Page 41 of Revelry
A small cloud moved in front of the sun, cutting off the one source of warmth, and I shivered. “He’s helping me fix up the cabin a little, mostly just the things I need for the summer. You know, like a floor that doesn’t give out when I walk across it.”
I chuckled, but Tucker’s lips barely hit a half smile before they flattened again. He’d tucked a few extra beers in his backpack when Momma Von had passed them around, and he pulled the last one out, offering it to me first. I shook my head, and he cracked it open, taking one long pull as I took in the cabins behind him. Each one was different, with its own unique style. I wondered what Anderson’s looked like and made a mental note to ask him to show me.
“He talk to you about Dani?” Tucker asked, crossing his ankles where they hung off the tube.
“A little. He doesn’t really talk much, you know?” Again, I tried to lighten the mood, but Tucker was stoic.
“Did he tell you she was my girlfriend?”
The sun peeked behind the clouds once more, but I was still covered in chills as my eyes found Tucker’s.
“He didn’t.”
I swallowed, not sure what else to say.I’m sorryfelt cheap, and other than that, I had no idea what to offer.
Tucker nodded. “She was beautiful, funny.” He smiled. “Smart as hell. And believe it or not, Anderson and I were pretty close friends, too. The three of us used to hang out almost every day at their place. Of course that all changed after she died,” he added, squinting against the sun. “Everything changed.”
Saying anything still felt wrong, so I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his wrist to squeeze it lightly.
“We had plans to get out of here, you know? Go to college together, get married, live in Europe for a while before coming back home to Seattle. She was the first girl I loved.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The only girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” I finally said, unable to hold it back any longer. It may have been cliché, but it was true—I was sorry. For his loss, for his suffering, because although I had no idea what it was like to have the love of my life die, I knew what it was like to mourn the loss of a dream, of a life planned out, of a love that seemed unbreakable.
“Thank you,” he said, his free hand crossing over his chest so he could cover mine. He squeezed where my fingers rested on his forearm and smiled. “You know there’s a pretty great diner not too far into town, about a twenty-minute drive or so. You should let me take you there sometime. I mean, can you really say you lived a summer in Gold Bar without trying the pie at the Mountain View Diner?”
I laughed, pulling my hand back and tucking a strand of fallen hair behind my ear. “How can I say no to pie?”
Tucker smiled, and finally the mood was lifted. “You can’t.”
The conversation stayed light the rest of the way down, and when we finally hit Momma Von’s cabin we all jumped out of our tubes, walking against the icy current to the bank where she had carved out a little beach among the rocks.
I wrapped myself in one of the towels she’d set up there as everyone made their way up. Tucker and Davie volunteered to drive back and get the trucks along with Zeek, and Julie waved as she trailed behind them. Yvette and Sarah laid out their towels a ways down to soak up the last of the sun before it was gone for the night.
Momma Von sighed as she sidled up beside me, toweling off her hair as her eyes followed mine to the curve of the mountains in the distance.
“You know, I’ve lived out here for twenty-three years now, and this view still takes my breath away.”
I squinted at her with a smile, noting the lines on her face. It was the first time I took the time to appreciate the life that had been lived by the woman who wore them, the stories and memories that etched each one into place.
“This is a healing place, Wren.”
Neither of us said another word, but my mind was heavy as we stood on that bank. I thought of Julie and Zeek, their love so fresh and new—so innocent. And of Tucker and Dani, a young love cut short, the flower not allowed to bloom. Momma Von had loved so many, yet really onlytrulyloved one, and now here she stood next to me, both of us single, but I was the only one alone. She’d filled her life in different ways, and I wondered if I could ever do the same.
I was beginning to realize that there was no one path for love, no right or wrong way. Maybe I wasn’t broken after all, maybe I was only learning to walk on a new kind of path, a gravel road my tender feet had yet to master. And though I knew the night would usher in darker thoughts, ones of failure and uncertainty, I smiled despite them. Because right then, if only for a moment, it felt like everything would be okay.
Iwould be okay.
REQUISITE
req·ui·site
Adjective
Essential : necessary
The sun had set by the time I made it back to my cabin, and I was exhausted as I waved goodbye to Davie and Yvette, who had been anxious to get back to Benjamin all day. It was cute how excited they were to get home, and I tried to imagine having a child who was my world. It was hard to do.
My designs had always been my children. I poured everything into each one of them, building them with pieces of myself. The day a new line launched and I saw customers walking out of our boutique with clothes I’d brought to life with my own hands was the closest experience I had to birthing a newborn.
