Page 87 of On the Way to You
He was watching me like he didn’t trust me at first, like I was a thief or a murderer or perhaps something worse. But then his expression softened, his eyes taking in my appearance fully. I imagined what I looked like after a night of no sleep, after a long drive alone, worry creasing my skin like wrinkles.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He didn’t,” he said, voice gruff and low. “But there are only a few trails around here, wouldn’t be hard to find him, I imagine.” The man watched me a moment, hand running over his beard before he tucked it in his pocket. “You’re her, aren’t you?”
I frowned at the question, shame and guilt coloring my face as I nodded. “You… you talked to him.”
“A little,” he answered with a shrug. “When he felt like talking, which wasn’t much.”
My eyes closed at the thought, of him opening up to this stranger. I wondered what he said about me, what he didn’t say. I imagined him calling me all sorts of names,liarandbetrayerbeing at the top of the list, but the calmness I’d gathered from the car ride over resurfaced, reminding me my deepest desire.
I need to find him, and I need him to listen. That’s all.
The man’s sigh brought me back to the present moment, his hands falling to his side as he bent down to the floor of the tent. Kalo ran right to him, and as he petted behind her ears, his eyes found mine.
“When he did talk, it was about you, but it was what hedidn’tsay that spoke the loudest. Something tells me he convinced himself he didn’t want to be found, but his mannerisms betrayed him. His eyes always watching the road, ears perking up at every car that drove by…” He paused, rubbing Kalo’s head. “Every dog that barked.”
I swallowed, bending down to his level, one of my hands finding Kalo’s soft fur, too, as I pleaded with him. “I need to find him. Please, can you help me?”
He was quiet, seemingly debating his role in our story before he stood. “There are three trails — one to a lower viewpoint of the falls, one to a secluded canyon, and the other to the top of the falls.”
“The top,” I croaked, voice thick with emotion as I planted a hand hard on my knee and pushed up to stand with him. I knew without a doubt that’s where Emery was… or at least, it’s where he’d gone. I just hoped he was still there. “How do I get there?”
The man gave me directions, telling me parking would be full and I should just leave my car where it was and hike up. It was a fairly easy hike, he said, and it wouldn’t take me too long.
After finally telling me his name, Jeremy handed me a bottle of water and offered to watch Kalo until I returned, and though he was still watching me like he didn’t trust me, it was as if he couldn’t refrain from helping me, either.
“He’s a good guy,” he said, his eyes softening. “But he’s in a dark place.”
“I know.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you do, or you wouldn’t be here.” His hand wrapped once around Kalo’s leash, but then his eyes adjusted on something behind me, and he squinted, head tilting. “Is that his bag?”
I turned, all the heat drained from my face, from my limbs, settling into a pool at the pit of my stomach as my eyes found the backpack we’d purchased together in Colorado Springs. It was propped against a stump of wood that looked like it was used for a chair beside the fire, and a sheet of lined paper was rolled and tucked into the handle at the top of it.
Swallowing, I walked with lead feet to the bag, bending to retrieve it from where it rested. It was light, and I untucked the rolled paper first, throat thick at the sight of his handwriting.
If found, please open.
I unzipped it quickly, throat collapsing altogether at the sight inside.
Three folded sheets of paper, that’s all that existed in that big, black empty space. My fingers numbly turned them over, one by one, eyes catching on the familiar script that outlined the outer edge of each. Each of them had an address scribbled under the name on the outside fold. One readDad, one readMom, and the final one, the one with the address for Papa Wyatt’s Diner, readLittle Penny.
Emotion stung my nose, eyes welling at the sensation as I sniffed against it and shoved the papers back inside, zipping up the bag and tossing it over my shoulders. I couldn’t read that letter,wouldn’tread it — because I knew inside those folded edges was a goodbye I wasn’t ready to hear.
“Thank you,” was all I could manage before I turned, surviving on what little hope I had left as my feet picked up speed to match my racing heart.
It was an easy hike up to the top of the falls. My leg still ached even with the easy incline, my muscles tense and sore from lack of sleep and the worry that had racked through me all night. The skin where my leg ended and my prosthetic began stung a little, the friction from the hike wearing on it. I needed to rest, but I couldn’t — not yet.
I was thankful for the scarf and snow cap I’d purchased in Grants Pass, both of them doing what little they could to keep heat in as the wind picked up the higher I climbed. It swept in from the canyons all around, whipping my hair and striking my cheeks, but when I reached the top, it was eerily calm.
It would have been a breathtaking view, if I could have focused on anything other than the back of the man in front of me. I was distantly aware of the deep, earthy canyons, the rainbow that extended from the bottom of the falls, the ice that gathered at the edges of the earth and floated on the water below, constantly broken and moved by the powerful falls crashing. My breath warmed my nose as little puffs of white left my lips, a shiver breaking from neck to tailbone as emotion consumed me.
I found him.
He was a painting, a moment in time captured by an artist’s hand as he stood there at the edge of the falls. The sky was blue and clear above him, whisps of white cloud slowly floating by, the wind dancing with his hair. His back was tall and long, his shoulders broad, hands resting easily in the pockets of his athletic pants. I didn’t want to speak for fear of interrupting such a perfect sight, but under the peaceful tranquility of the scenery, a storm raged on inside of him — and I wanted to be his shelter.
“Emery.”