Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
JOSIE
The house is quiet when I wake up. I know it’s only the third time I’ve woken up here, but I get the distinct feeling that both Kona and Colby stay up late and use the morning to catch up on sleep.
In my daily life, I’m up early for work, go hard all day, push myself in some activity or lesson in the evening, and crash early.
Yesterday, Colby and I spent the entire day doing almost nothing except binge-watching Fleabag and Killing Eve, eating, watching the snow pile up even higher—which seems almost impossible—and snuggling with Kona.
I’m not even sure when I fell asleep. My last memory is of being curled on the couch watching TV, legs tucked next to Colby’s.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, the lights were off except for a night-light Colby must’ve added, an extra blanket was on me, and Colby was back in her room.
I push my palm into my jaw to crack my neck, and cross the room to peek out the window.
The wind has slowed from a howl to a whistle, and the snow shifted from brutal to gentle flutters.
It’s so quiet here. Colby’s place reminds me a bit of when my dad used to take me camping and fishing.
As the second to the last child, it always seemed like I was forgotten.
I wasn’t the baby needing extra help, and I wasn’t the oldest paving the way for us younger kids.
But I think there was something in this birth order that helped build a special bond between me and my dad, who was also a middle child.
Whatever.
I need some fresh air. I tug on my boots, grab an extra flannel of Colby’s hanging on the hook, and quietly step out on the porch.
My God, there’s a lot of snow. I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire life and am fully accustomed to accumulation, but this is a ton.
In some places on the property, the wind blew the snow into piles that are as high as my hip.
I pull in a deep, chilled breath of the crisp air, and start trudging into the shallower snow-covered areas with the sound of snow crunching beneath my feet echoing through the valley.
Soft snow flutters against my cheeks as I make my way down the pathway.
There’s an urge in me to run from this place.
The quiet space and open air are a noose, suffocating me.
I’m not bored, per se. Being lazy with someone else, doing nothing but watching shows and eating snacks, was actually pretty fun.
My body seemed to be craving a bit of downtime, and that fulfilled my need.
But today, I’m restless. The yearslong need to chase is practically etched into my soul, and a day off is about all I can take.
As I crunch through the snow, the sun hidden under a blanket of clouds muting the sky into a soft gray, I make sure to stay on the path and not venture out too far.
The very last thing I need is to be lost in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm, especially since I made a severely amateur move and left my cell phone on the coffee table.
Ever since I was out of diapers, my dad used to take me on long walks in the woods.
He’d give me all sorts of life lessons, everything from how to deal with bullies at school as well as my annoying brothers, to how to take time and enjoy nature.
He’d spend hours teaching me about the berries that are poisonous or edible, how to track animals, how to not get lost.
A memory sharpens in my mind of us wandering through the deep, pristine woods in the Boundary Waters area.
The bugs were as thick as a blanket that day, the industrial-size spray we’d brought not even making a dent in their numbers, but I was determined to see the water.
I remember asking him what to do if something happened and we got separated.
“If you get lost, I’ll find ya, kid, okay? Just stay put. I will always find you,” he’d said as we kept hiking. “But if for some reason, if I’m not here…” His voice had trailed off. “Find the water. Travel by the water and you’ll eventually find help.”
Did he know then that in a few years’ time he’d up and leave, breaking our family, splintering it in a way that it was never whole again? That as a kid, I had this twisted vision that if I walked long enough next to the Mississippi, I’d be able to find my dad, and convince him to come back?
As my heartbeat kicks up from trudging through the thick snow, I loosen my scarf to let in some cool air against my sweaty neck.
God, I used to love the outdoors so much.
My siblings never really appreciated it the way I did, and it became something for just me and my dad.
Hours and hours were spent angling for fish, testing different types of bait from worms to leeches to corn, and pitching tents deep in the woods.
At night, we’d sit around a makeshift fireplace, make s’mores, and keep ourselves silent while we tried to guess which sounds the animals in the forest were making.
As much as I don’t want to give my father any credit for anything, my love of animals started during those times. Witnessing the magic of grazing deer, soft bouncy gray bunnies, and soaring eagles as a young child left a huge imprint in my soul.
But the even bigger imprint? The way my world collapsed when he left, disregarding me, our family, our mom, like we were meaningless. He stole so many things from me, one of them my love for nature.
Enough. He doesn’t deserve an ounce more of my thoughts.
My skin cold but my body hot, I make my way back to Colby’s house.
When I arrive, I walk the perimeter until I reach the outdoor covered area with the hot tub.
“Whoa…” I mutter and release a low whistle.
A high-vaulted cedar gazebo with strings of lights, standing lanterns, a small circular propane fireplace table, and hanging plant baskets—which are obviously empty right now—adorn the space.
Beautiful. There’s a layer of snow on top of the cover, blown in from the unprotected sides, but underneath is glorious, warm, bubbling water.
I shouldn’t…
With my forearm, I swipe a chunk of snow off the top and lift the cover. A billow of chlorine-scented steam arises. I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath of the heated, misted air.
“You know, you really can just go in there if you want to. You don’t have to sneak out of the house in the dead of night,” Colby says, peeking at me from the side of the house.
And the case is solved. I definitely would not survive being alone in the woods if I didn’t hear either Colby or Kona stomp through the snow as they approached. A blush heats my cheeks, and I lower the cover back down. “This looks weird, huh?”
“What? You inhaling chemicals in my backyard? Nah. Happens all the time.” Colby grins and nods towards the tub. “Do you want to go in?”
“More than just about anything in the world,” I say. “But first, I need coffee.”
I follow Kona and Colby back inside the house, and stomp off the snow from my boots and jacket. When I remove the coat, Colby cocks her head at her flannel that I’m wearing. “So sorry, hope it was okay to grab this. I didn’t want to wake you, but I also didn’t want to freeze to death.”
A soft smile tugs at Colby’s mouth. “No, it’s totally fine. Help yourself to anything.” She brings the coffee pot to the sink and holds it under the faucet. “It, um, it looks good on you.”
The words are softer than expected and a blush moves through me. She’s just being nice. Do not read into anything. A compliment is a compliment. I take a seat at the table, remove Kona’s cone from her neck to wash, and monitor her to make sure she doesn’t lick the wound as I clean it.
Soon a deep earthy aroma from the coffee fills the room.
I step behind Colby to grab eggs, and while whisking, she hands me the pan and butter.
Once we sit down at the table, and both bite into the eggs and toast, I glance out the large bay window to the falling snow.
“I wonder when the snow’s going to let up? ”
“The news said it should taper off this afternoon,” Colby says as she slides a bowl with eggs in it to Kona, who’s begging at her feet. “But it’ll still take a few days to get everything cleared.”
“Another few days?” I choke out. Being out here is beautiful, being with Colby is kind of amazing, but I’m not sure if I can handle another few days of this.
Even more so, I’m not sure she can handle another few days of this.
Even though we’ve quickly picked up a routine, and seem to seamlessly move around each other, there’s no way that I’m not a bother to her and her daily schedule.
“You okay?” she asks, adding a dash more pepper to her eggs. “I promise I’m okay with you being here. Honestly, it’s nice having someone around.”
The pinch in my chest lessens. “I thought you were a certified hermit.”
“I thought so, too,” she says with a chuckle. “Who knows, maybe I’m changing in my old age? I guess you can teach a dog owner new tricks.”
“Um… I don’t think that’s how the phrase actually goes.”
Colby grins as she adds some more creamer to her coffee and stirs. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”
Am I okay? I don’t know. Something in my walk this morning sparked something in me.
My brain feels more clear right now than it has for a long time, like the yearslong layer of fog that I’ve been under has fissured enough to let in a small piece of sunshine.
I feel like I need another walk. Maybe two, maybe a hundred, but I want to capture this sliver of calming sensation that’s swirling through me.
“Yeah. I’m good. I mean, I appreciate you putting up with me and everything.
” I hold the warm coffee cup against my palms. “I don’t know what my problem is.
It’s like for so many years all I do is just go, go, go and to now just sit, sit, sit—even with the incredible company—I feel so restless.
Like I should be out there doing something, bettering myself, finding a hobby. I don’t know. Something.”
A playful smile appears on Colby. A moment passes when she lifts her brow, and says, “Well, I do actually have an idea… if you’re up for it.”
With that look, and that tone, my legs shouldn’t be warming the way they are.
But my physiological response has a mind of its own.
Honestly, I’ve been kind of a rock with being around Colby and that phenomenally luscious mouth of hers, if I do say so myself, and have been only allowing a few naughty thoughts to seep in.
“Oh yeah?” I say, matching her delicious tone. “What’s that?”
I know we aren’t ready to do anything like that again, but is there any other better way to pass the time?
No, no there’s not.
“Well… it will certainly occupy us for a while and get out some of that energy you’ve been hanging on to,” she says.
My eyes grow wide. My cheeks flush. My heartbeat thumps. I think I might love everything about this. “Okay, I’m in.”
“Perfect,” she says and lifts from the table. “Follow me.”