“Want to go get burgers?” he asks after a spell. “My treat.”
I’ve mostly stopped crying. My eyes feel like sandpaper, and my nose is completely stuffed up, but I think I can make it through the next hour.
“Sure,” I say.
“Next left,” Silas instructs.Chapter Thirty-TwoLeviAll afternoon, I barely say a word. We hike uphill and downhill, we cross creeks and streams, we navigate a brief boulder scramble. The ground feels good beneath my boots, the cool air on my skin, the sharp smells of southern autumn. This time of year it looks like it’s nearly sunset for hours, slanted golden light cutting through the trees, whispering that winter is coming on faster than we’d like.
Caleb and Eli chat with each other, but I don’t really listen. Blessedly, they don’t talk to me. They don’t ask me what’s wrong, or what’s happened, or why I’ve suddenly decided that a footbridge ten miles inside the forest needs fixing right this very moment. They don’t volunteer any opinions about life or love or, God forbid, women.
We just walk through the woods, and that’s all.
That night, we set up camp in a wide flat spot under a stand of eastern pine. Their needles crinkle underfoot, and Caleb makes dinner — peanut butter sandwiches and ramen — while Eli and I set up the tents.
When we’re done and we’ve got the sleeping bags inside, Eli looks down at the whole setup skeptically.
“Everything all right?” I ask, following his gaze.
“I’m not sure humans were meant to live this way, that’s all,” he says. “You know, in nylon pods that go inside other nylon pods?”
“Didn’t God create nylon on the fourth day, according to Genesis?” I say, and that gets a smile out of Eli.
“I didn’t really pay attention in Vacation Bible School,” he admits. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Caleb sucker you into this mission?” I ask, the closest I’ve come to admitting what’s happening.
“Hey, I volunteered,” Eli says as we head over to where Caleb’s distributing ramen into mugs.
“It’s true,” Caleb says. “He was very brave.”
“I’ve been hiking before,” Eli says. “I went hiking for fun last weekend with Violet. And I built a deck onto our house, so I’m fully qualified to be here.”
“There’s centipedes,” Caleb says.
“Shut up.”
“Big ones,” Caleb goes on, slurping ramen from a mug. “Three inches long, tons of legs.”
“A hundred, I imagine,” Eli says dryly.
“And they like to snuggle,” Caleb says, and now he’s grinning. “They find warm places and really just get up on in there—”
“No one likes centipedes!” Eli finally says. “You don’t have to harass me in particular about centipedes, because no one likes those leggy little motherfuckers. I’m not alone in that.”
“But you do have a particular aversion,” Caleb points out.
“Caleb, don’t torment your brother with nature,” I tell him.
“I was ten,” Eli says. “It was in my shoe.”
“You still screamed.”
I just sigh.
“See? Now you’ve upset Levi,” Eli says, but he’s laughing. “Nice job, buttface.”
“You helped, fartmunch,” Caleb replies, grinning.
We don’t have any sort of serious discussion that night.Chapter Thirty-ThreeJune“Is that everything?” Silas asks, looking at my suitcase.
I also look at it. It’s a regular-sized suitcase, big enough that I have to check it.
“Yes?” I say, wondering what else he thinks I need to take with me.
“Coat?”
It’s five o’clock Monday morning. I’m tired. I’ve had a hell of a twenty-four hours, so I just point at the coat that I’m obviously wearing.
“Suit?”
“Yes, I have my suit, I’m going for a job interview,” I say. “I also have an alternate outfit and two pairs of shoes. Do you want to discuss whether I should wear pantyhose to the interview or not? Because Mom did so I’m all warmed up for my side of the discussion.”
“I’m just checking,” he says. “ID? Passport?”
“South Dakota isn’t another country, it’s just the Midwest,” I say, dragging my suitcase toward his SUV.
“You should probably go and check it out before you make that declaration,” he says, opening the back liftgate of his car, then grabbing my suitcase and tossing it in before I can even think about doing so.
“Ha ha,” I say. “Ha.”
“I assume you want to stop by the Mountain Grind before we leave?” he asks, giving me another once-over.
“Please,” I say, and then I take a deep breath and remind myself that he’s taking the morning off work to do me a huge favor. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome, Bug,” he says, and we drive off.Once I get a giant coffee into me, I’m a little more human, and Silas and I manage to chat pleasantly on the way to the Roanoke airport.
We do not chat about Logan, which is fine with me. I’m already kicking myself for telling Silas everything that I did in my moments of weakness, because even though he can be a real idiot, Silas isn’t dumb.
I don’t tell him I called Levi — sorry, ‘Logan,’ — last night, and he didn’t pick up. After I tried his house phone, I tried his cell phone, and then I even tried his work phone in a moment of desperation, but he didn’t pick up.