She’d initially planned to head to Estes and hit a little bar she knew there, but, as she drove, she thought of the very first trail she’d ever finished hiking as a child. She and her father had climbed it together for the first time when she was about six years old. Her sisters had never been outdoorsy, by any stretch, and while he’d made the others go occasionally, she and her father had often camped and hiked together alone when she was a kid.
After a moment’s debate, she pulled into the parking lot for the trail—deserted now that the sun had set. She climbed out of the Beetle and opened the trunk, searching around beneath boxes of promotional materials for the brewery. At the very bottom of one pile of junk, she found the black duffel bag she kept handy for hiking and camping and, after rooting around in it, found her headlamp. She strapped it on, lighted it, and headed up the trail, nearly jogging.
By the time she made it to the top of the first long hill, she felt better. She paused at the branch that signaled the beginning of two trails, breathing heavily from exertion, and as she caught her breath, she peered into the dark woods around her. She’d come up here a few times for full-moon hikes over the years, but never when it was like this—almost pitch-black. The headlamp’s light barely penetrated the dark beyond the ten- or fifteen-foot circle of light she was standing in. Reaching up, she turned off the headlamp and was immediately plunged into the kind of darkness that exists only in places far from the city lights. She peered up into the sky, marveling at the Milky Way and the bright stars above her. She stood there for a long time, letting the sight calm her, her insignificance always so poignant in the face of eternity.
Her headlamp had a low-light setting, and after turning it on, she continued on the shorter trail. She stepped lightly, hoping to see animals, and a moment later, as she rounded a bend, she managed to see an owl taking flight into the woods. She smiled. The joy of nature was so fulfilling, so startling every time she came face-to-face with it. She glimpsed several more animals in the woods—a fox, a raccoon, a porcupine, all of whom fled from the light, but the owl remained her best sighting of the night.
The last stretch of the trail was very short but very steep, and she paused at the bottom, considering her options. She wasn’t exactly dressed for a rock scramble. Aside from her nice clothes, she was wearing her newest Converse sneakers—not exactly hiking boots. Still, she was this close, and it felt silly to turn around now. She took a deep breath and starting climbing, slipping a little here and there, but happy to find that the trail wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated.
When the little stone lookout cabin finally appeared, she felt a familiar sense of triumph. The trail she’d just hiked was designed for families with small kids—it was short and had a Nature Trail pamphlet you could follow along with, but it was still somewhat difficult, especially in the dark. She suddenly remembered the first time she’d seen this little cabin with her father. She’d been incredibly proud of herself, hooting and hollering as she raced toward the small building. Her father had laughed along with her.
In their living room growing up, a large photograph of the two of them from that first hike had hung on the wall for several years. Then, one day in her mid-teens, Erin had realized that it was gone. She’d never asked her parents what happened to it, but she’d always suspected it disappeared around the time she came out of the closet.
The lookout cabin had a sloping wooden roof and stone walls, with open doorways and windows holes instead of actual doors or windows. The CCC had built it during the Depression for the contemplation of nature, and it had the rough, clunky, and functional architecture of that era. She’d been here many, many times, yet it was still a magical spot.
She went inside the cabin and sat down on the bench by one of the open windows. The bench was made from a hewn pine trunk and covered in a thick, clear gloss. She leaned back into the darkness, turned off her headlamp, and closed her eyes. The air was colder up here than in town, and she had to suppress a shudder. She breathed a deep lungful of cold, piney air and felt almost happy again.
While she’d been here so often she couldn’t remember every visit, she did recall a very significant trip here in high school. She’d been wooing a girl in her biology class—unbeknownst to the other girl, or so she thought. At school, she’d done everything she could to get closer to the girl—Kim. They’d been in different social groups, and it had been an uphill battle at first. Erin had a crush on her for years before she finally had the opportunity to talk to her, and even then it wasn’t easy to move beyond casual greetings.
Biology class had finally brought them together. They’d been assigned as study partners, and a kind of fawning, one-sided friendship had sprung up. Kim had been the dictator, and Erin had done whatever Kim wanted. At the time, Erin thought this was fair. Having Kim to simper over was enough—she didn’t care how poorly she was treated. Kim took this as her due. She was beautiful as only that kind of blond, blue-eyed girl can be, and Erin had thought of herself as anything but beautiful then.
At some point, Erin had somehow convinced Kim to agree to this hike with her. Erin couldn’t remember the exact circumstances, but it must have been for class. She’d bought, packed, and lugged a huge lunch up here, and the two of them had shared the meal sitting on this very bench. Despite the fact that she’d bought all of Kim’s favorite foods and carried them up here on her own, Kim hadn’t thanked her; instead, she criticized Erin’s choices, clearly trying to make her feel bad. It had worked, and Erin had been on the verge of tears for most of the meal.
Erin shook her head, dismissing the memory with a sad smile. She’d gone on to have lots of crushes and one-sided relationships like that before she’d learned to respect herself more, but she was still attracted to that kind of woman, even now.
That thought brought Darcy to mind, and she frowned in the dark. Darcy was exactly like a grown-up version of Kim, yet Erin hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. She was convinced now that Darcy had indeed been flirting with her the last time she’d seen her, but why? She was probably bored and had simply toyed with Erin to pass the time.
Dismissing her again, Erin got to her feet and went outside to the actual lookout. Highway 34 was just visible below, a very occasional car passing, but otherwise she could barely see a thing. Mountains loomed in the dark, visible only because they blocked out the stars. She took one more deep breath of cool mountain air and turned around to head back to the VW. She was starting to feel a little sheepish now. She’d left her father’s in a teenage-like sulk, she’d driven around like a madwoman, and now she was in the mountains, on her own, in the dark. Talk about reckless. She’d long grown out of going out and getting reckless in town—sleeping with strangers and drinking too much—but what she’d done tonight was dangerous.
Still, by the time she made it to her car, she felt much better. The hike had done her a lot of good, and she could think clearly again about her father and their situation without the fury that had clouded her judgment earlier. After all, nothing was settled yet. Perhaps, even now, she and Jen could convince her father to sell some of his holdings and help them out. And even if they couldn’t, maybe things would turn out all right in the end.
Chapter Four
Erin let out a long breath and then bent down to stretch her back and upper legs. The gym was busy this time of morning, and even the space set aside for stretching was filled with people. In the past, Erin didn’t like going to the gym, in part because of the crowds. All of her life, she’d been very active, but she preferred her exercise to come from an activity rather than an artificial routine inside. Then, last Christmas, Lottie had given her a year’s membership to the Chilson Recreation Center, close to Erin and Jen’s house. When she’d opened the little envelope Lottie had handed her and seen what it held, she’d stared at Lottie like she’d lost her mind. Lottie, red-faced and stammering, had explained that she’d bought herself the same thing. She bought Erin a membership so they could go together.
&nb
sp; “For motivation,” Lottie had explained.
“Yours or mine?”
Lottie face took on a darker shade of embarrassment. “Mine.”
Erin had left it at that, understanding in an instant what Lottie wanted. She and Lottie had met in elementary school and been close ever since—despite the fact that they had very little in common. Erin was a natural athlete. She’d been team captain in several sports throughout school and eventually president of their senior class. Lottie, on the other hand, was a nerd. She’d been somewhat active behind the scenes in their middle and high schools’ theater departments, but mostly she read books and played Dungeons and Dragons with the other weirdos. She was, with most people, extremely quiet, staying in the background to avoid talking to just about anyone. In middle and high school, she’d started to put on a little weight, and by the time she and Erin were graduating college together, she was quite heavy.
Erin knew that Lottie’s weight bothered her—she’d seen her avoid a lot of situations where food was involved, for example, just so she wouldn’t be seen eating in front of other people. Additionally, she’d always seemed a little wistful when either Erin or Jen talked about the active things they’d done, as if she didn’t think it was possible to do them herself. Buying herself and Erin a gym membership was a big deal, and getting one for Erin was her way of asking for help.
They’d started by going once or twice a week before work. Both of them had relatively flexible schedules at their respective jobs, so they’d begun going mid-morning, when the gym was almost empty. Erin had helped Lottie get to know the weightlifting equipment and had given her a light cardio routine. Erin really didn’t do much more except show up to work out with her, but it had been enough. After a month or so, Lottie had started to seem more confident, and she’d lost a few pounds. Then, as the months passed and winter turned into spring, Lottie’s weight loss had continued, and her confidence both in and outside of the gym had started to grow.
At the beginning of the summer, she’d asked Erin if they could start going earlier in the morning so she could attend the classes the rec center ran then. Erin had reluctantly agreed, knowing it would probably be best for Lottie to have professional help, and now they came to the gym almost every weekday morning. Erin had gone to a couple of the classes with Lottie, but, once Lottie was used to the experience, she could do it on her own, and Erin continued her former workout upstairs in the gym.
Most mornings, Erin ran around the little indoor track for a few miles, listening to music or audiobooks on her phone. Afterward, she’d do weights with one part of her body, and she swam three days a week. She wouldn’t say she was a gym convert yet—she still preferred exercising outside, but now that she’d been working out here for ten months, she could appreciate the fact that, no matter the weather, she got some exercise almost every day. It had certainly helped her stress levels, and she’d also seen some gains in her stamina hiking and biking on her days off. Whether she bought another year’s membership on her own was still up in the air, but she probably would. Even beyond her own workouts, Lottie still liked having her here, and Erin was happy to oblige. More recently, they rarely saw each other at the gym beyond showing up and leaving together, but Lottie still seemed to need her here.
Erin got down on the ground to stretch her legs some more, debating whether to swim. It was Monday, a usual swimming day for her, but she didn’t think she had enough time. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but she had to get to work earlier than usual to meet Charlie for the tour. Earlier, she had run two extra miles beyond her usual three. Between putting on her swimsuit and the extra time she’d need in the showers to get the chlorine out of her hair, it didn’t make sense to try. She’d just swim some extra laps Wednesday instead.
She stood up to head over to the weights just as Lottie appeared on the stairs. Erin had to smile. Lottie had lost a lot of weight this year—twenty or thirty pounds. Erin, however, didn’t care as much about Lottie’s weight loss as the fact that she had started to come out of her shell. She was holding herself higher, more confidently, and she met people’s eyes more often now. Lottie had told her that her parents, who had, as long at Erin had known them, basically ignored her, had recently complimented her new appearance, but it was this personality benefit that made Erin the happiest. Lottie seemed more like herself now, even with strangers.
She spotted Erin and smiled before joining her.
“Hey, you,” she said.
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing up here? Shouldn’t you be in class now?”
Lottie shrugged. “I left a little early. We had a substitute instructor today, and he kind of sucks. Thought I’d come up and work out with you for once.”
“Well, I’m almost done.” Erin paused and grinned. “I just need to do my chest, arms, and shoulders.”
Lottie groaned. When they first started working out together, she’d always dreaded these exercises since they were her weakest muscles.
Erin laughed. “Oh, come on. It’s been weeks since I tortured you. Anyway, I bet you’ll be surprised how much stronger you are now after all those aerobics classes.”
“Okay.” Lottie sounded anything but happy.
They approached the dipping and chin-up bars. Erin decided to give Lottie a break and go first, and positioned herself for dips. She started dipping, and Lottie watched her with something like dread.
They were quiet for a while as Erin counted, and then Lottie asked, “What’s been happening with Jen and that Charlie guy?”
Erin paused mid-dip and then continued through to her final rep. She got down on the ground and sighed. She waited to reply until Lottie climbed up onto the bar and started her own workout.
“I don’t know the details—she doesn’t really talk about him. But I’m really starting to worry. I haven’t exactly been on board since they met, but Jen’s already getting a little moony. I mean, at first I didn’t mind so much. He’s really a nice guy, and I’m glad she’s found someone to be interested in after all this time, but where could it possibly go? I mean, the guy lives in Boston.”
They switched places again. “Yeah, but you never know, right?” Lottie said. “Maybe they could do long distance or something. I mean, stranger things have happened. He’ll be here for a while yet. Maybe they’ll both fall in love.”
Erin had to laugh. Despite being almost chronically single, Lottie had always been a romantic. She always egged Erin and Jen on in their relationships, being something like a cheerleader any time either one of them was dating someone. She wanted everyone in the world to be paired up. Her own love life was somewhat lackluster, so she seemed to be living vicariously, though God knew why. Erin had always thought Lottie sold herself short. She was, in fact, charming, sweet, and adorable, and once others got past her initial shyness, they learned what a fantastic, caring person she was, too. Erin had seen men looking at her with interest over the years and pointed it out many, many times, but Lottie had always laughed the possibility off as ridiculous.
Erin moved to the side, and Lottie got on the bar for her second set.
Erin shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess they could end up together, but it’s more likely she’ll have her heart broken. Again.”
Throughout high school and into their late twenties, Jen had been a serial monogamist, dating one loser after the next. She seemed to be genuinely attracted to assholes, as every guy she dated either cheated on her, or dumped her unexpectedly, or both. After Jen’s fiancé Jacob left her three years ago, she had refused to talk about why they’d broken up. She’d been something like a ghost for six months, hardly talking to anyone, so Erin hadn’t pushed her, hoping that with space and time she’d decide to discuss it. She never had. Since then, Jen had simply stopped dating. As far as she knew, Charlie was the first guy she’d been interested in since Jacob.
After Lottie finished, the two of them moved over to the chin-up bar, and Erin climbed the little steps up to it.
“It could happen,
Erin. I mean it. Has she told him how she feels about him?”
Erin laughed and placed her feet on the steps and stared down at Lottie in disbelief. “They just met!”
Lottie shrugged. “Yeah, but when it’s love, it’s love. It’s always better to be honest with someone. If she doesn’t tell him, how could he know?”
Erin laughed again and continued her chin-ups, struggling through to the end. She’d clearly overdone it running earlier, as she was nearly spent. Both of them decided one set was enough, and after seeing the long lines for the free weights and the other weight machines, they decided to call it a day.
After showering and getting into their work clothes, they stopped by the little coffee shop in the bookstore down the street—their Monday, Wednesday, Friday ritual. They came often enough that the barista started making their coffees the moment they walked in the door. Erin and Lottie took their favorite seat by the window.
They chatted about work until their coffees were served and paid for, and then Lottie suddenly resumed their earlier conversation. “Look—about earlier—I don’t mean to sound like an ass about Jen. I just want her to be happy. I’m probably being unrealistic, but I’ve seen the way she’s been since she met him. She’s on cloud nine.”
Erin frowned. “I know. I’ve seen it, too. And that’s what worries me. She’s getting in too deep, too fast. She basically spent all weekend with him, and I’m pretty sure they slept together.”
Lottie’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Unless they had separate hotel rooms. She went with him to Denver overnight Saturday.”
Lottie appeared uncertain. “But it could have been innocent. Right?”
Erin gave her an even glare. “Come on, Lottie—what are the odds?” She paused. “I’m not saying the sex is a bad thing. I’m pretty sure it’s been years since she slept with anyone. But I know my sister. She’s never been the kind to have sex with someone just because she’s attracted to him.”
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