Anywhere (Sawtooth Mountains Stories, #3) Read online

  ANYWHERE

  A Sawtooth Mountains Story

  by

  Susan Fanetti

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Anywhere (Sawtooth Mountains Stories, #3)

  THE FREAK CIRCLE PRESS

  ALSO BY SUSAN FANETTI

  Author’s Note

  Anywhere Song List:

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  PART TWO

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  PART THREE

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  PART FIVE

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  PART SIX

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THE FREAK CIRCLE PRESS

  Anywhere © 2018 Susan Fanetti

  All rights reserved

  Cover design © 2019 Susan Fanetti

  With images from DepositPhotos and original image by Susan Fanetti

  Cover detail: beaded earring by Cheyenne River Sioux artist Sheyenne Tereshko

  www.WhisperingWindsShop.com

  Susan Fanetti has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ALSO BY SUSAN FANETTI

  Sawtooth Mountains Stories:

  Somewhere

  Someday

  The Pagano Family:

  Footsteps, Book 1

  Touch, Book 2

  Rooted, Book 3

  Deep, Book 4

  Prayer, Book 5

  Miracle, Book 6

  The Pagano Family: The Complete Series

  The Pagano Brothers:

  Simple Faith, Book 1

  Hidden Worthiness, Book 2

  Accidental Evils, Book 3

  The Northwomen Sagas:

  God’s Eye

  Heart’s Ease

  Soul’s Fire

  Father’s Sun

  The Brazen Bulls MC:

  Crash, Book 1

  Twist, Book 2

  Slam, Book 3

  Blaze, Book 4

  Honor, Book 5

  Fight, Book 6

  Stand, Book 7

  Light, Book 7.5

  Lead, Book 8

  THE NIGHT HORDE MC SAGA:

  The Signal Bend Series:

  (The First Series)

  Move the Sun, Book 1

  Behold the Stars, Book 2

  Into the Storm, Book 3

  Alone on Earth, Book 4

  In Dark Woods, Book 4.5

  All the Sky, Book 5

  Show the Fire, Book 6

  Leave a Trail, Book 7

  The Night Horde SoCal:

  (The Second Series)

  Strength & Courage, Book 1

  Shadow & Soul, Book 2

  Today & Tomorrow, Book 2.5

  Fire & Dark, Book 3

  Dream & Dare, Book 3.5

  Knife & Flesh, Book 4

  Rest & Trust, Book 5

  Calm & Storm, Book 6

  Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

  Love & Friendship

  Historical Standalones:

  Nothing on Earth & Nothing in Heaven

  Carry the World

  As S.E. Fanetti:

  Aurora Terminus

  To the wanderers. May you find home.

  As always, my most heartfelt thanks to TeriLyn, the world’s most amazing beta-reader, and to Amy and Kim, who tirelessly shepherd my reader group. Without the steadfast support of such good friends, I couldn’t do what I do.

  Love you.

  Author’s Note

  When I write a character from a culture other than my own, I try to do so with the utmost care and sensitivity, to represent an authentic experience informed by as much research, thought, and understanding as I can muster. This is the case in Anywhere, as always. I’m keenly aware of my position and privilege as a white woman telling a story not my own, and I tread carefully.

  Though I recognize the problematics of taking on a marginalized voice from my position of privilege, I do it when a story calls for it, because I want my story worlds to be robustly and authentically diverse, and I don’t want to resign my characters of color to the sidelines. Sometimes, they want their stories told, too. Because I’m an indie author, and not using the finite resource of traditional publishing contracts that an #ownvoice author might be awarded, I feel some leeway to tell the stories of my characters of color. So I take that on, and take pains to be respectful and true when I do. I hope I succeed.

  I let all my characters show me who they are, how their heritage shapes them and their worldview, what they value and why, what their struggles are, and I try to let them tell their story through my words. I feel this responsibility all the more intensely when I write in the POV of a marginalized person.

  In the case of Gigi, the female lead of the story that follows, her experience as a citizen of the Sawtooth Jasper Shoshone Reservation (a fictional reservation), profoundly affects her story.

  In coming to understand Gigi and her heritage, I’ve read widely, asked a lot of questions, of texts and of people, gotten a lot of answers and feedback. If you’re interested in learning more as well, I have two short lists of general recommendations.

  First, a couple books I recommend:

  “All the Real Indians Died Off” and 20 Other Myths about Native Americans, by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz and Dina Gilio-Whitaker

  An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States, also by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

  And some great Native voices on Twitter, if Twitter is your jam:

  Kaitlin Curtice (Potawatomi Nation): @KaitlinCurtice

  Dr. Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation): @NativeApprops

  The Lakota Law Project: @lakotalaw

  Rebecca Nagle (Cherokee Nation): @rebeccanagle Nagle is the host of the amazing THIS LAND podcast, which I cannot recommend more highly: https://crooked.com/podcast-series/this-land/

  Vincent Schilling (Akwesasne Mohawk): @vinceschilling

  I hope you enjoy Gigi and Reese’s story.

  with love,

  s—

  Anywhere Song List:

  Chapter 1: “A Place Called Home,” Kim Richey

  Chapter 2: “Photograph,” Ed Sheeran

  Chapter 3: “Carry Me Home,” The Sweeplings

  Chapter 4: “Jolene,” Dolly Parton

  Chapter 5: “I Will Always Love You,” Dolly Parton

  Chapter 6: “Catch & R
elease,” Matt Simons

  Chapter 7: “Paint,” The Paper Kites

  Chapter 8: “Second Chances,” Gregory Alan Isakov

  Chapter 9: “You’re Like Coming Home,” Lonestar

  Chapter 10: “Oceans,” Seafret

  Chapter 11: “Winter,” Joshua Radin

  Chapter 12: “Runaway,” Ed Sheeran

  Chapter 13: “She Lit a Fire,” Lord Huron

  Chapter 14: “First Day of My Life,” Bright Eyes

  Chapter 15: “What We Live For,” American Authors

  Chapter 16: “High and Low,” Joshua Radin

  Chapter 17: “Devil’s Tears,” Angus & Julia Stone

  Chapter 18: “Heaven When We’re Home,” The Wailin’ Jennys

  Chapter 19: “Cowboy Take Me Away,” The Dixie Chicks

  Chapter 20: “When You Say Nothing at All,” Alison Krauss

  Chapter 21: “You’re the Reason Why,” Lonestar

  Chapter 22: “It’s Your Love,” Tim McGraw

  Chapter 23: “Hold Onto My Heart,” Graham Colton

  Chapter 24: “I’m New Here,” Gil-Scott Heron

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  “What time is it?” Gigi grabbed Darwin’s arm, which was hooked over her shoulder, and turned it so she could see the watch on his wrist. “Hey, it’s not nine yet. Can we swing by the library? I want to check my email.” When everybody groaned, she added, “It’ll take five minutes, tops.”

  “Please, please, please, just use your phone. I promise no scary mind-control bugs will leap out and turn you into a killing machine if you put the Gmail app on your phone.” Ramona made a move for Gigi’s bag, and Gigi pushed her playfully off. Mostly playfully.

  She had very few apps on her phone. She’d had a smartphone at all for only two years, and she had almost no social media. Twitter was enough to keep her informed about the world and connected to the people and places she wanted to be connected to, and it let her be anonymous from everyone and everywhere else. But email was ... different. It came with attachments she liked distance from.

  “I’m not a tinfoil-hatter. I just like email being hard to get to.” If she could tap her screen and see her messages, she’d get drawn into things she didn’t want in her life anymore. She’d kept the email active so she could stay in the loop if she wanted to be, and she made it hard to read her emails so that loop wouldn’t become a noose.

  “You like being hard to get to,” Darwin amended, and the whole group nodded.

  That was absolutely true. But she’d been here for six months, and though she almost never stayed in one place so long, she wasn’t in a huge hurry to leave. Maybe her itchy feet were finally calming down. “You guys get to me just fine. In fact, you’re getting to me right now.”

  “Har har har,” Elliot said. “Okay, let’s get Laura Ingalls Wilder to ye olde library. I want to commence the partying.”

  She let the Laura Ingalls Wilder comment go. She wasn’t in the mood to give a lecture about that writer’s problematic attitudes about race, particularly regarding Indigenous people.

  *****

  While her friends wandered around the library, Gigi sat down at a computer and logged into her email for the first time in about two months. It was the same account she’d had since Mr. Vlastok had made them get accounts in her high-school computer class. The only people who had it were people from home, and whatever random businesses she’d needed to give an email address to use over the years.

  It wasn’t hard to forgo technology; she’d grown up in a world without it. Almost nobody on the reservation had had internet when she lived there, and not that many families had any kind of a computer. All her life, she’d had to make a special trip to the library, in town or at school, to use a computer.

  In the years she’d been away, she could have borrowed any number of desktops, laptops, and tablets from the friends she’d made and often stayed with. Darwin had a Surface he offered her the use of repeatedly. But she liked the remove of having to make a special trip. Making a special trip prepared her for the experience of reconnecting to a place she’d escaped. Was still escaping.

  As usual, her inbox was mostly spam, and as she scrolled through the hundreds of crap messages that had accrued since last she’d checked, she felt a tingle of relief and a tinge of worry. Usually—not always, but usually—she had at least one message from home. They’d gotten very short over the years, but Gigi and her mom and sister paid at least a passing nod to the idea that she was still part of the family. Her friends from home had given up on her long ago, but her mom checked in every couple months to make sure she was okay and give her an update about the family, and her sister wrote a couple times a year to remind her she was a terrible human being for abandoning the people who loved her.

  She had reasons not to be all that enthusiastic about checking her email.

  About halfway down the list of unread messages, she found one from her mom. Before she opened it, she spent a couple minutes cleaning all the spam out. Then she read her bank statement, which had taken a little hit while she’d lived in Brooklyn. It was expensive here. She’d spent more money here in six months crashed on a brownstone sofa than she had in a year exploring Asia.

  Finally, there was nothing left but her mom’s email. Her sister, Frannie, wrote messages practically smoking with aggressively passive-aggressive commentary designed to make Gigi feel like a jerk, but their mom’s messages carried a load of guilt, too. She did it by reminding Gigi she was loved and missed, and keeping her updated about the life she’d left behind, and hoping she was happy. It was a lot harder to ignore that kind of guilt. The kind she felt because she was actually guilty.

  The subject line of this message was just a generic, lower-case word: news. Gigi clicked it open.

  Dear Georgia

  I wish I had another way to give you this news. Maw died last night. There was a clot somewhere inside her, and it went into her lung. She just stood up from her chair and died. The doctors said she didn’t suffer. Please come home. The ceremony begins the day after tomorrow.

  Please come home, daughter. Be with us to say goodbye to your grandmother, who loved you and championed you. Maw understood why you left, and helped me understand, too.

  Please come home. I haven’t asked this of you for many years now, but this is the time. If only to be with us for a few days, to honor the woman who kept us strong in hard times.

  I love you. Mom.

  Gigi stared at the screen. Everything around that small square blurred and muffled to insignificance. Maw was dead.

  Her eyes found the date of the message. Two weeks ago. Maw had died two weeks ago.

  Shoshone mourning and lamentation lasted no more than five days.

  She’d missed the ceremony to bury her grandmother by more than a week.

  *****

  I know things are hard, but what you’re looking for, it’s not out there. It’s here at home. It’s with me. Look out there all you want, but if you don’t see you’ve already got it, you won’t find it anywhere. Don’t go, baby. Please don’t go.

  Gigi woke and opened her eyes, and the rusty old words crumbled and scattered to the creases of her mind. God, how long had it been since that voice had echoed in her head so clearly? Years. But these past few days, it tormented her as much as it had ten years ago.

  He’d been right. Ten years of looking and she hadn’t found it, whatever ‘it’ was. But he’d been wrong, too. It hadn’t been at home, either. If it had, she wouldn’t have left. She would have followed through with their plans. Kept her promises.

  Beyond the slight warp of automotive glass, the road spooled out in a grey ribbon, and the world chased it in a rush of yellow late-summer grass and blue afternoon sky.

  A shake of her shoulder drew her attention from the bus window to her seatmate, a young man on his way back to college who’d come aboard at Des Moines. That was all she knew of him; before he could get an autobiography going, she’d checked out.
/>
  Normally, she was happy to chat with the people she met along her way; that was part of the point of the way she’d lived this whole past decade, almost all her adult life: to see the world, know its people. But not this time. This time, she wasn’t in the mood to make a friend.

  She pulled a silent earbud from her ear and gave him a look to ask what he wanted.

  He nodded his baseball-capped head toward the front of the Greyhound. “Bus driver just said we’re stopping in about ten minutes. Hour-long break. Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks.” She sat up straight in her seat and stretched in place, rocking her stiff neck side to side until she got a good crack. Out the window, the road rolled on, undistinguished and indistinguishable. “Did he say where we are?”

  “I think we’re still in Iowa just now, but it’s Omaha we’re stopping at.”

  She had to change buses in Omaha. After six months in Brooklyn, it seemed bizarre beyond expression that they were only ten minutes out from a city and she was staring at fields along the road. That was the Great Plains for you. What counted as a city just sprang up all of a sudden in the middle of the wheat.

  The kid had said something about school in Nebraska, maybe. She couldn’t quite remember, since she’d been in a hurry to shut him up. “That your stop?”

  “No, ma’am. Lincoln.”

  “Oh, right. You’re a ‘Husker. Still, we’re close, then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Next stop after this.”

  Ma’am. She was thirty-two. Hardly ma’am territory. She gave the kid a tight smile and put her earbuds away.

  Omaha. She’d been on this bus, or one like it, for more than a full day and was hardly halfway home yet.

  And still the ride seemed too short.

  *****

  After a brief stop at Idaho Falls, about three hours from home, the bus wouldn’t start. It was late, approaching twilight, and there wouldn’t be another bus until the morning.

  A couple other long-haul riders on the bus decided to hitchhike to Boise, but Gigi declined to join them. Hitching was a thing white people could do. White men in particular. Gigi was too brown to get a ride and too female to be safe if she got one. Plus, it was nuts for anybody to think about hitching this close to dark.