A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

“Then I don’t want to be here anymore.” I took a step back and watched Harold’s eyes grow wide with surprise. “You said it was Patrick Bell who tore our family apart, but it was you who gave him the power, wasn’t it?”

  Harold shook his head, his face red with frustration. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, son.”

  “Then tell me,” I demanded. “For two and a half years, I’ve worked with you on this farm and lived in your home, and I’ve never asked a single prying question about what happened back then. I figured you’d tell me in due time and that none of it was important, anyway. But now I want to know. I’m demanding to know it. What happened between you and Patrick Bell?”

  Seconds, maybe even minutes, passed. He just blinked like he was working through his words in his mind. Then he spoke. “Your mother was a runaway, son. At seventeen years old, she showed up on our farm, with bruises and cuts all over her body, asking to work for nothing except a barn to sleep in without question. My parents agreed. At that time, we were a cattle ranch, and she proved herself when it came to wrangling, so she was hired. Over the next six years, we fell in love. When she got pregnant, we couldn’t hide her anymore, but we thought maybe the reservation—her family and everyone—would have given up the search by then. What we didn’t expect was for Patrick Bell to tell the tribe where to find one of the girls he’d long ago added to the rapidly growing list of missing. If we didn’t give her up, we could have all been arrested for harboring the missing girl. So we let Molly go with my baby inside her. I thought she would come back, but she never did.”

  I gulped, taking in the load of information that had just been dumped on me. “You haven’t said anything before today.”

  “You haven’t asked, boy. I thought you knew.”

  Then I realized Harold was right. I’d always thought the past was as good as buried, and I would never get the details of the whys that had become my life.

  “But she wasn’t safe. She went missing again, only this time, she won’t be turning up alive. And you can thank Patrick Bell for that.”

  The firmness of his words and the certainty of his tone felt like two hands clasped around my throat. “What did you say?”

  A breeze blew in with the next few beats of uncomfortable silence, whistling through the air and whipping the remaining stalks halfway to the soil. The scene was as eerie as the moment felt, with darkness at every turn and only the headlights of the tractor illuminating us both.

  “Ah, son, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  I could feel the blood draining from my face. “What did you say?” I repeated the words slowly and quietly, with all the venom I could muster. I knew what he’d said, but I needed to hear him confirm it.

  While the number of women that had gone missing from the rez was unbelievably high, I’d still held on to a glimmer of hope. And after hearing his story about how she’d come to Telluride and conceived me in the beginning, my glimmer of hope only grew, and I’d wondered if she found a new safe haven and was still alive.

  But the truth was that no one had followed up with me regarding my mother’s missing status after I moved. I didn’t know of any investigation, and we had no family left there. At just fifteen years old, I’d been alone, trying to cope with the fact that my mother might never come home and that I might never see her again. Harold’s words had destroyed any hope I had, and I felt more broken than ever.

  “They found your mom. They found her dead. I’m sorry, son. She’s not coming home.”

  Like a dagger, his final words plunged through me. My chest and neck tightened as emotion tried to claw its way out. Stinging heat rushed to my eyes.

  Harold Cross hated Patrick Bell because of the life that had been stolen from him. Patrick Bell was the reason I’d grown up without a father. Instead, I was raised by a single mom who could barely hold down a job and could barely feed us without bringing home leftovers from her bar dates with random men. In the end, she’d paid the ultimate price for it all.

  “When the harvest season is done, I will leave Telluride.” My voice shook with every syllable. “And I won’t be coming back.”

  18

  Camila, One and a Half Years Later

  I’d just finished cleaning the kitchen after an early family dinner when I looked up to find the older version of me swirling her wine with a frown. Her eyes were on the liquid sloshing around in her glass, and a pang hit my chest as I pondered canceling my plans to stay home. Papa had already retired to his casita for some late-night work. He probably wouldn’t come out of there until morning. I hated the thought of leaving her by herself.

  After a minute of internal debate, I set the rag I’d been holding on the counter. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight, Mama? We can find something on TV or pick out an old DVD.”

  She let out a short laugh and shook her head. “No, sweetie. I’m going to call it an early night.”

  I bit my tongue, wanting to ask her why—and why it felt like my parents had been bickering a lot lately. But she would never give me the answers. If anything, the fact that I’d picked up on it would only sadden her more, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Mama worked hard, not just as the vineyard’s bookkeeper and winery host but also at the country club where she volunteered her time. From the looks of her when she came home, I’d assumed the country club was where she was the happiest. Getting time to socialize with her friends and get away from the exhaustive pressures my papa set for himself and everyone around us was probably refreshing.

  Papa was all about production, timelines, and perfection. A simple concept, but perfection became a laborious benchmark that was impossible to reach. Patrick Bell wasn’t happy unless he’d succeeded in all things, and no one wanted to bear the wrath of my papa’s unhappiness.

  “I thought you were heading out to go camping with your friends,” she said before checking the time on the clock above my head. “You’d better get going if you want to beat nightfall.”

  I waved a hand. “My friends are already checking us into the campsite. I just need to park and plop myself down by the fire when I get there.” I grinned but couldn’t hold it for long. Something just felt off, and I hated leaving, even if just for a few days, without knowing she would be okay. “Seriously, Mama. I’m happy to stay if you want company.”

  Mama walked over, giving a soft and completely genuine smile. She held my face and kissed my cheek before staring me dead in the eyes. “Go. Have fun with your friends. You deserve a fun spring break away. Just be careful out there.”

  She was referring to the snow patches that still packed sections of terrain, making an overnight hiking trip in the mountains a risky one. It was late April, just past the end of ski season in Telluride, but the unpredictable weather patterns in the mountains remained. I dreaded winter, purely for the fact that the “white gold,” as locals called it, blanketed everything I loved most in the world—the vineyard, the cornfield, the hilltop, and the wildflowers that always came alive in the late spring and summer. I always entered a state of hibernation in the wintertime, locking me in place until the cold melted away. So the spring break my friends and I had been planning felt much like an awakening of sorts.

  I hugged her tight and nodded. “I promise to be careful. Please don’t worry.”

  The “You don’t know how to be careful, Camila” look plainly written in her eyes made me laugh.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going on an entirely guided trip with well-trained staff.”

  “Where is this place you’re going again?”

  “Some private campsite near Camp Bird in Ouray.”

  My mama shuddered. “Don’t they call that place a ghost town?”

  I laughed. “You can call most of the towns around here ghost towns, Mama.”

  Telluride and the surrounding areas had been big on silver mining back in the day. In the 1950s, a final mining bust had shut down all the mines in the area, causing famili
es to leave town in droves. Business on Bell Family Vineyard suffered right along with it. Not until the area slowly started to become a ski resort area in the 1970s did life begin again.

  “Raven set the whole thing up, so blame her. But you know Trip will be there to report back on my behavior, as always. In fact, this whole spring break thing is starting to sound like a drag if you ask me.” I winked at my mama. “But Josie insisted, since there’s this boy, Ryker, she likes, and you know I can’t refuse the girl.”

  Her face twisted with confusion. “What happened to Emilio?”

  I smiled back at her adoringly, knowing she always had a hard time keeping up with the gossip. “They broke up months ago. She doesn’t think he liked her as much as she liked him. Can you believe that? I just—”

  “Yes, yes.” She waved me off, as she always did when she recognized I’d started on a tangent. “I know you’ll be just fine, mija.” She squeezed my hands.

  My mama knew me too well, and while she feared for my adventurous nature, she honored it as well, never wanting to get in the way of what lit life inside me. So she stayed quiet when most mothers would ground and lecture. She let me be, but I had a feeling she sometimes knew more than she let on, like my old weekly trips to the hilltop.

  “Well, if you’re going to go, then go. Before I change my mind.” Her words, though an effort to shoo me away, were playful and encouraging. “Oh, and don’t forget your bear spray.”

  I chuckled. “Already got it covered, Mama. I’ll text you when I get to the base camp.”

  I arrived in Ouray, a city less than an hour outside of Telluride, just as the sun was starting to set. The two cities were separated by the rugged Sneffels Range, where my friends and I would be hiking for the next few days. The Victorian-era mining town of Ouray was nestled in the thirteen-thousand-foot peaks of the San Juan Mountains. Many referred to it fondly as the Switzerland of America, and with its surrounding mountainous backdrop of never-ending hillsides and natural beauty, it was easy to see why.

  Raven had booked us a private hiking tour through a campground where we all would spend our first night and meet our hiking guide. A sign on a wood post read Camp Lachey, signaling where I should turn in. The spacious area was an open clearing complete with yurts, trailers, and tiny homes where visitors could stay without having to worry about their own setup or equipment. From there, my friends and I would partake in a three-day hiking adventure through the Mount Sneffels wilderness that would end back at the camp with a send-off party.

  I parked my Jeep in the gravel lot and followed the trail toward the line of yurts that were set up against an old wooden fence overlooking a large ranch. It was already dark out, but beyond the open field, I could just make out the stacked skylines of the mountain. The stars shone brighter than anything I’d ever seen in my life.

  “You looking for your friends?”

  I jumped and whipped my head toward the deep voice. He was just a shadow, sitting there in his black jacket, until he stepped into the dim lighting from a nearby lamppost. Silver glittered in his long dark hair, and age lines ran across his forehead. He wasn’t tall, by any means, but his build made up for it. He smiled when he caught a look at my startled expression.

  “Name’s Jason Lachey. You’re in my camp.”

  I hadn’t even realized how much tension had been building in me until it all came out in a whoosh I hoped he didn’t hear. “Oh, I’m Camila. My friends and I are taking a guided hike.”

  “Well, I appreciate your business.” He pointed at the skyline I’d just been staring at. “You’ve got the best view in all of Colorado this week. I hope you enjoy it.”

  I smiled back at him. “I’m sure I will.”

  Jason nodded in the direction I’d started walking. “Camp’s down that way. Your friends are at the fire.”

  Eager to find them, I slung my backpack around my shoulders and gave a final wave. “Great. Thank you.” I made my way to the tent site. About halfway down the row, I spotted the yurt I would be sharing with Josie for the night. She had gotten there earlier in the afternoon with Trip and Raven, since I’d been tied up at the vineyard all day. The cloth doors were tied open, and it looked like my best friend had already made herself right at home.

  Josie’s backpack was lying on the side of the bed she’d already claimed, and a bottle of stolen Bell Family Vineyard vintage red wine sat open at her bedside with a note for me to pour myself a glass and stay awhile. I laughed and tossed my backpack onto my bed, and then did as she asked.

  The crackle of the fire and my friends’ laughter made finding them easy.

  “Finally!” Trip’s voice boomed from across the campfire as I approached. “The straggler has arrived.”

  Laughing, I curtsied while sneaking my middle finger up, a gesture directed at the bane of my existence. My peers chuckled at my boldness, and even from a distance, I could see the broad smile that had popped onto his face.

  Trip had graduated from Telluride High School the previous year, but he never stopped being an overprotective older brother to Raven when he was home from Columbia University. I still saw him every now and then when he stopped by to help Papa and Thomas distribute wine to all the restaurants, grocery stores, and resorts around town.

  I plopped onto a log as I greeted my friends and hugged Josie. My insides danced at the thought of the days to come—campfires, camping in the woods, and a challenging hike through the melting white and green mountains. Hiking and camping in the wilderness were things I’d been craving for as long as Ridge had made the suggestion, which was before he had vanished without a trace, running a tractor over my already-shattered heart.

  The spring break trip was meant to be a rite of passage for my friends and me—a shared adventure we would remember forever—and I couldn’t wait for it to begin.

  “It’s like a reunion.” Trip’s deep voice forced my eyes onto his. A translucent flame from the fire waved between us. I didn’t miss the significance. Fire had always danced between us and not in a good way. I’d seen Trip’s future long before he knew what was happening. His father always brought him by the vineyard, even before he’d gone off to college, and taught him the ropes, molding him into the future of everything Thomas Bradshaw had grown to be at Bell Family Vineyard. So far, his plan was panning out just right.

  I laughed. “A reunion? For whom? I just saw everyone else on Friday. You’re the one that can’t stay away from high schoolers.”

  Trip glared at me. His red cup was filled to the brim with what I assumed was beer. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Something in Trip’s tone chilled me to my core. Then he nodded in the direction of the fire. A man in a dark-blue hoodie and black jeans had just poked a long stick into the flames. I could only see the man’s build, thanks to the silhouette created by the fire, but it was enough to make my heart squeeze tight.

  At the same moment I realized who the man was, he turned his head slowly and locked his gaze directly on me. My entire body, inside and out, froze. The fire blazing between us was of no help. I was shocked to the root. Hard and cold on the outside but a pile of messed-up emotions on the inside, I didn’t know how to thaw a single ligament in order to save myself.

  19

  Camila

  Ridge Cross had left Telluride a year and a half ago, without even saying goodbye. It had taken weeks for me to realize that the whispered rumors through the school halls were true. I didn’t want to believe them. Harold Cross’s boy was gone, leaving the mean old farmer alone once again.

  I had given up hope that he would come home and had stopped trying to search for him in all the places I knew he wasn’t. He’d broken every important piece of me that had existed before him, and I swore I would never forgive him for it.

  My eyes flicked over the man standing in front of the fire, and I wondered if he was just a mirage. I didn’t know whether I was happy or mad about seeing him again. The dull knocking on the hollow shell of my ribcage could me
an either.

  He wore a badge on his jacket with Camp Lachey’s branding, which confirmed several important facts. He had moved away and gotten a new job. But he hadn’t gone far.

  Ouray was nearly an hour from Telluride, only a quick winding drive around the mountains. He could have easily come home to say hello or said goodbye in the first place. Instead, he remained gone, apparently with zero intention of seeing me again.

  My chest felt heavier with each compounding thought. I’d never allowed myself to feel upset because I’d refused to believe that Ridge had chosen to leave after how that night ended. But as I looked at him, the truth was a slap in the face. Clearly, he’d chose his fate and shunned me in the process.

  “What are you doing here?” My tone was meant to be uncaring, but the moment the harsh words touched the crisp air, I wanted to take them back. I missed my friend—my comfort and my shelter—but anger was all I could express.

  Everyone around us besides Josie wouldn’t bat an eyelash at my tone. My peers would assume that my feelings for Ridge mirrored Papa’s and that I had forgotten him as soon as he’d left town. But I hadn’t forgotten. I wouldn’t. And I was slightly colder for it.

  Ridge didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to the flames and poked at it with the stick. That was it. Not even a hello. After all the time we had spent together, sneaking around and hiking up to our personal heaven, he had nothing to say to me. My heart, which he’d already stomped on and left buried in the cornfields that fall evening, felt like it was finally breaking.

  Josie nudged my side to get my attention. “Ridge will be our hiking guide.” She stared wide-eyed at me and seemed just as surprised as I had been. “I tried to warn you,” she whispered. “But your phone was off.”

  “Shitty service,” I said without having to look at my call log. That was the one thing I hated about venturing out of town. While I was perfectly fit to hike the trails in even the roughest conditions, it wouldn’t be easy to call for help if I was lost or had an emergency. And I would have definitely deemed seeing Ridge as an emergency. A warning would have been nice.