Hannah and I dressed quickly, and I slid my feet into the brand new, unused hiking boots I’d bought at the beginning of the summer. The boots hugged my feet and ankles. I felt a little like I was wearing a costume, something someone who wasn’t Ashlyn would wear. And I didn’t hate that. This signified both my last big hurrah of the summer, and the new beginning of my senior year at home. I made sure to put on my old Henderson High School sweatshirt—a sign of where I’d come from and where I would return.
The guide from the touring company I’d hired, with Mr. Allen’s blessing and his checkbook, met us outside the lodge at four-thirty sharp. His name was Glenn and he was wearing the same brand of hiking shoes I was. I took that as a good omen.
“Good morning,” Baxter said, a travel cup of coffee in his hand. “Awake yet?”
“Getting there,” I said, with a smile.
“Maybe this will help?” He reached behind himself and handed me a second cup. “Sugar and hazelnut creamer.”
“Perfect.” I took a sip, flattered that he remembered. “This is the appropriate hiking fuel?”
“It’s appropriate for anything that takes place before the sun comes up.”
“Fair.” I took another sip. He’d made it exactly right. “Did you get some for Hannah too?”
“Of course I did. I value my life.”
“I hope it’s black,” Hannah interjected, grabbing the third mug that was still sitting on the table. She took a long swig. “Good memory, Bax. Not like most guys,” she said, eyeing me. Was that for my benefit? Even if it was, I’d definitely already figured that one out.
“I do my best,” he said, taking her sideways compliment with a grin.
Three sharp claps sounded from nearby, and we jerked our heads. “Is everyone ready?” Glenn asked.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Ruth said, with a wink in my direction.
We loaded into the shuttles and headed toward the base of the trail, where we would begin our climb to the top of what locals affectionately called Owl Hill. Glenn narrated the short drive with facts about what kind of trees and other birds and animals we might see on the hike. He told us to keep an eye out as we went, since we might still be able to see some owls before the sun came up. Glenn then assured us that it was an easy hike, “perfect for beginners,” which I already knew because I’d triple checked that part when I booked the tour. He said there would be breakfast waiting for us at the summit and someone from their company would take our picture. I’d triple checked that part too.
During the ride, I zoned out a little, the nervous anticipation building inside of me. I wasn’t afraid of the hike itself, but the closer we got to the trail and this hike, the closer we were to the end of the season at Sweetwater. And that meant the closer I also got to having the conversation with my dad. I shouldn’t have been afraid. My mom was on my side. I was going home, no matter what. But some part of me still longed for his approval. I’d been searching my whole life for my father’s “good job, Ashlyn,” and an, “I’m so proud of you,” or even better, “I’m so proud to be your father.” I didn’t expect it now. Mom had said this was going to be hard work, fixing the things that needed repairs. So maybe one day . . .
I practiced the things I wanted to say to my dad in my head until we arrived at the trail. Glenn unloaded us and led us up the hill. I looked around for owls, but only saw a handful of sparrows and some very tall evergreens as we started up the rocky trail. My boots were covered in dust within minutes.
An hour later, my sweatshirt was tied around my waist, my feet were sweating inside my boots, I was panting, my stomach was growling, and my calves were burning. Beginner trail had been a bold statement. But, I’d done it. I hadn’t stopped. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other until I reached the top.
At the summit, the sky had just begun to lighten from the dark indigo of early morning. Another member of Glenn’s company was passing out bags of hard boiled eggs, apples, and granola bars. I took a bar and sat down on a fallen log to catch my breath. Hannah plopped down next to me.
“That was awesome, cuz,” she said, a bite of apple stuck in her cheek like a chipmunk.
“Cuz?”
“You know. Short for cousin.” She elbowed me in the ribs.
The nickname felt strange in my ears, but I flushed with pleasure.
“Nothing like a good stroll up a mountain at the crack of dawn.” Hannah side-eyed me and then laughed.
I elbowed her back. “One, it’s a hill, not a mountain. And two, the good part hasn’t happened yet. I have it on good authority that the sky is about to put on a pretty spectacular show.” I’d been nervous about this part too, but I’d checked the weather numerous times over the past few days, including right before leaving the office that morning, and the forecast called for clear skies all day. I pointed up, as, right before our eyes, the sky went from dusky purple to pink and then orange and finally a brilliant gold as the sun made its appearance. The trees around us were silhouetted against the beautiful backdrop as the whole group fell silent and just took it all in. I inhaled deeply, the fresh green scent of the leaves and the earthiness of the ground and the wood filling my lungs. Here, I felt like anything was possible.
When Hannah got up to get another apple, Baxter took her place. We sat side by side on the log, legs gently touching, an electric charge buzzing between us. I tried to ignore it. I knew I liked him. He was nothing like any other guy I’d ever had a crush on in the past, and I was quickly realizing that wasn’t a bad thing. Baxter was smart and thoughtful and respectful and probably parent-approved. In fact, if I were ever to bring Bax to meet my parents—in some alternative universe where my dad wasn’t in jail right now—he’d probably fall over from shock at my choice of date.
“You did good. With this, I mean.” Bax gestured to all our fellow employees milling about, chatting and laughing, still marveling at the beauty of our surroundings.
“Thanks. I’m glad everyone likes it.” I smiled at him. My uncle had told me that’s why he does what he does. Not to make money. Not to build the biggest house or hold the most power. To make others happy. I understood why it was so important to him. It was something I could definitely get behind.
“Actually, you did good with all of it. The job. Deb. Handling your parents’ situations.”
“Yeah?” Coming from Bax, who’d had his fair share of tough life situations, that meant a lot.
“I think whatever happens from here on out, you’ll be able to handle that too.”
“I think so. One hand in front of the other.” I looked at him through my lashes and nibbled on my granola bar. “My mom is coming to pick me up tomorrow. We’re going to see my dad together and we’re going to tell him I’m coming home for good.”
Baxter nodded. “How do you feel about that?”
“Scared out of my mind,” I admitted.
“But you’re going to do it anyway.”
“I’m going to do it anyway,” I agreed. And in a moment of impulse, I leaned over and kissed Baxter softly on the cheek. “Thanks for listening to me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, looking straight ahead. And I smiled to myself, seeing the faint blush appear on his cheeks in the golden sunlight.
Moments later, Glenn and his assistant assembled us for the summit photograph. The entire Sweetwater crew gathered together for one of our last moments together. With Hannah’s arm slung around my neck, Ruth and Amos beaming behind me, Baxter’s fingers threaded through mine, and the sun shining brilliantly above us, I smiled.
Sweetwater was closed for the rest of the day. When we got back after the hike, those of us who were leaving had time to finish laundry and pack, while those staying on for the fall season helped with inventory and other odds and ends to get ready for the next wave of retreaters. I folded my clothes slowly and placed them in my suitcase one piece at a time, stealing glances in Tatum’s scrapbook every so often. I stared at the photo of us on the stairs at our Christma
s party the longest. We looked so nice and normal. Happy. I couldn’t help but be hopeful that we could be that happy family for real. One day. Mom and I had plenty of time to get ourselves together before adding Dad back in. And who knows? Maybe the prison had some kind of family therapy program we could start before he got out.
On the inside of my nightstand drawer, just as I’d done at Blue Valley two months ago, I left a note for the next occupant.
YOU CAN ONLY LOSE WHAT YOU CLING TO.
Buddha
I’d spent years clinging to a way of life that made me unhappy. But thanks to Baxter, for just being himself, to Hannah and my aunt and uncle, who introduced me to a different kind of family, and my mom, who had the courage to throw off the old way and restart her life, I knew I had the power to change as well. It was time to let it go.
At the final employee bonfire that night, I sat between Hannah and Baxter. When Ruth passed out the little slips of paper for our end-of-summer wishes, I took three.
On the first one, I wrote:
I wish to be strong.
I was a lot stronger than I was when I came to Sweetwater, and I knew I’d need to continue to be in the year ahead.
On the second:
I wish to use my voice.
While I knew I would always collect quotes, I needed to use my own words more often. Starting tomorrow, with my dad.
And on the third:
I wish for someone who sees me just as I am and accepts what they see.
I knew Baxter was just such a person. And it would be so easy to lean over and really kiss him, but there was something about the fragile possibility of him that I didn’t want to break. I knew I had a lot of work to do in the next year, or longer, with my family, with myself. That wouldn’t be fair to Baxter. I was also afraid that starting a long-distance relationship would destroy it before it even got to the good parts. But he’d shown me what was out there, and I knew I’d carry that with me.
I balled up all three wishes and tossed them into the fire.
Chapter 30
The hug I gave my mother when she arrived at Sweetwater the next day probably left her bruised and breathless, but I didn’t care. It felt like I hadn’t seen her in a year, which was kind of true. The mother I’d left at home when I went to boarding school last summer had changed so dramatically by the time I returned in June that she was unrecognizable. A shadow had replaced the beautiful woman I’d grown up with. And here she was, no longer faded but in Technicolor, back the way I knew her best, smiling at me with tears of joy in her eyes.
“Hi, Mommy,” was all I could say through my tears. My heart was beating so loudly, I was sure she could hear it. I inhaled her scent—her signature perfume mixed with something new, something clean and fresh—and was instantly transported. This was home.
“Hi, baby, how are you?” Mom stepped back and held me at arm’s length. She reached one hand out and ruffled my shorter hair. “This is nice. It suits you somehow. I can see your face more. No long hair to hide behind anymore.”
Is that what I’d been doing? “Thank you.” Another hint that my mom had been much more observant than I’d realized.
“Will you show me around?” Mom asked. “I want to know everything you’ve been doing.”
“I’d love to.”
We loaded my bags into Mom’s car and I led her on the unofficial Sweetwater tour, hand in hand—I didn’t want to let her go. I took her to the top of the hill first, pointing out the ropes course and telling her about the little girl who couldn’t decide to jump.
“Sounds like the same way I’ve been feeling for a long time,” she replied. “Stuck between two decisions.”
Me too, I almost said. And then I caught myself. There was no reason to keep quiet. “Me too,” I told my mom. She squeezed my hand and we looked at each other for a moment. “What made you finally get help?” I asked quietly.
“You. I knew I needed to get myself together to be there for you. But also me. I wanted to do better and I wanted to be better. I wanted to learn what to do next time the depression creeps in.” Mom stopped walking and turned to me. “Because it will be back. Maybe not so severe, but I have no doubt I’ll need to use the skills I’ve been learning again. And now that I’ve started feeling like myself again, I’m in a better place to make other changes in my life. In our lives. It won’t be like it was. Not anymore. Never again.”
“I know, Mom. I’ve got your back. You don’t need to keep things from me, okay?”
“No more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” I promised too.
I showed Mom the pool and the volleyball court, stopping at the firepit where I’d made my wishes for this summer and beyond. I pointed out the equipment kiosk, saying, “Staffed first by Hannah and then by me,” and then I took her through the lodge. Deb’s gingerbread house was still displayed in the competition kitchen, the icing chipped off and broken in many places now. It was a fitting end for the fake house that Deb had built.
We made our way to the office, where Mr. Allen was behind the desk.
“Ashlyn, is this your older sister?” He winked at my mom. We walked in, and my mother offered her hand.
“Celine Zanotti. And thank you for the compliment.”
“Mrs. Zanotti, the pleasure is all mine. You have quite the remarkable daughter here.”
“I do,” Mom said, smoothing my hair back.
“I owe her a debt of gratitude for her courage this summer. Why, if Ashlyn and Hannah hadn’t blown the whistle on the woman I hired to manage this place, who knows where we’d be right now.”
Mom raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh?”
I cleared my throat. “I was just going to tell her about that, Mr. Allen.”
“Humble, too, I see. I’ll leave you ladies to it. Ashlyn, I hope you’ll consider joining us again next summer.”
“I’d like that. Thank you, sir.” I walked into Mr. Allen’s open arms, grateful that he’d taken a chance on me.
On our way to the car, I told my mom the whole story about Deb and the 911 calls and finally confronting Mr. Allen with our list of evidence. By the time I finished, tears shone in her eyes.
“I don’t know whether to be angry at her or proud of you. You should never have had to deal with that, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Probably for the same reasons you and Dad didn’t tell me about prison and rehab. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want my story to be a distraction. And really,” I said, “I think on some level, I wanted to see if I could handle it by myself.”
“Did you think you couldn’t?” Mom asked. I gave her a look that said, “Are you seriously asking me that question?” She sighed. “It hasn’t been easy for you, has it?”
“No, not really,” I said to my feet. I’d put my hiking boots on that morning. Maybe I’d hoped they’d make me feel brave. I knew my mother was on my team and had already given her blessing for me to come home, but a small part of me was afraid my dad would still say no and she would allow it. It was a reasonable fear.
Mom pushed her shoulders back. “We’re going to fix this. All three of us. Dad’s not off the hook anymore. I know a lot of sweeping his words under the rug was my fault. I do. And I’m going to be better about that. I want you to do the same. With both me and Dad. If there’s something you don’t think is right or something you feel strongly about, I need you to say it. I can’t help if you don’t, deal?”
“Deal.” Mom held her hand out to me and I shook it, like we were business partners.
When we got to the car, both Hannah and Baxter were standing there waiting for us.
“Mom, this is my friend, Baxter Clark,” they nodded at each other amiably, “and you remember Hannah.”
Hannah stepped forward and said, “Hi, Aunt Celine, it’s so nice to see you.” She and my mom exchanged a long, overdue hug. It was clear Mom had been missing the warmth and closeness of family relationships, real family relationships, as much as I
had.
“Hannah,” she said looking her up and down at arm’s length, “you’re so grown up. Last time I saw you, you were this high.” Mom held her hand at her ribs. “How are you? Did you have a nice summer?”
“I did, thank you. It was really nice having Ashlyn here.” Hannah chucked me on the arm. “She saved the day more than once.”
“So I heard.” Mom’s face shone with pride. “How are your folks?”
“They’re good, thanks. They should be here in a bit, actually. Be prepared. They’re probably going to give you the strong-arm about coming for Christmas.”
“I don’t think they’ll have to convince us,” I said.
“If Greta is making her baked ziti, we’ll be there with bells on.”
My jaw dropped open. “You know about the ziti? How am I the only one who didn’t know about the ziti?”
Mom put an arm around my shoulder. “There are probably a lot of things your father and I should’ve shared with you.” Bax stood there, smiling faintly and taking all this family talk in.
Hannah looked from Bax to me and cleared her throat loudly. “Aunt Celine, do you want to come with me to get some drinks for the car ride? We can snag some from the kitchen. In the lodge,” she said, not at all obviously.
Mom looked at her quizzically before catching on. “Sure, Hannah. Let’s do that.”
When they were several yards away, out of earshot, I turned to Bax, shyly.
“Are you glad to be going home?” he asked.
“Yes, though it’ll be weird without my dad there.”
“For sure. But you’ll figure it out.”
I smiled at him. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but I was afraid it would make it harder to say goodbye. “Are you looking forward to the new season?”
“I’ll keep busy. But it won’t be the same without Hannah here.” He looked at me intensely, his pale eyes glittering. “And you. I’ll miss having you around.”
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