9
Brandon
I was right; humble pie is sweet. I had a large serving of it this morning when I apologized to Annie, and she apologized to me. I hate being at odds with her. Everything feels better when we are getting along.
That’s why I foolishly agreed to let Jack tag along on the hike Pepper and I have planned for this evening.
As I left Bumble Cottage yesterday with my pan of berry bars, Annie followed me out to ask if I was really okay with Jack coming along.
“Of course, but maybe you guys could take the PDA down a notch since Pepper will be there?”
I regretted saying that the moment it left my mouth. But Annie simply nodded like it was a reasonable request, rather than a pathetic jibe from a desperately jealous man.
“Of course. Honestly, Jack is comfortable with more PDA than I am.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Yeah, well, thank you for being so cool about him coming along, and the dumb things I said last night. I can’t say how sorry I am.”
“I know. You can stop apologizing.”
***
I keep reminding myself that I’m in this for the long game.
I know Jack is making big promises, but something tells me he’s not the guy to stick around.
Or maybe I just want to believe that. Anyhow, I’ve agreed to go on this hike, and that’s why Jack Willoughby is currently sitting in my passenger seat, whistling, and with one dusty sneaker up on my dash.
I’m not going to say a word. I just keep my eyes on the road and occasionally glance at Annie in the rearview mirror.
She volunteered to ride in the back with Pepper, who is still too small to sit in the front seat.
Pepper and Annie are busily chatting away while Jack and I are struggling to make conversation.
I’m racking my brain for things to ask him.
“Have you ever been sailing?” Jack asks me.
“Yes, my dad loves to sail.”
“And you?” he asks.
“It’s not my thing. Pepper gets seasick.”
“You could probably go without her.”
“I could, but I don’t want to. I work enough as it is. When I have time off, I spend it with her.”
“Wow! That’s admirable,” he says with real warmth.
“I didn’t say that to be admirable.”
More awkward silence. I know I should ask him something, but the only question I can think of is: Could you get your dirty shoe off my dash? But Annie said I was being cool about Jack, and so I’m doing my best to make that true.
“What’s that awesome looking plant?” he asks, gesturing to a clump of tall golden grass on the side of the road.
I’ll say this for the guy: he’s trying. I’m not making it easy, and he’s still trying.
Even if it means talking about plants. “There it is again,” he says pointing out the window.
“It makes me think of Roman soldiers’ helmets. ”
“That’s pampas grass,” I answer.
“Pampas grass. Huh?” he repeats. “You know that sounds a lot like pompous . . .”
“Jack,” Annie interrupts from the back seat. “Pepper’s in the car! No swearing.”
“It’s fine,” Pepper pipes up. “Dad swears around me all the time.” This is not true.
I occasionally slip up—though when I do, Pepper makes a huge deal of it.
“And everyone swears at school.” I’m certain this is true.
And probably why I still watch my language around Pepper; I want to pretend she’s younger than she is.
“I hate pampas grass,” I say with more vehemence than the plant merits.
“Me too,” says Annie.
“Woah, such strong feelings about a plant.” says Jack with a laugh. “I get it, we hate pampas grass.”
“It’s an invasive species,” Annie explains. “It crowds out all the native plants. Particularly the wildflowers.”
“Oh! Now I get it. My girl is crazy about flowers,” Jack says to me confidentially. I’m reaching my limit. This “pampas grass” who showed up a month ago acts like he’s the expert on all things Annie. I glance again at his Hokas on my dash. And somehow, I keep my mouth shut.
“Jack, is your foot on the dash?” Annie asks, sounding a bit like a schoolmarm.
“Oh sorry! My bad!” he says good humoredly, taking his foot down. This might be what I hate most about the guy—he’s always in a good mood. Or at least he seems to be. And the cheerier he acts, the grumpier I feel.
When I unload my pack at the trailhead, Jack chuckles “I thought this was a short hike.
“It is,” I answer. “But I always pack extra, just in case.”
“Extra what?”
“Water, a jacket, some snacks, a first aid kit, head lamp, an ankle brace for sprained ankles.” I look at Annie. “And a lighter.”
“Isn’t that overkill for a one-and-a-half-mile hike?”
“It is. But I don’t mind carrying the extra weight, and it gives me peace of mind. Hikers get lost all the time.”
“Annie’s right, you’re uptight.” My eyes go to Annie, and she looks mortified. Jack didn’t make that up. Annie called me uptight? It stings a little. But she’s not wrong.
“Yeah, well, if your wife dies on a hiking trip, we’ll see how uptight you might be.” I march ahead, not bothering to see Jack’s reaction. Pepper hurries up beside me.
“Dad! That was amazing,” she gushes in hushed tones.
“How did he look?” I ask, smiling just a little.
“Dumbstruck. And Annie has started chewing him out.”
“You know Pep, I didn’t like it when you invited Jack on this hike. Now I’m beginning to see that you’re brilliant.”
“You’re just realizing this?”
“I’m continually amazed by it.”
“Sorry,” Annie runs up to me. “Jack didn’t know.”
“Pampas grass can’t help but be pampas grass.”
“Don’t call him that. You’re not being fair to him.” I know she’s right. I’m just annoyed by his very existence.
He joins us, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your wife.”
“How could you have?”
“Annie could have told me,” he says with slight accusation.
“I don’t think Annie knew.”
“I did,” Annie says, sounding embarrassed. “I read some old articles about it last summer. I hope that was okay. I was curious.” I don’t know what I think about Annie searching for articles about Daphne’s death.
“That’s fine. I don’t talk about it. But I’m glad you know.”
“It was really tragic.” Pepper makes a sad face.
She says this line all the time. She can’t really comprehend the tragedy of losing her mom when she was a baby.
It’s hard to mourn someone you don’t remember.
Still, she senses the loss, and about the only perk of being motherless is the opportunity to shock people.
And now I get why Pepper does it so often.
It felt good to throw my loss in Jack’s pretty face.
I take a deep breath. I’m not going to let Jack ruin this hike. Annie looks at me, and I force I smile.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks a little suspiciously.
“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re hiking under redwood trees through waist-high ferns.”
“I do like ferns,” Annie says, touching a nearby frond as we walk.
“As I recall, they signify magic,” I say.
“You were listening to the stories I made up with Pepper on our hikes last year?”
“I’m always listening.”
“That’s embarrassing,” Annie says. “No wonder you think I’m never serious. I was just making those up as I went.”
“I liked your stories. They’re charming.”
“They were good stories,” says Pepper, skipping up to join us. “Remember the one about Princess Annabelle and the flying squirrel.”
“Of course I do,” says Annie.
“I want to hear one,” says Jack. “Annie tells the best stories. They’re almost as good as her poems. Have you read any of her poems?
” I actually haven’t read any of Annie’s poems. I would like to.
But she’s never offered to share them, and I’ve never asked.
I don’t know why, but it seemed like too personal of a request.
“I haven’t been so fortunate,” I say.
“They’re absolutely brilliant,” Jack says with conviction.
“Oh, they’re not that good,” Annie says, blushing.
“You’re just being modest,” says Jack. “They’re amazing. And I majored in poetry.”
“Did you?” No wonder Annie fell for him so fast.
“I did. It didn’t really matter what I studied in undergrad since I knew I was going to get my MBA.” I just nod along, numbly. Jack Willoughby majored in poetry. I’m not sure I have a chance.
“So how about it, Annie?” Jack gives her a disarming smile. “Will you tell me one of your Princess Annabelle stories?”
“I can’t make them up on demand. I have to wait for inspiration.”
“What about telling an old one?” Jack insists as he takes her hand.
“Sorry,” says Annie. “I never tell the same story twice. They’re each unique and ephemeral.”
“Nothing gold can stay,” Jack says ruefully. I’m not sure why, but when he quotes Robert Frost, I find it pretentious—yet when Annie throws out lines of poetry, I think it’s cute.
***
When we reach the waterfall, Jack immediately leaves the trail, stepping on rocks to make his way across the shallow river.
Green moss and ferns cling to the rock wall of the sheer cliff while several fluffy white falls plummet down.
Ducking his head under the rushing water, Jack lets out a victorious whoop.
Rising out of the water, he tosses his wet hair back like he’s in a skincare commercial.
“Come on in, Annie!” She glances back at me as if she’s worried I’ll feel left out.
“Go ahead,” I say.
“Are you going in too?” she asks.
“I might.” I am a little warm from the climb, but something about Jack going under the waterfall makes me want to do the opposite.
“C’mon, Daddy.” Pepper reaches for my hand, and it’s decided.
If Pepper’s going under the fall, so am I.
Pepper and I make our way along the trail to the rushing water with Annie right behind us.
I wish I knew what was going on in her head.
She steals up beside us and takes Pepper’s hand so that, for a moment, the three of us are walking to the falls holding hands like a family.
It means nothing; after all, she was just exchanging smiles with perfect Jack who majored in poetry.
But for me, it’s not nothing. The three of us—Annie, Pepper, and me.
Pepper can’t stop smiling. Her head swivels between us.
This is what she wants. This is what I want.
As we get closer, the cool mist of the waterfall envelops us. The sunshine refracts off the water droplets, creating dozens of rainbows.
Annie looks over at me and asks, “Ready?” I nod.
“Annie!” Jack calls from under the falls. “Get your cute self over here.”
Jack’s voice brings me back to reality. I let go of Pepper’s hand, hanging back while Annie and Pepper, still holding hands, step under a fall together, the two of them shrieking as the white water splashes over them.
I savor the sight. Pepper and Annie smiling, their wet faces lit by the sun.
For the millionth time, I wish I had asked Annie out months ago.
Now all I can do is hope that Jack proves to be as flighty as I believe him to be and that Annie finds out before he breaks her heart.
“Daddy! You have to try this!” Pepper calls to me.
“Coming,” I say, swiftly crossing the remaining few feet to the falls.
I step under the closest one. The moment the icy water hits my head, I let out an involuntary gasp.
It’s so cold, my brain hurts a little, but it’s also wonderful.
In a matter of minutes my hair and shirt are soaked through.
I step out of the water and stand just at the edge of the falls.
Jack cups his hands, filling them with cold, clear water and then sips.
“Jack!” Annie calls over the surge of rushing water. “What are you doing?”
“Sipping the nectar of the gods!”
“The water’s not clean,” she says.
It’s totally safe when you’re drinking straight from the source of fast-moving water,” he says to Annie. “Don’t worry, I grew up hiking and drinking from streams all the time and have never had any problems.”
“Then you’ve been extremely lucky. There’s no guarantee that water is safe to drink,” I say, knowing full well that I’m cementing my reputation as uptight.
Annie gives me a look of reprimand. She wants me to be quiet and leave her boyfriend alone.
Why must I be the peacemaker when he’s so clearly in the wrong?
“Water this sublime is worth the risk.” Jack steps under the closest, thinnest stream of water, opens his mouth and lets it pour right in.
Annie watches him with a look of disbelief.
She turns toward the shore, carefully stepping from one rock to another.
Pepper has given up on keeping her shoes dry and is splashing through the ankle-deep water.
Annie leaps to the muddy bank, but her feet slip from under her, and she starts to fall.
I jump forward and catch her before she hits the ground.
“You okay?” I ask, standing behind her with my hands on her waist.
“I am,” she answers unsteadily. “It hurts but . . .”
“Did you hurt your ankle?” She turns around and now she’s unbelievably close. Her hair is wet and curly, her face glistening with water droplets.
“Maybe a little,” she answers, a little breathless. “But it’s not that bad. I just need to sit for a minute.”
“Alright, there’s a bench just over there. Should I carry you?”
“I’ve got this,” Jack says appearing beside us.
I didn’t even notice him approaching. The nearness of Annie has completely distracted me, and from the surprised look on her face, the same is true for her.
Jack places a hand on her waist, pulling her close to his side.
I let go immediately and watch her hobble ahead with him.
And think to myself, Nothing gold can stay.