by Amy Waeschle
Finally, they stood on the crater’s rim. The morning air felt crisp, but the rising sun was quickly heating the land. Below them, in the center of St. Helens’ crater, a mound of ash and rock steamed, clouds of it carried off by the swirling wind.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Cassidy said, looking around. Even though the locations of her field stations lay buried under the snowpack, her mind played images of her many trips here. “Though, I guess I could be back. You never know.”
“You’ll be a professor by then,” Pete said. “You’ll be the one barking orders at your students.”
“Ken never barked orders,” she groaned. “I hope I’m as agile at his age,” she added.
Pete took a sip from his water bottle. His smooth cheeks glowed from the exertion of the climb and his eyes sparkled as they took in the view of Mt. Adams in the distance, with the river valleys and lakes far below them shining like mirrors in the sun.
They sat on their packs and shared a snack of cheddar cheese, peppery crackers, and homemade peanut butter cookies. Occasional whiffs of sulfur wafted past them from the crater. A mouse appeared to snatch their crumbs, then darted away the minute they noticed.
“So, I brought something,” Pete said, slipping a piece of paper from his pocket. “Mind if I read it?”
Cassidy took in his strange expression. “Sure,” she said, mildly confused. What on earth was so important he would want to read it during a ski trip? “Is it for a story?”
“You could say that.” His cheeks seemed to pale. He smoothed the creases of the paper on his thigh, and stood. Baffled, Cassidy waited for him to begin. He exhaled slowly, and read:
“Why do we have to listen to our hearts?” the boy asked, when they had made camp that day.
“Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you’ll find your treasure.”
“But my heart is agitated,” the boy said. “It has its dreams, it gets emotional, and it’s become passionate over a woman of the desert. It asks things of me, and it keeps me from sleeping many nights, when I am thinking about her.”
Pete’s gaze connected with Cassidy’s, and then returned to the paper.
“Well, that’s good. Your heart is alive. Keep listening to what it has to say.”
The boy continued to listen to his heart as they crossed the desert. But he became fearful. “My heart is afraid that it will have to suffer,” the boy told the alchemist one night as they looked up at the moonless sky.”
“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams.”
Pete folded the paper away. “That’s from The Alchemist,” he said. “It’s a story about following your dreams, and how you must let your heart lead the way.” He inhaled a deep breath. “I used to think that following my dreams and satisfying my heart had to be two separate things. But you’ve shown me how wrong that is. It’s like the more we love each other, the more our dreams come true.” Their eyes met and she felt his stillness, his love for her warming the space around them. “My heart led me to you, Cassidy. And I know it hasn’t been easy, and we’ve been severely tested,” he said. “But our love is stronger because of it. I love you more every day.” He smiled. His fingers drew something from his pocket. “I want to spend my life with you, Cassidy. Will you marry me?” he asked.
A rush of emotion flooded her. She jumped to her feet. “Really?” she said.
Pete laughed. “Yes, really.”
Cassidy realized that he was waiting for her to answer. “Yes!” she said. “Yes of course!”
Gently, he took her hand and slid the gold band onto her finger. She gazed at it, awed by the design of tiny gems sparkling above a delicately carved wave. “Oh my god,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” She spun the band and watched the wave rotate in an endless loop. The gems poised above the wave looked like stars, or phosphorescence.
“They’re peridot,” he said. “I figured that a volcanic mineral was appropriate.”
Cassidy’s heart swelled to the point of bursting. “Oh, Pete,” she breathed, then broke away from the ring to kiss him.
“I love you so much, Cassidy,” he said as they embraced.
“I love you too!” she said. A gust of wind grazed her cheek. “Wait, is that why you snuck off with Quinn at the after party? To ask for my hand?” She remembered the intense gaze Quinn had sent her across the bar.
Pete blushed. “Sort of,” Pete said, his lips twitching. “I guess I wanted his approval.”
“I thought you were scheming about all the places he wanted to take you.”
He shook his head, grinning. He clearly enjoyed this. “We did some of that. But that’s not all we talked about.” He caressed the side of her face, settling the emotions fluttering inside her chest. “I wanted him to know that I was going to take care of you. That I would keep you safe.” He kissed her. “Sharing that with him felt like the right thing to do.”
Cassidy drew a deep breath, imagining Quinn listening to such a speech. How had he reacted? When it came to Quinn’s business, he was ultra-responsible, but in all things relationship he was as careless as a teenage boy. She couldn’t imagine him ever getting married.
They packed up and readied their equipment for the descent, actions they had completed together countless times. Thinking through everything they had shared over the last year and a half, she realized marriage was part of a natural progression. They had talked about staying together when she graduated, and that had been good enough for her. But now that they were engaged things would be different, though she couldn’t explain how. Her emotions spun, from happiness to trepidation to joy. This is really happening. Her excitement grew as she imagined their life together: moving to Eugene, skiing Mt. Hood, sipping coffee in a sunny kitchen, working late into the night, making love wherever and whenever they felt like it.
“Ready?” he asked.
Cassidy glanced at him and a thrill tingled down her spine. “Ready,” she answered.
Sixteen
Eugene, Oregon
August 7, 2016
Cassidy returned from her early morning run to find a visitor in her living room.
“Hey Sis,” Reeve said breezily, a cup of coffee in his hands.
Cassidy bristled. “What are you doing here?” she asked, which was nicer than what she wanted to say.
Pete stood cooking something in their functional but cramped kitchen. He gave her a look she couldn’t read.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Reeve said. “Thought I’d come see your new place.” He looked around, took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “It’s nice.”
Cassidy wondered if he was searching for things to steal. “Thanks,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.
“How was your run?” Pete asked. He served up three plates of eggs with toast and put the pan in the sink.
Cassidy wiped her forehead with the bottom of her shirt. She desperately wanted to take a shower, but it would have to wait. “Uh, good. I tried that new route.”
Pete nodded while fishing out three forks from the drawer. She helped him bring everything to the table. “Thanks for making all this,” she said.
“Sure,” he answered, giving her a quick kiss. “Breakfast,” Pete called to Reeve who stood examining a series of photographs framed on top of the bookshelf across the room.
“Good shot of you guys,” he said, picking up the selfie they’d taken during the ski trip when Pete had proposed.
“Thanks,” Pete said.
The three of them sat down. “You got any hot sauce?” Reeve asked, looking at Pete expectantly.
“Sure,” he said, getting up. Cassidy heard the fridge open.
“So, where are you living now?” Cassidy said. She blew on a bite of eggs.
He grinned. “You ever heard of hashtag vanlife?” he asked.
“No.”
Pete returned with a bottle of Cholula.
Reeve removed t
he lid and sprinkled some over his eggs. “Well it’s sort of like this freedom movement. Seeing the country, living minimally in a van. Some people even have dogs.”
Cassidy tried to follow this thread. “So you have a van?”
Reeve nodded, his dark eyes shining dangerously. “I’m retrofitting it now.” He shrugged. “It needs some work, but, you know.”
“It’s here?” Cassidy asked, losing her appetite.
“Right across the street,” Reeve said, pointing his fork.
Cassidy squinted, trying to see through the half-open blinds to the street. Cars lined the curbs like usual, then she spotted it: a white minivan with rusted wheel wells.
“I have a good friend with an RV,” Pete said. “She’s not pretty, but it sure is nice to have a place to crash on the mountain.”
Cassidy gave him a look that said don’t encourage him.
Pete’s look said what’s the harm?
“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Reeve replied, nodding.
She sensed a zippy, restrained kind of energy radiating from Reeve and wondered about its origin. Pot made him mellow, so it wasn’t that. Had he picked up a new habit in prison? Then, remembering her stepsister begging her to look after him, she tried to be more supportive.
“Aaron’s RV is called Ginny,” Cassidy said, sipping her coffee. “Does your ride have a name yet?”
“Not just yet,” he answered, finishing off his eggs. “I’m waiting for inspiration, you know?” He pushed his plate forward. “You got more coffee?” he asked.
The carafe sat within reach on the counter behind them. There was a slight pause as Pete realized that Reeve expected to be served. “Sure,” Pete said a split second before Cassidy told him to get his own coffee. Pete poured another full cup into Reeve’s mug.
“Eugene seems like a nice town,” Reeve said.
Cassidy understood where this was going now. “We’ve only been here a few weeks, really.” She thought of the boxes still waiting to be unpacked in the garage.
“I hear you’re heading to Costa Rica,” Reeve said.
“Where did you—” she started before realizing that of course Rebecca had told him. “Yes,” she said.
“I’ve always wanted to check that place out,” he said.
“You should,” Cassidy replied. During her sophomore year of college she had completed a semester there and shortly after had added a Spanish minor to her degree. Going to Arenal for her job was like a dream come true.
“And you’re going to San Francisco,” Reeve said to Pete.
Cassidy’s stomach sank.
“I got this idea,” Reeve said, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Why don’t I take care of the place while you’re gone?”
“We have a house sitter,” Cassidy blurted, ignoring the look she felt coming from Pete. She had to put a stop to this, even if it meant lying.
Reeve’s eyes twitched. “Oh, that’s cool,” he said, looking away. “I was just thinking, you know, if you needed help or anything.”
“We’re good,” Cassidy said, her voice sounding high.
“But if you need a place to stay for a couple—” Pete said, then stopped because of the hard squeeze she gave his leg under the table.
“That’d be great!” Reeve said. “I just need to make a few tweaks on the van, you know. I gotta get ready for Burning Man.”
“When’s that?” Cassidy asked, her teeth clenched.
“August twenty-seventh.”
“Okay!” Cassidy said, standing up. She couldn’t sit any longer, and cleared her plate and mug, then came back for Pete’s. He gave her a cowed look. She tried to communicate that he had fucked up royally.
“That was great, thanks,” Reeve said, standing up and stretching his arms wide. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He headed for the door. “Oh, would you mind switching spots in the driveway? I need access to power.”
Pete’s look froze. “Uh, sure, let me just grab my keys.”
After Pete had moved both of their cars to the street—his was now parked several blocks away—Reeve started up his van. A horrible screech filled the air and a thread of white smoke drifted out of the tailpipe.
“C’mon, CeeCee,” Pete said as they watched him ease out of his parking spot. “He needs some support. We’re both leaving in three days. He’ll split then, too.”
Cassidy frowned. “You don’t know him,” she answered.
“Let’s give him a chance,” he said as Reeve pulled into their driveway, grinning.
Cassidy remembered when they all used to go to the beach together as kids: herself, Quinn, Reeve, Rebecca, her dad, and Pamela. Her dad boogie boarded with them, laughing in the waves, shaking his head like a dog after each wipeout. Reeve always wanted to go out farther and farther, but her father said no, that it was too dangerous. One time, he went anyway and the lifeguards had to pull him out of a rip current that was sweeping him out to sea.
“Okay,” she said softly. “But he can’t be alone in the house, okay?” she said, meeting his eyes.
“That’s gonna be awkward,” Pete replied.
“I don’t care,” Cassidy said.
Pete sighed. “Okay, we’ll make it work.”
Reeve slid open the side door of his van to reveal two rows of vinyl seats and bare flooring. He removed a cardboard box with several tools inside and an orange extension cord. “You don’t happen to have a drill, do you?” he asked.
Reeve spent the entire morning hammering and drilling. Cassidy took a shower and dug up her internal frame backpack and carry-on from the jumble of items in their unorganized garage in an attempt to begin preparing for Costa Rica. From the windows through the garage door, she could see Reeve. He was standing on the opposite side of the van, out of view of the house, puffing on something. Cassidy groaned.
After kissing Pete goodbye, Cassidy left him pecking away at his laptop and rode her bike to the University. After a pre-Arenal conference call with her team, she holed up in her tiny office to edit a new paper she was submitting, regarding her Etna work. The day melted away. When she finally realized it was after five o’clock, she closed her laptop and stretched her fingers, anticipating a nice evening kicking back with Pete. Then she remembered that Reeve would be there. Overcome with dread, she pedaled home.
Reeve lounged on a rusty lawn chair in their backyard, chatting on a cell phone.
“How’d it go?” Cassidy asked, eyeing Reeve warily.
“Fine,” Pete replied. She had a feeling he hadn’t moved from his spot at the table for most of the day, except to change his clothes. The day, which had started out cool had quickly warmed, and her office had been like a furnace by the time she left. “He took off for a while. Then he came back.”
“Did you guys eat lunch together?” she asked, trying to picture the two of them sitting across the table from each other, Reeve filling Pete with his usual bullshit.
“No,” Pete replied, closing his laptop. “I offered, but he said he wasn’t hungry.”
Alarm bells rang in her head. “Hmm,” she said, glancing at the backyard.
“Look, I know he was rotten to you as a kid, but maybe he’s changed.”
Cassidy eyed him sharply. “He stole my mother’s jewelry from my room and gave it to his psychopath girlfriend. He crashed my father’s car into a tree, almost killing the girl in the passenger seat. He stole laptops from the computer store he worked at and sold them for coke.”
Pete’s eyes filled with compassion. Then he glanced at Reeve, looking torn. “Maybe he’s trying to make a fresh start.”
Cassidy snorted. “Yeah. As our pet.”
They cooked a simple stir-fry with rice for dinner. Reeve received several phone calls during the meal and answered them at the table. It was unsettling to spend time with someone who disregarded the basic rules of etiquette. Should she have laid down these rules before he invited himself to stay with them? No talking on your cell phone at the table. No smoking weed. Don’t talk with
your mouth full. No stealing and don’t even think about stepping into my room.
“Okay, later, man,” Reeve said into his phone and ended the call, placing the phone face up next to his plate.
“I got a few friends in town. Thinking I might hook up with them later.”
“Great,” Cassidy said. She and Pete had agreed to not drink their normal beer at the end of the day. Reeve had been through rehab twice that she knew about. She wasn’t sure what the pot smoking or his amped-up behavior that morning meant. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t drunk, but she sensed he wasn’t clean, not completely. And though Rebecca had explained the whole addiction and recovery cycle to her, Cassidy couldn’t figure out the issue. As a teen, she had partied for a while but had grown out of it. Why couldn’t Reeve?
After dinner, Reeve went back to work in the driveway.
In the spare room, Pete had found an extra pillow and put sheets on the folded-down futon. Reeve was still out when she and Pete went to bed at their usual time, Pete dropping off instantly and Cassidy tucked under the covers reading until almost eleven o’clock. She woke after midnight to voices in the living room. Alarmed, she rose and tucked into her robe.
She heard the clink of beer bottles and the soft thump of her fridge door shutting. The bottles cracked open and then Cassidy heard the soft tones of a woman’s voice. She thought to add no uninvited guests to her list of rules she wished she had been brave enough to share within the first few moments of Reeve’s arrival. She sighed. Why shouldn’t Reeve enjoy the company of a friend? He had been in jail for over a year, had paid his dues. He seemed really excited about his van project. I shouldn’t be so quick to condemn him, she thought. The woman giggled, and Cassidy heard the sliding glass door to their backyard open and close. Cassidy returned to bed.
Later, Cassidy woke to her pitch-black bedroom and Pete’s soft breaths next to her. Thoughts of her upcoming trip to Arenal and the paper she was finalizing woke her the rest of the way. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she checked the time. Three o’clock in the morning. She tried all of her techniques to return to the dream she had been having, but she could feel her body waking. A noise from somewhere in the house unsettled her further. Reeve. What was he doing up at three in the morning? And what was that smell?
