At Last
Page 32
She grinned unrepentantly. “Sorry, you don’t like it?”
Before he could strangle her, she laughed again. “Guess you haven’t been checking Facebook, huh? The poll there is two-to-one in favor of making a Ranger Hot Buns calendar. In your honor, of course.”
He shook his head, trying to rid his brain of that image. “What are you doing here?”
“I volunteer here.” She gestured to her badge. “I bring patients magazines and read to them, that sort of thing.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Lucille smiled. “It’s bingo night, and it went late on account of Mr. Swanson falling over in the middle of calling out the numbers. He wasn’t our first choice—Mr. Murdock was—but he lost his dentures, so Mr. Swanson filled in. Anyway, he was calling out the numbers and then he started clenching his chest, saying he was dying of a heart attack. I followed the ambulance here because I greet all the new patients and also because I was his date. Normally he’s quite the live wire.”
“Is he okay?” Matt asked.
“Oh, sure. He’s made of hardy stuff, that Mr. Swanson. Peasant stock, he always says. Turns out, he ate fettuccini and sausage for dinner and had heartburn but they’re keeping him overnight for a few more tests. I was just sitting with him for a while until he fell asleep.”
Matt felt dizzy. It was a common condition when he was in Lucille’s presence. “I’ve got to go.”
“I know. You’re probably still looking for evidence that those punk-asses were doing something you can nail them for, right? Like, say, underage drinking and smoking?”
“I can’t discuss the case with you, Lucille.”
“Well of course not. But I can discuss it with you.” She whipped out her phone. The screen was a picture of her art gallery, which reminded Matt of Amy—as if he needed a reminder. She was a hole in his chest at the moment, and now he felt a headache coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lucille, I don’t really have time for—”
“You’re handsome,” Lucille said. “I’ll give you that. Probably in the top five here in Lucky Harbor, though Mr. Swanson himself could give you a run for his money. But looks aren’t everything. Brains are, and the thing is, I figured you for having some.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then took another look at her screen. Facebook, of course. “Now,” she said, “you wouldn’t be able to see this picture because you’re not his friend. But I automatically friend everyone in Lucky Harbor. I do that because I’m nosy as hell, and it keeps me up-to-date on the goings on.”
“Lucille.” He needed Advil. An entire bottle. “I don’t—”
She thumbed to a different page. Caleb Morrison’s Facebook page. Caleb was Trevor Wright’s best friend and had been one of the uninjured climbers the other night. Caleb’s latest Facebook post said: Check out our latest climb! This was accompanied by a photo of four guys in climbing gear sitting on a group of rocks with Widow’s Peak behind them, all of them smoking what appeared to be weed.
Lucille smiled at the look on Matt’s face. “Who do you love?” she asked.
“You,” he said with great feeling.
“Aw.” She beamed. “Honey, you’re just the sweetest, and very good-looking, as I’ve mentioned. But I’m trying to land Swanson right now, so you’ll have to be satisfied with being just friends.”
Amy lay awake staring at the ceiling. She’d really thought she’d been onto something good, that her life here in Lucky Harbor was going to be the life she’d always secretly wanted.
But she’d been too afraid to really go after it.
After all she’d been through in her life, was she really going to let her own fears of trust and love hold her back?
Her mind wandered to her grandma’s journey. Hope. Peace. Heart. Her grandma had found the courage to come out here to find her heart—
Whoa. Wait a minute. Amy sat straight up in bed and opened the journal, skimming to the part she wanted.
It’s been three weeks since we’d last been on the mountain. A long three weeks during which I refused to give up my newfound hope and peace.
Good thing, too, because we needed both to get all the way around and back.
Full circle.
It was worth it. Standing at the very tippy top, looking out at a blanket of green, a sea of blue, and a world of possibilities, the whole world opened up. I would never settle. I would never stop growing. I would never give up.
And as the sun sank down over the horizon, we were suddenly at the beginning again.
Hope.
Peace.
And something new as well, something that brought us full circle. Heart.
Full circle. Without thinking, she picked up her cell phone and called her mom.
“Amy?”
Amy winced at the husky tone of her mother’s voice. “I woke you, I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
Amy couldn’t speak for a minute, stunned that her mom would ask.
“Amy? You still there?”
“Yes,” she managed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the time. I’m fine. I just wanted to thank you for sending grandma’s drawings. They’re beautiful. I had no idea…”
“Her drawings were personal to her. She kept them hidden. I think they reminded her of Jonathon.”
Amy nodded, which was stupid, her mom couldn’t see her. “He died before their trip.”
“Yes, of course. I thought you knew from the journal.”
“No.”
“I guess it was too painful to write about. Jonathon lived longer than was expected, and she always said that the trip, taking his ashes to his favorite spots on earth, gave her the tools to go on.”
Tools. Hope. Peace. Heart. In her own heart, Amy knew that was it. “I was just wondering if you could remember anything about grandma’s journey at all. In the end, she went full circle but—”
“I told you, she never discussed the trip details with me. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. The disappointment was a bitter pill.
“I don’t mean about that. I… I don’t know how to say this, Amy,” her mom said. “I made a lot of mistakes with you.”
Amy opened her mouth, shocked to discover that hearing those words actually meant something to her. “Well, I made mistakes, too.”
“No,” her mom said. “Well, yes, but not like mine. I’m the mom. I’m supposed to believe in you, every time. Nothing can undo what happened, I know that, but I wanted you to know, I think about you. I think about you all the time.”
Amy had spent so much of her life mistrusting everyone, especially her mom, but the fact was the woman was as human as Amy. No, nothing could undo the past, but if Amy held onto that past, she would turn out like her mother. Full of regrets. She didn’t want that. For either of them. “I think about you, too.”
“Take care, Amy. And maybe you’ll call.”
“Yes. And maybe you will as well.”
When she’d set her phone down, Amy sat there in the dark, the ache in her chest just a little bit less intense. She and her mom had come full circle, it seems.
Full circle…
She blinked. Maybe Rose and Jonathon had gone full circle, back to where she’d started, at Sierra Meadows. It seemed exactly like something her grandma would do. And Amy would bet that it’d been an accidental full circle, which meant her grandma had come at Sierra Meadows from another way, possibly stumbling into it again by sheer luck. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Amy was willing to give it a shot.
Hell, she needed to give something a shot.
Before dawn, she was packed. No mistakes this time, no more being unprepared or getting lost. She had a journey to finish, and there was nothing to stop her.
Not a runaway.
Not a man.
Not her own hang-ups or history. After all, she’d just lectured Riley on not letting her past rule her life, so it was time to live what she preached.
She sent texts to both Grace and Mallory with her hiking itinerary. Just in case of… well, anything. She started at the North District Ranger Station and purposely didn’t allow herself to look for Matt’s truck. She’d checked out the map and had planned her route. She managed to move along the trail at a good clip. Apparently she couldn’t get her life in order, but she’d accidentally gotten in shape.
Good to know.
She adjusted her backpack and kept going.
And going.
She was going to figure out this last leg of her grandma’s journey if it killed her. Which she knew it wouldn’t. She’d experienced much worse and was still breathing.
By late afternoon, she was approaching Sierra Meadows from the opposite direction as last time. She was exhausted, but forced herself to keep going, and just when she thought she couldn’t take another step, she turned a particularly tight switchback corner and… came out at the top of a ravine that looked down at Sierra Meadows.
But this time, because she was on the opposite side of where she’d fallen down, she was looking down at the diamond rocks. She dropped her pack and sat on a rock, staring at the most incredible, awe-inspiring, 360-degree vista she’d ever seen.
She pulled out a bottle of water and her sketchpad. She flipped through the drawings, each as familiar as her own face. All her life they’d given her comfort, like a security blanket. That had always vaguely embarrassed her, but Lucille’s reaction had given her something new.
Hope.
Peace.
She had her grandma’s drawings, too, and she looked at the last one, with the vista of rough-edged, craggy mountain peaks—
It was Widow’s Peak.
And even more important, it was the exact same view Amy had from this very spot. Heart pounding, she pulled out her grandma’s journal. Standing at the very tippy top, looking out at a blanket of green, a sea of blue…
Here. Right here was where her grandma had come full circle, staring at Widow’s Peak as she’d sprinkled Jonathon’s ashes. The late afternoon sun slanted over the precipices, right into her eyes. Amy shaded them with her hand and looked at the beautiful mountains. It was unbelievable to her that by following her grandma’s adventure, she’d somehow stumbled into her own as well.
She loved this place. She loved that she had real friends. She loved the sense of community here. Lucky Harbor had become home in a way that no other place had.
But there was more. She’d found herself here. She’d salvaged a crappy life and carved out a little niche for herself.
She’d also fallen in love. How was that for making changes and facing fears? She’d been looking for her grandma’s heart, and she’d lost her own.
The sun set a little lower, and its rays burst through the sharply defined rock and trees in such a way that it lit up Widow’s Peak like it was on fire. Quickly she grabbed her pencils, wanting to capture it on paper. It took her less than a minute to stare down at her drawing and realize what she was seeing, and she squinted through the bright sun to look at the view again.
With her eyes squinted in protection, the outline of the peaks took on the shape of two interlocking hearts. And within those hearts, the tree lines seemed to form letters. RS. And there was a J, too. And if she squinted really, really hard, she could just make out an S…
Amy stared in disbelief at the mountains, then down at her drawing, and let out a low laugh. Just her imagination? Wishful thinking? Probably. But it was also fate.
I left my heart on the mountain, her grandma had told her. And it was right there for Amy to see. It’d been there all these years, waiting for her.
Eventually she walked across the meadow and climbed up to the site of her first overnight camping trip. The sun began to sink, but Amy had prepared for it this time, planned to sleep out here. Alone. She’d faced so many of her fears lately that she’d wanted to look her last one in the eye and prove she could do this.
Leaning back, she could almost feel her grandma smiling down at her.
In the morning, she would finish her drawing and hike out in time to get to work for her afternoon shift. She texted Mallory and Grace again with her whereabouts for the night so that no one called out search and rescue.
Or Matt. Not that he’d be looking for her.
Don’t go there…
She started a fire and pitched the tent that she’d borrowed from Ty. Then she sketched until the light was gone.
Once that happened, it was dark. Very dark. But she’d gotten good at facing her fears: letting people in, loving people, trusting people… camping! Yep, she could check off the entire list. She crawled into her borrowed sleeping bag and lay still, listening to the forest noises, wishing she had her sexy forest ranger to warm her up.
Matt pulled up to Amy’s place and stared at her dark windows.
She wasn’t home.
His formal inquiry was at eight a.m. sharp. He would present his findings and hopefully prove that there’d been no negligence on his part or on the part of the forest service. Thanks to Lucille, he had his ducks in a row—at least all the ducks he had—but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in the land of bureaucracy. He knew it could go either way, and at the moment, he didn’t give a shit. The only person he gave a shit about wasn’t home, and he had no idea where she might be.
Trust.
That’s what it was all about for her, being able to trust. Not that she’d extended the courtesy to him. He stared up at her dark windows and had to admit he hadn’t given her a whole lot to go on in that regard either.
He was such a f**king idiot.
Before he could strangle her, she laughed again. “Guess you haven’t been checking Facebook, huh? The poll there is two-to-one in favor of making a Ranger Hot Buns calendar. In your honor, of course.”
He shook his head, trying to rid his brain of that image. “What are you doing here?”
“I volunteer here.” She gestured to her badge. “I bring patients magazines and read to them, that sort of thing.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Lucille smiled. “It’s bingo night, and it went late on account of Mr. Swanson falling over in the middle of calling out the numbers. He wasn’t our first choice—Mr. Murdock was—but he lost his dentures, so Mr. Swanson filled in. Anyway, he was calling out the numbers and then he started clenching his chest, saying he was dying of a heart attack. I followed the ambulance here because I greet all the new patients and also because I was his date. Normally he’s quite the live wire.”
“Is he okay?” Matt asked.
“Oh, sure. He’s made of hardy stuff, that Mr. Swanson. Peasant stock, he always says. Turns out, he ate fettuccini and sausage for dinner and had heartburn but they’re keeping him overnight for a few more tests. I was just sitting with him for a while until he fell asleep.”
Matt felt dizzy. It was a common condition when he was in Lucille’s presence. “I’ve got to go.”
“I know. You’re probably still looking for evidence that those punk-asses were doing something you can nail them for, right? Like, say, underage drinking and smoking?”
“I can’t discuss the case with you, Lucille.”
“Well of course not. But I can discuss it with you.” She whipped out her phone. The screen was a picture of her art gallery, which reminded Matt of Amy—as if he needed a reminder. She was a hole in his chest at the moment, and now he felt a headache coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lucille, I don’t really have time for—”
“You’re handsome,” Lucille said. “I’ll give you that. Probably in the top five here in Lucky Harbor, though Mr. Swanson himself could give you a run for his money. But looks aren’t everything. Brains are, and the thing is, I figured you for having some.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then took another look at her screen. Facebook, of course. “Now,” she said, “you wouldn’t be able to see this picture because you’re not his friend. But I automatically friend everyone in Lucky Harbor. I do that because I’m nosy as hell, and it keeps me up-to-date on the goings on.”
“Lucille.” He needed Advil. An entire bottle. “I don’t—”
She thumbed to a different page. Caleb Morrison’s Facebook page. Caleb was Trevor Wright’s best friend and had been one of the uninjured climbers the other night. Caleb’s latest Facebook post said: Check out our latest climb! This was accompanied by a photo of four guys in climbing gear sitting on a group of rocks with Widow’s Peak behind them, all of them smoking what appeared to be weed.
Lucille smiled at the look on Matt’s face. “Who do you love?” she asked.
“You,” he said with great feeling.
“Aw.” She beamed. “Honey, you’re just the sweetest, and very good-looking, as I’ve mentioned. But I’m trying to land Swanson right now, so you’ll have to be satisfied with being just friends.”
Amy lay awake staring at the ceiling. She’d really thought she’d been onto something good, that her life here in Lucky Harbor was going to be the life she’d always secretly wanted.
But she’d been too afraid to really go after it.
After all she’d been through in her life, was she really going to let her own fears of trust and love hold her back?
Her mind wandered to her grandma’s journey. Hope. Peace. Heart. Her grandma had found the courage to come out here to find her heart—
Whoa. Wait a minute. Amy sat straight up in bed and opened the journal, skimming to the part she wanted.
It’s been three weeks since we’d last been on the mountain. A long three weeks during which I refused to give up my newfound hope and peace.
Good thing, too, because we needed both to get all the way around and back.
Full circle.
It was worth it. Standing at the very tippy top, looking out at a blanket of green, a sea of blue, and a world of possibilities, the whole world opened up. I would never settle. I would never stop growing. I would never give up.
And as the sun sank down over the horizon, we were suddenly at the beginning again.
Hope.
Peace.
And something new as well, something that brought us full circle. Heart.
Full circle. Without thinking, she picked up her cell phone and called her mom.
“Amy?”
Amy winced at the husky tone of her mother’s voice. “I woke you, I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
Amy couldn’t speak for a minute, stunned that her mom would ask.
“Amy? You still there?”
“Yes,” she managed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the time. I’m fine. I just wanted to thank you for sending grandma’s drawings. They’re beautiful. I had no idea…”
“Her drawings were personal to her. She kept them hidden. I think they reminded her of Jonathon.”
Amy nodded, which was stupid, her mom couldn’t see her. “He died before their trip.”
“Yes, of course. I thought you knew from the journal.”
“No.”
“I guess it was too painful to write about. Jonathon lived longer than was expected, and she always said that the trip, taking his ashes to his favorite spots on earth, gave her the tools to go on.”
Tools. Hope. Peace. Heart. In her own heart, Amy knew that was it. “I was just wondering if you could remember anything about grandma’s journey at all. In the end, she went full circle but—”
“I told you, she never discussed the trip details with me. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. The disappointment was a bitter pill.
“I don’t mean about that. I… I don’t know how to say this, Amy,” her mom said. “I made a lot of mistakes with you.”
Amy opened her mouth, shocked to discover that hearing those words actually meant something to her. “Well, I made mistakes, too.”
“No,” her mom said. “Well, yes, but not like mine. I’m the mom. I’m supposed to believe in you, every time. Nothing can undo what happened, I know that, but I wanted you to know, I think about you. I think about you all the time.”
Amy had spent so much of her life mistrusting everyone, especially her mom, but the fact was the woman was as human as Amy. No, nothing could undo the past, but if Amy held onto that past, she would turn out like her mother. Full of regrets. She didn’t want that. For either of them. “I think about you, too.”
“Take care, Amy. And maybe you’ll call.”
“Yes. And maybe you will as well.”
When she’d set her phone down, Amy sat there in the dark, the ache in her chest just a little bit less intense. She and her mom had come full circle, it seems.
Full circle…
She blinked. Maybe Rose and Jonathon had gone full circle, back to where she’d started, at Sierra Meadows. It seemed exactly like something her grandma would do. And Amy would bet that it’d been an accidental full circle, which meant her grandma had come at Sierra Meadows from another way, possibly stumbling into it again by sheer luck. There was no way of knowing for sure, but Amy was willing to give it a shot.
Hell, she needed to give something a shot.
Before dawn, she was packed. No mistakes this time, no more being unprepared or getting lost. She had a journey to finish, and there was nothing to stop her.
Not a runaway.
Not a man.
Not her own hang-ups or history. After all, she’d just lectured Riley on not letting her past rule her life, so it was time to live what she preached.
She sent texts to both Grace and Mallory with her hiking itinerary. Just in case of… well, anything. She started at the North District Ranger Station and purposely didn’t allow herself to look for Matt’s truck. She’d checked out the map and had planned her route. She managed to move along the trail at a good clip. Apparently she couldn’t get her life in order, but she’d accidentally gotten in shape.
Good to know.
She adjusted her backpack and kept going.
And going.
She was going to figure out this last leg of her grandma’s journey if it killed her. Which she knew it wouldn’t. She’d experienced much worse and was still breathing.
By late afternoon, she was approaching Sierra Meadows from the opposite direction as last time. She was exhausted, but forced herself to keep going, and just when she thought she couldn’t take another step, she turned a particularly tight switchback corner and… came out at the top of a ravine that looked down at Sierra Meadows.
But this time, because she was on the opposite side of where she’d fallen down, she was looking down at the diamond rocks. She dropped her pack and sat on a rock, staring at the most incredible, awe-inspiring, 360-degree vista she’d ever seen.
She pulled out a bottle of water and her sketchpad. She flipped through the drawings, each as familiar as her own face. All her life they’d given her comfort, like a security blanket. That had always vaguely embarrassed her, but Lucille’s reaction had given her something new.
Hope.
Peace.
She had her grandma’s drawings, too, and she looked at the last one, with the vista of rough-edged, craggy mountain peaks—
It was Widow’s Peak.
And even more important, it was the exact same view Amy had from this very spot. Heart pounding, she pulled out her grandma’s journal. Standing at the very tippy top, looking out at a blanket of green, a sea of blue…
Here. Right here was where her grandma had come full circle, staring at Widow’s Peak as she’d sprinkled Jonathon’s ashes. The late afternoon sun slanted over the precipices, right into her eyes. Amy shaded them with her hand and looked at the beautiful mountains. It was unbelievable to her that by following her grandma’s adventure, she’d somehow stumbled into her own as well.
She loved this place. She loved that she had real friends. She loved the sense of community here. Lucky Harbor had become home in a way that no other place had.
But there was more. She’d found herself here. She’d salvaged a crappy life and carved out a little niche for herself.
She’d also fallen in love. How was that for making changes and facing fears? She’d been looking for her grandma’s heart, and she’d lost her own.
The sun set a little lower, and its rays burst through the sharply defined rock and trees in such a way that it lit up Widow’s Peak like it was on fire. Quickly she grabbed her pencils, wanting to capture it on paper. It took her less than a minute to stare down at her drawing and realize what she was seeing, and she squinted through the bright sun to look at the view again.
With her eyes squinted in protection, the outline of the peaks took on the shape of two interlocking hearts. And within those hearts, the tree lines seemed to form letters. RS. And there was a J, too. And if she squinted really, really hard, she could just make out an S…
Amy stared in disbelief at the mountains, then down at her drawing, and let out a low laugh. Just her imagination? Wishful thinking? Probably. But it was also fate.
I left my heart on the mountain, her grandma had told her. And it was right there for Amy to see. It’d been there all these years, waiting for her.
Eventually she walked across the meadow and climbed up to the site of her first overnight camping trip. The sun began to sink, but Amy had prepared for it this time, planned to sleep out here. Alone. She’d faced so many of her fears lately that she’d wanted to look her last one in the eye and prove she could do this.
Leaning back, she could almost feel her grandma smiling down at her.
In the morning, she would finish her drawing and hike out in time to get to work for her afternoon shift. She texted Mallory and Grace again with her whereabouts for the night so that no one called out search and rescue.
Or Matt. Not that he’d be looking for her.
Don’t go there…
She started a fire and pitched the tent that she’d borrowed from Ty. Then she sketched until the light was gone.
Once that happened, it was dark. Very dark. But she’d gotten good at facing her fears: letting people in, loving people, trusting people… camping! Yep, she could check off the entire list. She crawled into her borrowed sleeping bag and lay still, listening to the forest noises, wishing she had her sexy forest ranger to warm her up.
Matt pulled up to Amy’s place and stared at her dark windows.
She wasn’t home.
His formal inquiry was at eight a.m. sharp. He would present his findings and hopefully prove that there’d been no negligence on his part or on the part of the forest service. Thanks to Lucille, he had his ducks in a row—at least all the ducks he had—but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in the land of bureaucracy. He knew it could go either way, and at the moment, he didn’t give a shit. The only person he gave a shit about wasn’t home, and he had no idea where she might be.
Trust.
That’s what it was all about for her, being able to trust. Not that she’d extended the courtesy to him. He stared up at her dark windows and had to admit he hadn’t given her a whole lot to go on in that regard either.
He was such a f**king idiot.
