Chapter 6: Upward Climb

‘So, what are you going to do now?’ Rhys blew on the surface of his coffee, cradling the mug in cold hands, before taking a tentative sip. Maggie had wordlessly made them both a cup once they’d come down from the mountain, filling the familiar French press that had once been hers as if no time at all had passed. As if she’d never left.

A lifetime together was nothing on eight months’ absence. She could still make the perfect cup, exactly the way he liked it.

‘I don’t know.’ The words came out croaky from her dry throat. Hunched in the wooden chair by the window, his sister looked small and impossibly tired, still wearing the oversized coat. She shrugged, staring into the depths of her coffee cup as if she were reading tea leaves. ‘I honestly ... don’t know.’

‘What about Jared? Your job?’

Maggie smiled ruefully, her eyes bloodshot. ‘Yeah ... I got fired. A couple weeks ago. Jared didn’t know and I had a little money saved up, so.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m not going back there, you know.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

Maggie’s dark hair fell forward to conceal her facial features. She stared at her blue knitted socks, playing with a hole in the rug with one toe.

‘It wasn’t right for me. The mountain ... it’s in my soul. I was born here. In this very room. I missed the open spaces. The quiet. Going about your day on sidewalks crammed tighter than a sardine tin sure makes you rethink things.’

Rhys nodded. He was down to dregs, and rose from

his seat across from her to fill the mug again. ‘Yeah. I don’t think I could be away from this place for too long either. I’d get stir crazy.’

For the first time since her arrival, his heart beat a slow and steady rhythm, like a drum. His head felt clear.

It felt good to have this conversation--nothing heated, no one at the other’s throat. Sure, there was still a gentle undercurrent of sadness. Neither of them could keep Janie completely out of their thoughts. But in the past few months, Rhys had realized that feeling something wasn’t the problem. Running from it? Was.

He sat again, mug full. ‘So, what now?’ Rhys knew what she wanted, what she’d ask of him. But it was different to hear Maggie ask for it.

Unable to meet his eyes, it took her a minute.

‘Could I--stay, Rhys? Please. At least for a while. I don’t really have anywhere else to go. If I work hard maybe I can buy a place here in the valley. Give me a year?’

‘Sure. This is your home, too. It always has been. You’re always welcome here--Mama taught us to never turn your back on family.’ The second the words were out of his mouth, he heard the unintentional sting in them. Maggie did, too, and she looked up sharply at him, hurt, but not angry.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’

She drew a deep breath and let it out, slowly, in a long huff. ‘Yeah. I get it.’

‘Anyway, this is your home, too. The guest bedroom is set up for you for as long as you’d like to stay.’

Rhys was careful not to look at her as he said it.

Maggie stayed. It felt sort of odd. She was different, but he was too. Before, she’d been sparky and playfully sassy, full to bursting with joyful energy. Always ready to have fun, to laugh and smile, to kiss him.

Now? Now that the anger in her had gone, she was quiet. His sister’s smiles were small and looked like they took effort. When she helped him on the farm, they didn’t speak much, and Rhys wasn’t about to force it. She hadn’t brought many clothes back with her, and didn’t seem particularly inclined to go on a shopping trip to the local thrift store anytime soon. Most days, she bagged a some of Rhys’ old clothes, usually hoodies and sweatpants (both much too big for her) and pulled the mop of dark brown curls he’d loved so much into a ponytail or a messy bun. He became used to a new Maggie, one who spoke little and moved slowly, one who spent long evenings staring into the fire with a mug of reishi cocoa cradled between her hands. These days, she’d often do things like that. It became common for him to find her sitting by a window and just staring down over the mountain, or perched up on the fence by the sheep just watching the sun go down, wind making the unruly strands of her hair wild.