On the Way to You

by Kandi Steiner

  Just talking about it broke my heart all over again.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I sobbed when there was nothing more to say. “He’s gone, and I don’t know where he’s going or how to stop him. His phone is off. I can’t…”

  “Think,” she interrupted me. “Think long and hard about the conversations you’ve had with him. Is there anything you might have missed, any clues?”

  “There’s nothing,” I said desperately. “I’ve cranked through every moment, every conversation, every journal entry. All I know is it’s somewhere in Washington. I thought maybe it was the bridge there in Seattle, the George Washington Memorial bridge, because it’s known for suicides but it doesn’t make sense. He said it was his Grandma’s favorite place in the world, it can’t just be a bridge.”

  Tammy hummed on the other end of the phone, and I imagined her sitting on her front porch, one foot on the banister as she thought. It was her favorite place to think, our favorite place to be.

  “Is there anyone you’ve met along the way who he might have trusted, someone he might have confided in?”

  Emily was the first one to pop into my head, but I had no way to reach her, even if he had told her for some reason where it was he was going. We’d talked to a lot of people along the way, but Emery had barely told me anything about his grandmother — would he really tell a stranger?

  Then it hit me.

  “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Tammy asked quickly, hope in her voice as I jumped up from the bed.

  “Nora and Glen. We met this older couple in Colorado. We camped with them. We got high with them.”

  “You what?” she asked, her voice a little more scolding this time.

  “We were talking about lists, about places we wanted to go and things we wanted to do in our lives. But I don’t remember…” I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples as I tried to sort through the fog. “Ugh, I don’t remember! Everything is a blur.”

  “Well, you were high. Which we will have a long conversation about after all this is over, by the way,” she said, her voice stern. “Can you get a hold of either of them? Do you have their numbers?”

  I gasped. “I do! Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. I have to call Nora. I have to go.”

  “Wait!” Tammy screamed just before I could end the call. “Listen to me. Call her, and please let me know if you find anything, but promise me you will sleep before you try to go anywhere. I’m serious. Emery just left, it’s dark, if he said he needs to see something, he’s not going to do anything tonight. You can’t drive the way you are right now.”

  “I have to get to him.”

  “I know you do, but promise me you’ll be safe. I have your location, I’m going to arrange a rental car for you to pick up in the morning. Okay? I’ll text you with the details.”

  I sighed, nodding in agreement even though my heart was set on leaving the second I figured out where he was going. I only prayed Nora would know. “Okay. Thank you, Tammy.”

  “I love you. It’ll be okay,” she promised, but I didn’t believe her. Nothing would be okay until I saw him again, until I held him, until I made him see.

  But would I get the chance?

  It turned out my trip had to wait until morning, anyway, because Nora didn’t answer my call. I left her a voicemail, begging her to call me as soon as she woke up, no matter what time. Sleep didn’t come that night, but I laid in bed, tossing and turning and torturing myself with all the what ifs.

  My phone rang at four-thirty in the morning, and I woke from the half-sleep stupor I’d fallen into, hands scrambling for my cell.

  “Nora.”

  “Hi, sweetie. Where are you?”

  “Portland,” I answered, throat raw as I moved to sit up in bed. Kalo stirred beside me, her little eyes heavy. She always picked up on my emotions, and I knew I’d drowned her in anxiety that night.

  “Oh my, it’s so early there. I was going to wait until after we’d had coffee but your voicemail sounded urgent.”

  “It was, I’m glad you called. Is Glen there, too? Can you put me on speakerphone?”

  There was a shuffling noise, their voices faint in the background as they tried to figure out how to turn it to speaker. I would have giggled if I wasn’t so sick.

  “Okay, you’re on with both of us. Is everything okay?”

  “No.” My voice broke again, the weight of the situation heavy on my shoulders again. Time was running out. “Emery is gone. It’s a long story, one I don’t really have the time to tell right now, but I need your help.”

  “What can we do?” Glen asked, his voice gruff.

  “The night we camped out in Colorado Springs, when we made our lists… do you remember anything Emery said about Washington? Did he mention where he was going, or anything about his grandmother?” I shook my head. “I know it sounds strange, but… he’s in trouble… he’s going to hurt himself, I think…” I shook with another roll of nausea. “I have to find him, but I don’t know where he’s going. You’re my last hope.”

  There was a pause on the other end, my cracked voice hanging in the space between us.

  “Oh sweetie,” Nora said softly. “I’m trying to think… I don’t recall him saying anything about a place in Washington that night.”

  My heart sank, the world falling down to the floor with it before bouncing back in a new, morphed reality. I heard my heartbeat loud in my ears, felt it kicking under my chest.

  I couldn’t find him.

  It wasn’t fair. It was cruel and sick and no matter how desperate I was, no matter how hard I tried to think, it was useless. He was gone, I didn’t know where he’d gone, and all connection to him had disappeared right along with his taillights.

  I covered my mouth with one hand, eyes squeezing shut.

  He’s gone.

  “Okay, thank you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, too.”

  “Palouse Falls.”

  Glen’s voice was weary on the other end, his voice quiet, almost as if he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say.

  “When Emery and I hiked together the morning you two left, he asked me if I’d ever been to Palouse Falls. He never said that’s where he was going, but… maybe that’s the place. I don’t want to get your hopes up, I can’t say for sure, but he mentioned it.”

  “No,” I said, swallowing down the panic that had risen moments before. “No, it’s better than nothing. It’s a clue, it’s a start. It’s something.”

  “I just don’t want to break your heart even more if you go and he isn’t there,” Glen said. “I know it hurts, but you need to be ready to let him go, Cooper. If you make this drive, if you go to find him and he’s not there, you need to be ready.”

  But I didn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear those words, those foreign sounds and syllables.

  I’d never be ready to lose him.

  Time was ticking again, mercilessly propelling me forward in a race I never signed up for. It would either throw me into a world without Emery or straight into his arms, and I had no choice but to go with it blindly — knowing both were a possibility, praying only the latter would come true.

  It was a five hour drive to Palouse Falls, and though fear prickled at my nerves, a sense of calm washed over me as I loaded Kalo up into the taxi that would take us to pick up the rental car.

  He was still alive.

  I could feel him, his soul tethered to mine, stretching across the distance. That pull, that string pulled taut was my only comfort.

  Time pushed again, hands firm on my back, and I realized then that it wasn’t time I was racing at all — it was Death. It was knocking, bone fingers curling around the edges of the door, the wood creaking open as I closed my eyes and repeated one thought like a mantra.

  I will find him.

  I will find him.

  I will find him.

  I just hoped I’d find him first.

  I watched the mo
rning stretch lazily across the sky in front of me as I drove, the sun rising in a steady glow that painted the sky orange before slowly fading into the softest blue. The gray skies and snowy ground was left behind me, and though the weather stayed cool, there was a ray of hope in that sunshine ahead of me.

  It was a struggle until I got out of the snow, actually, because I’d never driven in those conditions before. Apparently, it didn’t snow much in Portland, which meant the wonderland I’d seen was a rare one, and it also meant the streets weren’t exactly in the best conditions in the early morning after the snow had fallen. I’d taken it slow and driven with both hands firmly on the wheel until the roads cleared, the snow on the sides of it growing thinner and thinner until none existed at all. Phantom pains racked my leg, zinging up my thigh, my entire body too tense to function.

  Once I was in the clear, a numb awareness fell over me, almost like I blacked out. I hardly noticed anything as I drove, my body falling into the automation of driving while my mind tumbled over the thousands of thoughts I had that morning.

  It was like a driving meditation, my focus falling inward, body assuming the responsibilities of the physical world while my mind tried to find peace inside. Glen was in my head, telling me to prepare for the worst — but which would that be? Would it be that I drive to Palouse Falls and Emery isn’t there, or that I find him, but it’s too late?

  On the one hand, if I simply didn’t find him, he could potentially be alive. But the worst part is I would never know either way. I would never hear from him again, alive or dead, and that pain of not knowing would haunt me.

  But would it haunt me more than knowing with absolute certainty that he was gone from the Earth?

  I didn’t know.

  So, instead of focusing on those possibilities, I rested my faith in my heart center, sending vibes into the universe that I would find him, safe and sound, and that he would listen. Those two things were all I wanted, they were my deepest desire, and I set them as my intention as the miles ticked on, my breathing calming, steadying.

  It was after ten in the morning by the time I pulled into the park, the sign welcoming me to Palouse Falls with a simple wooden greeting. I paid my entrance, inquiring about camping, and the attendant gave me directions to find the designated areas. The calm I’d found on the drive over was more subdued now, my heart picking up speed as I drove through the different sites looking for signs of Emery.

  Kalo was quiet beside me, her chin resting on her paws, sad eyes glancing at me every now and then before they found focus somewhere else in the car. I just rubbed behind her ear, trying to soothe her, to assure her everything was okay when I knew she knew better.

  “I miss him, too,” I told her, and she let out a long sigh, nudging into my hand before I pulled it back to the wheel. Then, my breath caught in my throat.

  Emery’s car was parked just ahead, right next to two tents and a Jeep I didn’t recognize. The faint smell of eggs hit my nose as I parked next to his car, leashing Kalo and balancing on shaky legs as I neared the tent laid out in front of his convertible.

  It was brand new, that much I could tell, and it was small — just enough for one person. The front of it was unzipped, and my heart hammered in my chest as one hand reached forward, pulling the flap open to peer inside.

  Empty.

  My stomach dropped as I took in the single sleeping bag, rumpled from a restless night, Emery’s bag under the top half of it like a pillow. A pair of his briefs and sweatpants lay at the foot of the sleeping bag in a heap, and the backpack we’d purchased in Colorado for hiking was nowhere to be seen.

  Neither was his journal.

  I stepped inside the tent with Kalo, eyes scanning his belongings as Kalo sniffed around. Her tail was wagging softly, her optimism returning, though mine remained stunted.

  “He left about an hour ago.”

  I jumped at the voice, hand flying to my heart as I spun on my heels and came face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was exotic, his wide blue eyes set ablaze next to his deep olive skin, dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck that almost blended with the thick beard lining his jaw. He was dressed and ready to hike for the day, his backpack already on his shoulders, boots tied up around his thick ankles.

  He was watching me like he didn’t trust me at first, like I was a thief or a murderer or perhaps something worse. But then his expression softened, his eyes taking in my appearance fully. I imagined what I looked like after a night of no sleep, after a long drive alone, worry creasing my skin like wrinkles.

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “He didn’t,” he said, voice gruff and low. “But there are only a few trails around here, wouldn’t be hard to find him, I imagine.” The man watched me a moment, hand running over his beard before he tucked it in his pocket. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

  I frowned at the question, shame and guilt coloring my face as I nodded. “You… you talked to him.”

  “A little,” he answered with a shrug. “When he felt like talking, which wasn’t much.”

  My eyes closed at the thought, of him opening up to this stranger. I wondered what he said about me, what he didn’t say. I imagined him calling me all sorts of names, liar and betrayer being at the top of the list, but the calmness I’d gathered from the car ride over resurfaced, reminding me my deepest desire.

  I need to find him, and I need him to listen. That’s all.

  The man’s sigh brought me back to the present moment, his hands falling to his side as he bent down to the floor of the tent. Kalo ran right to him, and as he petted behind her ears, his eyes found mine.

  “When he did talk, it was about you, but it was what he didn’t say that spoke the loudest. Something tells me he convinced himself he didn’t want to be found, but his mannerisms betrayed him. His eyes always watching the road, ears perking up at every car that drove by…” He paused, rubbing Kalo’s head. “Every dog that barked.”

  I swallowed, bending down to his level, one of my hands finding Kalo’s soft fur, too, as I pleaded with him. “I need to find him. Please, can you help me?”

  He was quiet, seemingly debating his role in our story before he stood. “There are three trails — one to a lower viewpoint of the falls, one to a secluded canyon, and the other to the top of the falls.”

  “The top,” I croaked, voice thick with emotion as I planted a hand hard on my knee and pushed up to stand with him. I knew without a doubt that’s where Emery was… or at least, it’s where he’d gone. I just hoped he was still there. “How do I get there?”

  The man gave me directions, telling me parking would be full and I should just leave my car where it was and hike up. It was a fairly easy hike, he said, and it wouldn’t take me too long.

  After finally telling me his name, Jeremy handed me a bottle of water and offered to watch Kalo until I returned, and though he was still watching me like he didn’t trust me, it was as if he couldn’t refrain from helping me, either.

  “He’s a good guy,” he said, his eyes softening. “But he’s in a dark place.”

  “I know.”

  He nodded. “I’m sure you do, or you wouldn’t be here.” His hand wrapped once around Kalo’s leash, but then his eyes adjusted on something behind me, and he squinted, head tilting. “Is that his bag?”

  I turned, all the heat drained from my face, from my limbs, settling into a pool at the pit of my stomach as my eyes found the backpack we’d purchased together in Colorado Springs. It was propped against a stump of wood that looked like it was used for a chair beside the fire, and a sheet of lined paper was rolled and tucked into the handle at the top of it.

  Swallowing, I walked with lead feet to the bag, bending to retrieve it from where it rested. It was light, and I untucked the rolled paper first, throat thick at the sight of his handwriting.

  If found, please open.

  I unzipped it quickly, throat collapsing altogether at the sight inside.

 
Three folded sheets of paper, that’s all that existed in that big, black empty space. My fingers numbly turned them over, one by one, eyes catching on the familiar script that outlined the outer edge of each. Each of them had an address scribbled under the name on the outside fold. One read Dad, one read Mom, and the final one, the one with the address for Papa Wyatt’s Diner, read Little Penny.

  Emotion stung my nose, eyes welling at the sensation as I sniffed against it and shoved the papers back inside, zipping up the bag and tossing it over my shoulders. I couldn’t read that letter, wouldn’t read it — because I knew inside those folded edges was a goodbye I wasn’t ready to hear.

  “Thank you,” was all I could manage before I turned, surviving on what little hope I had left as my feet picked up speed to match my racing heart.

  It was an easy hike up to the top of the falls. My leg still ached even with the easy incline, my muscles tense and sore from lack of sleep and the worry that had racked through me all night. The skin where my leg ended and my prosthetic began stung a little, the friction from the hike wearing on it. I needed to rest, but I couldn’t — not yet.

  I was thankful for the scarf and snow cap I’d purchased in Grants Pass, both of them doing what little they could to keep heat in as the wind picked up the higher I climbed. It swept in from the canyons all around, whipping my hair and striking my cheeks, but when I reached the top, it was eerily calm.

  It would have been a breathtaking view, if I could have focused on anything other than the back of the man in front of me. I was distantly aware of the deep, earthy canyons, the rainbow that extended from the bottom of the falls, the ice that gathered at the edges of the earth and floated on the water below, constantly broken and moved by the powerful falls crashing. My breath warmed my nose as little puffs of white left my lips, a shiver breaking from neck to tailbone as emotion consumed me.

  I found him.

  He was a painting, a moment in time captured by an artist’s hand as he stood there at the edge of the falls. The sky was blue and clear above him, whisps of white cloud slowly floating by, the wind dancing with his hair. His back was tall and long, his shoulders broad, hands resting easily in the pockets of his athletic pants. I didn’t want to speak for fear of interrupting such a perfect sight, but under the peaceful tranquility of the scenery, a storm raged on inside of him — and I wanted to be his shelter.