Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Caleb
We set out on the big hike right after breakfast, with Marin and Tater leading us straight toward the woods. The summer morning was glorious, sunny and warm, birds chirping up a storm high in the trees above us on the dirt path. It seemed like a low-key, tame adventure that I wanted to be all-in for Ani. But I couldn’t help thinking that the karma of the universe seemed a little off—Lilly seemed different, more attentive, but I had no idea why.
“We’ve got a waterfall, some caves and hieroglyphs, and some stunning cliffs to see,” Marin said, cataloging what we were about to experience. “So everyone stick together, okay? Tater, watch where you’re going!” Tatum, who was walking along playing a handheld video game, shot her an obstinate look and kept playing as he walked.
How many doctors did it take to keep an eye on a bored ten-year-old? Maybe just one, because no one else besides me seemed to be noticing.
I had a lot of questions about how athletic this hike was going to be if it was led in part by a ten-year-old, but I deferred to sweet Ani and decided to do my best to liven up the group. Besides, it was Saturday, our last day, thank goodness. I vowed as a solid member of the wedding party to make it a good one.
Sam seemed to be walking as far away from me as possible. Maybe I shouldn’t have done the Band-Aid thing. But I hated that she was alone—I mean, she was surrounded by friends, but existentially, she went it alone. I wanted to help her. And talk with her. And I had so many questions, from how she got to med school with the struggles she’d had, to what did she really like to eat for breakfast?
Meanwhile, Lilly seemed to do a complete one-eighty, showering me with attention, sitting near me at breakfast, chatting with me. She seemed strangely possessive, considering she’d barely given me the time of day before. She’d even said, “Jeez, Caleb, you’re running out with a Band-Aid for someone who was careless enough to get pecked by a chicken sitting on her nest,” which I thought was a little over the top.
Sam was up at the front of the group with Brax, listening to Quinn give an impromptu lecture on poison ivy, oak, and other plants to avoid. Lilly eventually ran up front with the others to listen. Gabe walked with Jason, clearly happy that he’d decided to take a break and join us.
I caught up with Tyler, whose skinny, pale legs looked like they hadn’t seen any vitamin D in quite a while. “Hey, Ty, your face looks a lot less puffy today,” I quipped. “I can actually see your cheekbones.”
“The miracles of allergy meds,” he said. “And I’ve sprayed myself from head to toe with bug spray.”
“Such a trouper.” Ani, who was wearing a green brimmed safari hat and green utility shorts with her hiking boots, said, patting him on the back as she passed us up.
“Anything for you, my love,” he said back.
Okay, so they were getting along better. That was good to see.
A quiet moo and a faint nicker sounded from the barn, which was now fading into the distance as we entered the woods. I reminded myself again that this was a very low-risk hike. If a ten-year-old could play a video game while hiking a well-worn path, why could I not dispel a strange feeling of doom?
Tyler joined Ani up front. That left Mia and me to bring up the rear. “Hey, wait up,” Mia said in an insistent voice as she ran to catch up, hands on hips.
I gave my sister a big smile and an elbow nudge as she appeared beside me. “How are you this fine morning?”
“Great, but don’t try to deflect. What’s going on between you and Sam?”
Once Mia grabbed onto something, she didn’t let go until she’d wrung out every bit of info possible. She wasn’t beyond threatening to use it to get what she wanted either. Case in point: I’d done a cross-country road trip during spring break freshman year with four other guys in my buddy’s barely functional ten-year-old Kia, knowing that our parents would never approve. I’d told them I would be visiting one of my friends, which was technically true—in San Francisco, that is. Mia had kept her mouth shut, even when our car broke down outside of Vegas and I’d run out of money after pitching in for the repairs. The price I paid for her Venmo financial bailout was having to set her up with a friend of mine she had a crush on. Besides paying the cash back with interest, that is.
This time I decided to protect myself. “Oh that,” I said in a mock-serious tone, lowering my eyes to the ground.
“What do you mean?” She shook me by the arm.
I gave her my most saintly smile. “We’ve decided to get along—for the sake of the wedding.”
She frowned deeply. I have to give my sister credit—she was smart. It was difficult to pull one over on her. But not impossible.
“You two have decided to suddenly ‘get along’?” She did air quotes.
I nodded. “Yup. We’ve buried the hatchet. And it wasn’t easy.” That was all true, wasn’t it?
“Cut the baloney, bro. I know everything. And just in case you might not know, Sam’s gotten through school on scholarships and worked to pay for everything they didn’t cover, and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks because she’s been single-handedly raising her younger sister since their grandma died. And you do know that Sam is financially responsible for her sister in college, right?”
She took a deep breath after that mouthful. “Wait. Paying for her college?”
“She moonlights. And took out loans. It hasn’t been easy. But then, nothing about her life has been.”
I guess I looked stunned. I certainly felt that way. But that didn’t stop Mia from laying into me.
“So I would be very careful about giving Sam flirty personal first aid or trying to come to her rescue by offering to clean chicken shit off her shoes. She doesn’t need the help. I especially wouldn’t do it with cutesy banter and a big dopey grin on your face.”
Wait. Big dopey grin? No. That wasn’t me. I was not flirting.
Was I?
“Also, I don’t really understand how or why Sam happened to be helping you with Lilly but put a stop to that immediately.”
So bossy. Some things never changed. “That’s over. And you don’t have to worry about me and Lilly,” I said in a firm tone.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s nothing between us.” I winced. Mia had a way of forcing info out of me, and it worked. Every. Single. Time.
“Wait.” She halted on the path. “Repeat that?”
“You heard me. She’s not who I thought she was.”
“Okay. All right. Good.” She seemed to be trying to calm herself down. “Now say I don’t have to worry about Sam. Right?”
I was silent.
She punched me in the arm. Again. “Ow! Hey, stop that right now.” God, I hated sisters.
In front of us, Tyler was standing in the middle of the path, rubbing his arm and fuming.
“That child,” he said , “ Tater Tot or whatever—just winged a rock at that tree, and it ricocheted right into my arm.”
“My name’s not Tater Tot!” Tater said in an angry tone.
“Tyler!” Ani exclaimed. Then she turned to Tater. “He didn’t mean to make fun of your name.” Then back to Tyler. “Did you?”
Tyler rubbed his arm. “He could’ve really hurt me.”
“But he didn’t,” Ani said. “It was an accident!”
“Tatum Albert, no more rocks!” Marin said, walking back to see what was going on. “I’m sorry, folks. Tater’s a little out of sorts because his friend is sick and couldn’t come today.”
Oh well, that explained it. So far literally no one was bonding this bonding weekend—at least of the people that should be. We trudged onward, Ani walking far away from Tyler. On one side, a drop-off appeared, rocky and steep and of course unfenced, something else to worry about. Tater had stopped throwing rocks and pocketed the video game, thank God. But then he started tossing stones off the cliff, standing precariously close to the drop-off.
And Mia had not lost her train of thought. “I want to know your intentions. Sam doesn’t ever put herself out there. I don’t want to see her hurt. So tell me the truth, Caleb.”
She said my name, with emphasis on the Cay like the zillion other times she’d lectured me in our childhood. Even though I was the older sib. “I’m trying to tell you the truth, if you’d just listen. Sam is different. Sam is… special. I’ve never met anyone like her. And I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.”
She gripped me hard enough that I stopped walking. “I cannot reinforce enough what I am capable of doing to you if you hurt my best friend, do you hear me?”
“Could you please reinforce that without hurting my arm?”
She released me, fortunately. But now Tater was standing on a rock, taking selfies of the drop-off behind him.
“Just a sec,” I said to my sister. “Hey, buddy,” I said to the kid, “that’s a big drop-off. Want me to take a photo for you?”
I glanced over at Marin. She was oblivious, settling an argument between Quinn and Tyler about a plant that might’ve been poison sumac, but no one knew for sure. The kid was fooling around, pulling faces, leaning over to get better and better shots. Below was a scenic fork in a river— way down below, that is. If I could get him away from the edge, I’d have less of a heart attack. I didn’t want to yell at someone’s kid, as Tyler seemed to have no problem doing, but I couldn’t stop picturing imminent disaster.
That was the thing with being an ortho resident—with being a doctor in general. You heard about everybody’s accidents, because that’s what usually brings on the broken bones. Falls on an outstretched hand, tripping over the dog, toppling over on the bicycle, crashing the scooter, bouncing off the trampoline. The list was endless. I wasn’t a catastrophizer, but I was one step away. If I was ever a parent, I would probably consider locking my kids in the house and never letting them leave.
Tater gave me the okay about taking some photos, so I did, but I made him stay far from the drop-off. Then I stepped away so that he had to get down from the rocks to get his phone back. But a minute later, he’d wandered right back to the edge of the drop-off again.
I jogged to catch up to his mother and tapped her on the shoulder, “I’m a little worried about Tater. He’s a little bit of a daredevil, getting close to the cliffs like that.”
She guffawed. “Aw, Doc, don’t you worry. We lead this hike three times a week. He knows all the ins and outs.”
“Yes, but—” Tater had run ahead, where he’d climbed even farther down the incline to take more selfies. I could hear pebbles and rocks scraping and bouncing their way into oblivion as his feet scrabbled for purchase. “A lot of folks get injured taking selfies.” I didn’t say die , but that was a fact. Tourists on hikes for one.
Marin patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t you get your britches in a twist, Doc.” She yelled at her son, “Hey, Tater, you’re making Doc here a little nervous. Keep to the path, okay, kid?”
Tater made a face at his mom. Figures.
Marin pulled us over to show us a view of some beehives in the valley below. I looked down to see bee boxes lined up in a clearing. She was discussing the ins and outs of honey production when Sam met my gaze. I could see worry in her eyes. She lifted her chin and pointed—there was the kid, standing on a jutting-out rock, shooting yet another selfie with the winding river gurgling in the valley far below.
I was just about to call out to him to get down when he lost his balance.
Why hadn’t I just done it, yelled out? I never thought I’d say this, but I should’ve been more like Tyler. I should have shouted at that clueless kid, no holds barred, to get the hell away from the edge.
His phone dropped, clattering downward as it bounced off the rocks. “Wh-wh- whoa ,” he cried, his arms flailing.
Without thinking, I dove forward, grabbing his skinny-assed ten-year-old body by the torso like I was a defensive end sacking a quarterback and pulled him forward with all my strength. He landed on his butt, but I stumbled, tripping on something—a raised root maybe?—or something harder, because pain seared through my foot as I hit the ground hard, scraping my leg and right shoulder as I pitched down the steep hillside.
“Grab that branch!” a voice cried. Sam.
I tried to clutch onto scrub, tree branches, grass—anything—but objects were passing me fast, and the hill was too steep. Around me, dust kicked up and small rocks rolled along right beside me as I plunged downward.
Unbelievably, I felt a tug on my foot. It dawned on me that I wasn’t alone. Sam. In horror, I realized she must have plunged right behind me, attempting to hold me back. But now she was sliding down the rocky incline with me.
Of all the foolish stunts. Was she out of her mind? Was I out of mine, having all these jumbled thoughts when death seemed imminent?
We landed with a thud in a pile of limbs about thirty feet down the cliff on a plateau that was about ten feet wide. I found myself clutching hard onto her waist and leg, trying to save us from pitching right over the edge like Niagara Falls daredevils. Below us, the cliff plunged precariously down to the water below.
“What were you thinking?” I exclaimed as she lifted up her head, her hand on my thigh. I would’ve thought that was erotic if I hadn’t hit my head and I wasn’t terrified out of my mind that she was hurt.
“I almost had you,” she said in a defiant tone. She was covered with dust. Her leg was scraped and bleeding. As she blew her hair out of her eyes, she said, “I thought I could grab you before you lost your balance.”
“You almost got yourself killed is what you did.”
She grinned. “I’m not dead. And neither are you.” She untangled herself and started looking me over. Checking my arms, looking in my eyes. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was assessing me for injury.
“I didn’t hit my head.”
“Yes, you did.” She ran her hands over my scalp. It felt soothing, except I felt stabbing pains. It took me a minute to realize that they were coming from my leg.
“You have a bump on your head. But more urgently, your foot’s messed up.”
My anger and shock at her careless bravado had caused me not to notice that I was in pain. Quite a lot of it actually.
A cautious peek showed me that my foot was rotated inward at an odd angle. A giant bruise was forming over the front of my lower calf. I let out a curse. My leg felt like someone had driven a stake straight through it.
“It’s not broken,” I said, more to reassure myself.
Sam got up and dusted herself off. “Remind me to cross you off my preferred ortho providers list.”
“It’s not broken,” I repeated foolishly as I stared up the steep incline above us. “We have to climb back up.”
“I don’t think you’re going to be climbing anywhere.”
I felt her poking around my lower leg. The bruise was blooming a deep purple, and the swelling was now the size of an orange. “Ow!” I said as she pressed on it.
“I’m not an orthopod like you, but I think it’s your fibula.”
An awful, sinking feeling went through me. If my leg was broken, then we were both effed. I’d have to have help getting up that rocky, steep incline. That meant EMS, harnesses. And a rescue team somehow being able to get near enough without plunging to their own deaths—as well as hauling us up safely. A million scary scenarios went through my mind, including plunging down the rest of the cliffside.
“Are you two okay?”
Gabe’s voice. I looked up. At the top of the cliff, a good thirty feet above us, tiny heads came into view. I’m not exaggerating—in my panic, they looked absolutely microscopic.
“Oh my God, Cay,” Lilly called out, panic in her voice, “are you okay?”
I tried to speak, but a sudden burst of pain made me grimace.
“We’re fine,” Sam called, sounding quite calm. “Everything’s okay.”
“Someone call 911,” Lilly cried. “Hurry!”
Sam stared at me, all seriousness, her pretty brown eyes wide. “No bars out here.”
I managed a half smile, half grimace. “Guess we’re going to have to stick around and appreciate nature for a while.”
Standing there on the narrow plateau, she looked like a person in a car commercial, standing by a fancy SUV on a mountaintop with impossible drop-offs everywhere.
“Sit back down,” I managed to grunt. “You’ll plunge to your death.”
“I’m grabbing you some water.” Pulling a bottle out of a sling she wore around her chest, she knelt beside me, twisted open the bottle, and lifted it to my lips.
“I can hold it,” I said. But my voice sounded muffled. The pain was making everything hazy.
After I took a drink, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up to our friends. “Looks like a fibula fracture. And he’s a little stunned. We’ll need a rope harness to get him out of here. And can someone please throw down some water?”
“Tell them I want a beer,” I called out.
Sam ignored me. Brax poked his head over the side of the cliff. “Sit tight. We’re going back to get a rope and some help. He’s okay?”
“Tell him to make it a six-pack.”
Sam stared at me, a small smile on her lips. “He’s just as ornery as ever. Thanks, Brax.”
He tossed her a water bottle, which she caught and then walked over to me.
“I was doing that for your benefit,” I said.
“Doing what? Starting a bar tab?”
“No. Joking around. I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“That’s sweet, but the fact that you have to explain to me that you’re joking makes me worry.” She tugged on my arm. “Scooch over into the shade and lean against the cliff.”
I nodded, and didn’t even try to stand, because frankly, even sitting, the pain was too great. I scooted back on my butt, each scoot sending a burst of pain through my leg, until I was in the shade cast by a tiny frail Charlie Brown Christmas tree. But I was grateful for it.
“I’m so pissed,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe this.”
She was busy digging around in her pocket. She produced a little white plastic tube, which she opened into her palm. Then she handed me two pills.
I shook my head. “I don’t want any Advil before they set my bone.”
“I’m not lucky enough to have Advil for my cramps today. It’s just travel Tylenol Mia handed me before I left. So take a couple.”
I tossed down the pills and some water, then leaned my head back, closing my eyes against the pain. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry it hurts,” she said. Her face was drawn, her eyes full of concern. I wanted to make her laugh, distract her from the worry, but I was out of jokes. The situation sucked, but I trusted my friends. Hopefully, they’d get us out of here alive.
I opened one eye and managed a sorry bit of a smile. “Like a mother. ”
She laughed and scooted up next to me to share the shade. I handed her the water, and she took a sip. Then she reached into her pocket and took a couple of Tylenol too.
“Is this where we tell each other all our secrets before we die?” I squinted up at the top of the cliff. How were they going to manage to lift me up there?
“We’re not going to die. Just sit back and close your eyes, and I’ll tell you a story.”
I felt her prodding my leg. I knew what she was doing. Checking my circulation.
“Can you…” she began.
“…feel my toes. Yes,” I confirmed. I leaned forward to examine the swollen purple bruise on my lower leg. “It’s probably a simple fracture. But that will still get me two months in a boot.”
“You saved that dumb kid’s life,” she said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t think. I just acted.”
“You acted fast.”
A glance over at her showed she was twisting the bottom of her shirt with her hand, clearly a sign of nerves. “You did too. Some might question your sanity with a move like that.”
She thought about that. “I didn’t think I could stop you. But I figured I could slow you down a little.”
“Well then. Thanks are in order.” I tried to smile through the biting pain but failed.
“Don’t mention it.” There was a softness in her eyes that made me calmer. “How long have you been afraid of heights?”
“I’m not afraid of heights.” She frowned deeply and gave me a knowing look. “Okay, fine. How did you know?”
She shrugged. “You keep clinging to the wall. And avoiding looking down.”
“Ever since I was a kid and we went to Niagara Falls. I stood close to the falls on the Canadian side and watched a toddler try to sneak under the railing. His mom grabbed him, but that stuck with me.” A short distance away, glinting in the sun, was a phone. Tater’s phone. I pointed to it. “You’d better pocket that. I’m having an uncontrollable impulse to kick it right over the edge.”
“Ha.” Sam crawled over to near the edge of our plateau and grabbed it.
As she sat back against the rock again, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about the matchmaking test?”
She looked a little startled. “You’re thinking about that stupid matchmaking test now ?”
“Would you rather me think of death?”
“I’d tell you, but I’m still not a hundred percent sure you’re totally all there.” She tapped the side of her head and lifted a knowing brow.
“I’ll prove to you I’m not delirious,” I said. “Here’s a fact: you sing while you’re cooking.”
Her eyes widened. “You can hear me singing across the hall?”
“Either ‘Bad Blood’ or Italian operas, I couldn’t say which.”
That made her snort. Good. But I still wanted to get some things straight with her while we were alone.
“Fine,” she said. “I didn’t tell you because you have to figure out your own truth with Lilly.” She crossed her arms. “Besides, it’s just a dumb test that doesn’t mean anything.”
“It meant something to me.” I stopped and looked straight into her eyes. “Because the test was right. Lilly and I aren’t compatible.”
Sam shook her head vigorously. “The pain and the fear of death are making you delirious.”
“Lilly was my twenty-two-year-old fantasy that I was forced to give up. In my mind, she grew into something that she just… wasn’t.”
“Besides the fact that she needs to calm down in restaurants, what’s wrong with her? And today she certainly seems to be paying you plenty of attention.”
I turned to her urgently. “Do you ever stop joking?”
“Not in life-and-death situations,” she said. “Especially with men who are hopeless romantics. I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You are so… exasperating.” I grabbed her elbow. “I’m trying to tell you something important.”
“You’re in shock and in pain and have a head injury.” She shooed me away with her hand. “Save your breath.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Lilly doesn’t have wonder and awe.”
She spun her head toward me. “What the hell is wonder and awe?”
“Just looking around and being amazed at every single thing. Like trees out the window or a thrift shop dress or a square dance. You’re curious about everything and excited about new experiences. It’s addicting.”
“Maybe I’m just a new experience for you.”
“Yes, you are, because I’ve never met anyone like you. Someone who can infuriate me yet who calls me out on the things no one else sees. Now I see that your absolute refusal to take risks with relationships is related to something I didn’t see before—fear.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said, pulling her arm away. “Stop analyzing me.”
Just then, Brax called from above, “We have the harness. I’m lowering it down.”
“Coming,” Sam called back as she braced herself to get up.
I grabbed her hand, which made her look at me. She looked troubled. “Take a chance with me.”
Ignoring that, Sam got up and caught a rope harness made of knots that looked as flimsy as a macramé plant hanger. “Your ride’s here.”
She knelt down next to me and demonstrated the tiny saddle made of knots.
“I don’t want to move.” For a moment, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against the rock. Fear was seeping in, but I fought it back. And I wasn’t done with this discussion. I needed her to know how I felt.
“I get it,” she said. “We’ve got to immobilize your leg somehow.”
She started looking around for something—sticks, I guess. I could see her reasoning it out.
“Would you do something for me first?” I asked.
She turned and looked down at me. “What?”
I lifted my hand.
She stared at it. “What?”
“Take it.” She frowned. “Come on,” I said, insistent. “It’s important.”
She did and I used my strength to tug her down next to me. Before she could protest, I said, “I want one favor. Since you said so yourself—this is life and death.”
“Caleb, it’s not life and death. You’re going to be fine. We just have to?—”
“Kiss me.”
“No. No way.” She tugged back, but I kept holding her hand.
“Just one time.”
“You’re not just a hopeless romantic, you’re also a drama queen. You need to get to the hospital. We’ve got to get you hauled out of here. Our friends are waiting.”
“I want us to be honest and talk about what’s really going on here. And it’s not about Lilly.”
“Two days ago it was,” she shot back.
“Take a chance. One kiss.” I met her panicked gaze. I truly believed that she thought I was delirious. “I would never hurt you, Samantha.”
“Everyone says that.”
“But I mean it.”
She huffed. “If I do it, will you let me help you into this thing?”
I answered by giving one last tug that placed her body right up against mine. I felt the sudden shock of her softness, her heat. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise as our bodies collided and our lips met. For a suspended moment, we stood there, pressed up against each other, unmoving. I began to kiss her, slowly, carefully, gently exploring her lips. At last she began to kiss me back, at first small, light-as-a-feather kisses. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, moving her lips against mine. I savored every second—her soft lips, the quiet exclamations, the feel of her in my arms. Everything felt so right.
I was lightheaded—from her nearness and the pain—and my leg was throbbing. But I’d never felt so certain that this was different. This meant something. I hoped she felt it too.
I finally broke away and pulled back. My head and my leg—and other parts of me—were throbbing, but those kisses… had been one small, perfect thing in an otherwise heinous day. “That’s much better,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t want to die without doing that.” I forced myself to scoot away, dragging myself into view of the top of the cliff and waving to our friends.
I turned to take one last look at Sam. She was a little out of breath, her hair tousled, her eyes dazed, her lips a little kiss-swollen. In that moment, she was so breathtakingly beautiful and clearly as impacted by those kisses as I was that I could easily have said the hell with being rescued and stayed. But it was time to go. I could only hope that she knew that was just a small sample of how I really felt about her. I gave her a big smile, then gave a thumbs-up to the people above. “Okay, folks,” I called up, “here I come.”