On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5)

by Riordan Hall, Deirdre

  In the middle of the night, Baskia woke in a sweat, worried she was going to have to explain Wes to Trace. But no, he’d have to trust her being friends with a guy; Wes needed a sister. As she heard him stir in the living room and quietly exit, she knew it would never be anything more.

  ^^^

  When Baskia pulled up to the nursing home, she hefted the crock-pot in one arm and a reusable grocery bag in the other. She didn’t see Wes’s truck in the lot. At the reception desk, she quickly told the nurse her plan, suddenly worried about rules and regulations.

  “Oh, my dear, don’t you worry about a thing. You’ve made every nurse and doctor in this place’s day. No one ever visits Maisy. And Wes’s shouldered the burden on his own. Poor kid. Come with me, I’ll show you the way.”

  When the nurse left to get a folding table and chairs from the day room, Baskia looked at the sleeping girl. Her hair was long and dark blonde, surrounding her thin face. She wondered how much it had grown while she lay there. Her expression was peaceful, of a girl dreaming, planning to move mountains. Baskia swallowed hard, desperate to talk to her, but afraid of her stillness. She rounded to the side of the bed.

  She cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m Baskia. A friend of Wes’s. Can you smell that? It’s home—” she said, gazing at the pot of baked beans.

  “It sure is.”

  Baskia turned to see Wes framed in the doorway. His hands were in his pockets. “I’d know that smell anywhere.”

  “It turns out Patty had your mother’s recipe. Of all things. I guess they’d traded years ago at a church function or something. I thought you could use a taste and scent of home.” Baskia got to her feet as the nurse came in and set up the table. Baskia spread a cloth from her bag over it and set out three bowls and spoons. “Just in case,” she said when Wes eyed the third bowl. “You can’t give up hope.” She almost wanted to take the words back, afraid she’d crossed a line. She pulled her camera out to snap a few photos. “Do you mind? Do you think she’d mind?”

  Wes’s sister was beautiful, an angel surrounded by white linens, her fair skin and hair illuminated by the soft afternoon light.

  “Are you going to put that on your blog?” he asked in an uncertain tone.

  “If that’s okay? She’s still with us, Wes.”

  “But you haven’t had to endure this like I have.”

  “Exactly. Let me share the burden. Let me help you keep her with us.”

  “You don’t even know—”

  “I don’t, but I’m offering. I will sit with her when you can’t. I can keep her company too.” Baskia didn’t even know what she was saying until the words were out of her mouth. The girl, though she was easily a few years older than Wes, was so tranquil, vulnerable, and yet very much alive. Baskia wanted to be with her. “Please.”

  Wes took an angry bite from his bowl of beans. As he chewed, the hard set of his features softened. He scooped another bite and another, until the bowl was empty. When he emptied his second bowl, he released a long sigh. “Thank you.”

  ^^^

  The weeks passed as winter blew out its last storms with Baskia and Wes alternately visiting Maisy. She brought all the leftovers from her kitchen endeavors with Patty to share with the nurses, along with telling them about her blog, gaining a few new followers.

  One evening, on her drive home, Mellie’s name appeared on her voicemail. She listened to the message.

  “Hey, it’s almost spring break, which means it’s almost your birthday. I’m going to Mexico and want you to come with me. It’s going to be a blast. Call me back tonight.”

  Baskia pulled over, shocked, not only by the request, but also by the lightness in Mellie’s voice. She almost sounded drunk, but Baskia knew Mellie only sipped wine socially, unless Will had gotten her into partying. Baskia tried the number, but it went to voicemail.

  She stopped off at the market to pick up a few items, still processing Mellie’s call. The girl behind the counter, Daniella, wore a long-sleeve, graphic shirt with a neon heart that stretched over her round belly. Baskia wondered what her story was, but then reasoned she could probably turn on the reality TV show Teen Moms to find out. They eyed each other warily when Baskia put her groceries on the counter.

  “You’re still here, huh?” Daniella asked in a flat tone.

  “So are you,” Baskia shot back.

  The girl laughed, breaking the ice. “Obviously, I’m not going anywhere, not fast anyway.” She looked down at her belly.

  “When are you due?” Baskia asked.

  “This summer.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “Surprise. I don’t like surprises, but this little bugger started as one, so why not go all in.”

  “Go all in. Totally. I think I’d do the same.” Baskia lingered, wanting to say more. “I’m not trying to be nosy—”

  “Be nosy. I’d rather answer questions myself than be the object of rumors or nasty stares.”

  “Fair enough. How old are you?”

  “Too young.”

  “Where’s the dad?”

  “Left town and good thing too,” Daniella said dismissively.

  “Sometimes a baby changes people, maybe he’d come around as a father.”

  “I’d rather do this on my own.”

  “How about your family?”

  “They kicked me out. Said I was an embarrassment. But everyone in town knows about it and about what they did, so I’d say they’re the embarrassment.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Like I said, I want to do this myself.”

  Baskia wasn’t convinced. Despite her defiant scowl and the ring in her nose, the girl looked terrified and hungry. Baskia had the sudden desire to sweep her up and bring her back to Patty’s, but her ringing phone interrupted them. Mellie’s name appeared. “I have to go. Take care of yourself.”

  Outside, juggling a couple bags of food, Baskia answered her cell phone. “Mellie!”

  “Hey, Baskia. What’s up?” the expression sounded strange coming through the phone in Mellie’s tone; as if the a foreign dignitary had said, “Hey, let’s hang.”

  “What’s up? Uh. Just picked up some things, I’m learning the joy of food and cookery. What are you doing?”

  She went on to describe a party at a frat. Laughter and loud music cut through the line. “It’s almost your birthday. You may not be a college student, but we all need a break. What do you say? My treat?”

  Money was never an issue for either of them, but Mellie’s offer to take Baskia on spring break had her curious. Plus, she wanted to mend things between them and find out if Mellie was interested in Wes.

  “I’ll email you all the details. ’Kay?”

  “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

  “Will? No, not much. I gotta run. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Say you’ll come. It’s going be so fun!”

  Baskia wasn’t sure what to make of Mellie’s call. But if she could change from being a wild child with a bottle of champagne permanently glued to her hand, into a woman versed in the culinary arts, it wasn’t impossible to imagine Mellie going from reserved to outrageous, except that it was.

  ^^^

  Sitting in the warmth of the farmhouse kitchen, Baskia told Patty all about Mellie’s invitation.

  “Honey, if I could travel to Mexico, I would. Or France, Italy... I want to visit Thailand. Oh, we should make a Thai dish. We had a student on exchange one year. She taught me how to prepare—”

  Although Baskia was interested, she thought about Mary, the librarian, and her wish to travel abroad, to return to Italy. She wondered if they’d make good travel companions. Then she thought of Daniella, all alone and due in August. She wondered about her pregnancy and how they may all fit together. Possibilities and celebrations bloomed in her mind. “We haven’t done much in the way of dessert.”

  “I know, and a certain someone has a birthday coming up.”

  “If I go to Mexico, I’ll be away. But I had an idea...�
�� She relayed her budding plan to Patty.

  “You are turning into quite the good Samaritan.”

  “It’ll be nice. A small party, nothing fancy.”

  “Usually the birthday girl doesn’t make the dessert.”

  “I’m not your usual kind of birthday girl.”

  “No, I dare say you’re not,” Patty said with a chuckle.

  By day, the two heated up the farmhouse kitchen with both ovens running, perfecting an apple pie recipe and pumpkin pie, because Baskia couldn’t settle on one; they were both equally delicious. The same was true for the cannolis and tiramisu.

  “Now, let’s drizzle these with the chocolate,” Patty said, passing Baskia a pastry bag.

  Baskia held the bag awkwardly.

  “Don’t be shy,” Patty said. “What’s the signature of a good cook?”

  “Fearlessness and love.”

  “Yes. And one more thing,” Patty said. Her plump cheeks lifted into a smile.

  “Uh…” She neatly tried to drizzle the topping over the cannolis. She watched as Patty sprinkled a thick layer of cocoa dust over the tiramisu.

  “The signature of a good cook is the ability to play with your food. Have fun. Go on,” she said, nudging Baskia. After blobbing a few of the cannoli shells with chocolate, she got the hang of it, drizzling like a pro.

  “Okay, Bakerella. It’s time for you to scram and duplicate these in your own kitchen,” Patty said, shooing Baskia toward the door. “I have work to do.”

  “Wait, what will we do with this much—”

  “The freezer. Save the leftovers for a rainy day.”

  By night, Baskia prepared for her trip, packing bathing suits and little else. Although it was almost spring, the winter dragged on up north, and she was glad to be able to break free from it. She was also thankful her work on the treadmill kept her fit, plus the real food Patty had taught her to cook was a major step up, nutritionally, from the food she’d previously subsisted on.

  That weekend, she loaded the desserts in her car, hoping everyone had accepted her invitation. Arriving early at the nursing home, she set up the table as before, this time loaded with sweets.

  “It’s almost my nineteenth birthday,” Baskia said to Maisy.

  The girl was as still as ever in the bed.

  Baskia sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll have to ask Wes when your birthday is. We can have a party for you too.”

  Just then, Daniella peered around the edge of the door. “Hey,” she whispered. A tight t-shirt, with the word Roar emblazoned across her chest, stretched around her little, round belly.

  “Thanks for coming to my party,” Baskia said.

  Wes entered then and sat down near his sister. Mary, the librarian, followed with a polite wave.

  “We’re just waiting for Patty,” Baskia said, unsure how to explain her caper.

  Moments later, the lights in the room went out and singing echoed down the hall. Patty appeared in the doorway, holding a cake aloft, leading a parade of nurses and several of the folks Baskia had gotten to know at the nursing home. They sang happy birthday to her before Patty said, “Make a wish.”

  Baskia was about to wish that she’d discover what her heart desired, but right then, the longing, the need to know her purpose was absent. She was content just to be in the moment. Warmth filled her heart. She blew out the candles, wishing Maisy would wake up and be okay.

  “I want to thank you all for coming and celebrating with me. I’m usually spoiled on my birthday, trips, clothes, last year I got the new iPad, an iPhone, and—well never mind. This year I wanted to do something a little different. All of you have influenced me in profound ways. You’ve showed me what it is to be a friend and to have hope. You’ve shown me generosity, illuminated the places in my life that needed filling, and helped me do it. I’m thankful.”

  Everyone beamed.

  “Wes, your friendship and sharing your sister’s story with me, means the world. And I promise I will sit with her, when you can’t, until she wakes up. Patty, not only have you taught me how to cook, but you’ve shown me what it is to be a mother, even when your own children have gone. Mary, you’ve brought me back to books, which may be the very thing that got this big transformation started. Daniella, you’re so brave, but I also know that you don’t have to go it alone. I can think of one woman who would love to have a daughter close by and another who could really use a travel companion.”

  Baskia passed each of the three women an envelope with a ticket to Italy including an itinerary for a week’s stay. They started to protest, but Baskia interrupted. “Daniella needs to see a bit of the world, and I think you do too. I want to know if my cannolis and tiramisu are as good as the real thing. Plus, I can’t be the only one ditching winter. Mexico awaits.

  “Wes, I’ll be back with a full report on Mellie.” She winked at him. “And all of you, sometimes people carry burdens greater than’s fair, but they carry them with grace. You’ve shown me that. You’ve given me strength when I felt lost, guided me home. Thank you.”

  Everyone erupted into cheers. She was sure there were a few eyes, wet with tears, as the group pulled Baskia in for a collective hug.

  “Now for cake,” Patty called, preparing to slice into the impressive creation. “You see, it’s a mountain.”

  Baskia admired the mounded cakes, with candied, rocky detail and little frosted pine trees. A winding road ran around the circumference leading to the top where a cabin rested along with a little figure with blond hair, her arms stretched wide. “That’s me.”

  “That’s you. Queen of the mountain,” Patty echoed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The night before Baskia was leaving for the airport, she pulled out her journal, eager to chronicle her birthday party, although Mellie promised her another on the actual day, at the resort. Up until then, she’d scoffed at expressions of sentimentality, but she supposed she’d simply never felt the warm fuzzy glow before.

  If she’d been able to ask the person she was six months prior if she expected to be friends with a senior librarian, a pregnant teen, a mother whose chicks had left the nest, and a woodsman who deeply grieved, she would have laughed in her face. But those four people showed her sincere kindness and taught her more than anyone had in her life, combined.

  She wrote in the journal until her hand ached and then started a new list.

  The signature of a good cook: these ingredients work well both in the kitchen and in life.

  1. Be fearless.

  2. Always add love.

  3. Be playful.

  Satisfied, she set the alarm, ready to leave the mountain, but assured she’d return.

  ^^^

  After the long flight landed her in Cancun, Baskia navigated the familiar airport, having landed there a few times. She thought of London and their wild days that melted into nights, hoping Mellie hadn’t picked up any bad habits. Traveling to one of the epicenters of spring break chaos was so far from anything Mellie had ever done. Curiosity and worry pricked at Baskia as she gathered her luggage. But when the doors to the terminal whooshed open, streaming in bright sunshine—not frigid air—she considered maybe it had been the best idea yet.

  The Aqua Viva resort was an all-inclusive that jutted out on the little spit of land off the Mexican coast into the Caribbean. The blue water meeting the blue sky, and the palm trees blowing gently in the breeze, inflated Baskia with new breath after the long winter in the north. She checked in and texted Mellie who responded right away.

  Come find me by the pool. So glad you made it.

  Mellie had been a competitive swimmer in high school, but Baskia never knew her to lounge poolside, no less with a fruity drink in hand and wearing a bikini. But that was exactly how she found her, sunglasses and all. Shockingly, she was toned and tanned. Mellie jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around Baskia, still wearing her clothes from the plane.

  “Isn’t this great?” Mellie said. “But it’ll be even better whe
n you get your bikini on and get your butt back down here.”

  Who are you and what did you do with Mellie Winthrop? Baskia wanted to ask, but kept quiet. After all, Baskia was no stranger to the lifestyle; maybe her oldest friend was just late arriving to the party.

  After freshening up, Baskia returned to the pool where Mellie excitedly introduced her to friends from her sorority at Harvard.

  “This is Ilana, Allison, and Becca,” Mellie said, gesturing to a girl with long, dark hair and a full chest, a skinny strawberry blonde in desperate need of a tan or sunblock, and a blonde who looked right at home in the spring break scene. Despite their Harvard pedigree, the four girls gabbed about how eager they were to party and meet guys. “I just wanted to do something different this year, something daring,” Mellie said quietly to Baskia.

  After another round of drinks arrived, relaxing Baskia, Becca asked, “So where do you go to school?”

  Mellie looked at her expectantly, her expression vaguely like Anne’s. Baskia hadn’t thought about college since January when she went forward with her quest for independence and self-sufficiency. She flinched as if her answer translated into how Mellie’s friends would regard her. “I’m starting Columbia next fall,” she answered quickly.

  “Baskia took a year off,” Mellie said helpfully.

  “Have you been backpacking around Europe or Asia? My brother did that, and he had the best experience. He even met his fiancé,” Allison said.

  “She’s actually already been around the world,” Mellie said. “She’s a model.” If her nontraditional year off school had made the girls question her credibility, this factor intrigued them.

  On that beach under the Mexican sun, as coeds cheered and hooted in the background, a year in a cabin in the woods—learning to start fires, cook, be a better friend, and just be still—felt like the best education she could have ever gotten. Baskia relayed her modeling career. She avoided describing life on the mountain; it seemed unexplainable. Meanwhile, Mellie ordered yet another round of drinks.