by Claire Cook
Tess whipped her head up. “Oh, please,” she said. “She can’t even give away her old toys.”
“I had a baby at her age,” Rosie whispered. “It was tough, but I kept him. You make your bed…”
“With your husband?” I asked.
Rosie shook her head. “Different one,” she said. “Anyway, he’s all grown up with kids of his own now.”
“That must have been tough,” Tess said. “What did your parents do?”
“My mother was okay, but my father didn’t speak to me for almost a year,” Rosie said. “He’d just leave the room when I came to visit.”
“I wouldn’t have dared tell my parents I was pregnant,” Tess said. “And what kind of parent would I have been back then? I’m not even that great now.”
Rosie leaned back on her elbows. “You do the best you can with what you have to work with, I guess. My son and I kind of grew up together.”
I closed my eyes. “Tess,” I said. “I saw Hannah sneak out one night. And that time we were decorating shoelaces together? She told me to tell you she’d just left if you asked.”
Tess didn’t say anything.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I should have told you right away. I don’t know, maybe I thought it wasn’t my business, or that you’d yell at me. But I really think I just wanted Hannah to think I was cool.”
Even if Tess never spoke to me again, I felt better. At least I thought I did.
Tess chugged the rest of her champagne. She stood up. “Do you want to know why I’m such a do-gooder? Because volunteering is so much easier than having to look at the way you’ve screwed up in your own life.”
She paced a lap around the picnic tables, then sat down again. “Wait till I get my hands on her,” she said. She reached over and gave me a quick hug. “Brave woman,” she said. “Once I told a friend of mine her daughter threw a wild party while she was away, and she told me I was just jealous because her daughter was more popular than mine.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I said.
“But you told me,” she said. “Thanks.”
We moved down to the edge of the water and sat on a big piece of driftwood. We put our champagne glasses on the ground and pulled our lavender wands from Rosie’s backpack. They were a little bit smooshed, but we straightened them out as best we could and waved them around like sparklers as we watched the sunset. It was a truly amazing sunset extravaganza—fiery orange with streaks of purple over a navy blue sea, with a backdrop of white-tipped mountains.
As the sun disappeared, we tried a chorus of “Let It Be,” but we couldn’t quite pull it off, so we switched to “Walk On By.”
“It doesn’t really fit, but I think she’d understand,” Rosie said when we finished. “It’s our only song. We’d probably never make it as a girl group.”
Across the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the city lights of Victoria twinkled over at us. Above us, a zillion stars lit up the endless sky.
“Good-bye, Annalisa,” we said. “Shine on.”
Day 28
15,295 steps
“NOREEN,” ROSIE WHISPERED. “ARE YOU AWAKE?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Me, too,” Tess said.
“I’m freezing,” Rosie said.
Tess and I each grabbed one of her hands and started rubbing. It was pitch-black in the restroom. We were leaning back against a metal railing in the alcove outside the single bathroom. Every time I moved an inch, I had to warm up the railing all over again.
“That’s what you get for being so skinny,” Tess said. “Real women have body fat.”
“Boyohboy, could I use a pillow,” I said. “And a sleeping bag. Or a fire, a big roaring fire.”
“Why didn’t I think to bring a flashlight?” Rosie said. “Can you believe I actually took one out of this backpack before I packed it?”
I pushed myself up to a standing position and felt my way over to the light switch.
Tess and Rosie put their hands over their faces as soon as the fluorescent lights started flickering.
“It’s not just the cold,” Rosie said. “I’m really, really hungry.”
“Wait,” I said. “I might have something.”
I rooted around in the backpack until I found a candy bar.
“Bless you,” Rosie said. “What kind is it?”
“Lavender dark chocolate,” I said. “What else?”
“Here, give me that backpack,” Rosie said. “I packed a nail file, too, in case one of us broke a nail.”
“No wonder the damn thing was so heavy,” I said. I opened the wrapper and carefully scored the chocolate bar with the nail file so I could break it into three equal pieces.
Tess held hers out to Rosie. “Here, take mine. I have a slow metabolism.”
“No,” Rosie said. “You have it. Ohmigod, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”
I took tiny bites and savored each rich, lavender-laced bite as it melted in my mouth.
“Wait,” Rosie said. “Doesn’t this remind you of that I Love Lucy episode….”
“The one in the Swiss Alps,” I said.
“When they get caught in the avalanche,” Tess said.
“I loved I Love Lucy,” Rosie said. “I had such a crush on Ricky.”
“Fred was highly underrated,” Tess said. “He was always there for Ethel. And I loved how he called her Honeybunch.”
I popped the last tiny bit into my mouth. “That’s it,” I said. “I’ve had enough adventure. It’s forty-something degrees in this bathroom and it smells.” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “Shit. No service.”
Rosie and Tess pulled their phones out, and Tess put her reading glasses on. “Nothing,” Tess said.
Rosie held her phone away from her and closed one eye. “Bingo,” she said. “Four bars.”
“Who do you have?” Tess asked.
“AT&T,” Rosie said.
Tess shook her head. “If we make it out of here alive, I am so changing my cell provider.”
Rosie pushed herself to a standing position. “Who should I call? Nine-one-one?”
There was a knock on the restroom door.
Tess jumped up. “Find a weapon,” she whispered.
Rosie grabbed a plunger from the bathroom stall.
There was another knock on the restroom door, this one louder.
“Just a minute,” I said in a singsong voice.
The door opened, and two scared-looking women shined flashlights in our eyes. Both were holding long wooden pool cues.
“WELL, THAT WAS fun,” Tess said. “I haven’t played pool in ages.”
Rosie handed the backpack to me, then started swinging her arms again. “Who knew they let people stay in the Dungeness Lighthouse. We should definitely try to get on the list for next year.”
“I can’t believe we never thought to knock on the door,” I said. “Although in our defense, it’s not like we saw any lights on in there. Except the one on top, of course.”
“That’s because they were in the game room in the basement,” Tess said. “I can’t believe there’s a game room. And a television. I’m not sure that’s quite fair somehow.”
“At least they had bunk beds,” Rosie said. “I don’t know about yours, but mine was surprisingly comfortable.”
“Yeah,” Tess said. “It’s not that I don’t love nature, it’s just that I want amenities. It was really nice of them to let us stay. And I think they meant it when they said they’d come visit us in Marshbury, too.”
“I have plenty of room,” I said. “They can stay with me.”
“I still can’t believe that thing they told us,” Rosie said, “about black currant champagne being made with ordinary crème de cassis. All that muddling for nothing.”
“It was worth it,” Tess said. “I know Annalisa appreciated the gesture.”
The wind whipped our already wind-matted hair around, and the sun was moving higher up over the mou
ntains to our right. To our left, we could see a huge cruise ship way off in the distance, maybe on its way to Alaska. The tide was going out, giving us more and more packed hard sand to walk on.
“How about the looks on their faces?” Tess said. “I mean, how scared were they?”
“We were pretty scared ourselves,” I said.
“Not me,” Rosie said. “I had the plunger.”
“You know what the best part is?” I said. I checked my pedometer. “All that walking we did yesterday, and look at us today. I mean, my legs are a little tight, but other than that, I’m ready for the next adventure.”
THE SIXTY-FIVE-FOOT REI climbing wall was called the Pinnacle, and they gave us pagers so we could shop while we waited for our turns. We’d considered a spin or two around the mountain bike test trail instead, but after packing, checking out of the Sequim Suites, and making the two-hour drive back to Seattle, we were running a bit low on energy.
“Shopping always works,” Tess said. “It’s the world’s best pick-me-up.”
“Food is better,” Rosie said. “And it’s a lot less work.”
“Tie breaker,” Tess said. “Come on, Noreen, which is better, shopping or food?”
“Shopping for food?” I said. “Ohmigod, look at this.” I held up a beautiful teal jacket called a power hoodie. The name alone might have made me buy it, but I also thought it would be perfect for walking my way through the next season.
I looked at Rosie and Tess. “Maybe we should have a Wildwater Walking Club uniform?”
“Nah,” we all said. Tess picked out a jacket in orange and Rosie found one in sage.
Our pagers went off before we had time to do any more damage.
The climbing wall was a scarily realistic rock sculpture encased in a tall glass box attached to the store.
We looked up. Way up. “Maybe it’s just because I’m short,” Rosie said, “but sixty-five feet is a lot higher than it sounds.”
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “It says here you only have to be eight years old to climb it.”
“I was a lot braver when I was eight,” Tess said.
We were each assigned to a friendly outdoorsy-looking staffer, who helped us into our safety gear and “belayed” us by holding on to ropes attached to our harnesses by metal hooks called carabiners.
We all made it at least partway up our beginner’s route, and more importantly, all the way back down in one piece. It was truly terrifying, even after I discovered that the trick to rock climbing is not to look down. Because if you look down, you’ll realize how certifiably insane you are.
I stepped out of my harness and handed it to a woman my age. She looked scared.
“You’ll be fine,” I said. “Just don’t look down.”
“We totally rocked it,” Tess said as she stepped out of her harness. “I bet we have just as much upper body strength as those kayak women at the winery. Maybe even more.”
“I wouldn’t mind doing some kayaking,” Rosie said, “just to break it up. And we should definitely check out the REI trip-planning area on the way out.”
I massaged the front of my thighs, where I could feel the lactic acid already starting to build up in the muscles. I knew I’d be sore, but I’d also lived up to the challenge. I felt feisty and fabulous.
Finding a parking place at Pike Place Market turned out to be a bigger challenge than the REI climbing wall. Eventually we found a garage way up the hill, then practically rolled our way back down to the waterfront. It was worth it. The market was a sprawling maze of vendors’ stalls and multileveled old buildings. We sampled chocolate-covered cherries at Chukar Cherries and pepper jellies on crackers at Mick’s Peppourri. We took turns putting pennies into Rachel the Pig, the unofficial Pike Place Market mascot piggy bank.
We wove our way through a waterfront teeming with people, then started climbing back up the hill, trying to decide where to grab something to eat before we headed for the airport.
“Ooh, let’s go there,” Rosie said. She pointed to a purple sign that said PURPLE CAFÉ AND WINE BAR.
“How perfect,” Tess said.
“Do you have a good cab franc?” I said to impress the gorgeous waiter when he came over to our table.
He smiled and flashed brilliantly white teeth. “Sorry, we’re all out of wine.” Behind him, an enormous round multistory wine rack took up the whole center of the room.
“Cut it out,” I said.
He burst out laughing. “‘Cut it out,’” he said. “You sound like home. Massachusetts, right?”
“Right,” I said.
“I went to school there,” he said. “If you love Boston, you’ll totally love Seattle.”
“We do,” we all said at once.
“Let me see if I can find you some wine,” he said.
We looked around the room while we waited. Really handsome waiters glided around the room, and same-sex couples occupied many of the tables.
“Is this a gay bar?” Rosie whispered.
“Seems like,” I said.
“What is it about the color purple?” Tess asked our waiter when he came back. “I mean, why do gay people get their own color? Straight people don’t have a color.”
“Cut it out,” our waiter said as he put our wineglasses down in front of us. “You people don’t have your own color yet?” He hugged his round tray into his chest and considered. “Okay, you can have blue. It’s right next to us on the color wheel.”
“WHAT A FUN trip,” Rosie said when we were finally back at the airport. “You’d think I’d be lavendered out, but I’m not. I’m almost looking forward to weeding mine tomorrow.”
“You know,” Tess said, “last night was actually a good thing. It got us on schedule for the red-eye. I can’t believe we get into Boston at 10:42 A.M. I think this will be the first all-nighter I’ve pulled since college.”
“I can’t wait to check on my garden,” I said.
“I wonder if my daughter has managed to escape yet,” Tess said.
“Speaking of families,” Rosie said, “I wonder if our parents are still a hot item.”
“And I wonder,” I said, “if I’m still the most wanted woman in Marshbury.”
“You have to admit,” Tess said, “that has a nice ring to it.”
“Come on,” Rosie said. “We have just enough time to hit ten thousand steps for the day before they board the plane. And then may I please have some more Valium? I promise I’ll pay you back.”
Day 29
10,232 steps
WE’D SLEPT MOST OF THE PLANE RIDE HOME, SO WE DECIDED to have the driver drop us all off at my house. That way we could get a walk in before we reentered our lives.
We turned to look when we passed it, but all was quiet on the Marshbury common. The posters and clothesline were gone. Crystal clear water gushed from the three bronze elephants’ trunks in the fountain.
“Let’s just throw our stuff in your garage,” Rosie said when we turned into Wildwater Way. “I’m dying to see my family, but if I go home first, I won’t get out again until tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Tess said. “I could definitely use some endorphins before I face my daughter. Plus, we should write down our mileage before we forget. It’s never too soon to start stockpiling miles for the next trip.”
“Maybe we can go to Cape Cod Lavender Farm later this week,” I said.
“And visit the Five Sisters of Lavender Lane next week,” Rosie said. She sighed. “I can dream, can’t I?”
As soon as we finished recording our mileage, I carried my stuff into the house. There was a note from my mother. Gone to Nantucket with Kent, it said. Watch out for the chickens.
We all used the bathroom, grabbed bottles of water from my refrigerator, and headed out on our usual walk.
We saw the first clothesline while we were still on Wildwater Way. It was stretched across the front yard of a huge yellow colonial with black shutters, and big white sheets were blowing in the wind. Between two sheets, a sign
was attached with clothespins. It said BAN THE BAN.
“Ohmigod,” I said. “They stole my line.”
“No pun intended,” Rosie said.
Just before we crossed the street, we saw another sign: HANG IT UP: FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO AIR DRY was tacked to a telephone pole.
“This is so cool,” I said. “Look what we’ve started.”
“Excuse me,” Tess said, “but I’m the one who started it.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “But I’m the one who could still get arrested.”
“Well,” Rosie said, “I want in. I’m still wiped out from that Valium, but as soon as I take a nap, I’ll put up a sign at the end of my driveway. Oh, don’t worry, I really will pay you back as soon as I get a prescription, Tess.”
We walked through the seawall. It felt good to be walking on our own beach again. I kind of missed it.
“Actually, it was only magnesium,” Tess said. “It wasn’t really Valium.”
“What?” Rosie said.
“It’s called the placebo effect,” Tess said.
“She once gave her husband a Smurf blue vitamin and told him it was Viagra.” I giggled. “It worked like a charm.”
Rosie turned and started race-walking in the other direction.
“Rosie,” Tess said.
“Leave me alone,” Rosie said.
I ran a few steps after her. “Rosie,” I yelled.
“Both of you,” she yelled without turning around.
Tess and I finished our walk, but we didn’t say much. Rosie’s luggage was gone when we got back to my garage. Tess grabbed hers and started rolling it across the lawn to her house.
“It’ll blow over,” I said. “We’re all exhausted.”
Tess just kept rolling.
I went inside, jumped in the shower, then brewed some coffee and ate a yogurt and an apple. I checked the clock over the stove. If I hurried, I had just enough time to make it to my Fresh Horizons South small-group counseling class.
I didn’t have the energy to try to impress anyone today, and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to, so I just blow-dried my hair and threw on jeans and a T-shirt and a little bit of makeup.
