by Lia Riley
“Go on.”
I hesitate, but feel the need to be polite. “Okay.” I pull a card and hand it over.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Very interesting. You chose death.”
My vision contracts. “Excuse me?”
She flips the card to face me. No mistaking the skull. “You selected the death card.”
“No.” I fight the urge to double over.
“You did.” She waves it like I’m a dunce. “That means—”
“I’m good. I’m good. Thank you. Good night.” I throw myself out the door while the receptionist is still hollering for me to wait.
Bran is asleep when I let myself in. I can’t wash. I don’t want to turn on the television and wake him. Shit. Shit. I am freaking out. All my good feelings from the afternoon have been smote down with one stupid card.
Death? I don’t believe in tarot, but really? Really? Drawing the death card on the eve of this scary hike? When my premie baby brother is just home from the hospital? My dad is carrying all kinds of stress? What are the odds? Bran looks so peaceful in the dark, his breathing easy, his arms thrown over his head in abandon.
What if it’s him?
No. I physically stamp my foot, get my phone from my purse, and shut myself in the bathroom.
“Peanut?” Dad answers after two rings.
“Everything okay?” I keep my voice light, casual.
“Yeah, great. Jessie’s here, she says hi. Wyatt is nursing.”
“So he’s doing well?”
“Fantastic. He’s packing on the weight. A chowhound.”
I close my eyes. “That’s excellent.”
“Aren’t you in the park?”
“We got a flat, had to spend the night in Mariposa. We’ll hike in tomorrow.”
“All right, stay safe.”
“Always do. And Dad…I love you. A lot.”
“Talia? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Honest. But I don’t think I tell you that enough.”
“I love you too.” His voice deepens with emotion.
“Bye.” I click off the phone. One down.
I text Mom. How are you doing?
The phone buzzes. She answers. Clearly alive.
Busy. Moved into my own place. You’ll have to come visit.
Will do. Talk soon.
Love you.
I rub my thumb over her words before replying. You too.
I creep back into the room and Bran stirs. “Get over here, cuddles.” He opens his arms.
I nestle in and run my hand over his back muscles. He’s so warm. So alive. Impossible he’ll ever be anything besides this vital force.
“I dreamed I lost you.” He murmurs into my hair.
My blood freezes. “Yeah.”
“Kept looking, couldn’t find you.”
Bran, Dad, Wyatt, Mom, Jessie—everyone accounted for.
So maybe the card meant me.
Bran falls asleep again, hard and fast, as is his way. I watch every minute on the clock radio tick past until around 3:56 a.m. when my eyelids finally win out against my sense of impending doom and close.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bran
The next morning Talia is off. Her eyes are dim, with purple bruises ringing underneath.
“Sleep badly?”
“Don’t ask.” She dresses in silence and walks to the door. “Will you deal with the receptionist? I can’t face her this morning.”
“Aw, she wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re right, she was worse.” Talia’s out, the door slamming behind.
I go in to pay up, but the old woman is nowhere to be seen. A man, probably her husband, is there with a wiry beard down his barrel chest, bald on top. He gives us a good discount on account of the plumbing problems.
I fill our thermos with lobby coffee and head back out to the truck, and hand it over to Talia. “Maybe this will help.”
“Doubtful.” She takes a small sip, grimaces, and hands it back.
I know from experience that if a bad mood strikes, there’s nothing for it but time. I get the car to the mechanic, have the wheel patched, and soon we’re on our way to Yosemite again. We follow the narrow road tracing the landscape’s contours, through a valley scarred with the evidence of past forest fires and rockslides.
“See, Captain,” I say, smiling when we pass the national park sign. “We got there eventually.”
She nods, forces her lips up, but her heart’s not in it. We reach the park entrance, pay, and get some tips on current conditions, California’s had an extremely dry winter so the snow is almost nonexistent in the high country, our destination.
“Do you want to stop in the valley first?” I ask.
“Up to you.”
I grip the wheel tighter; looks like she’s committed to keeping this bad attitude. Bloody hell. I want this hike to be special. I’m counting on it. “My idea is to take us up Tioga Road, into the high country. We lost a day with the car, so we won’t be able to poke around Tuolumne Meadows as much as I’d like. I wanted to check out the Pacific Crest Trail, but think we’ll need to save that for a later trip.”
“Whatever suits, this is your rodeo.”
“You make it sound like a death sentence.”
“Why do you say it like that?” She snaps.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I slow, pull off on the shoulder. “You okay?”
Her nod is curt.
“You’re sending lots of mixed signals here.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh, isn’t that girl-speak for everything is wrong?”
Finally, a giggle. “It’s nothing. I’m nervous and stupid and superstitious.”
“Superstitious?”
“On second thought, I will have that coffee.” She grabs the thermos. “Caffeine withdrawal is a bitch.”
I get the nagging sense that’s not the whole story, but she’ll share when she’s ready. If I try to squeeze the truth out, she’ll go limper than a wrung-out rag.
“Okay, we’ll go straight to the Tenaya Canyon trailhead. This time of year, the waterfalls are supposed to be raging, but drought conditions means that things aren’t as they normally are. This is the driest year in the state’s record.” The ranger mentioned there might be a weather system moving in, a 20 percent chance of rain. Enough I’m glad we scored wet-weather gear from Scott and Jessie, but not enough that I’m worried about using it.
We drive up Tioga Road, and there’s a turnout where we can look into the valley. I park at an empty spot and we climb out. There’s a tourist snapping pictures on the far end. Otherwise it’s just us.
“Whoa.” Talia settles a hand on my back.
“Yeah.” Because what else do you say? I’ve seen pictures of this valley since I was a kid, read countless rock climbing mags featuring these very granite walls. The beauty catches in my throat. It’s humbling to be here, in their midst, and glimpse what Muir was on about. Yeah, maybe central California’s valley has lost its wildflowers and grizzly bears, but there is still magic in the world.
“This. This is what I was looking for,” I say.
“Me too,” she whispers.
The other bloke leaves and the road behind us is quiet. It’s a Wednesday, so not a lot of day-tripper traffic going into the high country. We stand in silence and watch the distant Bridalveil Fall pour over the cliff.
“It’s weird, isn’t it, seeing pictures of a place and then seeing it in person?” Talia says after a while. A red-tailed hawk swoops past with a scream as if agreeing with her assertion.
“How do you mean?”
“It’s like I can know something is there, see it in a million pictures, but it’s not right. It’s like we have the exact idea of what it’s supposed to be, how it’s supposed to look, then—you realize, everything you thought you knew—”
“Doesn’t even come close,” I murmur.
She turns and catches my gaze, a slight flush cre
eping over her cheeks.
“That’s how it feels,” I whisper, “looking at you.”
She blinks and the lovely sunrise color deepens, spreads down her neck. “I’m the most ordinary person ever.”
“Says who?”
“My reflection in the mirror every single morning.”
“Tell me what you see.”
Her lips pull south in an embarrassed frown. “Just an average girl. Not a hag face or anything, but not a knockout. The kind of person you’d pass on the street and never notice. Just the usual. Nothing special.”
I stare at her until she squeezes her eyes half-shut like my gaze hurts. “Do you know what I see, when I look at you?”
“Nope. I’ve voodooed you, obviously. I don’t want you to overthink. The illusion might vanish upon reflection.”
I settle my hands on her face so she can’t look anywhere else. “You don’t think I see you?”
Her eyes widen, pupils dilating until my heart sails through the blackness, into the boundless unknown, with no thought for the vanishing shore. “I’d been searching and searching until I saw you, and I didn’t even know it.”
“Searching for a girlfriend?”
“A girlfriend? A fucking girlfriend, Talia? Is that what you think you are to me?”
“I…” Her gaze flicks between my eyes and my mouth.
“You’re home.” She shakes from an invisible wind as I taste her mouth. When she returns the kiss, it’s as if her lips brush over secret stones, rattling my insides with unsettled longing, noiseless promise. “I don’t have the right words to explain my heart, but there’s something infinite at work here. My love is as deep as the roots of these mountains.”
She parts her lips and stares a long moment. “Um, I think you have pretty good words.”
“You deserve better ones.”
“Jesus.” She throws her arms around my neck and buries her face into my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
She draws her head up and gives me a soft kiss. “Being born.”
Talia turns back and climbs into the 4Runner. I stare out over the scoured rock. Once this place was blanketed beneath a glacier. I’ve been to the Antarctic and seen the vast ice sheets. What will happen if they melt further? People don’t want to think about the hard stuff. We need to fight for what’s left, because someday, maybe I’ll have kids with this girl behind me. When I look into their faces, no way will I say, Sorry I couldn’t give you a better world. I was too busy watching TV or Googling stupid shit.
I jump in the truck and start the ignition. “Kids.”
Talia gives me a weird look.
“Want one?”
She startles. “Like this second?”
“No. In the long term.”
“I’m not sure,” she says carefully, as if each word is heavier than the next. “Do you?”
“Sure, someday.”
“I’m afraid to mess one up,” she says with a forced laugh. “I didn’t exactly have a top role model.”
“You’d love them at least.”
“Your parents must love you.”
I shrug. “I guess. If we ever have a kid, I’m going to do better.”
“You will.” She squeezes my leg. “God though. I can’t imagine you with a little girl.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ll grow up and get boyfriends.”
“We’ll make your dad proud, convert to Catholicism.”
“You want a nun for a daughter?”
I shoot her a grin. “Right now I do.”
“Maybe you’ll spare some sympathy for my dad, then.”
“Jesus. You’re right.” I shiver as the realization hits me. “I’m lucky he didn’t murder me while I slept.”
“That’s why he tortured you with Chester.”
“Fucking Chester.”
“Still, it’s cute to watch you get protective over theoretical children. What spurred all this?”
“Don’t know. I just think about us, in the future. In life.”
“Yeah.” She fiddles with her seat belt. A nervous tic. Shit. Probably thinks I’m about to throw out another not-a-marriage sales pitch. The proposal I gave her last year as a way to keep her in Australia. Keep her with me. It was a mistake. One I’ve regretted a hundred times over. I only have one chance to do right by her on this.
“Look at that.” A lake comes into view, bluer than the sky if that’s possible.
“Tenaya Lake.”
“This place is unreal.”
“It means we’re almost there.” She looks at the map. “The trailhead is just up ahead.”
“You ready for adventure?”
“We who are about to die salute you.”
“Gallows humor, I like it.”
“Then I’m your gal.”
We park and unload. I put all the heavy stuff in my pack, leave Talia with her clothes, her sleeping bag and our snacks. I have the tent, stove, and the majority of the drinking water.
“I’ll hold on to the map if that’s cool,” she says, tucking it into the drink pouch on the side of the bag.
“Okay, but do me a favor and put it in the top pocket. Zip it tight. We’ll need that. Navigation might be tricky at a few points.”
“I can barely read a compass.”
I puff out my chest. “Stick with me, little lady.”
She wanders around, spreading out all her stuff, before packing it back up.
“You are delaying.”
“You’re right.” She throws stuff in the backpack, tosses it on, and tightens the waist strap. “I love you.”
“You’re not saying that in case they’re your last words, are you?”
She flinches. “Why do you say that?”
“You seem worried, but look around. You’ve got a great day. Great scenery. A great guide.”
“That’s quite the advertisement.”
I bend to tighten my boots. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
She gives me a weird look. “Um, okay, but we only floated the idea like a little while ago.”
“Yeah, well, you know. A lot’s happened.” I check my own pack. Make sure I’ve got everything I need. I look up and she gives me an uncertain smile. She’s nervous, but only about the hike. She has no idea.
I wipe my palms on my pants. “Let’s get going.”
She pats the bonnet of the truck. “See you on the flip side, old buddy.”
Our route will take us down a steep grade into the main valley. We should spit out right beneath Half Dome. The mountain is visible at the mouth of the canyon, far below our viewpoint in one of the highest parts of the park. Once we reach the end a shuttle will return us back here where we started.
She pulls out her phone. “Quick picture.” She poses beside me, tilts her head against my shoulder. “Success. Neither of us blinked. I can’t believe it.” She peers at the screen. “Hey, we even have one bar of cell phone reception.”
“That’s depressing.”
“No way. I’m glad for service.”
“Got to make a bunch of calls, do you?”
“No, but if I go ass over teakettle off a cliff, you can call for help.”
“But you’ll have the phone.”
“Shit, you’re right, and yours is broken. Crap, here, better you carry it.”
“Settle down, Captain.”
“No, really. Please.”
“Hold your own phone.”
“It would make me feel way better.” She is pleading. “I wreck stuff. I can’t be trusted.”
“Fine.” I want to get going more than I want to argue, be on the trail before she starts to panic. Sure, there will be some challenges ahead, but I know she’s up for it; we both are.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Talia
Bran keeps us moving past the areas of greatest exposure. He holds my hand more times than I’m proud to admit, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s midweek so the place is q
uiet. We break for lunch on a wide, flat rock. A woman appears from around the corner, the first person we’ve seen since starting our hike.
“Hello.” She waves. Her accent is French. Turns out she’s Swiss and hiked up from the valley.
“How is it?” Bran asks.
She shrugs. “You’ve got rope. That’s good. A few parts are tricky, but in this weather.” She shrugs. “No problem. I’d hate to do it in low visibility though. Easy to get turned around.”
“Weather looks fine.”
She takes a long swig from her drink bottle, wanders to the edge, and looks out. She’s the kind of badass woman that I’d love to be. The kind of girl maybe Bran deserves. But he’s smiling at me, not her.
“What?” I murmur.
“You’re doing well.”
I roll my eyes.
“Hey, you are doing something that scares you.”
“Don’t like heights?” The hiker glances back before checking her watch.
“Not so much.”
She frowns. “It gets more exposed.”
My heart’s dull thud reverberates to the soles of my boots. “Really?”
She nods. “But like I said, good weather. You’ll do fine.”
I take a bite out of my apple as she leaves, and choke. My throat is too dry.
“Don’t worry about her,” Bran says, patting my back.
I cough. “She thought it was a challenge. Did you see her? She was half mountain goat.”
“Remember, one foot at a time, and breathe.”
“I’m an anxious freak, remember?”
“What’s the story you want to tell about yourself?” he asks.
“That I’m brave. Confident. Strong. Up to facing challenges and pushing through. If I get knocked on my ass I know when to keep going, or when to try another direction.”
He tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “That’s a sight better than anxious freak.”
“That fact still undercuts everything I do.”
He stares at me, expression unreadable.
No more doom and gloom. “I did make a decision.”
“Okay.” He’s hesitant.
“Whatever happens with the radio job gig, I want to move to the city, to San Francis—”
“We don’t have to—”
“I know you feel like you want me to make a decision based on myself, but really? That’s not how we should operate. In this case, you’ve got an awesome opportunity, a way to launch a career away from your family. Maybe someday you’ll help with the foundation’s work, but if you’re not ready, why not go with Zavtra? Squillionaires offering dream jobs don’t happen every day.”