Rough Patch (Coming Home to the Mountain)

"Now you want something different?"

"I think so."

"I want something different too," Reuben says as we drive up the road toward his cabin. "I want to let you know, I think you look beautiful tonight. Not that you didn't look beautiful today, but..."

I smile. "Yeah. I made sure I got all the twigs out of my hair and the dirt off of my knees."

He chuckles. "You look beautiful in blue."

"Thanks," I say. "You clean up pretty nice yourself."

"Yeah?" He looks over at me and grins, and he sure does. His beard looks like it's been combed. He's put on a collared shirt and fresh blue jeans. And ten minutes later when he parks his truck in front of his cabin, there's a moment of stillness that falls between us. "So," he says. "I’m so happy you’re here." And at the same time I say, "I'm so happy to be here."

He grins. Then, his fingertips brush with mine and I lean in close. His hand cups my cheek and he pulls me in for a kiss. It's soft. It's sweet. It sends my whole heart on fire.

"Oh," I whisper when he pulls back.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've been thinking about doing that all afternoon. I told myself the moment I got you here alone, I wouldn't hold back. There's no Main Street watching, no family staring. Just you and me."

I smile. "I like that," I say.

"Good," he says, "because we got the rest of the night to hang out, and I'm pretty sure I'm planning on kissing you again."

7

REUBEN

Walking inside with Meadow feels surreal. I want her to like my cabin. It's a thought I've never had before. Then again, I've never brought a woman here. Not ever, not once.

"So you built this house?" Meadow asks as she steps inside.

The A-frame cottage is perfect for Plum and me. There are two bedrooms on the main floor. Upstairs, there's a loft. There's a wood-burning fireplace in the corner, with a sofa and a few chairs. A kitchen table for four is next to the stove and refrigerator. A sink with a window behind it, looking out to the backyard patio.

I watch Meadow as she takes it in, running her hand over the back of the couch, her fingers against the wool blanket. She keeps walking toward the fridge, taking in all the paintings and drawings that Plum has made that I've stuck to the refrigerator.

"You're a proud papa," she says.

"Yeah, my little girl has me wrapped around her finger."

Meadow smiles, turning to me. "So how long have you lived here?"

I swallow. “After I lost Beth, I was in a real bad place. 19 years old and the world I thought I was going to be living in was gone just like that."

Meadow stands still, listening. I walk toward her, looking out that window over the sink, memories returning to me.

"Anyways," I say. Meadow is standing next to me now. She sets a tote bag on the kitchen counter. Her eyes turn out the window, taking in the same scene as me. "My parents were worried about Plum and me. We lived with them for a while, but then I needed to get out of that place. Not their house exactly. Just that dark well of pain. It wouldn't leave. My dad and brothers had the idea that I should build a place for Plum and me. See, when she was born, we lived in town, Beth, Plum, and me, but after..." I run a hand over the back of my neck, turning to Meadow. "Building this cabin helped me keep my head on straight, helped me push past all that blackness that was trying to take over and gave me something to do when I woke up every morning. My mom and my sisters, they were amazing with Plum."

I swallow. "Sorry. I've never talked about this with anyone."

"No one?" Meadow asks.

"Well, I mean, I saw a therapist for a while there, but I've never been one for talking. I use my hands, you know, to work through my shit, and building this cabin..." I look up, taking it all in. "It helped. When Plum and I moved in here, she was about two years old, and the land was part of my parents' property. You can walk through a trail to get to their house, and I remember Plum and I, we'd walk down to my parents' house most every night for dinner that first year. I was trying to get my bearings."

"And now you feel grounded?" Meadow asks.

I nod. "Yeah, but it's strange. I've never had a woman over in this house. Not once." I exhale. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this. My story is a sad one."

"And you lost Beth in a car crash?" she asks. Beth’s name being spoken feels so sweet.