.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “Can’t let you have all the fun, Strongarm.”
The older woman burst into loud, booming laughter. “Please, Filipescu. If another pregnant raccoon gives birth on your bed, don’t come crying to me this time.”
Gabriel snorted. “You weren’t much help last time, as I recall. You stood there laughing while I was trying to wrangle a hissing, biting raccoon and her newborns into a broken cat crate.” That only made Georgina laugh harder, slapping her knee with her palm.
They spent a while longer like that, talking easily, the conversation slipping from one thing to the next without much effort. Eventually, Georgina pushed herself to her feet and dragged him out to her old Ford, insisting that he couldn’t set foot in Trudid without trying “the best goddamn place to eat in town.”
Gabriel looked around with quiet interest as they drove. He had never been there before, and at first glance it seemed like a quaint town, the kind that lived off the national park and the steady flow of tourists it brought in.
The place she brought him to was a cozy, slightly run-down café that looked ordinary enough, right up until he opened the door and was met with the smell of frybread and grilled trout. He already knew he’d eat well there.
They made their plan for the next day over pan-fried trout, frybread tacos, and surprisingly excellent coffee.
“We’ll leave around seven,” Georgina said between bites. “My car. The station’s not far, thirty minutes, give or take, but I like getting there early.”
Gabriel nodded, doing his best not to spill the contents of his frybread onto his lap. “We can leave earlier, if you prefer. I tend to wake up early anyway.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said with a grimace. “Seven is already pushing it.”
“Remind me how you ended up in this line of work again?”
“Easy. It keeps me away from smartasses like you.” She took another bite, then added, “And I like being outdoors.” Gabriel huffed quietly in amusement. She pointed her fork at him. “You bring a lot of stuff with you?”
He considered it for a moment. “Laptop, tape player, cables, storage. Not much. Nothing that won’t fit in your car.”
Georgina laughed, low and hearty, the sound carrying easily over the low murmur of the diner. “Did you at least bring clothes?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored her, taking a slow sip of his coffee instead. As he pointedly looked away to emphasize his point, his eyes landed on a man in his mid-forties, affectionately wrangling his son after their meal.
He watched as the father picked up the boy, who couldn’t have been more than six, and placed him securely on his shoulders. The kid looked elated, like he was in the safest place in the world.
Georgina followed his gaze, her expression shifting into something softer and more understanding. “I’m glad you’re here, Gabe. I think this will be good for you. Might give you some sort of closure.”
He nodded, watching the father and son leave the diner, before turning back to her. “I really can’t thank you enough, Georgina.” At her dismissive wave, he insisted, “No, really. Not many people would remember my backstory with my father,
much less care about it.”
“Aw, shucks, Gabe, you’re gonna make me cry.” Georgina fanned away a nonexistent blush, although she did look genuinely touched.
They left the diner soon after, carrying a small container with a few slices of huckleberry pie, “for Melvin and the gang,” as Georgina put it. By the time they reached the inn, the day had lazily drifted into a warm afternoon. At the reception desk stood a young Asian American woman, friendly and approachable, who greeted Georgina like she knew her well. Georgina immediately handed over the pie, telling her to share it with the rest of the staff. Gabriel noted, without comment, that she had in fact kept two slices for herself.
They split up to go to their rooms to freshen up and, in Gabriel’s case, take a nap. His full stomach and the warmth of the afternoon gently but firmly pulled him into a short, restful sleep. When he woke, the sun was already dipping behind the pine trees,
its last rays stretching low across the landscape.
He went down to the parlor to find Georgina, Melvin, and Melvin’s partner, and owner of the inn, Lucille, in the middle of a lively, companionable conversation. The baby was cradled in Lucille’s arms, hovering on the edge of sleep, small fingers idly exploring the folds of the blanket. Gabriel was not a particularly social man, even at the best of times, but he found their company pleasant. He spent the evening there, listening more than speaking, joining in only occasionally.
A few hours later, Melvin and Lucille said their goodbyes, as they wouldn’t be there in the morning, and headed out. The receptionist from earlier had already finished her shift; in her place, a willowy, somewhat lanky woman manned the desk and bid them goodnight.
Georgina wagged her finger at him, somewhat theatrically. “Remember, we’re leaving at seven sharp. Don’t make me have to wake you up.”
He gave her a wry smile. “As long as I don’t have to do the same, we’re golden.”
Back in his room, Gabriel lay down in the clean sheets. He felt tired, but not entirely at ease, something restless lingered under the surface. After a while, he sat up and fished his wallet out of his pocket. He pulled out three photographs.
The first was old, clearly taken decades ago. The colors had faded, and the corners were worn and torn in places. It showed a man in his fifties, serious and unsmiling, standing beside a teenager. Gabriel once again found himself thinking that, while he did resemble his father somewhat, he was the spitting image of his grandfather, Kaarlo Filipescu. The only real difference was in the eyes. Kaarlo's eyes were stark blue, almost washed out in the photograph.
The second photo was newer, though still decades old. The teenager from the first picture was now grown, a man in his forties, his brown hair greying at the temples, his eyes creasing as he smiled. He held a toddler in his arms, the child grinning unabashedly at the camera, brown eyes bright with joy.
The third photo showed the passage of time once again. The toddler was now a sullen teenager, standing between two women, one of whom resembled him slightly. The woman on the right stood straight, serious, her hand resting on his tense shoulder.
The woman on the left stood with her hands in her pockets, her eyes creasing in a way that reminded him of his father’s smile.
Gabriel studied the last photo thoughtfully. His mother was clearly trying to hide her annoyance, although whether it was directed at him or at his aunt Ira, he wasn’t sure. A few months after that photo was taken, she died, quickly and rather unceremoniously. The cancerous tumor that took her away in a matter of weeks, might have been discovered sooner, if not for her refusal to see a doctor.
After that, he was taken in by Aunt Ira, who raised him as her own. He had always liked her, even before that. She treated him like a person, not a petulant, immature child. And she, unlike his mother, talked about his father.
Gabriel looked at the second photo again. At his father, smiling. He wondered if he had known that it would be the last picture taken of them together. He had left a few weeks later, assigned to a ranger station. He never came back.
Gabriel’s mother had drawn what some might consider a natural conclusion. They had only seen each other a handful of times before she found out she was pregnant. Radu had reportedly been shocked, upset, even, at the news. So she assumed he had run. That he had abandoned his responsibilities. She took Gabriel and moved to Oklahoma, hoping to be closer to her parents. They refused to see her, or their only grandchild. In the end, she accepted help from Radu’s siblings. Uncle Igor passed early in his life, so Gabriel barely remembered him. Only fragments remained: strong hands lifting him into the air, the sharp scent of cheap aftershave, a rough voice singing lullabies in Romanian.
Though his mother was grateful for the help, she had tried to erase Radu from their lives. That had led to frequent clashes with Aunt Ira, who refused to let the matter rest, especially when Gabriel would not stop asking about his father.
He sighed and slid the photographs back into his wallet. Stretching out on the old bed, he stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he might finally find what he had been looking for for most of his life.
As expected, Gabriel had to rouse a very grumpy Georgina from her bed at seven-thirty. By the time they were both ready and had loaded his equipment into her truck, it was already nine.
Gabriel sat in the passenger seat, hiding a smirk as Georgina groaned her way into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” she muttered. “Couldn’t let me sleep in for once, huh?”
“I’d be more than happy to,” Gabriel pointed out, a faintly smug smile lingering on his lips. “But you wanted to be there early.” Georgina started the engine, grumbling something about making him hike next time, equipment and all.
The ride was uneventful, and truly beautiful. Giant, ancient pine trees hovered over the road, catching the summer light and casting it back in a soft green tinge. Patches of sunlight broke through the canopy in slow, shifting patterns, dappling the road
and the hood of the truck in gold. Every now and then, the trees would part just enough to reveal a glimpse of open meadow or a narrow stream running clear over smooth stones, before closing in again as if nothing had been there at all.
They reached the ranger station just as the road narrowed and the trees pressed in a little closer.
It revealed itself gradually. A scattering of low, weathered buildings tucked between the pines, their wood faded to a muted gray by years of sun and snow. A small office stood at the center, its porch sagging slightly, flanked by a pair of simple cabins and
a squat garage with its door half-open. There was no clear boundary to the place; it felt less built than settled into the landscape, as though it had grown there and been left to age alongside the forest.
Behind the buildings, half-hidden in the foliage, Gabriel caught sight of a small shed, its roof and northern wall almost entirely caved in.
Georgina hopped out of the car and stretched languidly. “Alright, here we are. Your humble abode for the next month—and mine until November.” She showed him the cabins, each with two old and rusted single beds, then led him into the main building. Inside were a couple of old desks, one with a dusty desktop computer, another almost entirely taken up by the radio console, and a third buried under a chaotic spread of paperwork that made Gabriel cringe inwardly. He moved to the filing cabinets and opened one, relieved to find them mostly empty.
“Did you ever intend to organize those?” he asked, riffling through coffee-stained papers, hurried reports, and nearly illegible notes.
Georgina was already in the side-room kitchenette, brewing herself a cup of coffee. “Sure I did! But now you’re here, so you can help me.” She peeked around the doorframe, catching Gabriel’s raised eyebrow. “Aw, come on, dude. With the storms lately,
I barely had time to keep things running. Now could you be a dear and turn the radio on?”
“Alright, fair,” he muttered, stepping over to the console.
It crackled to life in a burst of static and low chatter. A couple of messages filtered through, something about a vandalized sign, and a fallen tree blocking the northern trail.
Georgina sighed and downed her still-too-hot coffee in one go. “Well. Duty calls.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Uh…” Georgina looked at him, a little surprised. “You sure—”
“Yes.”
“…Alright, dude.” She gave him a sideways glance but didn’t press the matter.
The morning passed quickly. First the trail, clearing the fallen tree, checking the damaged sign. Then a call about the culprits of the vandalized sign, a group of teenagers, drunk and disorderly near the lakeside campsite. Wrangling them took longer than expected, and by the time they were done, it was well past lunch. They grabbed something quick back at the station before Georgina headed out back, deciding to continue clearing the collapsed shed, pulling debris aside, checking what could still be salvaged.
Gabriel lingered for a moment, then followed. “I can help,” he offered.
That finally earned him a look, borderline suspicious, almost disgruntled. “…Are you procrastinating right now? Really?” She studied him for a moment, taking in his expression, the slight shift in his stance. Then she turned an office chair around, sat on it backwards, and leaned her arms over the backrest. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong, Gabe?”
Gabriel sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “I… I don’t know.” And he meant it, too. He had spent most of his life wondering what had happened to his father, what came after he left. And now that he was finally close to finding out… There was a pulling sensation in his stomach. A quiet, creeping dread mixed with something sharper. Anticipation, maybe. Enough to make him feel slightly sick. It felt childish to admit, even to Georgina.
Georgina watched him for a moment, thoughtful. “Tell you what,” she said after a while. “Why don’t you start slow? You need space to work, right? So go sort through the papers, set up your equipment, make sure everything’s running. All that good stuff.”
She stood and gave his shoulder a firm, almost parental pat. “One thing at a time, yeah?”
Gabriel nodded, letting out a breath. “Yeah… you’re right.” He paused, then added dryly, “Though I’m fairly certain this benefits you more than me.” He ducked just in time to avoid the playful swing she aimed at him.
“Cheeky little sod,” she muttered, smiling as she headed out back to deal with the shed.
Gabriel put himself to work, sorting through the strewn-about papers into neat piles on the floor. After that, he rummaged around until he found a few worn, empty folders, which he labeled and stuffed with said piles.
Lastly, he organized the files into the cabinets, carefully and methodically.
The work was tedious and monotonous, which helped soothe his nerves somewhat.
Once that was done, he wiped down the desk and set up his own equipment: a thick, heavy but durable laptop, a pair of bulky, somewhat worn over-ear headphones, an external hard drive, and a USB audio interface. He fished around for a blank notebook and a couple of pens, placing them within easy reach. Then he turned the laptop on and checked that the software provided was, in fact, working properly.
Some time later, he heard Georgina’s heavy footsteps and the door creak open behind him. He glanced back to see her standing in the doorway, and was mildly surprised to realize that a few hours had passed.
“Oh, wow! It looks like a completely different room,” she marveled, glancing around the now paper-free space appreciatively. “I have half a mind to request your permanent placement here.”
“So I can clean your messes? You wish.”
“You’re a bureaucrat by trade. You enjoy organization and all that bullcrap.”
She walked over to the kitchenette and came back with a cardboard box that looked about ready to disintegrate, a government-issued portable cassette player shifting precariously on top of it. She placed it on the desk beside Gabriel’s laptop.
“Here we go. These are all the tapes I found.” She looked at him. “You ready?”
Gabriel nodded, and was glad to find that he was.
“Good, good. I’ll be at my desk, checking the radio.”
Gabriel nodded again and pulled the cassette player closer, steadying it before it could slide off the box. He turned it over briefly in his hands, checking the battery compartment and the worn switches, then set it down beside the laptop.
“Let’s see if you still behave,” he muttered under his breath.
He reached for the cable and plugged one end into the headphone jack of the cassette player, the other into the USB audio interface, then connected it to his laptop. He paused for a moment to make sure everything sat properly, no loose connections, nothing strained.
He slipped the headphones on, one ear slightly off, and powered the cassette player on. The machine responded with a soft mechanical whirr.
On the laptop, he opened the recording software and adjusted the input settings, tapping lightly against the desk as he watched the levels flicker to life with the faint hum of the player.
“Alright,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
He opened the cardboard box and carefully picked out the first tape. The label was faded, the handwriting barely legible, but there was a date, older than the others, just as Georgina had said.
He turned it over in his hands for a moment longer than necessary, then slid it into the player. The click of it settling into place sounded louder than it should have.
Gabriel rested his hand near the keyboard, hovering over the record button. For a brief moment, he hesitated—not out of uncertainty, but something quieter, heavier. That familiar pull settled in his stomach.
Then he pressed ‘record’.
A soft hiss filled his ears as the tape began to turn. Then a voice, one he had not heard in decades, rumbled through his headphones.
“Today is April 14th, 1981, at the Northfork Ranger Station. It’s currently, er—”
A faint rustle of clothes followed, like a sleeve being pulled back to check a watch.
“—19:43. My name is Radu Filipescu, and this is my first day filling in at the ranger post here. I was told to keep some form of record. Daily activities, notable incidents, that sort of thing. So… this is that, I suppose.”
He has the same accent as Uncle Igor, was the first thought that crossed Gabriel’s mind, for some reason.
“The station’s smaller than I expected. Looks like it’s been here a while. Still standing, though, so I guess that says something.” A faint shift in tone, lighter, almost amused. “Met Collins. Didn’t say much, just showed me around, went over the basics.
Trails, boundaries, radio procedures.”
Papers shifted faintly somewhere in the background.
“A lot of it is straightforward. Routine work. Maintenance, mostly. There was a fallen tree on one of the northern trails, I cleared that before noon.”
A slight pause.
“Wildlife’s active. Saw deer near the eastern ridge. Tracks too—could be elk, maybe. I’ll confirm tomorrow.”
He sighed then, more thoughtful than tired.
“Uhh… What else? I think that’s everything of note for today. It’s quiet here. Spring’s just about to come in. You can feel it.” Another small pause, and a chuckle that was unnervingly similar to his own. “It’s nice, really.” A faint tap against the recorder.
“Well. That’s it for now.”
Gabriel heard the tape click to an end, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
That was his father. His father’s voice.
He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear the fog creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. After a moment, he pulled the headphones off and pushed himself to his feet, movements just a little unsteady. He made his way to the kitchenette and downed a glass of water, then another. He splashed his face, the cold biting at his skin.
He braced himself against the sink, breathing out slowly. He still felt shaky.
Upon reentering the office space, Gabriel saw Georgina busying herself at her desk, doing her damndest not to look up at him. He suppressed a smirk, despite himself, and sat back down.
He made sure the recording had been correctly digitized, then stored and labeled it. He found that part significantly less jarring.
Good, he thought to himself. That might make this whole process easier. He paused, then grimaced. Well. Tolerable.
The next few recordings were mundane, and in that, beautiful. Radu reported on everyday activities, small issues, and random observations. Truly nothing mind-blowing, but Gabriel found that, through all this, he was learning more about his father than his mother, Uncle Igor, and Aunt Ira had ever been able to tell him.
He found him to be significantly more easygoing than himself, (“…the fallen branch did a hefty bit of damage to the windshield, but, eh, what can you do…”), and more of a conversationalist, too, (“…saw those hikers from last week again, invited them over to the station for a drink. Nice folks, came all the way from Louisiana…”)
But there were similarities, too. He had the same affinity for nature, (“…and then the baby deer stood up for the first time. What a privilege, to see something like that…”), as well as the same appreciation for quiet, (“…now this, this is something you can’t find in Chicago. Not like this. Maybe one day I could get a place out here, settle down for good. Maybe when Gavriil is older, he could visit…”)
Gabriel huffed quietly at that, something in his chest loosening despite himself.
He also realized, much to his amusement, that his father had inadvertently started using the tapes less as a way to keep records, and more as a diary of sorts. He spoke of his work, sure. But more and more often, he veered into personal matters. More specifically, his mother. And him.
“Tammy’s a great girl, but she doesn’t even know what she wants,” his father was saying in one of the tapes recorded about a month after his arrival at the ranger station. “On one hand she wants me to provide for her and the kid, on the other she resents me for being here. At least that’s what she wrote in her last postcard. Hell, it’s not like I want to be so far away from him and…” He hesitated, then sighed. “…Well. If I’m completely honest with myself… Jeez, I don’t know. I never planned to be a father. This is all so, so new, still.”
Gabriel shifted slightly in his seat, as if to fill the silence radiating from the tape.
“I don’t regret it, though. Gavril, he’s… He’s just the most marvelous thing. I’m just afraid I’ll screw this up somehow. It won’t help that he has a father who’ll be in his sixties by the time he graduates college…”
Gabriel nodded, almost involuntarily. If he had been younger, he might have felt hurt by that, by the hesitation, the uncertainty. Now, he understood that perspective a bit more. He had seen what that kind of life did to people.
Aunt Ira, and to an extent Uncle Igor, had lived with the aftermath of their own father’s disappearance, and everything that came before it. It lingered.
It was a lot. And while Gabriel himself had only ever known love and care from that side of the family, he had understood early on that neither of them would have chosen to raise a child, not really. Then Radu met a girl, spent a couple of nights with her, and, well. That was that.
He was a couple of months into the recordings when he came across a shorter one. Only a few minutes long.
“June 22nd, 1981, 21:48, Northfork Ranger Station, Ranger Filipescu speaking. Got a weather report coming in. Rainstorm moving in from the west. Should hit the area within the next twenty-four hours. I expect there’ll be some cleanup after.”
A faint sound of movement, then the soft clink of something being set down. “Good grief… as if there aren’t enough things to deal with already.”
A pause. Then a longer one, followed by the quiet sound of him taking a drink. Gabriel found himself wondering what he preferred in moments like that, alone, in the middle of nowhere.
“The bozos I caught trying to hunt last week showed up again. No rifles this time, thankfully. Eh… they’re good people, really. Just a bit senseless.” A faint hint of amusement crept into his voice. “Had a chat with them.
They were planning to go fishing up by the… Eh…”
A sudden shuffle. Silence. Gabriel arched an eyebrow. All the tapes so far had ended cleanly, methodically. This one didn’t.
After a moment, the recording resumed, Radu’s voice a touch more unsettled.
“Huh. That’s weird. I could’ve sworn I saw someone through the window. A man, I think. It looked like he was standing between the trees. Almost hiding.” A pause. “But when I went outside…” Another pause, longer this time.
“…Hm. Maybe it was just the light. It’s getting dark, after all. Oh, well. That was more or less what I needed to report. Over and out.”
A hand on his shoulder made Gabriel jump. He spun his chair around, pulling one of the headphones off, to see Georgina looming over him.
“You good?” she asked, a bit more tentatively than usual.
“Yeah, just… can’t hear much through these.” He gestured vaguely with the headphones. “You startled me.”
She sniggered and gave him another pat on the shoulder, more forceful this time. “Alright then. Listen, I’m gonna go hit the hay. I suggest you do the same.”
Gabriel glanced out the window. The twilight had long since given way to a soft summer night. He furrowed his brow and looked back at the pile of tapes, still mostly untouched. Georgina followed his gaze.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, matter-of-fact.
He didn’t answer. She studied his expression for a moment, then sighed.
“Alright, fine. Fine. Have it your way.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll be at the west cabin. Your sleeping quarters are in the east one. And lock the door while you’re in here. I can’t tell you how many drunk visitors just barge in.”
Gabriel’s expression shifted, faintly perturbed. She waved it off. “Don’t even get me started. I’ll tell you the horror stories tomorrow.”
Gabriel bid her goodnight and stood by the threshold for a moment before locking the door behind her. The night air was crisp, but not cold, and smelled of pine sap and sunbaked dust. He made himself a cup of coffee,
the cheap kind Georgina always ended up buying in bulk.
He grimaced at the taste, but the sharp hit of caffeine made him feel more awake. He sat back down and put on the next tape.