Turbulent River: Sister Stone Adventures, #1

By Kristen Bobbitt

Four women. The Canadian wilderness. A fight for survival.

Landscaper and outdoor enthusiast Bristol Emerson is navigating the rough waters of being a single woman and re-establishing her life, post divorce.
Deciding that a peaceful excursion into nature with her girls is exactly what she needs to lighten her heavy heart. She convinces her best friend and two sisters to join her off-the-grid on a kayaking/camping trip deep in the wild.
The peace is shattered when a sudden storm and revealed secrets force the women into a battle against the elements and each other.
Will Bristol be able to keep it together and get them all to safety?

Buy Turbulent River today to find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen Bobbitt
• Release date: Mar 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781778052019

Book preview

Prologue

With unease, Bristol Emerson realized her excitement at seeing her best friend overshadowed her feelings of seeing her own husband.

It feels like forever, she said as she slid into the high-backed booth at the Fragrant Fern Bistro. She threw her over-sized brown handbag onto the seat beside her and flicked her long dark brown braid back over her shoulder. Her face broke into a wide smile when she looked across at her childhood best friend.

"I know. I’ve been so insanely busy with clients. This year, April weddings are vraiment fou." Liska James took two small sips of her Irish coffee. The steam momentarily fogged up her large trendy eye glasses.

As crazy as that?

Completely. I have so many brides wanting their makeup trials done like yesterday and then the wedding day makeup for the entire party.

The women leaned over their coffees, heads close together. The local soft rock band playing in one corner of the bistro was trying its damnedest to cover the din of the dozens of happy-hour clientele.

Oh, I get that. April in the gardening world is huge. Everyone has gotten cabin fever being cooped up inside all winter and as soon as it warms up, they all have massive plans for their landscapes. Jill has me and the rest of the team going full tilt. Bristol stirred her cup of coffee and Irish cream, taking sips off the spoon. Mmm, man, this is good.

I have also been busy dating… Liska drawled, eyeing Bristol sideways with a grin.

Ha. What else is new? Who’ve you got lined up this week? The plumber or the schoolteacher? Bristol said, giving her friend’s long blonde hair a little tug. The perfectly curled lock straightened and sprung back with resilience.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hands off the masterpiece. Took me over an hour this morning to get my hair styled to withstand this wind, Liska said, patting her flowing hair back into place. And for your information, I’ve started dating Jeremy. Casually, mind you. He’s an accountant by day and guitar player by night.

Guitar player? Oh ya, okay. That’ll last. Bristol rolled her eyes. You’ll yard him before his next gig, guaranteed.

Yard him? God, Bristol. You have been spending way too much time with men who play in the dirt all day. You definitely need more quality time with the fairer sex. She drank her coffee and continued, Besides, I might NOT stop seeing him. Eventually, I’ll have to find a guy with a reasonable number of flaws to settle down with. Maybe. Speaking of flaws, how is Tom?

Nice, Liska. Bristol rolled her eyes and looked around the room. She noted the couple sitting next to them, their left hands intertwined as they drank with their right. Eyes locked on one another. With a sigh, Bristol said, Tom is good. He’s busy doing his thing and I’m busy doing mine. She turned back to look Liska in the eyes. Honestly, I feel like he and I are roommates. Live in the same house but that’s about it.

Really? So, it’s gotten worse. Have you tried going on dates together or doing activities together? All my married friends say that you have to make time to date your spouse. Not that I know anything about it.

I’ve suggested dating, but I’m so tired out from gardening all day. By the time he gets home at like nine at night, I’m just ready to read my book and go to bed. On the weekend, I want to go hiking or kayaking or anything out of town, but he just has no interest. I wait all week to get out into nature, away from people, but he just sees it as a bother. Something he HAS to do. Bristol paused and looked down into her steaming cup of coffee. She lifted her green eyes to look into Liska’s big blue ones. I hate that. It takes all the fun out of it for me. I would rather go alone than MAKE someone go with me. I’ve offered to do what he likes to do so he would come with me, but it just never works out. I’ve stopped asking.

That’s tough. Are you guys still in couple’s counselling?

No. We went for a few sessions. It was nice to sit and talk it out. Tom actually voiced his emotions for like the first time in our marriage. But nothing really changed, and then we got busy. It was too easy to just postpone and postpone and then never reschedule. Bristol twisted her diamond solitaire ring around on her finger with her thumb. Marriage is hard.

Just then, Liska’s cell phone went off. The chorus of this week’s top pop song chimed out of her purse. Liska pulled it out and read the screen. I’m sorry, Bris, I’ve gotta take this. It’s one of my brides. They expect me to be available for them leading up to the wedding.

Ya, for sure. Go ahead, Bristol said, waving her away.

Sorry, Liska mouthed as she rose out of the booth and walked toward the door with a hand covering one ear and the cell pressed to the other.

Bristol sat back and surveyed the room. The couple nearby was getting ready to leave. The man placed his hand on the woman’s lower back and leaned in to kiss her jawline before they made their way to the exit. They’re obviously not married, she thought. The male and female lead singers of the band crooned to each other with their eyes fastened. Bristol turned away and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag. She clicked on her photo gallery and scrolled through dozens of photos of her Dalmatian, Summit, dozens more of her clients’ gardens in various stages of completion, a couple of her and Liska at their last get-together, and finally onto a few of her and Tom. They were at his office’s annual bowling night, an activity designed to lighten up the typically sombre insurance agents. There were three attempted selfies. But only one turned out alright. In the others, Tom was looking away from the camera speaking to someone else.

Bristol looked up and saw Liska gliding through the room. Her blonde hair bounced with each step and her form-hugging peach dress danced around her knees. Appreciative glances of men and a couple women followed her as she made her way back to the table. Bristol looked down at her jeans and tight blue t-shirt. Could’ve maybe got dressed up. She shrugged off the thought. Oh well, Liska’s seen me in much worse outfits than this.

You seem deep in thought, Liska said as she returned to her seat and drank her now lukewarm coffee.

I’ve been looking back at photos. There’s barely any of Tom and me. It’s sad. After ten years together, our lives are just so separate. I don’t know what to do. We’re comfortable with our life but not connected. Do I keep holding on? Keep fighting for the marriage I had envisioned? Bristol scrubbed her hands over her face and looked up. The pained look on Liska’s face startled her. What?

Bristol—

What Liska? You’re freakin’ me out.

Tom has been texting me.

To Bristol, the restaurant ceased to exist; the volume put on mute, her world honed to a pinpoint on Liska’s beautiful face.

Texting you, how? God, Liska this is not the time to be vague. Bristol hunched forward, arms wrapped around her middle, hands clenched tight.

Every Friday night for the last three weeks.

When he’s playing poker and drinking with his buddies, Bristol said with a rough laugh, shaking her head. Why?

He texts me and tries to get me to meet with him. Starts out by telling me he wants to talk about you guys. That he wants advice. But after I evade him for an hour or so. He gets more insistent and starts giving me compliments. Saying—

Ugh, I don’t need to hear the compliments my husband showers on you, Bristol said, turning her face away.

Yes, okay. Well, he keeps going into more suggestive things. Until I tell him to just stop already. I didn’t know what to do. He had me panicking. I didn’t want to hear it, but I also wanted to find out what he would say. You know I was never quite on board about him. And I had to find out. For you. Liska's eyes were wide and imploring behind her glasses.

For me? Yet you wait three weeks to tell me? What the hell?

I’m sorry, Liska exclaimed. I didn’t know what to do. The next morning, he always wrote me and apologized. Saying he had drunk too much and that he was feeling lonely and wanted to talk to a woman who was safe.

Safe? Oh ya, okay, Bristol said sarcastically.

Well, playing devil’s advocate here, I guess he meant someone who you wouldn’t mind him talking to. Someone you trusted, maybe. Ah, I don’t know.

Ya, except for the part where he hit on you. Repeatedly. For THREE weeks! Bristol jumped up and grabbed her handbag off the seat beside her. The bag knocked her coffee cup. The cup spun on its axis. Liska darted out a hand and grabbed it.

Bristol, wait. Talk to me. She glanced around the restaurant and saw all the surrounding patrons watching. The expressions on their faces ranged from startled to amused.

No, I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t handle this.

Where are you going? Liska called.

Bristol’s long legs ate up the distance to the door. Where do you think?

1

Time to call it a day.

At the sound of her boss’s voice, Bristol looked up from the zinnias she was planting. She stayed on her knees, packing more dirt around the last of the flowers, making sure the roots were comfortably snug until Jill Guthrie came up behind her. Jill wore a ball cap with Guthrie’s Landscaping and Design machine embroidered on it. Her short steel grey hair peeked out around the band. As she walked, the frayed hems of her work pants skimmed the ground. She brushed her hands off on her pants and a puff of dust dispersed into the hot air.

Nice arrangement of the zinnias and cornflowers, Bristol, Jill said as she looked over the large donut-shaped flower bed. She gestured with soil encrusted fingers. You picked a bold pattern. Looks good. They stood side by side and studied the focal point of Mrs. Benchley’s garden. A four-foot-tall fairy fountain nestled inside the donut hole. They had done the water and wiring for the fountain the day before. Bristol had planned and planted the entire focal point herself.

Thanks, Bristol said as she brushed the dirt from her gloves. A fairy definitely needs to be encircled by a rainbow of zinnias.

She and Jill walked slowly around the flower bed. Bristol tucked her gloves into the side pocket of her cargo pants and pulled up the waist as they circled.

You did an outstanding job on the bed. Mrs. Benchley’s going to be proud as a hen with a dozen new chicks.

Bristol smiled at the visual. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the June afternoon sun and looked over at the work of her coworkers.

The entire garden is really coming together. The black slate path turned out perfectly.

Bristol could feel Jill’s gaze on her. She knew she was being studied as closely as the flowers. Sure, she had lost a little weight, but that was almost completely due to the increase in exercise. Now that summer was here, Bristol felt that her tanned skin hid her lack of sleep convincingly well.

And how are you doing? Jill asked. You know, with the new apartment.

Fixing a smile on her face, Bristol said, Oh, I’m good. All moved in. It’s quite peaceful there. Summit has to get used to not having acres of woods right outside the door to run in. But she’ll settle in.

You know, when I dumped my cheating ex, I kept the house and threw him to the curb. You didn’t think about doin’ that?

Bristol looked away and shuffled her feet in the loose earth. No, Tom paid for the house.

Ya, but you bought it together. You made it a home. It was yours too. Not to get all up in your business, but you are entitled to half at least.

It was understood from the beginning that I could do what I wanted with the house design, garden, renos but it was his. Completely.

Humph.

Anyway, it’s simpler like this. I took my own things and moved out. Got my nice little apartment. Perfect for Summit and me. Fewer bills, less work, and more time for our weekend adventures.

If you say so, but I still wish you would’ve taken his ass to the cleaner’s.

Ya, I’ve heard that a lot.

Okay, okay, she grinned. I’m done butting in. Moving on, have you started a garden at your new place yet?

Bristol sighed, No, I don’t have much space or the inclination right now. Hard to start from scratch after my gardens at Tom’s. They’ve still got my heart.

Damn. I was worried about that-- Jill paused and inhaled deeply.

Bristol cringed. What is it?

The Brenton Garden Club wants to know if they should include you in their list of garden tours this year. Their newsletter is going out next month.

Bristol immediately had a flash of the acre of expansive flower and vegetable gardens, shrubs, walkways, and her beloved cedar gazebo complete with hammock, lighting and climbing vines. The garden that had been her life’s work, her magnum opus, until a couple months ago.

Swallowing hard, Bristol replied, No, not this year and not in the foreseeable future. Who knows? Tom might submit it himself. He always did like the attention with none of the work. She bit off the rest of her remark, stopping herself from running down that bitter road to nowhere.

See, that’s what I’m saying. You deserve more.

Bristol let out a groan.

Okay, okay. Sorry. I’m being a pushy old broad. Jill placed a hand on Bristol’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Moving on. What’s on your itinerary for this weekend?

Thanks, Jill. I know you’re just looking out for me, but I’m trying to look forward, not back. Bristol stood up straighter. Summit and I are hiking Mount Lochlin tomorrow. It’s a two-hour drive and a seven-hour hike. But there is nothing like the top of a mountain to make you feel alive.

I’ll have to take your word for that one. My feet are comfortably planted right here at sea level, Jill said with a stomp of her work boot. You won’t catch me scaling some giant rock.

Bristol laughed. You don’t know what you’re missing.

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Saturday morning, Bristol’s alarm sounded at four a.m. She swung her arm over to turn it off mid-beep. An alarm was one of her most detested noises. The sound of it brought to mind Tom and his infuriating habit of snoozing the alarm four times every single morning. Summit lifted her head off the pillow beside Bristol and gave her a lazy lick on the cheek.

Morning, girl. You’re much friendlier at four a.m. than Tom ever was. And I see you’re enjoying his side of the bed too, she said with a guilt-free grin.

She switched on the bedside light and reached over to rifle through the dozens of crystals jumbled together in half of an abalone shell. As she picked stones out and placed them into her left hand, the iridescent silver, pink, and blue of the interior of the shell became visible. It still amazed her that such beauty could be hidden inside something as dull as a sea snail. Perfect example of inner beauty. Bristol had purchased the shell while on a trip to Salem, Massachusetts with Liska years ago. Abalone shells are believed to carry energies of protection and emotional balance. Bristol had thought it would be the perfect home for the crystals she had bought at the same little wiccan boutique. Those first crystals had grown into an impressive collection over time, along with a relaxing hobby of crystal property identification. She loved the fact that there was literally a crystal for every situation and need.

Today, she chose a smooth black Obsidian to prevent ill fortune, the green spiralled Malachite to protect from physical harm and connect with Mother Earth, and a jagged piece of turquoise Amazonite to soothe the spirit. A nice complimentary trio to ground, protect, and lighten.

She swung out of bed, stripped off her pyjama shorts and tank top, and dressed while Summit jumped on and off the bed. Bristol took out her braid from yesterday and re-braided it more tightly as she walked to the kitchen.

The dog raced ahead and pranced around her dog food dish, whining.

Not yet, greedy guts. You never eat at this hour. You’ll eat before hitting the trail, so you’ll have enough energy to keep up. She crouched down and rubbed her forehead against the dog’s.

She heaved her electric blue Osprey day pack from the entrance floor to her shoulder, filled her arms with the rest of her gear and locked up the apartment. The humid still darkness enveloped her. She waited for Summit to pee on the grass, breathing in the scent of lilacs on the thick summer air. She tossed everything onto the backseat of her Jeep and opened the passenger door for the dog to ride shot-gun.

Ten minutes from her house she went into the Tim Horton’s drive-through. The bleary-eyed server passed her an extra-large black coffee and a dog biscuit out of the window. See you, Summit, the server called out as Bristol rolled up her car window. She set her GPS on her phone and hit the highway.

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After two hours of driving on dark switchback roads, Bristol pulled her Jeep into the half-empty parking lot in the Alusid Mountains. She hung her annual parking pass from the rear-view mirror and got out of the car. Summit bounded down after her. She twisted her back from side to side, touched her toes and stretched her fingers above her head to get the kinks out. Bristol emptied the Ziploc bag of food into Summit’s collapsible bowl and placed it on the ground. The dog was done eating before Bristol had even laced up her boots. Once she had everything prepared, they set out for the trail head. All five cars in the parking lot had bumper stickers. The stickers were all of the same vein: Hike On, Leave No Trace, Alusid Mountains are the Peak! Bristol knew her sticker with the silhouette of a woman and a dog hiking fit right in. Avid hikers were a special breed of people.

A large brown and white sign designated the trail head. It read Mount Lochlin via Timberland trail 8km with an arrow to the right. Mount Lochlin via Sunnyside trail 6km