Page 22 of Shifting Gears

“It’s beautiful,” Eleanor says, jumping down from the tall truck seat onto the grass. Not the structure of the tree house itself, necessarily, which has a child’s earnest artistic vision about it, but the surrounding vista is stunning. The hill starts to slope down just past the tree, opening up to the sprawling, hilly landscape beyond. It’s green as far as the eye can see, all grass and then forest, as the hills meet the blue sky and the early evening sun goes down directly in front of them.

“Yeah. Sarah and I used to sleep here,” Dani says, looking up at the tree fondly. She fishes around behind the trunk and emerges holding a large stick. “It’s the best place in town to relax.”

Dani determinedly uses the stick to hook a weathered-looking rope ladder and swing it down.

“Come on! Let me show you,” Dani says, holding out a hand with a bright, expectant look on her face. After only a moment of hesitation, Eleanor takes it.

Climbing the swinging, rickety rope ladder is a harrowing experience, and for the first time, Eleanor is grateful that Mila nudged her into buying flat-soled boots. When she finally reaches the top with Dani’s help, the tree house itself isn’t much better. It creaks worryingly every time Eleanor takes a step. Dani doesn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in childlike excitement.

“Owen made us that table out of milk crates in the fifth grade,” Dani is saying, pointing at a plastic contraption in the corner. “We’d bring backpacks full of food out here and pretend we were stuck in the wilderness. Or we’d pile blankets into a nest, and Ryan would read to us. He loves to read out loud.”

Eleanor smiles, imagining a young Ryan readingRobinson Crusoein a tiny and authoritative voice to his captive audience. He does seem to have a flair for the dramatic.

Dani leans against the trunk, crossing her legs at the ankle, and the movement reveals something behind her on the opposite side of the tree house that Eleanor hadn’t noticed before.

“Why are some of the branches gone?”

Dani twists around to see what Eleanor is pointing at. When she sees the broken branches in question, she waves Eleanor’s question off easily. “Oh, we used to have a swing on that branch before it broke. And that one was our old ladder, but it broke, too.”

“Maybe that should have been a warning sign,” Eleanor mutters. The wood beneath her moves with every step, but Dani just pulls her by the hand toward the edge of the platform.

“You worry too much. Come on, sit.”

The view is even better from up here, with the shade of the thick top leaves keeping them out of the sun. Eleanor can see names carved deeply into the tree trunk nearby, where the bark has been pulled away—DaniandSarah, scratched in close together, alongside a blockyOwenand a looping, whimsicalRyan. Beside it is a neat, angularNaomi.

There’s also a spot where a name has clearly been scratched out. It’s rough and imprecise, as if several hands were hacking at it at once. But above it—in large, clear letters and surrounded by a deeply carved heart—isMila.

A gentle breeze blows through the field, rustling the long grass and the trees beyond and making the whole structure shift underneath them.

“What exactly is the load capacity of this thing?” Eleanor asks tightly, gripping the edge of the platform even though she knows it won’t help if the whole thing crumbles.

“Not sure.” Dani raps on the platform with her knuckles. “It’s always been sturdy, though.”

The knocking does nothing to quell Eleanor’s anxiety. She slaps her own hand over Dani’s, pinning it to the wood. “It doesn’t feel very structurally sound.”

“You’re not very trusting, are you?” Dani’s smile is searching, and Eleanor ducks away.

“I got in the truck, didn’t I?”

“Regretting it yet?”

“I will be if this thing collapses,” Eleanor says. “As an engineer, I really don’t think it’s up to code.”

“You’re an engineer?”

“Chemical engineer,” Eleanor clarifies. “But math is math.”

Dani laughs. It’s as bright and sweet as the summer sunshine. “We can get down. The view is almost as good from the truck.”

The sun is starting to set when Dani opens the tailgate and hops up, patting the space next to her until Eleanor hauls herself up to fill it.

“I’ve always loved watching the sunset from here,” Dani says. Her dangling legs swing to a rhythm Eleanor can’t follow. “It’s so quiet that it feels like I’m the only person on earth.”

“Except me,” Eleanor says absently, busy watching the way Dani chews at her full lips. It’s strangely mesmerizing.

“Except you. I thought you might like it here.”

“I do,” Eleanor says quietly.

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