by Nan Rossiter
“You can have it,” Linden said.
Callie looked up in surprise. “Really?”
Linden nodded and looked down at Henry. “Henry, are you ready to go for a hike?” Henry put the pencil down and stood up, and Linden remarked, “I guess you are!” Callie just shook her head in amazement.
35
In the parking lot of Harling Trail at the base of Mount Monadnock, Henry resisted the child carrier. “Let’s just let him walk till he’s tired,” Callie suggested.
Linden slung the empty carrier onto his shoulders, and looked at the backpack that held their lunch. “Would you rather I carry the lunch pack?”
“I’ve got it,” Callie replied. “It’s not heavy.”
“You’d say that even if it was.”
Callie grinned. “Well, if we happen to get separated, at least I’ll have food.”
“Always looking out for number one,” Linden teased.
“Hey, someone has to,” Callie said with a grin.
They started walking along an old logging road with Henry and the two dogs leading the way. Henry pointed to a small pile of rocks, and Linden knelt down to explain. “That’s a cairn, Henry. It marks the way to go when there’s no place for a painted marker. And, when we come back, it shows us the way we came so we can find our way home. Usually cairns are above the tree line and you can always see the next one, unless, of course, you happen to be standing in a cloud.” Linden pointed ahead. “See, there’s the next one.” Henry nodded, picked up a rock, added it to the pile, and trotted ahead. As they continued, he looked for every cairn and, when they reached it, he added a rock.
After about a half mile, they crossed an old stone wall and Linden looked over his shoulder. “Did you know Merino sheep used to graze on this mountain?” Callie shook her head, and Linden continued. “That’s why there are stone walls everywhere. A long time ago, farmers purposely burned the forest to create grazing on the upper slopes; some say that’s why the mountain is still barren in some areas.” The trail began to climb through the forest, and before long, Henry was lagging behind with Springer nosing along beside him. “Are you ready to ride?” Linden asked, setting the carrier down in front of him. Henry furrowed his brow and ran his finger over the nylon fabric that wrapped around the frame. “If you don’t like it, you can get out,” Linden assured him. Henry put both hands on the frame and lifted his foot, but Linden picked him up before the carrier could fall over and Henry slipped his legs through. Callie tightened the straps snugly over his shoulders and helped Linden lift it onto his back.
“Good thing he’s small,” he said, tightening the belt around his waist so that most of the weight rested on his hips.
“Are you sure he’s not too heavy?”
“Yup,” Linden said, hitching the carrier up and tightening the belt again.
They hiked along the path with the dogs gleefully charging ahead, noses to the ground, and going through the motion of leaving their mark even though their tanks were empty. Absentmindedly, Callie trudged along in Linden’s footsteps, watching the easy manner in which he bore Henry’s weight.
When they finally hiked out of the low, scraggly undergrowth and out into the sunshine above the tree line, Linden spied another stone cairn and pointed to it. Callie stopped beside him and looked up at Henry. His head was nodding to one side, and she smiled. “I don’t think he cares,” she said softly.
“Is he asleep?”
Callie nodded and shifted her pack. She could feel her shirt sticking to her back. “I wish this heat would break,” she said with a sigh.
“Want to stop?”
“No, we’re almost there.”
Linden turned and climbed up across the rocks as a warm breeze whispered around them. When they finally reached the uppermost rock outcropping at the summit, they stood side by side, looking north toward the White Mountains. The sky was a hazy blue, not clear and endless like the last time they’d stood there together, but it was still breathtaking. She helped Linden slip the child carrier off his shoulders and set it gently on the ground. Henry stirred and frowned, but didn’t wake up ... and even slept through Springer clumsily stuffing his wet nose in his ear.
Callie opened the backpack and pulled out an empty plastic bowl, and Linden poured water into it. The dogs hurried over, wagging their tails, and lapped it up thirstily. Callie sat down on the sun-drenched rocks, peeled her shirt away from her back, closed her eyes, and smiled.
“Tired?” Linden asked.
“A good tired,” she replied. He handed the water bottle to her, and she took a long drink.
“Ready for lunch?”
“Mmmm ...” she murmured.
He reached into the pack and pulled out the grinders. “Whose is whose?”
“Yours is the one with the L in it,” she teased.
“Cute.”
“Actually, they’re both the same. When Henry wakes up, he can have some of mine.”
Linden sat down, handed one of the sandwiches to her, and unwrapped the other one. Springer and Kat immediately looked up from their exploration, sniffed the air, and trotted over to plop down in front of them. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Linden said warningly, “you guys are not sitting there while we have lunch.” He reached into the backpack, pulled out two dog biscuits, and moved the dogs about ten feet away. He gave them each their treat and eyed them warily. “Stay.” Ever hopeful, the dogs still thumped their tails, and soon Springer had a long string of drool hanging from his jowls. Linden just shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. Then he glanced over at Henry and said, “I think we should wake him.”
Callie nodded. “We will, in a bit. It’s nice to just sit and not worry about where he is or what he’s into.” A warm breeze whispered across the mountain and fluttered the back of her damp shirt. It felt good, and she took another long drink. As she unwrapped her sandwich, she watched Henry too. “He’s so easy when he’s sleeping.”
Linden laughed. “Aren’t all kids?”
Callie smiled. “I guess so. I just wish Henry were more like all kids. It breaks my heart to think that he’ll never lead a normal life, that he’ll always be different, and that I’ll never even be able to cheer for him from the sidelines.” She paused thoughtfully. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if God is punishing me.”
Linden looked up and studied her face. “Cal, you’ve said that before and I’m not sure what you mean, but I don’t think God works that way. And, from what you say, I’m not sure who you feel sorrier for, Henry or yourself.”
Callie frowned. “I don’t feel sorry for myself.”
“Well, it sounds like it when you say, ‘I won’t ever be able to cheer for him.’ ”
Callie thought about Linden’s words. “I will miss cheering for him and I am sad that he’ll miss out on the fun of being on a team, and being cheered for.”
Linden gave her his famous half smile. “I know you have always thrived on competition. It’s part of your personality. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves winning more than you do! And I can certainly understand why you would want the same thrilling experience for Henry, but his life will be full of triumphs and joy too, all of his own making. And he will make his mom proud ... in his own way.” Linden looked at the sweet face of the boy sleeping in the child carrier. “And another thing, I honestly don’t think God works that way. No matter what wrong we may have done in our lives, God doesn’t make bad things happen. Just wait and see, Callie. Henry’s life will be full of blessings!”
Callie quietly considered Linden’s counsel. It was true: up until now, her heart had ached only for the things she thought Henry wouldn’t be able to do. She hadn’t begun to dream about what he might achieve.
Linden looked at Henry and recalled how his parents had driven him to succeed. Looking back, he knew it had been all about competition and image. “In a way, Callie, you’re lucky. I think parents today are too consumed with the successes of their offspring. The important thin
gs in life are not how many goals you score ... except maybe in your case,” he teased, “or where you go to college. The important things are about making the most of every moment and making a difference in lives other than your own.” He shook his head. “My mom couldn’t wait to put that Dartmouth decal on the back of her Volvo, right above my brother’s Harvard. For her, it was all about having successful children for everyone to admire and envy. It absolutely killed her when I didn’t finish school.” He looked at Callie. “Promise me you won’t be that kind of mom.”
Callie shook her head. “I won’t be.”
“I don’t know,” he teased, “you are pretty driven. Remember what you did to your windshield?”
Callie laughed. “Yeah, well, we shouldn’t’ve lost that game.”
“But you still don’t punch a windshield!”
“You’re right,” she agreed with a smile. “But I’ve mellowed since then, and I’m still paying for that mistake. That windshield still leaks.”
Linden laughed. “See?” He broke the last piece of his grinder in half and tossed the two pieces to Kat and Springer. They swallowed without even chewing and then gave their undivided attention to Callie.
Linden stood up and stretched his arms over his head. As he did, his shirt pulled up, and Callie noticed the smooth, tan skin above his boxers. She noticed too that he still didn’t wear a belt, and didn’t need to. His faded cargo shorts hung comfortably from his slender hips right where they belonged. He turned around and caught her looking, and she quickly glanced away, embarrassed. “I didn’t know you didn’t finish college,” she said quietly.
Linden shrugged. “After we broke up, everything changed.” He paused. “I ended up hiking the AT instead.”
Callie bit her lip pensively and studied him. “Linden, are you ever going to ask me about Henry’s father?”
Linden looked up in surprise and smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile and there was sadness in his eyes. “That’s up to you,” he said gently.
Tears filled Callie’s eyes as she rewrapped her grinder. She suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. Through a blur of tears she looked at the blueness of the sky and didn’t know what to say. Finally, haltingly, she began to relate the circumstances that had led to her indiscretion. Linden leaned back and listened. When she finished, she looked up, searching his eyes. “It was the worst mistake of my life, Linden. I am so sorry.” Linden just closed his eyes. Even though he’d already heard Katie’s version of what happened, it sounded different coming from Callie, and his heart ached at the thought of her being with someone else. He tried to push the image away, but it kept slipping back into his mind. “I ruined everything,” she said quietly. “What I did is beyond forgiveness.”
Linden crossed his arms over his chest and fought back tears of his own. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Callie, so he looked at Henry. “If you didn’t make that mistake,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have Henry, and he is not a mistake. I just wish you’d told me. I wish you’d given me the chance ...” His voice trailed off, but he knew in his heart that he would’ve forgiven her, even then. He stood up and looked across the valley.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Linden.” Callie paused, searching for the words. “I was afraid of what you’d say. I was afraid of the look in your eyes, so I hid the truth and ran away from everyone I love. I didn’t think. I just didn’t think.” A new crop of tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at Linden’s back, aching for him say it was okay ... aching for him to take her in his arms and say it didn’t matter.
When Linden finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. “I never stopped loving you, Callie,” he said softly, turning to look at her with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up. Linden closed his eyes and felt her gently brush his tears away. He pulled her body into his and breathed in her lovely scent. They stood there for a long time, their bodies slowly remembering the tender intimacy they’d once known.
Finally, Henry stirred and Linden stepped back. There was no more to say, and they were both quiet as Callie lifted Henry out and set him on the rocks. Henry blinked at the bright sunshine and Callie waited, bracing for a meltdown, but Springer wiggled over to greet him and Henry just rested his hand on the dog’s soft head and looked out at the mountains. Callie let out a slow sigh of relief. “Are you hungry, Hen-Ben?” Henry climbed down to where she was standing and waited while she unwrapped the grinder again. “Why don’t you sit there?” she suggested, motioning to the smooth, flat rock she’d been sitting on. Henry sat down and Callie handed him the sandwich while Springer, wagging his tail, found a spot nearby.
Linden sighed and shook his head. “That sandwich is for you, Henry, not Springer.” Henry swung his legs, took a bite, and nodded, but when he was almost finished, he gave the last morsel to the big yellow Lab whose thumping tail gave away their furtive exchange. Linden eyed him suspiciously, but Springer just licked his lips and looked away innocently.
Linden stood up and motioned for Henry to follow him, and Callie watched and thought of the photo that was tucked into the frame of her mirror. He looks just the same, she thought. Henry squatted down next to Linden. “This is called a benchmark,” Linden explained, pointing to a metal pin that had been tapped into the rock. “It tells the mountain’s elevation—how high it is above the ocean.” Henry ran his finger over the worn marker, and Linden continued. “Most big mountains have ’em. They’re also known as U.S. geological survey markers. This one is so worn it’s hard to read, but Monadnock is three thousand one hundred sixty-five feet above the ocean.” Henry furrowed his brow and looked around for the ocean. “The ocean doesn’t have to be nearby, Henry. It’s just a measurement.” He smiled, and Henry nodded. Linden stood up and glanced at his watch, and Henry looked at his bare wrist. “I guess we should get going,” he said. Callie nodded and slipped the backpack onto her shoulders. Henry had begun to trot up and down on the rocks but, when a group of teenagers emerged from the woods, he stood shyly behind Linden. The two dogs, on the other hand, bounded over to greet them.
“Great dogs,” one boy said. The others all nodded in agreement.
“Thanks,” Linden replied. Henry slipped his hand into Linden’s, and they rejoined Callie and started to hike down with the dogs leading the way. “Oh, to be a kid again,” Linden murmured wistfully.
“Mmmm,” Callie agreed. “Life was certainly much simpler.”
“So, how about leftover spaghetti tonight?” Callie asked as they turned onto the dirt road that led to the cabin.
“If Reba’s still holdin’ her own ... pardon the pun!”
Callie rolled her eyes, and Linden grinned. “Hey, can you do that again?” he teased. Callie shook her head and laughed. It felt good to laugh ... and it almost felt like old times.
They pulled up to the cabin with the dogs hanging out the windows. When Linden released his seat belt, he realized that his shoulder was covered with slobber. “Thanks, buddy!” he said, pulling the seat forward so Springer could hop out. Callie let Kat out on the other side, but Henry, after hiking all the way down the mountain, had fallen asleep again.
“I hope he sleeps tonight, too,” she said as she came around to the back of the car to unlock the trunk. Linden lifted out the child carrier and noticed the faded concert sticker on the back bumper.
“That was a fun concert,” he said, nodding at the sticker.
“It was,” Callie agreed with a sparkle in her eyes.
“I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught.”
“Mmmm,” Callie murmured, remembering their clandestine trip to Boston the summer she turned eighteen. She searched Linden’s eyes, and he wrapped her in his arms.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” he whispered.
“Me too,” she said, feeling the aching burden of sorrow and shame lift from her shoulders, leaving her with the sensation that she could, once again, breathe.
Callie closed her eyes, and Lin
den kissed her softly on her eyelashes and on her cheeks before barely touching her lips ... barely believing.
36
Callie heard a light knock on the screen door and peered out to see Linden standing in the driveway with his hands behind his back and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. His chestnut brown hair was still damp from showering, and he was wearing a heather-gray T-shirt with the words Go Pre printed in faded green letters across the chest.
“Hey,” he said with a smile.
“Hey,” Callie replied, pushing open the door. “You didn’t need to bring anything.”
“I know,” he said. “But I thought it would be nice to have a little red wine with dinner.” He stepped inside. “You should take it though.”
Callie slipped the bottle from under his arm and looked at the label. “Hmmm, a nice French cabernet to have with our Italian dinner,” she teased.
Linden grinned. “Hey! At least it’s not Boone’s Farm.”
Callie looked wistful. “Boone’s Farm would’ve been fun—a little Country Kwencher to toast fond memories.”
Linden shook his head and smiled. “And these are for you,” he said, pulling a large bouquet of orange lilies from behind his back.
“Thank you! They’re beautiful.”
“And”—he paused dramatically—“a little dessert,” he added, holding out a pint of Cherry Garcia.
“I knew I liked you for a reason,” she said.
“Okay if I put it in the freezer?” Callie nodded, and he pulled open the freezer door. “Gee, I don’t know if there’s room,” he teased. “Maybe next to this empty ice cube tray.”
Callie laughed. “I haven’t really had a chance to stock up yet,” she said as she filled a vase with water.
“Well, next time I come I’m going to bring you some staples: frozen pizza, French fries, Eggo waffles, all the good stuff.”
Callie looked up from fresh-cutting the stems. “Is that what you live on?”
