Mountains Between Us

by Jenny Proctor

  “She’s not here,” Eliza said. “Gina knows how to hide. She jumped into the cab of some truck and hitched a ride going the opposite direction, I’m sure.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Eliza looked at him, her eyes full of a distant sadness Henry realized he couldn’t ever touch. “We go home,” she said simply. “What choice do we have?”

  * * *

  Knoxville was just over an hour away from Rose Creek. When they made it into town, it was just past 8:00 p.m.

  “Hey,” Henry said. It was the first either of them had spoken in quite some time. “We’ve missed dinner at Rockbridge. Do you want to pick something up here in town before we go up?”

  Eliza nodded. “Dinner would be good.”

  They picked a Japanese place right in the heart of downtown. Even though it was a Saturday evening, the restaurant was mostly cleared out.

  “I bet they were busy three hours ago,” Eliza said jokingly.

  “You’ve learned Rose Creek well.” It was nice to see her smile again. Conversation over dinner was pleasant, but Henry couldn’t help feeling like there was a giant elephant in the room—something they both wanted to talk about but wouldn’t.

  He didn’t want to seem shallow, considering the worry Eliza surely felt over her sister’s whereabouts, but he also didn’t want things to remain awkward forever. He could hardly bear the thought of wondering every time he and Eliza were together if she would mention what had happened between them.

  “Eliza,” he began quickly so as not to lose his nerve. “About the other night—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Eliza cut him off. “It was impulsive and crazy and clearly not something you were expecting.”

  “It’s not that,” Henry said. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting it, but that’s not what . . . I just . . . agh, this is hard.” He took a deep breath and tried to focus his words. “I met Allison when I was fifteen. She was the first girl I ever kissed, and then I married her. After the divorce, I haven’t really . . . That is to say, I just haven’t done any . . . dating.” He watched Eliza’s expression change and knew she understood what he was trying to tell her. He’d never kissed anyone but Allison. Until now.

  What he couldn’t tell Eliza was the internal turmoil she had awakened within him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed the kiss. He could still conjure up the smell of her hair and the softness of her lips, both sensations he had enjoyed. But what he wasn’t prepared for was the raw realization that Allison, in any role except AJ’s mother, was no longer a part of his life. Of course, he’d already known this. He’d been divorced for nearly two years. But until he’d felt another woman’s lips touching his, he’d never really let himself think about what that meant. For two years, he’d been living in denial. And then Eliza had woken him up.

  “I shouldn’t have been so forward, Henry. I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t apologize. It’s just that I’m still a little broken. Everything about my past, my relationship with Allison, with AJ . . . It’s complicated.”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Eliza said. “I understand. We’re friends, and I don’t want to lose that. What do you say we just pretend like it never happened?”

  It wasn’t a likely prospect. Henry would never be able to forget what had happened. But he also couldn’t, in his right mind, expect someone like Eliza to jump into his angst-filled, confusing life without fair and sufficient warning. For her sake, it was probably better if she did forget.

  “It’s a deal.” He regretted the words the moment he said them.

  “So where did AJ and Allison go?”

  Henry tried to hide his grimace. While he appreciated Eliza’s efforts to change the subject, AJ’s current whereabouts was only slightly lower than Eliza’s kiss on his list of things most difficult to talk about.

  “They went to Disney World,” he said. “With Robert.” A surge of frustration filled Henry as he thought of them all vacationing together. Of course, he trusted Allison and knew if Robert was going to be a part of her life, he would have to be a part of AJ’s life too. But it still felt wrong. For all he did to build a relationship with AJ, for all the thought and care and effort he put forth, it was completely disheartening to feel so easily replaced.

  “Robert?” Eliza asked. “He’s a friend of Allison’s?”

  “Yeah.” Please don’t make me talk about this further.

  “Vacationing together . . . It’s serious, then.” Eliza must have sensed his distress. “I’m sorry. That seems like a really awful thing to have to get used to.”

  “It’s fine,” Henry said. “I mean, it’s not fine. I hate it, but they didn’t really ask how I felt about it, so, what can I do?”

  “I’m sorry, Henry. I don’t envy the position you’re in. Are you ready to go?”

  Henry breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll get the check.”

  * * *

  “So tell me more about your family.” She was driving slowly, handling the roads that wound up the mountain to Rockbridge as best she could in the dark. “We’ve spent all this time together, and all we did was talk about my family. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s true. Your family did a good job of stealing the spotlight the past few days.”

  “Shut up.” Henry could tell she was joking by her tone. “I’m still emotional over the whole thing. You’re not allowed to make jokes for at least another week.”

  “Fine, fine. We can talk about me the rest of the way home. What do you want to know?”

  “Siblings? Are your parents still together? Do you look like your mom? Your dad?”

  “You want me to tell you my shoe size and my little league batting average while I’m at it?”

  Eliza laughed. “Yes, please.”

  “Let’s see. I have three younger siblings, one brother, and two little sisters. They’re all great—not anything like me. My brother—he’s fun and outgoing, the life of every party. He’s a pharmacist in Winston-Salem, not far from my parents. My sisters are both in college out at BYU. My parents just celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary last month. What else? People say I look like my mom. I wear a size eleven shoe. And I don’t remember my batting average, but I’m sure it was terrible. I think I hit the ball three times the entire season.”

  Eliza laughed again, a sound Henry was growing particularly fond of.

  “The trouble,” he went on, “is I would have had to actually look up from my book to see the ball coming. I was doomed from the start, really.”

  “I bet you were an interesting kid.”

  “Are you kidding? I was an utterly boring kid. I lived in books.”

  The conversation waned for a moment, and then Eliza asked, “Wait. Back up. Your parents have been married for twenty-five years? Where do you fit in?”

  Henry’s shoulders tensed, and Eliza must have noticed.

  “Oh, Henry, I’m sorry. That was terribly rude. It’s not any of my business.”

  It was a question Henry was used to avoiding. He’d done it countless times when people had mentioned the stark contrast between his own looks and his father’s. His father had fair skin and green eyes, while Henry had a more olive complexion and darker hair. “I look like my mom,” he always said. And it was the truth. He did look like his mom.

  His family history wasn’t something he generally shared, but he’d involuntarily made it a point of conversation when he’d mentioned how long his parents had been married—twenty-five years—not long enough to have a son who was thirty.

  It might have been the closeness he’d developed with Eliza over the past couple of days or the amount of trust she had placed in him. Maybe it was simply that he was weary of the walls and fences he constantly and quite diligently built around himself. Whatever the reason, he decided the easiest answer was the truth. “It’s okay,” Henry said. “I was adopted. I’m my mother’s biological son but was adopted by her second husband.”

  “Oh, now I
see.”

  “You know what’s funny? People often tell me I sound like my dad—my stepdad. I guess that happens when you grow up with someone. You pick up mannerisms, expressions, that sort of thing.”

  “How old were you when he adopted you?”

  “I was five.”

  “What happened to your biological father?”

  Henry was silent. Discussing adoption was one thing, but Eliza’s questions were venturing into dangerous territory. He only had one memory of his biological father, and it wasn’t one he cared to relive.

  “I’m sorry, Henry,” Eliza said suddenly, apologizing for the second time. “You don’t have to talk about this with me.”

  He shook his head. ”No, I don’t mind. I don’t know what happened to him. We didn’t keep in touch.”

  Eliza didn’t say anything in response. He was grateful she wasn’t pushing the issue, but she didn’t have to speak her questions for him to know they were there. The questions were always there.

  “I have a father,” Henry began. “He’s a good man. He adopted me, took me to the temple, raised me as his own son. I am his son. I have no reason to seek out a man who can’t claim to be anything other than a biological relation.”

  “You’re right,” Eliza said, her tone gentle.

  Henry glanced in her direction. She was keeping her eyes on the road, both hands firmly holding the steering wheel.

  “Why do I feel like there’s something you aren’t saying?”

  Eliza shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she said. “I don’t know . . . I guess I’m just wondering if you ever wonder about him. Is it strange to know nothing? Where he is? Who he is? Whether or not he ever wonders about you?”

  “Eliza, he gave me up.” Henry’s voice was controlled but still emotional. “My mother took me to see him, in prison, of all places, and he gave me up—signed the adoption papers while I stood there and watched. He didn’t want me then; I imagine he has little regard for what I’m doing with my life now.”

  “Oh, Henry,” Eliza said. “I was being thoughtless to even suggest such a thing. I’m sure that’s a difficult memory for you.”

  “It’s not difficult,” Henry said quickly. “He told my mother it was the only way he’d sign the papers—that she had to bring me to see him one last time. He’d been in prison for years though. I can’t remember anything but that one conversation. William Harrison”—he paused for a moment, hesitating over the man’s name—“he wasn’t a father. Signing those papers—it was the best thing he could have done for me. I don’t doubt that at all.”

  And yet Henry knew the edge in his voice indicated otherwise. True, he didn’t doubt his adoption was the best thing that could have ever happened. But it was a lie that the memory of his last confrontation with his biological father hadn’t been difficult.

  As a child, he’d spent years wondering what he could have ever done that would make a man sign away rights to his own kid. Now, with the wisdom and perspective of a man who had his own son, it was easy to understand why someone might reasonably make such a choice. Sometimes it was necessary for logic and reason to dictate matters that couldn’t be trusted to the heart. The right choice was often the most painful one. But logic and reason aside, the scars of Henry’s suffering as a child were still part of him.

  “It would still make me sad,” Eliza said.

  “Sad? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m sure it was the best thing for you to be adopted, but it would still feel painful to have a parent say they don’t want you . . .” Her words trailed off. “Good grief, Henry. How many times am I going to feel like I need to apologize? I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. It seems like I keep saying the wrong thing.”

  Except she hadn’t said the wrong thing. No one had ever been willing to voice what Henry had felt his entire life. He didn’t want things to change; he would never give up the relationship he’d developed with his adoptive father, but it still hurt to feel cast aside. It hurt, and it felt amazing to have someone else acknowledge that fact. “You didn’t say the wrong thing, Eliza. You’re right. It does hurt.”

  A minute, then two passed before she reached over and touched his arm. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Henry, I’m glad you told me.”

  * * *

  They arrived back at Rockbridge just after 10:00 p.m. They said good night before Henry turned and walked down the sidewalk to his own apartment. Despite the length of time he’d just spent sitting in a car and the emotional context of many of his conversations with Eliza, he found himself in a good mood. Eliza’s company was encouraging, even uplifting.

  He had tremendous respect for her—for the way she’d handled the difficult circumstances she’d dealt with over the weekend. She’d shown fortitude and faith and hadn’t let discouragement get the best of her when things hadn’t worked out. She was optimistic and trusting, and she wasn’t afraid. That might have been what he admired about her most of all. She didn’t live her life in fear.

  Suddenly, Henry knew what he needed to do. He hurried into his apartment, dropped his things in the kitchen, then walked over to his desk. He glanced at his watch, then hastily reached for his manuscript. If he hurried, he’d make it to Daniel’s room before Cooper went to bed.

  The dorm building was already locked, so Henry knocked lightly on the dorm manager’s window. “Cooper! Are you awake? Can you let me in?”

  Cooper opened the window. “Hey, Henry. You’re back. You and Eliza have a nice weekend?” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

  “What? It wasn’t like that. I was just helping out with some family trouble.”

  “Oh. Well, that sounds way more boring than what everyone around here has been speculating. Good thing Flip’s off in the woods. He might have been hanging out in the parking lot ready to meet you for a duel.”

  “Cooper, what are you talking about?”

  “Flip. He’s got a thing for Eliza. You haven’t noticed?”

  Henry hadn’t noticed, though he wasn’t surprised. What did surprise him was the tightening he felt under his ribs when he thought of the two of them together. He shrugged it off. Hadn’t he just told Eliza his life was too complicated for them to be anything more than friends? “I guess not,” he finally said. “I don’t know why I would have. Look, can you just let me in? I need to give this to Daniel.”

  “Sure thing.” A moment later, he was at the door, holding it open for Henry. “It just occurred to me that Daniel is out on excursion. They won’t be back until Sunday. Do you want to leave it in his room?”

  Henry nodded. “Yeah. I’d like him to see it as soon as he returns.”

  “Cool. Down the hall and to the left, room 204—his name’s on the door.”

  Henry hurried to Daniel’s room, fearing he might lose his nerve if he didn’t follow through in the moment. When he opened the door, he noted that half of Daniel’s room was stripped bare—no sheets on the bed, no personal belongings on the desk. The thought brought him comfort. Daniel didn’t presently have a roommate, which meant there wasn’t anyone else who would see Henry’s manuscript. Pulling a sticky note off a pad on Daniel’s desk, he paused, not sure what to write. Finally, he wrote, “Hope it’s good enough you make it all the way to the end.”

  He scribbled his name at the bottom of the note but hesitated before sticking it to the front of his manuscript. He hardly knew Daniel. How could he trust him with something that quite literally felt like a part of his soul? Henry shook away his doubts. If Daniel was ever going to trust Henry, Henry had to trust him too. Don’t let me regret this, he silently prayed. With a final deep breath, Henry left the manuscript on Daniel’s desk and returned to his own apartment.

  Chapter 12

  Eliza sank onto the small couch in the corner of her living room, too tired to unpack—too tired, really, to do much of anything. Adrenaline and sheer force of will had kept her going for the past three days. Now that she was home, the exhaustion of it all was finally catchin
g up with her. And it wasn’t over. She still had to call her mom to tell her about Gina. It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to. But, then, she guessed her mom would probably handle the news the same way Eliza had. She had been disappointed when Gina had run away, but in her heart, she hadn’t been all that surprised.

  Stretching her tired muscles, she stood and retrieved her phone from the kitchen. She moved back to the couch, grabbing her laptop off the desk on her way. She opened her e-mail while she waited for her mom to answer the phone.

  When Eliza told her what had happened, Beverly breathed a heavy sigh. “The only thing that surprises me is you made it all the way to Knoxville before she fled. I’m sorry, Eliza. I’ll let you know if I hear anything from her. I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually.”

  An outside observer might have been surprised by her mother’s casual response, but Eliza knew how many times she’d been through a similar routine with her sister. Gina had disappeared for weeks, even months on end in the past. They’d both learned a long time ago that where Gina was concerned, they couldn’t count on anything to go as planned.

  After hanging up with her mom, Eliza scrolled through her inbox, starring messages she’d have to address tomorrow. There were requests for progress reports from Dr. Adler and next week’s schedule from Natalie still waiting for Eliza’s approval. There was an e-mail from Lexie—details for the wedding and a plea to make sure Eliza had worked out her schedule and would absolutely be attending the following month. She would be there, but messaging Lexie to let her know could wait.

  Eliza slid her computer off her lap and leaned her head against the couch cushions.

  Her thoughts turned to Henry. She wasn’t sure why he had offered to drive her to Tennessee, and she wasn’t exactly sure why she had agreed, but she was grateful he had been there. Over and over again, he had proved to be exactly what she’d needed. He’d been calm when she had needed calm. He had been encouraging when she had needed encouragement. He had been . . . Well, he had been perfect.