Page 23 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

“Any big plans today?” Josh asks while dropping off supplies for tomorrow’s next big project. “Any chance you’ve got a free couple of hours?”

“No interviews and no major writing plans aside from getting letters out to both the kids,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I’ve not really seen you leave the house, The Drip, or Lenny’s since you got here,” he says, giving me a smile that tells me he’s trying to be nice as he delivers a mildly judgmental take on how I’ve been spending my time.

“As soon as I leave here, I’m going on one of my favorite hikes to a place called Triple Falls.

It’s a little steep but not technically challenging.

The views are great, and I think it would do you good to come with me.

Picture it like a two-hour version of Walden to reinvigorate your creative process. It would be good for us both.”

I think back to something Felicity told me when she came to Chapel Hill earlier this month before I left for Canopy.

Try to get some fresh air . I’ve walked downtown more times than I can count, written thousands of words, supervised tons of home repairs, and crossed almost everything off my to-do list. Fresh air?

Not so much. Plus, after yesterday, some new scenery might help to get our friendship back on track.

I can’t even pretend to be offended by his invitation.

“For someone who bought a house in a cute mountain town, I haven’t really done much of the mountain thing yet, have I?”

He lets out a laugh and nods his head in quick agreement.

“You promise not to judge me?” I begin. “Because I haven’t so much as rolled out the yoga mat since I’ve been here. Not sure where my cardiovascular health stands at the moment.”

“I promise,” he says, holding up three fingers to mimic the Scouts’ sign. “Your legs will burn, but I did this hike with my seventy-year-old aunt a few months ago, and she’s had a hip replacement. You’ll be fine.”

“Great, no pressure,” I joke. “Let me get changed and grab my backpack.”

—

As usual, Josh is right, and I know it the second we step out of his truck in the trailhead parking lot. The sound of the rushing falls greets us in the echoes of the forest. They are out of sight but teasing us with their presence nearby.

“Pretty cool, right?” he asks, noticing me close my eyes for a second to take it all in.

“I love the sound of water,” I respond. “Which is ironic, because I’m not big on swimming or boats or most water activities—but the sound of water instantly calms me.”

“For me, it’s the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind on these mountain trails,” he shares, handing me my bag from the back seat.

“First you mention Walden and now you opine on rustling leaves?” I offer playfully. “I think you’ve got a hidden poet somewhere in there.”

He smiles and gestures to the path.

“A mile up, a mile back,” he says, before adding, “The way back is much easier.”

We’re quiet for the first few minutes of the hike.

I’m easily distracted by a handful of fly fishermen, equally spread out as though they are obeying unwritten rules about space and territory.

One guy lets out a yelp of excitement, and I turn to see him dropping a small trout into his net before snapping a quick photo and letting the fish back in the gushing stream.

“Do you fish?” I ask, assuming the answer is yes because there doesn’t seem to be an outdoor activity that Josh hasn’t tried.

“I do, but not by myself,” he answers. “To me, fishing is synonymous with spending time with James, my nephews, my dad, or my uncles. You?”

“I’ve tried it a few times, but it’s never been my thing. Ben liked it a lot and would take Benji out. They rarely caught anything but always managed to have the best time ever.”

We round a bend in the trail and are greeted by an impressive incline.

“A little steep, you said?”

“The elevation comes in waves. We’ll go slow and talk the entire way. You’ll barely notice these little hills. Plus, the first payoff is at the very first landing, so it’s instant gratification.”

“If I make it there alive!”

Josh playfully rolls his eyes, mimicking one of my classic facial expressions. Before I have time to elbow him, he jumps into conversation.

“What else did Ben like to do?” he asks.

I’m surprised by the question, but just like when Sunny recently asked about Ben, I welcome the opportunity to tell Josh about him.

“For fun? Ben loved sports,” I say at a somewhat rapid pace, thanks to my embarrassing shortness of breath. “Basketball at the Y, pickleball with retirees, coaching Ava’s soccer team. He always had to be in motion. He kept all of us active.”

“I can relate to that,” Josh shares. “Although for most of the last few years, it’s only been a few hikes here and there…and fantasy football. Not sure that counts.”

“What is it with grown men and fantasy football?” I ask with a smile. “Ben was obsessed.”

“We all think we could run a professional sports team better than the actual professionals, and fantasy exists to humble us,” Josh jokes, before pausing to ask, “What did Ben do for a living?”

“He worked for a medical-industry tech company in product development,” I answer with a quick, labored breath. “Just a dude with a totally normal corporate gig.”

“That’s why he liked sports and the outdoors so much,” Josh says, as though he’s just connected two pieces of a puzzle. “He had to balance out all that time in front of his screen.”

He says this with a deadpan look, staring straight into my eyes before breaking into a big laugh.

“I know you’re trying to be funny,” I say while wiping sweat from the side of my face, “but you’re right. Some days it feels like my laptop is my mortal enemy.”

“Well, be glad you got out of the house today,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me toward a clearing that’s just appeared. “Because this is your reward.”

The view is spectacular. Triple Falls is a series of three beautiful, cascading waterfalls.

Most of the hikes we’ve done with the kids have been to what I would now consider tiny waterfalls with accessible pools at the bottom for them to splash around in.

The vista in front of me is expansive and more rapid and powerful than I expected. I close my eyes to listen and breathe.

“I can see why you like this,” I say, opening my eyes. I follow Josh to a rocky alcove seating area behind us. The view of the falls gets obscured by other visitors, but the sound stays.

“A half mile up the trail is an even more intense fall,” he says after a minute of rest. “And most people don’t bother to venture up once they’ve seen this, so it’s more peaceful. Are you ready?”

I nod and enjoy the next few minutes of relatively flat terrain before we begin another incline.

All the while, Josh and I never stop talking.

He asks me more about my family, what my book agent is like, and how we found Canopy in the first place.

I ask him questions, too. I want to know how he got into building homes, why he doesn’t mountain bike anymore, and how he got the five-inch-long scar on his right arm.

Turns out, my last two lines of questioning are related.

These conversations flow quick and easy like the water in the streams all around us, and before I know it, we’ve reached High Falls. Unlike the orderly triple drop we saw below, High Falls is dramatic and harsh but still utterly beautiful.

I slide my backpack off my shoulders for the first time to grab a quick drink of water and my instant camera. I snap two photos and walk over to the rocky seating area nearby. As the photos develop, I pull out two note cards and a pen.

“Do you mind if we sit here for a bit, and I write notes to the kids?” I ask.

“Not at all. This is one of my favorite spots. I fell asleep sitting up here about a month ago. Kind of like you on that front porch swing,” he says with a sweet grin before turning his attention back to the falls.

I don’t usually snap and send the same photo to the kids, but I know they will each appreciate this in different ways.

Benji is my contemplative kid. He feels, he sees, and he imagines things with such depth and complexity that it sometimes feels like he’s not on his first visit to the mortal coil.

He’ll appreciate the poetic nature of the landscape.

Benji,

Hugs to my best guy from High Falls, which is just about twenty minutes from the house.

This waterfall looks like something from one of those nature shows that you and Dad love to watch.

I’m starting to think he kept us on the beginner trails as a family so you boys wouldn’t have to hear us complain on long hikes.

This one was tough! There is a covered bridge at the very top that I promise to take you to after camp—it’s high, so I’ll need to be brave.

The water is so powerful that I can barely hear myself think to write this note. I imagine it’s similar to living in a cabin with eight other boys.

Love, Mom

Ava will want to know about the people I saw on the trail, if I overheard any funny conversations, and how much she would’ve hated the hike but loved the view.

It will definitely pique her curiosity that I came here with a boy.

A boy! Preteens are nothing if not hilarious when it comes to imaginary relationships.

Ava,

I decided to consume air from outside of the house today.

Amazing, I know. After four thousand words in the last week, I felt like I earned it.

The hike to this view kicked my butt, but I didn’t complain out loud because I wanted to seem tough in front of Josh and the other hikers.

He told me it would be worth it, and I hate to admit it, but he was right.

The sound up here drowns out all of my other concerns, so it was worth the sore legs that I will definitely have tomorrow.

I hope camp is going great. You owe me a letter!

Love, Mom