“Who says God gave us meat?” Ireland opens her eyes. “He gave us the animals to watch over, but where does it say that he thought we should slaughter them and eat their flesh?”
“But, you agree they were created by God.” Vicky eases herself down next to Ireland on the grassy hillside. “I knew you still believed.”
“You make God sound like unicorns.” Ireland spits the words. “I don’t know if God exists. Really, I just don’t know. But I think he probably does.”
Vicky claps her hands twice.
“The thing is, it doesn’t matter if he exists. He hasn’t chosen me. I’m not part of the plan.” She raises herself up on her elbows. “He doesn’t want me.” There’s a tear in her eye, a drop of humanity.
I sit next to her and do the only thing I know to do. I pull her to my chest and hold her tight. She doesn’t fight it, and as I rock side to side, her body relaxes into mine. I stroke her hair and feel her tears soak my t-shirt. “You’ve spent so long feeling unwanted. I don’t know if you can recognize how precious you really are.”
Vicky fidgets with blades of grass. Worry lines her forehead, and I realize how uncomfortable she is with this level of emotion.
My mind shifts to my own children. I see the results of how each of us were raised right here in every single move we make. My father walked out of my life and my mother died. I grasp on to my family, holding them so tight they try to squeeze from my grip.
Vicky’s mother held her at a distance, pronouncing emotion as a weakness. She was never satisfied, never pleased, so Vicky is stuck in an endless circuit of trying to be perfect. To be set above. And she’ll always fail. It’s a lifetime prison sentence.
And Ireland, she may have had it the worst. No one took the time to love her in any way. She was thrown out like the trash, a burden to the people who should have treasured her very breath. Now she can’t even feel the love of God. I hold her tighter. How could I have let us slip apart? I’m one in the long line of people who’ve let her down.
“Ireland.” I relax my hold on her.
She sits back and wipes tears from her bloodshot eyes.
“I need to apologize to you.”
Her eyebrows tighten. “Why?”
“After college, I got so wrapped up in my life. I didn’t take the time to stay in touch with you. I should have been the one to make the effort, because I know you. I knew you wouldn’t do it. And I was so mixed up about Mark and how Vicky would feel, I walked away. It was my way of hiding.”
“Ugh.” Vicky shakes her head. “I didn’t love Mark. Never did. Do you really think I would have let him go just for my mother?”
“Yes. I do.” I nod with the words.
Vicky smiles. “Okay, I would have. But here’s a secret you don’t know. I love Daniel. I fell in love with him on the first date my mother arranged. His eyes, oh my, they were green, not hazel.” She looks up. “I was overcome. We talked about things that had nothing to do with all the political hopes my mother had been assured of. He was so real. So passionate about life. I felt like I was getting away with something.”
“I wish you had told me,” I say. “It would have really made a difference.” There’s a wave of heat pushing into my face, but I remind myself we’re not here all these years later, with a canyon of time between us, because of just Vicky. I’m the most guilty. I’m the one who wanted to hide. “But maybe it wouldn’t have. If I hadn’t walked away then, I would surely have walked away later. When I couldn’t get pregnant, I was so sure that everyone else on the planet could. I isolated myself from friendships, especially with women.”
“But we could have been there for you,” Ireland said. “We could have loved you through the hard times.”
“And I could have loved you when you were making hard choices. I could have been the person who reminded you how important you are and how much your son needs you. He still does. Ireland, when we get out of here, I want to help you any way I can to get your relationship with him back.”
“Me too,” Vicky says. “I don’t know what happened, but I want to be there for you, no matter what. You’re that important.” A tear slips down Vicky’s smudged face, clearing a trail across her skin raised with a red rash and decorated with bruises and scrapes. She looks nothing like the woman on television, and I think this is the best thing that could have happened to her.
Vicky kneels beside me, and I slip my arm around her tiny waist.
My sisters.
VICKY
Our wannabe stealthy moves to catch the mountain man have left us on a hillside overlooking another valley. A beautiful piece of God’s creation lies before me, but it’s like a copy of a portrait I’ve already seen. Just when I think we’ve traveled as deep as the land can go, we find a place to weave farther into this endless expanse. The wilderness stretches on for eternity. Instead of farther up and farther in, we’re farther down and losing hope.
I lace my fingers together, using every droplet of my remaining strength to keep my hands still, away from the luscious indulgence of scratching. Which will lead to open sores. Which will end with scars. Which will be a forever reminder of this trial. If we survive, I will not need a reminder. This nightmare will live in my mind like a movie repeating over and over until my death. Will I still see it playing when I’m in heaven?
We didn’t follow the exact path that man did, but it only makes sense that somewhere around here there must be a sign of his passing.
We know he goes to the waterfall daily. That’s all we need for a solid plan. The three of us march out in different directions searching for a sign, while staying close enough not to get separated. It would be bad enough to die out here, but at least we have each other. I’m not willing to lay my friends out as a sacrifice.
After days with so little food that I’m already feeling my hip bones protruding, my mind seems clearer than it has in years. I can see all the blunders, all the faulty thinking, every place I took the wrong turn. Maybe that’s how it is when you near the end. Maybe it’s only when your life is fading away that you see the path you’ve traveled and the mistaken ways you’ve turned.
I left home with a plan to manipulate my husband into wanting me. My biggest focus was on the public humiliation I would face if he left me for my own assistant. I don’t know when I became so detached, so much like my mother, but the time out here fighting for life and survival, it’s cleared up my priorities. My husband isn’t perfect. He holds fault in this too, a lot of fault, but I love him. I want us to work, not only for show, but because I want to grow old with the man I married. And I want to be the woman who walked down the aisle to him.
My foot catches on a rock, and I look down. It’s faint, but the dirt is exposed here. It’s the path we’ve been searching for. I look over my shoulders to tell the others, but they’re too far to risk calling.
I snag the purple shirt from my pack and tie it onto a baby tree, then wander down the hill after them. My foot lands on a stick and it snaps, loud in the quiet around us. Ireland turns her head, and I wave for her to come my way.
She gets Jenna’s attention as she plods up the hill to me.
“Did you find something?” Jenna asks.
“I think so. It doesn’t look much different than a deer trail, but I’m sure it’s his.”
The three of us stand in a small circle inspecting the dirt beneath our feet. “What do we do now?” Ireland wipes a hand across her forehead. “We can’t knock on his door and invite ourselves in for dinner. For all we know, he’s a serial killer in hiding.”
The sky darkens with a curtain of clouds, and the temperature is dropping. I untie my sweatshirt and pull the once vibrant material over my head. “We could sneak up on him while he sleeps.”
“And what?” Ireland swats at a bug. “Hit him over the head with a rock?”
“No.” I shrug. “I don’t know.” My shoulders fall. At home, problems come across my desk all the time. There’s always an answer, sometimes two or three, and
I need to decide which is the best. The thing is, there is always something I can do. Here, I know less than nothing. All my training and knowledge is useless. “Do you have a better idea?”
“No. But I’m thinking.”
I look at the fading light. “We don’t have long to make a decision. It’s getting cold. If we’re not going, we need to make camp.”
“I …” Jenna’s forehead is tight. She fiddles with some strands of hair at her ear.
Ireland and I stare at her, waiting for her to give her opinion, but Jenna seems stalled. “We’re listening,” I say. “What do you think?”
She rubs her hands together. “If he goes to the waterfall each morning, isn’t he going to go again tomorrow?”
“That’s a fair assumption.” Ireland pulls her hood over her ears. “So?”
“What if we wait for him to go to the water, then follow the path to wherever he lives?”
“You’re a genius.” Ireland looks up at the darkening sky. “He must have a radio or some way to contact others.”
“I don’t know about that. We’re not talking about Mr. Congeniality here.” I look at Jenna. “But I think you’re right.” I jog in place, trying to keep the cold away. “We need to set up camp and make a fire.”
“We can’t do it on the path. He’ll see that we’ve been here and it could scare him off.” Jenna points up the hill. “The smoke won’t be as obvious up there.”
The rest of our light fades away as we use the dregs of our energy to climb straight up the incline. Pine needles slip from underneath my feet, and I fall to my knees more than once. I grope the ground in front of me like a blind woman. Moisture soaks through my jeans, chilling me. I shiver. How will we know when we’ve gone far enough?
In the not-as-far-as-I’d-like distance, coyotes howl. As much as I understand the reasoning for not going to the mountain man’s house tonight, I have to ponder if a bad plan is better than another night in the woods that could easily be the end of us.
JENNA
I’ve found a bit of myself out here in nowhere. For an hour or so, I didn’t even think about the kids. I didn’t wonder if Mark would run off with the first twenty-five-year-old who crosses his path. I was doing what I needed to do to save my life, and as crazy as it sounds, there was a touch of power in it.
Our only remaining but very dim flashlight is all we have to illuminate the land. Clouds have drifted in and covered the moon and the stars. Thin trees form a maze that we’ve wandered into, but we’ll be concealed from Grizzly Adams. In front of me lay the supplies I need to start our fire. Me. I’m the person who takes charge of one of our most important tasks. Every night since we lost Glenda, it’s been me. Being the only one who can manage this feat is a secret pride.
A couple of times Ireland and Vicky have tried, but they’ve never gotten past the first smoking stage. This makes me important and needed. It makes me a valuable member of our threesome, not a chubby tagalong.
I press the moss into the hole in my board and begin the twirling of my stick. My palms warm with the friction and the muscles in my arms start to burn. I release my right hand and shake it out, then the other. Starting again, I lean close to see if there’s anything happening, then adjust the flashlight as if that’s the problem. After adding more fuel, I begin again.
I know my muscles are begging for nourishment even if I have enough chub to live off for a month or two, but that’s no excuse for the fire not starting and my arms beginning to feel like heated rubber.
Behind me Ireland and Vicky struggle to put up our damaged shelter in the dark. It sounds rough, but better than I’m making out.
“Jenna?” Vicky comes up behind me. “How’s the fire going? We can’t see a thing back here.”
“Maybe if one of you held the flashlight. I can’t see. I’m sure that’s the problem.”
A hand picks up the light and holds it above my work. “Better?” It’s Ireland.
“Yes. I’m sure it won’t take but another minute.” But I’m not sure at all. My head is starting to spin, and I’m about to topple over. I don’t know how long I’ve been at this task. Maybe half an hour. Maybe an hour. It hasn’t taken this long since my first night.
“Do you have enough moss in there?” Ireland squats next to me.
“Yes. I have the same as every other time. Would you like to try?” I hold out my stick.
She sits back. “You keep at it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m tired, and this isn’t working. Maybe one of you should do it.”
Vicky huddles at my other side. “What if we can’t get it started?”
“Don’t say that.” Ireland rubs her hands together like she would over a fire. “Jenna will get it. She has every night. Why should tonight be any different?”
“Because there will eventually come the night we don’t get by, just barely.” I hear the scratching of Vicky’s fingernails on her rashy skin. “Tonight could be the last night.”
Ireland gasps. “Wow, Vicky. Throw a little more negativity into the universe, why don’t you.”
“I’m saying it straight. If we don’t make a fire, how will we keep the wild animals from making us into a midnight snack?”
A cold tingle washes over me, runs down my arms. What if she’s right? We could all die because I can’t do my job.
Chapter 19
IRELAND
It’s cold. So very cold. We’re dressed in every bit of clothing we have with us, and huddled tight together, but the breeze cuts through with iced air that burns my nose and fingers. I tuck my face into my shirts and huff moist warm breath into the space. I used to stand in a field near my home and embrace the power of the wind. I’d let it blow away the negative energy and fill me with renewed power. How foolish I was. How very unenlightened.
After probably two hours of trying to start the fire, Jenna collapsed into a sobbing heap. We tried to console her, but only after we each gave the task an hour of effort. She feels heavy against my side now, hopefully because she’s sleeping, not—I can’t face what will surely come next. In the brush somewhere behind us, I hear movement. Sticks crack under the feet of something larger than a bunny.
Twenty years of worshipping nature, I never considered it could be that very thing to take my life. And the lives of my two closest friends. The best parts of my experience in the universe were the years the four of us spent together. Hope, Jenna, and Vicky were my sisters. Our connection will be forever now. No chance to walk away again, because there’s very little hope we’ll have a future to walk away into.
“This isn’t working.” My teeth chatter any time I try to speak. “The shelter doesn’t keep the chill or the moisture out. I think we need to take it down and wrap it around ourselves.”
“Are you sure?” says Vicky. “This is how Glenda had us set it up. She must have had it this way for a reason.”
“That was a lifetime ago.” Jenna’s voice is a whisper barely above the sounds of the trees. “I’m willing to try anything.”
I start to rise, but Vicky’s hand grabs me and pulls me down. “Did you hear that? The noise?”
My body freezes as I strain to hear what I’m afraid she’s talking about. Another snap. This one much closer than the one I heard minutes ago. I’m shaking with cold and adrenaline. This could be the end. I run my hand over the handle of the gun tucked into my waistband. It’s pitch dark, and I don’t know which way I should shoot.
Standing up straight, I grab hold of the tarp and rip it free of the ropes, waving it madly in the air. “You will not eat us tonight. Go away.” I scream into the night. “No. Not tonight. I won’t let you.” The tarp snaps and whips in the air, crashing away the peace and the fear.
My chest burns with the intensity of my emotion. Forget peace. Forget calm. I’m ready to fight anything that has the nerve to take us on. I’ll throw that creature down with my bare hands if I have to. I’ll rip him up and stomp on his head. I will not die tonight. And I won’t sit still while my friends�
�� lives are whittled down to food for some wild beast.
Vicky and Jenna stood up sometime during my rant. I feel their grips on the sides of my sweater, their bodies tucked into mine. Suddenly, my arms are too heavy to hold up. I let the tarp fall to my feet, my body going limp. I sway, but the girls hold me upright.
“I think it’s gone.” Jenna rubs a hand over my cheek. “Yeah. Take that, whatever you are. You don’t mess with Emery sisters and come out happy. Got it?”
Something bounds through the woods, the sound getting softer as it moves farther away.
“I think we just threatened the life of a deer.” I cover my mouth with one hand.
We laugh until the warmth from the anger and fear cools, then we crouch on the ground, pulling the tarp over us and tucking it under our legs. I squeeze my eyes shut and ask God to keep watch over us through the night. It’s my first request since I gave up on being a mother and wife.
Inside our little house is warm, but damp, our breath clinging to the sides. There’s a sense of safety even if the walls protecting us are only a thin sheet of plastic.
JENNA
We’re not going to make it out of here. If only I had a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to leave something for my family. A note to tell them what a privilege it was to be a mom to Calvin, Carrie, and Caroline, and a wife to Mark. I want them to know how sorry I am for holding them too tight and for leaving too soon.
But I can’t do that any better than I could light the fire.
“What would you do differently, if you could go back?” My question is for both of them, but mainly for myself.
There’s silence aside from the rustle of the tarp for so many minutes that I assume my question is offensive.
“I would never have started my ministry.” Vicky’s voice is dull like the life has begun to leave her already. I’m not the only one who’s facing the end tonight.
If We Make It Home Page 17
