Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I checked my phone for about the twentieth time the next day and did what I’d done the other nineteen times after I’d done the same thing.

I set it back down.

There was nothing new—not that I got a whole lot of texts or emails in the first place anymore, but regardless . . . There was nothing to check in the first place.

As I’d learned last night, the only place I got cell phone reception was standing right by the window beside the table and chairs. I’d figured that out when I’d wandered away and lost the call I’d been in the middle of. It was an adjustment, but no big deal. A few of the smaller towns I’d stayed in had been the same way. My phone picked up one router, with two little bars, but it was password protected. I’d bet it was the family’s home one and figured there was zero chance in hell of me getting that password. But it was all right. Part of me I guess had hoped that it had been a fluke and maybe a cell tower had been down, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

There was nothing I really needed to check. I wanted to look at my phone less anyway. Live my life instead of watching other people live theirs online.

The only message that had come through this morning had been from my aunt. We’d talked for an hour last night. Her text had made me grin.

Aunt Carolina:Go buy bear spray this morning PLEASE

Just in case I’d forgotten the five other times she’d insisted on the same thing during our phone call. She’d gone on and on about bears for at least ten minutes, apparently assuming that they randomly killed people just because. But I tried to take it as she was scared for me and had been nonstop for the last year. She had seen me when I’d moved back in with them, brokenhearted and feeling so lost that no compass in the world could redirect me.

That seemed to be the story of my life: going to my aunt and uncle’s when my world fell apart. But as disastrous as splitting up with someone who I’d thought I’d be with for the rest of my life was, I’d known with my entire heart that nothing held a candle to losing my mom. That helped me keep things in perspective and reminded me of what was important.

I was so lucky to have my aunt and uncle. They had taken me in and treated me like I was theirs. Better, honestly. They had protected me and loved me.

And as if she had read my mind while we’d talked, she had griped, “Leo”—one of my cousins—“came over yesterday and helped me give that thief a one-star review for his new album. We set up your uncle an account and did the same. There were a lot of them too. Heh, heh.”

I loved them both so much.

“I talked to Yuki a week ago, and she said it deserved for someone to give it a big shit emoji instead of any stars,” I had told her.

In the background, my uncle, who wasn’t a big talker but was a big listener, had called out, “I bet he and his momma are freaking out now that their golden goose is gone.”

I’d smirked.

Because I might know everything that happened had been for the best, but it didn’t mean I was a good person who wanted the best for her ex.

He was going to pay for what he and his mom had done. Eventually. I knew it. He knew it. It was just a matter of time before everyone else did. Kaden could find someone else to write his music for him . . . but he was going to spend an arm and a leg when, before, I’d done it out of love. For free.

Well, not really, but it could have been.

But whoever helped him wouldn’t let him take all the credit for their hard work. Not like I had.

My aunt had sighed and seemed to hesitate before saying, “Ora, I heard through Betty—do you remember Betty? The lady that does my hair? Well, she said she saw a picture of him with that Tammy Lynn at an event recently.”

Something had ticked at the back of my throat at the mental image of the man I’d been in a relationship with for nearly half my life with someone else.

Nowhe could have pictures of himself taken with someone. Huh. That was convenient.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt. But . . . it was something.

The faint taste of bitterness had stayed with me during the rest of our conversation while my aunt had circled back around to talking about bear spray and blizzards and having to revert to cannibalism because people weren’t prepared in the mountains for a snowstorm.

I figured I could explain to her later just how “mild” of a winter Pagosa Springs got versus most other places, so she wouldn’t worry so much.

In the meantime, I had spent the morning deciding what I needed to do and in what order everything would be the most efficient. I needed to get cash for the rental, and even though I was financially fine for now with my blood money, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. I also had a friend to visit.

Besides that, I needed more groceries because I’d eaten my last slices of turkey breast and cheese for breakfast and had nothing to eat for lunch or dinner. And since I was going to be here for a while and needed to make this place home, I might as well start chipping away at things that needed to be done ASAP.

Down the stairs and outside, I had to stop beside my car door. I’d driven in so late, I had missed the view of the surroundings, so I wasn’t ready for the landscape ahead of me. The pictures of the garage apartment had focused mainly on the inside; there had only been one of the building.

Back when we’d lived here, we had been closer into town, in the midst of the huge pine trees that made up so much of the national forest in and around the town. But I could remember that on the outskirts, it had been more desertlike. And that was the exact kind of scenery here. The bright greens and dense forests were predominant here in Pagosa, but the craggy beauty that came with being so close to New Mexico and the desertlike area was an exception. Scattered cedar trees and brush filled the hills around the house.

It was incredible in its own way.

I stood there for a long time, then finally looked around. The SUV was still parked there. That was it though, vehicle-wise.

But just as quickly as I glanced in that direction, I looked away. The last thing I needed was to risk the maybe Mr. Rhodes seeing me looking at his house, period, and thinking I was doing something he didn’t like. I didn’t need to get kicked out. I’d walk to my car with my eyes closed for the next month if I had to.

I was here for a reason, and I didn’t have time to waste since I wasn’t sure how long I’d really be staying.

I wouldn’t be staying if I didn’t give myself a reason to.

And that’s what got me sliding into my car and heading out, not totally sure I knew what I was doing but knowing I had to do something.

I waited until I got to way down the county road before looking up directions for the bank. I knew there was a branch in town; I’d checked to be on the safe side before coming. Five hours from Denver and four from Albuquerque, it was basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by small towns that even fewer people had ever heard of. There were two grocery stores, a few local banks and one major one, a tiny movie theater, and a pretty good amount of restaurants and breweries for the town’s size.

Considering how booked the rentals were, I should have expected how busy town would be. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that Pagosa Springs relied heavily on tourism. As a kid, my mom used to complain about all the tourist traffic at the height of summer, getting frustrated at the grocery store when we’d have to park at the back of the lot.

But the rest of my memories of Pagosa were cloudy. So much of it looked different; there were a ton more buildings than I remembered, but there was something about it that was still . . . familiar. The new Walmart was the exception.

Everything changed over time, after all.

Hope again flared in my chest as I navigated my way down the highway. Maybe it didn’t look totally like what I remembered, but there was enough there that felt . . . right. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

More than anything, this place was a fresh start. That was what I wanted. Sure, one of my worst memories had taken place here, but the rest of them—the best of them—overrode that.

Life in Pagosa had begun, and time was ticking.

The bank. Groceries. Maybe I could walk around and check out a few shops, see if anywhere was hiring or find a paper to look for ads there. I hadn’t had a normal job in over a decade, and it wasn’t like I had references I was willing to give anymore. Maybe I could stop by and see if Clara was working.

And if I had time, I could log on and give Kaden a one-star review too.

The small white sign in front of the shop said “HIRING” in bright orange letters.

Tilting my head back, I read the name of the business. THE OUTDOOR EXPERIENCE. Peeking through the window, I saw a ton of people inside. There were racks of clothes, and a long counter formed an L-shape across two of the opposite walls. Inside, there was a woman zipping around from side to side behind the counter, looking exasperated as she helped as many people as she could who were all pointing at signs mounted to the walls. The most I could read was something about rentals.

I hadn’t really had any expectations of what kind of job I could get, but after spending the last two hours ducking into one shop after another to explore, I was glad I didn’t have my heart set on anything. The only places with signs had been a fly-fishing store—I hadn’t been fishing in years, so I didn’t even bother asking—a music store that had been playing a song I knew too well and I’d turned around and walked back out instantly, and a shoe store. Both employees that had been working at the time had been in the back arguing so loud I heard every word, and I hadn’t bothered asking for an application there either.

And now, on the opposite end of town from where I was going to be staying, I’d ended up here.

From memory, I knew the Outdoor Experience was an “outdoor outfitter”—aka store—that sold and rented everything you might need for outdoor activities: fishing, camping, archery, and more. It depended on the season.

I didn’t know anything about . . . any of those things. Not anymore. I knew there were different types of fishing—fly-fishing, bottom-fishing . . . other kinds . . . of fishing—but that was it. I knew about bows and . . . crossbows. I knew what a tent was, and many, many years ago, I’d been a pro at setting one up. But that was the extent of my knowledge of the outdoors. I’d lived in a city with people who weren’t outdoorsy for too long, apparently.

But none of that mattered because I was here for another reason. Not for a job or to buy anything. And honestly, I was just a little nervous.

I hadn’t reached out to Clara in almost a year, not since everything had gone to shit, and even then I had only messaged her to tell her happy birthday. She didn’t know I’d split up with Kaden.

Well, she probably knew now since apparently he was dating someone else and taking pictures with them.

Yeah, he was getting that shit pie eventually.

Deciding I’d thought enough about him for the week, I shoved Kaden out of my head and went in.

I’d looked up pictures of the store when I’d still been in Utah and had been bored one night. Back when I’d been younger and would go home with Clara after school, sometimes her dad would bring us back to work with him and we’d play in the store if there weren’t customers or would hide in the back and do homework. From the looks of it though, the store had gotten renovated sometime recently. The flooring was tile, and on top of that, now everything was new and modern. It looked great.

And very, very busy right then.

Moseying through the store, I zeroed in on the woman behind the counter. The same one I’d spotted through the window. She was helping another family out. Beside her, a teenage girl was helping a couple. I had no clue who she was, but the woman, I did recognize. We hadn’t seen each other in person in twenty years, but we’d kept up enough over time that we were friends on Facebook.

I smiled and figured I might as well wait. There was no rush getting back to the garage apartment. Sidestepping through racks of clothes, I wandered toward the back of the store where a big FISHING sign hung . . . and where there were a lot fewer people.

Tiny, clear bags with all kinds of feathers and beads hung from waist-high rows of hooks. Huh. I picked up one bag with what looked like some kind of fur in it.

That’s when I heard, “Can I help you with something?”

I didn’t recognize Clara’s voice, but I’d creeped through the windows enough to know the person speaking was either her or the teenage girl. And the person talking wasn’t a teenager.

So I was smiling already as I turned around and came face-to-face with a person I recognized from the Facebook and Picturegram posts she’d made over the years.

But I knew she didn’t recognize me when her mouth formed the pleasant, helpful smile of a person who owned a business. Clara had grown a few inches, and her curvy figure had hit voluptuous territory. She had inherited her Ute father’s rich brown skin and high cheekbones, and I could already tell she was as cute and sweet as she used to be.

“Clara,” I said, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.

Her eyebrows went up just a little, and her voice was steady. “Hi. Do you . . . ?” Her eyelids came down quickly, and I was pretty sure her head bobbed a little before her dark brown eyes moved over my face and slowly she said, “Do I know you?”

“You used to. We were best friends in elementary school and middle school.”

My old friend’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, these thin, dark arches, before suddenly her face fell, her mouth hung open, and she gasped, “Oh! You stopped dyeing your hair!”

A small reminder of the life I’d left behind. One where Mrs. Jones talked me into coloring it blonde “because you look so good that way.” But I let it go in one ear and out the other as I nodded. “It’s back to my natural color.” I’d hacked off the blonde that hadn’t finished growing out a couple months ago; it was why my hair was shorter than it had been in forever.

“I haven’t heard from you in a year, you jerk!” she hissed, poking me in the shoulder. “Aurora!”

And in the next blink of an eye, her arms were around me and my arms were around her and we were hugging.

“What happened? What are you doing here?” she gasped, pulling back after a moment. We were about the same height, and I caught a little glimpse of the small gap between her two front teeth. “I tried texting you a few months ago, but the message bounced back!”

Another reminder. But it was fine. “It’s kind of a long story, but I’m here. Visiting. Maybe staying.”

Her dark eyes moved over my shoulder, and she seemed to be thinking about what I hadn’t said. Only because she’d looked behind me for the person who should have been here with me . . . if he wasn’t an asshole. “Are you by yourself?” she asked.

And by that, she meant, Is Kaden with you? She was one of the few people who knew about him. “No, we’re not together anymore.” I smiled, thinking about that shit pie for a second.

Clara blinked, and it took her a second to nod, but she did, her own smile taking over her face. “Well, I hope you’ll tell me the long story eventually. What are you doing here?”

“I was in town; I just got here last night. I was walking around looking for a job, and I figured I might as well drop by and see you.” While we hadn’t been active-active in each other’s lives for a long time, we had managed to keep in touch. We’d texted each other Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday for two decades.

And since I’d split up with Kaden . . . I’d kind of fallen off the face of the planet. I hadn’t felt like talking about anything more than I already had.

“You’re really planning on staying?”

“Yeah. That’s my plan at least.”

Clara looked pretty damn surprised.

I knew how it seemed. No wonder she looked surprised.

But I’d have to explain that I hadn’t really had a choice, even if I saw that it had been the best thing that could have happened.

She blinked again and then smiled a little more brightly before gesturing toward the counter where the younger girl was, looking at us with a curious expression on her face. Her ponytail was lopsided, and she seemed just as tired as Clara. I knew she didn’t have kids, so maybe she was just an employee. They might have been going full speed all day. Based on the time, I’d bet all those rentals would be coming back pretty soon too. “Step into my office,” Clara suggested. “Let’s have a chat. I need to keep an eye out in case anyone else has any questions, and I want to hear about stuff.”

I cracked a smile at her office and nodded, going to stand across from where the teenager was leaning and watching as Clara went around the counter to face the store. “Aurora, this is my niece, Jackie. Jackie, this is Aurora. We were best friends a long time ago.”

The teenage girl’s eyes went a little wide, and I wondered why, but she waved.

“Hi.” I waved back.

“Where are you staying? You said you got here last night?” Clara asked.

“I’m staying closer to Chimney Rock.” That was a national monument on the opposite end of town. “And, yeah, I drove in last night. I came into town to buy groceries and check out some of the shops. I figured I might as well come say hi while I was at it.”

All I knew about Clara was that about a year ago her dad had gotten really ill, and she’d moved back to Pagosa from . . . Arizona? She had been married, and about eight years ago, her husband had died tragically in a drunk driving accident. I’d sent her flowers for the funeral when she’d posted about it.

“I’m glad you did,” she said, smiling wide. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Or that you’re even prettier in person than in your pictures. I’d kind of hoped it was an app with a really great filter, but it’s not.” Clara shook her head.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Anyway, how are you? How’s your dad?”

It was only because I’d gotten so in tune with people’s suffering that I caught a hint of her wince. “I’m good. Really busy here. And Dad is . . . Dad’s doing okay. I’ve taken over running this place full-time.” Her face was tight. “He doesn’t come in here that much anymore. But I’d bet he’d love to see you if you’re planning on staying a while.”

“I am, and I’d love to see him too.”

Clara’s gaze strayed to her niece before returning to me, eyes narrowed. She looked at me a little too closely. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

“What kind of job are you hiring for?” I asked her, joking. What the hell did I know about outdoor activities? Nothing. Not anymore. Just walking through the fishing section had been eye-opening.

Mom would be so disappointed with me. She used to take me fishing all the time. Sometimes it had been the two of us, and sometimes her friends came too from what I remembered.

Yet that was all a blank wall for me now.

I wasn’t exaggerating. I didn’t recognize half of the stuff inside the store. More than that probably.

The last twenty years without my mom had turned me into a city girl. I hadn’t been camping once since leaving here. I’d gone fishing a handful of times with my uncle on his boat, but that had easily been fifteen years ago since the last trip. I wasn’t even sure I could name ten different kinds of fish if I had to.

The surprising part was, Clara looked . . . well, she looked interested. “Don’t mess with me right now, Aurora . . . or do you go by Ora now?”

“Either one.” I blinked. “And I was kind of joking. I don’t know anything about any of this.” I gestured behind me. “If I did though, sign me up.”

Her gaze hadn’t stopped being narrowed since I’d joked around. If anything, her chin had tipped up a bit. “You don’t know anything?”

“It took me a second to remember the flies and fishing lures back there weren’t called ‘fishing thingies.’” I grinned. “That’s bad.”

“My last guy that quit on me used to tell people they could catch salmon in the San Juan,” she said drily.

“You . . . can’t?”

Clara smiled, her little gap flashing at me, and I had to grin back at her. “No, you can’t. But he also showed up late every day he came in . . . and never actually called in when he wasn’t planning on keeping his shift . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m jumping all over you. I’ve just been looking for help, and I feel like I’ve hired everyone looking for a job in town.”

Oh.

Well.

I closed my mouth and processed what she was saying. What this could mean. Working for someone who I had a relationship with. We all knew how that had gone last time.

Great until it hadn’t, but that was life.

I was sure I could find something elsewhere, but I was also pretty sure Clara and I could get along. I’d followed her enough over the years to see her happy, upbeat posts online, which could have been a ruse and part of her highlight reel, but I doubted it. Even when her husband had passed away, she had been gracious in her grief. And we’d always joked around just fine online.

What did I have to lose? Other than making an idiot out of myself since I didn’t know anything?

“No, don’t apologize,” I told her pretty cautiously. “I just . . . I don’t know anything about camping or fishing, but . . . if you’re willing . . . I can try. I’m a fast learner, and I know how to ask questions,” I threw out, watching her facial features go from open to straight-up calculating. “I’m punctual. I work hard, and I almost never get sick. It takes a lot for me to be in a bad mood.”

She lifted a hand and tapped her index finger against her chin, her pleasant face thoughtful, but it was her slightly widened eyes that gave away her continued interest.

But I still wanted her to understand the extent of what she’d be dealing with by hiring me so that there weren’t any surprises and no one ended up disappointed.

“I haven’t worked retail in a really long time, but I did used to have to deal with people a lot at my, uh”—I did quotations with my fingers—“last job.”

Her mouth puckered, eyes sliding toward the teenage girl—Jackie—before flicking back to me, and she ended up with a tight nod.

She wasn’t going to bring up Kaden in front of her, I guess, and honestly, that was totally fine with me. The fewer people that knew, the better. The Joneses had bet on me keeping my word about not talking about our relationship, and they’d been right.

But I only didn’t want to talk about him because I didn’t want to be Kaden Jones’s ex-girlfriend for the rest of my life, especially not if I didn’t have to. Damn, I hoped his mom got hot flashes tonight.

“I just want you to be aware of my absolute lack of knowledge.”

Clara’s mouth twitched. “The second to last employee I hired lasted two days. My last one was here for a week before she ghosted me. The last ten before that were the same story. I have two part-timers that are friends with my dad who show up once or twice a month.” Clara’s chin went high, and I swear she winced. “If you can show up when you’re scheduled and do something, I’ll teach you as much as you’re willing to learn.”

Yeah, that was hope blooming in my chest. Working with an old friend? Doing something that my mom would have killed at? Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. “I love learning,” I told her honestly.

I’d spent so much of my life seeing hopeful, cautiously optimistic faces, that I recognized her expression for what it was: that.

She must really be desperate if she was willing to hire me, old friendship or not.

“So . . .” Her hands wrapped around the counter. “Do you want to work here then? Doing odds and ends?”

“As long as you don’t think it will be awkward.” I paused and tried to smile at her brightly. “I’m a good listener; I know business is business. But if you get tired of me, will you tell me? If I’m not doing a good job? And real talk, I have a room booked for a month, and if things are going okay, I’ll stay for longer, but I don’t know yet for sure.”

Clara glanced at the teenage girl, who was too busy staring at me intently, before nodding. “I’ll take it as long as you show up and, if you don’t feel like coming in, you’ll at least give me notice?”

“I promise.”

“I have to warn you though, I can’t pay you much hourly.” She gave me an amount that wasn’t much over minimum wage, but it was something.

And with someone I liked and who had known me before, it was fucking fate slapping me in the face.

And when fate pushed things into your life, you listened. I had my ears ready. My future wide open. I had no clue what I wanted to do anymore, but this was something. This was a step. And the only way you could move was by taking that first step, and sometimes it didn’t matter which direction you took it as long as you did.

“I can teach you how to use the register, and we can figure out what other things you can do. Rentals. I don’t know. But it isn’t going to be a whole lot of money; I want you to know that. You sure that’s okay?”

“I’ve never wanted to be a millionaire,” I told her carefully, feeling something that felt an awful lot like relief crawl over my skin.

“Want to start tomorrow?”

Some more of that blooming hope flowered in my chest. “Tomorrow works for me.” I had exactly nothing going on.

I held my hand out between us. She slipped hers forward too, and we shook on it, roughly.

Then slowly, we both smiled and she dipped her chin down and asked, with her mouth twitching again, her dark eyes bright, “Now that that’s over, tell me everything. What have you been doing?” Her face fell, and I knew what had come into her mind again—the same thing that loomed over just about every relationship I had with people who were aware of what had happened—my mom.

I didn’t feel like talking about my mom or Kaden, so I changed the subject. “What have you been doing?”

Luckily, she took the bait and told me all about what she’d been up to.

I was feeling pretty damn good as I drove back to the garage apartment that evening. I’d spent two hours hanging out with Clara and Jackie. The fifteen-year-old had been quiet but extremely watchful, soaking up everything Clara shared about her life with these wide eyes that made me like her already.

Those hours together were the highlight of the last two months of my life—probably even longer than that. It was nice to be around someone who knew me. To have a conversation in person with someone who wasn’t a total stranger. I’d been to cool national parks, major tourist destinations, and so many other places that I’d only seen in magazines and in travel blogs, that I couldn’t regret how I’d spent my time before getting to Pagosa. It had been what I’d needed, and I was fully aware my free time had been a luxury.

Even if it was a blessing that had come with what had felt like such a huge price tag.

Fourteen years wasted for two months of doing whatever I wanted to do. And still more than enough money in my bank account that I wouldn’t have to work for . . . a while. But I knew that time was over.

There was no point in waiting to settle in to get my life back on track.

But getting to catch up with my old friend gave me hope that maybe . . . there was something for me here. Or at least that if I gave it some time, I could make there be something here for me. There were bones, and that was more than I could say for just about every other place in the United States that wasn’t Cape Coral or Nashville.

Why not here?ran through my head all over again.

If my mom had been able to live here with no family and a few friends, why couldn’t I?

I pulled my car into the driveway like my navigation instructed and spotted two vehicles in front of the house. The Bronco and a truck that said “Parks and Wildlife” on the sides. Lights blazed through the big windows of the main house, and I wondered what the father and son were doing.

Then I wondered if there was a girlfriend, wife, or mom in there with them too. There might be a sister. Or even more siblings. Maybe not though, because if he had thought about trying to pull off renting out the garage apartment, it would’ve been a lot harder with a sibling who could rat him out.

I would know. My cousins used to pay me not to tell my aunt and uncle about things that would get them in trouble. Who the hell knew though?

I could snoop and perv from a distance. I was a sucker for a gorgeous face—usually dog faces or baby animals but human ones too from time to time. It wouldn’t be a hardship to check out my landlord.

Parking my car alongside the garage apartment, I picked up the envelope with cash that I’d gotten from the bank and got out. Not wanting to get caught by the hot dad who didn’t want to know I existed, I pretty much ran to the front door, knocked on it, then stuffed it halfway under the mat before I got caught.

I collected the bags of groceries I’d bought after leaving Clara and Jackie, grabbed the right key, and hustled for the door.

What had been supposed to be a quick trip to the grocery store ended up taking almost an hour since I had no idea where anything was, but I managed to get more sandwich supplies, cereal, fruit, almond milk, and things to make a few quick dinners. Over the last decade, I’d mastered about a dozen versions of quick, easy dinners I could make with a single small pot—most of the time I would rather eat my own food than what I could have gotten through catering. Those recipes had come in handy over the last two months when I’d gotten fed up with eating out.

Closing the door with my hip, I glanced toward the house and spotted a familiarish face through a window.

A young face.

I paused for a second then waved.

The boy, Amos, lifted a hand shyly. I wondered if he was grounded for the rest of his life. Poor kid.

Back upstairs, in my temporary home, I put my groceries up and made a meal, basically inhaling it. After that, I pulled my mom’s journal out from my backpack, setting the leather-bound book beside a spiral one I’d bought the day after I’d decided to head to Pagosa. Then I found the page I already had memorized but felt like seeing.

I’d driven by the house we’d lived in after the grocery store, and it had left me with something that felt an awful lot like indigestion in the center of my chest. It wasn’t indigestion though. I’d gotten so familiar with the sensation that I knew exactly what it was. I just missed her extra today.

I was lucky because I remembered a lot about her. I’d been thirteen when she’d gone missing, but there were a few things I could recall a lot more clearly than others. Time had softened so many details and watered other memories down, but one of the brightest memories of her had been her absolute love of the outdoors. She would’ve killed it working at the Outdoor Experience, and now that I thought about it . . . well, I guess it was the most perfect job I could have gotten. I was already planning on doing her hikes.

Maybe I didn’t know anything about fishing, camping, or archery, but I’d used to do some of that stuff with her, and I was pretty sure if I’d hated it, I wouldn’t have forgotten. That was something to consider.

Another thing I remembered as well was how much she had loved to catalog things she did. That included keeping track of what had been her favorite hobby in the world: hiking. She used to say it was the best therapy she’d ever found—not that I’d understood what that meant until I’d gotten a lot older.

The problem was, she hadn’t written things down in order of easiest to hardest. She’d done random ones, and over the last two weeks, I had already done the grunt work of finding the ratings for their difficulties and figuring out how long each trail was.

Because I wasn’t used to the altitude, and I didn’t know yet how long I was going to actually be here, I had to start with the easiest and shortest and work my way up from there. I knew exactly what hike I would do first. Clara and I hadn’t talked about long-term scheduling, but I’d eyed the shop’s hours on the way out and saw it was closed on Mondays. I figured that for sure would be my day off, obviously. Now I’d just have to see what other day I could get too. If she wanted me to only work part-time, that was good. We’d . . . see. And that was perfect.

My plan was to start jumping rope tomorrow to give my lungs some exercise in preparation. I’d been walking and jogging almost every day lately, when I wasn’t driving somewhere new, but I didn’t want to give myself altitude sickness my first week here—at least that’s what all the travel forums I’d read had warned against. There really wasn’t anywhere to walk around here though, other than driving into town to a trail or settling for the side of the road, which didn’t exactly sound safe.

Either way, I set the two notebooks in front of me and reread my mom’s entry. The one I was looking for was toward the middle. Mom only did entries for new hikes, but continued doing her favorites over and over again. She had started this particular journal after I’d been born. There were older journals she’d done before me, but all those had been extreme hikes and ones in other places she’d lived before having me.

August 19

Piedra Falls

Pagosa Springs, CO

Easy, 15 minutes one way, clear trail

Come back in the fall to get in the river!

Would do it again

There was a heart drawn next to it.

Then I read it once more even though I’d already read the entry at least fifty times and had it memorized.

There was a photograph of Mom and me doing this hike when I’d been around six years old in one of the photo albums I’d been able to keep. It was an easy, short hike, only about a quarter of a mile in, so I figured it would be a good starting point. Tomorrow I’d talk to Clara about days off to be on the safe side and plan to work around them . . . if she didn’t fire me an hour in because I had no clue what the hell I was doing.

I dragged my finger along the outside of the journal; I didn’t do it over the words anymore because I was worried about smudging them or ruining them, and I wanted her notebook around as long as possible. Her handwriting was small and not all that neat, but it felt a lot like her. The book was precious and had been one of the few things that had never left my side.

After a little while, I closed it then got up to shower. Tomorrow I should take my tablet into town and go somewhere with Wi-Fi to download some movies or shows onto it. Maybe Clara had Wi-Fi at the shop. Stopping at the only window in the house that I hadn’t opened as soon as I got into the almost too-warm apartment—I’d forgotten most places around here didn’t have air-conditioning—I paused and glanced at the main house again.

It was even more illuminated than it’d been when I’d arrived. Light pierced through every huge window along the front and side. This time though, the Parks and Wildlife truck was gone.

For the second time, I wondered what my landlord’s significant other looked like.

Hmm.

I mean, I was already right here, where there was service. Plus, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. I grabbed my phone and went back to the window.

I typed “TOBIAS RHODES” into the Facebook search box.

There were only a few Tobias Rhodeses, and none of them were based in Colorado. There was one with a picture that looked a little old—and by old I meant maybe ten years or so from how blurry it was, like an old cell phone picture—of a little boy with a dog beside him. It said he lived in Jacksonville, Florida.

I wasn’t sure why I clicked on it, but I did. Someone named Billy Warner had posted on his page a year ago with a link to some article about a new world record fish that had been caught, and after that was a post with an updated profile picture of an even younger little boy and the dog. There were two comments, so I clicked on them.

The first one was from the same Billy Warner, and it said: Amgot my looks

The second comment was a reply, and it was from Tobias Rhodes: You wish

Am? As in . . . Amos? The boy? His skin tone was about right.

I went back to the posts and scrolled down. There were barely any. Three actually.

There was an even older profile picture of just the dog, this big white one. And that had been from two years before that.

The other post was from the same Billy person with another fishing link, and that one had comments too.

Being as careful as possible, because I was going to die if I accidentally liked an old post—I would literally have to delete my account and legally change my name—I clicked on the comments. There were six.

The first one was from someone named Johnny Green. It read: When we going fishing?

Tobias Rhodes responded with: Whenever you want to come visit.

Billy Warner replied with: Johnny Green, Rhodes is single again. Let’s go.

Johnny Green: You broke up with Angie? Hell yeah, let’s do it.

Tobias Rhodes: Invite Am too.

Billy Warner: I’ll bring him.

Who Angie was, I had no idea. Chances were, it was an ex-girlfriend or maybe even a current girlfriend? Maybe they had gotten back together? Maybe it was Amos’s mom?

Who Billy or Johnny were, I had no idea either.

There was no other information on his page though, and I didn’t trust myself to snoop through other profiles without getting caught.

Hmm.

I exited out of the window before I accidentally clicked on anything.

I’d just have to snoop through Picturegram and see what I could find. That was a good plan. Worst case, maybe I could invest in some binoculars to snoop on the outside.

Deciding that was a good idea, I went to take a shower.

I had a busy day tomorrow.

I had a life to start building.