Chapter Twelve
Jace and I round a corner, and I see the group gathered around, waiting for the straggler. I wave and laugh. “I’m fine, I’m
fine,” I shout past my own shallow breaths.
Even from a distance, I can see Lily’s eyes narrow as she puts her hands on her hips. I’m embarrassing her. Won’t be the last
time this trip, I guarantee that. If she’d just done her research, instead of flinging us into shark-infested waters—or should
I say, beast-and-bug-infested woods—we’d be sipping margaritas on a beach or, at the very least, eating eight meals a day
and lounging port side.
“We thought we’d lost you to a wild boar.” Dane laughs, causing a supercilious scoff from my sister.
“It would take more than being gored by a pig to keep me from this summit Brick has been going on about.”
“There are no wild boars in Wrangell-St. Elias,” Brick assures everyone.
“Oh, bummer,” says Xavier.
“I don’t think you want to run into a wild boar, son,” says his father with a hint of condescension.
Xavier picks up on it and looks down at the ground and jams his toe into a tree root. “Whatever,” he says as he starts off
without us.
“Onward, folks,” says Brick. “We’re almost out of the woods. You’ll be safe from the mosquitos, Bridget.” His smile is warm and encouraging. He’s not pissed that I fell behind, or snarky because I’m the only one with bug netting.
“I might keep it on,” I say. “It makes me look mysterious. And no one can see how beet red I am from huffing and puffing up
the hill.”
Someone steps up next to me (the peripheral vision in this thing sucks) and slips their arm through mine. “But then we wouldn’t
see the joy in your face when you experience all that Mother Nature is presenting to you,” says Luna. Mimi comes up on my
other side as we finally make our way out of the last stretch of the woods and into the sunlight and an open field.
We are surrounded by tall grasses, straggled bushes, and bursts of purple and blue flowers. Above us in every direction are
hills and cliffs and mountains. The closest are covered in shades of green like the paint-chip display at Benjamin Moore.
Behind them, it’s charcoal-colored streaked with sandy patches and rocks. In the far distance, blue-and-white snowcapped mountains.
The sky above is cloudless. I spin slowly, and it’s the same in every direction. How is this one tiny corner of one state?
I think about our neighborhood in the suburbs. Every house on our street separated only by the width of a driveway. I need
to remember to close the bedroom curtains at night if I don’t want the Heinkels to see me braless in an old, ratty, oversize
Disney sleeping T-shirt.
“See,” says Luna.
“I do.” I pull off the netting and breathe deeply. The mosquitos are gone, the sun is shining, there is a slight breeze that’s
wicking away the sweat it took me to come this far.
My sister is in a patch of wildflowers with Xavier.
The boy picks a few and hands them to her.
She ruffles his shaggy hair and laughs. This is why we’re here.
To see Lily being Lily. Excited about the littlest things: a candle that smells like real apple pie, or a song she hadn’t heard in twenty years, or the first crocus of the season poking up through the cold ground.
“You were right,” I say to Brick. “This summit is beautiful.”
“Oh, this isn’t the top. We have a while to go yet.”
My heart sinks. I thought it would be all downhill from here.
Lily and Xavier come back to the group, pointing up to the mountains ahead of us. “What are those white dots? They’re moving.”
“Is it polar bears?” asks Xavier.
“Dall sheep,” says Brick. He rummages through his backpack, pulls out binoculars, and hands them to Lily. “They’re pretty
cool. The male horns can grow into a three-sixty-degree circle, and you can tell how old they are by counting the rings in
the horn.”
“Like a tree,” says Mimi. She pulls her sleeve up and reveals a tattoo of a cross section of a tree and all its rings. “Strength,
resilience, rebirth.”
“That’s right,” says Luna, placing her hand over the tattoo and looking into Mimi’s eyes, having a silent conversation. Mimi
looks down and puts her hand over Luna’s.
“Well, yes. Right. Something like that,” Brick answers.
Lily focuses the binoculars like she’s Captain Jack Sparrow with his spyglass and scans the distance. “Oh my God, I can see
babies! So cute. Can we get closer?”
“Well, it’s lambing season. We’re probably safer where we are. Lots of overprotective moms over there.”
“Oh, like you, Big.”
That gives her a laugh. I’m not going to defend the maternal need for vigilance. The feeling that, as a mother, you can never
let your guard down, that no matter how old your kids are, they will always be your kids. Wait until it’s Lily’s turn—okay,
shit, that’s right. Damn Eric.
I force a chuckle and give my sister a playful bear hug like the good sport I am. “Everyone needs a helicopter mom once in a while. Even little sisters.”
“Well, you might need a helicopter to get off this mountain. You should see how red your face is.”
“Everyone ready to carry on?” Brick moves us forward. No one came all the way up here, so close to the sky, to hear the Ackerman
sisters bickering.
The narrow dirt path becomes rockier until it is nothing but stones. Not tiny pea pebbles or small egg-size river gravel;
they are boulders the size of our heads. Every step is an opportunity to break an ankle.
“Watch your footing, folks. It’s scree from here on for a while.”
The more experienced trekkers—everyone besides Lily and me—carry on as if they are walking on a sidewalk. Brick looks at me—his
special-needs hiker. “Use your poles for balance. The rocks are loose, and the incline turns steeper here.”
“Fantastic.”
My sarcasm is wasted on him. “Yes, it is,” says Brick Malone, Earth Walker, Soul Searcher. “Just wait till we reach the top.”
“Can’t wait,” I say through my clenched jaw.
Gripping the walking poles until my triceps burn, I slowly make my way up the “scree,” which I’m now sure is short for “scream,”
as my lungs start to work overtime again. In the near distance I hear rushing water, and we soon come upon a turbulent creek.
Water, tumbling over rocks, causes small, foaming rapids. The sound of thrashing fills my ears. I can barely hear what Brick
says next.
“We’ll be crossing the creek soon. Aim for flat, dry rocks. No one wants to take a swim today—that’s glacial water.”
We continue to pick our way through the rocks and follow the creek uphill on our left. Ahead of me, as the guys hop from rock to rock, I see Luna with her arm around her wife’s waist. Mimi is leaning on her.
I catch up to the women. “Everything good?” I ask Luna. Mimi’s brow is dotted with sweat, and her eyes are glassy.
“She’s fine,” Luna says but she squeezes Mimi’s forearm in a way that makes me think that’s not true. “She’s super strong.
Aren’t you, sweetie? She hasn’t, I mean, it’s been a while since . . .”
Mimi touches her arm, a signal to stop with what she’s about to say. Something about the expression on both women’s faces
makes me think “been a while” doesn’t mean it’s because they were filing their days with less active adventures. Could be
Lily isn’t the only one with a secret.
I don’t ask. Instead, I say, “Oh, I’m with you. I was ready for a nap back in Mosquitoville.”
“Do you need a break?” Luna asks Mimi.
“No, I don’t want to hold up the group. I’m okay.”
“Mimi, you said you’d be honest about—”
“Honey, I’m fine.”
Before it can go any further, I cup my hand to the side of my mouth and yell up to the front of the group. “Can we take a
quick break? My dogs are barking.”
“Sure,” says Brick. “Let’s stop for a snack. Jace’s got a pack of Heidi’s seed bars. Take a seat on these rocks. Jace, hand
’em out, will you?”
Luna flashes me a grateful nod. Lily plops down next to me on a cool, flat stone and says, “Maybe you should have taken a
few spin classes before we left.”
“You didn’t exactly give me time to get in shape before you sprung this on me,” I quip back.
“I didn’t exactly have advance warning myself,” she reminds me as she pulls off a boot and shakes the dirt out of it.
All of a sudden, my irritation slips away. “I know, Lil.”
Jace hands out the snacks and we all kvell over Heidi’s baking as if she were here to take a bow. Except for Xavier, who brings his down to the water’s edge, where he starts a balancing act on the rocks lining the creek.
“Careful you don’t slip,” I shout out as if the boy is fourteen-year-old Cameron and not someone else’s kid.
“Big!” Lily rolls her eyes.
“Sorry! Old habits, and all that.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” says Ian. “He barely hears me anymore.”
“I think that’s a teenager’s job,” I say.
“Yeah, well. It’s not just me. He lives with his mother, and she’s at the end of her rope with him. Calls from the school,
her getting dragged down there a bunch of times. He almost got expelled this year. He’s got to straighten up.
“The guidance counselor suggested an Outward Bound program, where they send them out in the wilderness to fend for themselves.
I figured this would be better—add a male authority figure to the mix. A father/son Outward Bound, as it were. I thought we
could do it together—except with a professional guide so we don’t kill ourselves. Ha. I thought Xavier would be into it. But
so far, well, you see him.”
Everyone is quiet. That’s why the boy looks like he’s been dragged out here. Because he has.
Lily stands up and walks to the water’s edge, where she hops on a wet rock, following Xavier out into the middle of the stream,
holding her arms out for balance, and shouting something to the boy we can’t hear. He turns around, the grin on his face wide
when he sees her.
“She’s good with him,” says Luna.