by Karey White
“Sorry. I should have asked if you were thirsty.”
“It’s no big deal. Just feeling a little parched.”
Silas pulled the water out of the backpack and handed her one. They each took a long drink then Celia handed hers back to him.
“Thanks.”
As Silas put the bottles back in the pack, Celia moved out in front of him. He watched as she pulled herself over the boulders and around the difficult stretch of the trail. A few loose rocks gave way under their feet and slid down the hill, taking his perfect plan with them.
“Come this way and I’ll show you where they set up camp.” They left the trail and Silas led the way to what had been the campground. “They had two hammocks set up here.” They retraced the steps Silas had taken when he’d followed the woman to the cliff to see where her husband was. They stood together at the top and Celia leaned in when he pointed to the ledge. “He was right there.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t die,” Celia said.
“He hung on there for almost three hours.”
Celia shook her head. “I wonder if he’s scared of heights now.”
“He is if he’s smart.”
Silas knew of a good place to watch the falls—one that was close enough to feel the spray on their faces when the breeze blew toward them. They sat together on a rock and Silas handed Celia a banana.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Celia said after she ate a few bites. “I could sit here forever.”
“Except this rock is p-pretty hard.”
Celia bumped against him with her shoulder. “I’m serious. This is so nice.”
“Do you ever miss Chicago?”
Celia shook her head. “There’s nothing there to miss.”
“I thought Chicago would be an interesting p-place.” Usually Silas was aware of every stutter, every potential trap in his speech, but he barely noticed his impediment any more when he was with Celia. She made him think of other things.
“I guess it’s an interesting place to visit if you’ve never been there. But I’ll never go back.”
“How long did you live there?”
“All my life.” Celia’s mood had turned serious. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Silas wanted to ask more questions, but her faraway look stopped him. He let the peacefulness of the area settle around them before he spoke again.
“I’m glad you chose Sisters.”
Celia tilted her head and looked at him, a smile on her face. Then she sat up straighter and linked her arm through his, resting her hand on his wrist as she leaned against him. “Me too.”
Silas was so stunned he wasn’t sure what to do, so at first he held very still, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. He needed to do something to return the show of affection, but he was afraid he’d do the wrong thing. Finally, he lightly patted her hand with his then left it resting on hers.
They sat like that—listening to the water, feeling the spray, settling into the beauty of the setting. They weren’t exactly holding hands, but it was close enough that Silas felt elated. The future was full of promise. He wanted to lift her chin and kiss her, right here in this perfect setting. But he wasn’t a guy who could pull off a move like that, so instead, he rested his cheek against her hair and tried to breathe like a normal man would.
Celia’s right leg began to tingle as it fell asleep. Celia stretched it in front of her and turned her foot in a circle, trying to get rid of the sensation of needles poking it.
“If we sit here much longer, you might have to carry me down the hill.”
Silas laughed. “I guess we’d better get moving.”
Celia was sad to leave this peaceful spot, sad to no longer be so close to Silas, sorry his hand wasn’t on hers. She liked his quiet steadiness, his willingness to be still. He didn’t bombard her with questions and demand explanations. He asked enough to show he was curious and interested, but was willing to follow her lead. He seemed to sense when she couldn’t say more.
When they reached a steep, rocky part of the trail, he held his hand up to help her over the rocks. She was disappointed that when the trail leveled out, he let go.
It was early afternoon when they arrived back in Sisters. Celia loved the picturesque street that led through town. It hadn’t taken long to learn her way around and as they passed the small businesses and restaurants, she felt a calming familiarity. They saw Ellis as he headed into the bank. He waved and smiled and a hard lump settled in her throat. The feeling was probably irrational—she had read that emotions were intensified when you’re pregnant, and she certainly believed it—but Celia felt an overpowering sense of belonging. This little town felt like home to her in a way nowhere else ever had.
She looked at Silas with a question when he drove past the street that led home.
“I’m hungry. I thought we could get a hamburger.”
“Oh. Sure.” It was a much better idea than going home and eating leftovers or a sandwich, and it would prolong their time together. Celia would have agreed even if she weren’t hungry.
They ate cheeseburgers under a blue and white striped umbrella at Sno Cap. A woman named Irene that Celia had met at church stopped by to say hello. Two young children ate ice cream cones beside her.
“I told the kids if they would help me plant flowers this morning, we’d come get ice cream.”
“Looks like your plan worked,” Celia said.
“I should have thrown cleaning their bedrooms into the bargain. Anyway, hopefully we’ll see you Sunday. They’re having a potluck after services. You should stay for that.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks.”
When they returned to the car after lunch, Silas didn’t turn on the Jeep immediately. He rested his hands on the steering wheel and looked out the windshield. Celia thought he might want to say something, so she waited. “Do you need to get home for anything?” he finally asked.
Celia tried to act nonchalant. Was it possible he wanted their time together to continue as much as she did? “I’ve got no other plans today.”
“Have you ever been to Eugene?”
Celia laughed. “If it’s not between Sisters and Bend, I haven’t been there. Oh, except Tumalo Falls.”
Silas started the Jeep. “Eugene has a good ice cream place.”
Celia laughed and pointed at Sno Cap. “I think we already ate at a good ice cream place.”
“True. B-but I was thinking of a road trip.”
Celia buckled her seat belt. “I think I like road trips. Especially if we’re not on a Greyhound bus.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Soon they were headed out of town on a road Celia had never seen.
“What is this road-trip worthy ice cream place called?”
Silas grinned. “You would ask that.”
“What? You don’t know the name?” Celia asked.
“Yes, I do. But it’s not easy for me to say.”
Celia wanted him to feel so relaxed with her that he could speak as easily as he did when he was with his aunt. Even though that hadn’t happened yet, she was glad he seemed comfortable talking about it.
“You know you don’t have to worry about that with me.”
“I know.” He sounded like he meant it.
“So you should tell me.”
Silas pulled onto the road. “P-Prince P-P-Pucklers.” The muscles in his face worked hard to push out the sounds.
Celia almost snort-laughed. “Prince Pucklers?”
Silas nodded. “Don’t laugh. They have good ice cream.”
“Good. They’d better have with that name. I don’t think you were worried about having trouble saying the words. I think you were embarrassed to say the words ‘Prince Pucklers.’”
Silas laughed. “That’s it. You caught me. Speech camp would say I should tell you the name over and over until I can say it right.”
“Speech camp?”
Silas turned off the radio as the station was overtaken with static. “I went to a c
amp in Washington. For stutterers.” He spoke slower, as if talking about it made him more careful.
“What was that like?”
Silas told her about the three weeks he had spent at Camp Rock Ridge. “It didn’t cure me, b-but I think it helped. Gave me some tricks to use.”
“What kind of tricks?”
“Slow down. Re-route. That’s when you figure out a different way to say something so you can avoid your triggers.”
“What are your triggers?”
“Hard consonants mostly.” He was careful and deliberate as he spoke. “Ms and p-ps and bs. And sometimes s is hard. It’s like my mouth gets stuck.”
Celia nodded. “Are there other tricks?”
Silas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t want him to be annoyed, so she softened her question with a smile.
“Think and plan ahead what you want to say.”
Celia jabbed him lightly with her elbow. “So where are we going?”
Silas smiled and shook his head, but spoke slowly. “We’re going to Eugene for ice cream at P-Prince P-Pucklers.”
“I’m sorry, I missed that. Where are we going?”
Silas laughed. “We’re going to Eugene for ice cream at Prince P-Pucklers.”
Celia shook her head and pointed at her ear. “I must be hard of hearing. Could you say that one more time?”
“Jerk.”
“I heard that.”
“Good.” Silas was in a good mood despite the name calling. “We’re going to... Prince... Pucklers.”
“Awesome. A friend of mine said they have really good ice cream.” Celia turned slightly in her seat so she was facing him. “Seriously though, was it hard? I mean when you were growing up.”
Silas shrugged. “Yeah. But everyone has hard things.” He looked at Celia. “Like you and your mom.”
Celia looked at her hands and nodded. “Yeah.”
Silas reached over and covered her hand with his. “Tell me about her.”
Celia turned her hand over in his and held it. Her eyes studied the scattered freckles and veins on the back of his hand. “There’s not that much to tell. She chose drugs instead of me.”
Silas was thoughtful for a minute before he asked, “What’s your b-best memory?”
Celia thought. “Probably bedtime when I was really little, before she got messed up. She almost always read me a book—something about how many kisses it takes to say goodnight, or something like that. I loved that book. It said something about ears being like roses and I thought that was so cool. I’d always touch the ridges in my ear and imagine it was a rose, a yellow one. Then she’d kiss my ears and my eyes and my nose before she’d turn off the light.”
“What else?”
Celia let her mind travel back through time. “She always told me I was smart. Even when she was a disaster. She said I’d never be screwed up and alone with a child to take care of because I was too smart to let that happen.” Celia swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry as it hit her that she was more like her mother than she had ever wanted to be.
Silas asked more questions, and maybe because his voice was gentle and he held her hand, Celia answered. She told him about when her mom had dragged her all over town looking for “the man who had some medicine she needed.” Celia had been so tired she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. When Celia had started to cry, her mother had shaken her shoulders and asked her why she didn’t care about anyone but herself. When they finally found the man in a filthy apartment that smelled like rotten food, he had yelled at her mother for bringing her punk kid with her because he wanted the kind of payment she couldn’t give with a kid there. Her mom had left her sitting in that terrifying, dirty kitchen while she had gone in the bedroom with the man. When they finally went home, her mom was happy and laughing and said that tomorrow Celia could skip school so they could sleep in and then play at the park, her way of trying to make up for the miserable night.
“I’m sorry,” Silas said when she stopped talking.
“It could have been worse,” Celia said.
“How?”
“It sounds awful, but I think it would have been worse if she had lived. At least when she died, I got to live for almost a whole year with the Hundleys. They were good, kind people. That makes me sound like a terrible person.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Celia looked at him, surprised. She had always felt so guilty about the relief she had felt when her mother finally died.
“It doesn’t?”
“It m-makes you sound like a little girl who needed rescued.”
“The Hundleys definitely rescued me.” Celia told Silas about the Hundleys, especially Myra. “She was a good mother to me. It about killed me when they had to move, but at least I was there long enough to see what a real family was like. And to learn how to pray.”
They settled into a pleasant quiet the last few miles before they got to Eugene. Celia had never shared so much about herself, and she suspected Silas had shared more than he usually did, as well. They had both been through terrible things. Even though their challenges had been different, they seemed to understand each other, and Celia wasn’t sorry she had told him so much.
Without thinking about it, she rested her free hand on her stomach. Part of her wanted to tell Silas about the baby growing inside her. She longed for him to know what had happened to her. Would he be as kind and understanding about that? Would he hold her hand and try to make her feel better or would that be the wedge that would drive him away? It was one thing to overlook the damage inflicted on a neglected little girl. Would he feel differently about the damage that had been done to her by Damien? Someday soon he would find out, whether Celia told him or not. Maybe she should tell him and be done with it. If he couldn’t handle it, she wanted to know so she wouldn’t allow her feelings for him to grow any stronger.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “So—”
“Here we are,” Silas said at the same time.
They pulled into Prince Puckler’s and Silas squeezed her hand before he let go to turn off the Jeep.
“How did you find this place?” Celia asked as they stood in line looking at the flavor board.
“Aunt Nancy brought me here after we went to a Ducks game.”
“Ducks?”
“That’s the m-mascot of The University of Oregon.”
“Who picks a duck to be their mascot?”
“Careful. We like our ducks.”
Celia held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, ducks are great. Nothing more intimidating than a duck waddling toward you.” Celia turned back to the flavor board. “What do you think I should get?”
“Whatever sounds good.” They stepped up to the counter.
“Have you tried the Mandarin chocolate?” Silas shook his head. “Have you?” Celia asked the girl behind the counter.
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ll get that,” said Celia. “In a waffle cone.”
The girl entered the order into the cash register and turned to Silas. “And you?”
“I’ll take strawberry.”
While the server rang up their order, Celia turned to Silas. “Tell me we didn’t drive for two hours so you could order strawberry ice cream.”
Silas laughed. “I like it.”
“Is that what you had the day you came to the game?” There had to be an explanation for this generic selection after an ice cream road trip.
“No. I had mint Oreo that day.”
“Well, mint Oreo sounds a little more worthy of coming this far. Doesn’t BJ’s have strawberry ice cream? Right there in Sisters?”
Silas pretended to be annoyed. “Yeah. I like theirs, too. B—but this is what I wanted, so enjoy your exotic flavor and I’ll enjoy mine.”
“Yours is hardly exotic.” Celia licked her ice cream cone as they walked to a table by the window. “Mmm, this is fantastic.”
“So is this. Want a bit
e?” Silas held out his cone filled with pale pink ice cream dotted with bright strawberries.
“No thanks.” Celia eyed Silas suspiciously. “Are you asking me because you want some of mine? ’Cause I wouldn’t blame you since I ordered better than you.”
“I was trying to be nice. I don’t want any of yours.”
Celia raised an eyebrow. “You can have yours. If I want any strawberry ice cream, I’ll get it in Sisters. Maybe at the grocery store.”
Silas shook his head but he was smiling.
The restaurant had been busy, loud and cold, and the afternoon heat felt good when they walked out to the sidewalk. Instead of walking to the Jeep, they strolled down the street, stretching their legs and checking out the eclectic shops.
“It wasn’t just about the ice cream,” Silas said.
“What?”
“I like strawberry ice cream, b-but I didn’t suggest we come to Eugene for the ice cream.” Celia gave him a questioning look. “I wasn’t ready to take you home yet.”
Celia’s lips curled into a smile and her insides began a fierce round of calisthenics. She felt him glancing at her and she found it hard to catch her breath, but a confession like that deserved some kind of response.
Celia caught his hand in hers and squeezed it. “It was a really good idea.”
It was dark when Silas pulled into Aunt Nancy’s driveway. Silas couldn’t remember a day he had enjoyed more. The afternoon had flown by as they held hands and laughed and talked. Celia was different than any girl he’d known. She kept him on his toes because she constantly surprised him. One minute she’d be lost in her thoughts and serious and the next she’d crack a joke. She seemed reserved and shy but then she’d elbow him or take his hand. He liked so much about her.
But even more than that, he liked himself better when she was around. He almost forgot about his stutter when they were together, and when he did get hung up on a word, he didn’t feel the usual embarrassment or humiliation. She treated it like it was just another trait. Silas has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s tall and lanky. He has long fingers and big feet and a stutter. He liked how Celia teased him and made him laugh. It made his heart swell like an inflated balloon when she opened up and told him her secrets, because he knew she didn’t share those things easily. He felt protective of her and wanted to assure her that the pain of her past was behind her and good things lay ahead of them.