Chapter 21 - Heather

Chapter 21

Heather

The Inca Trail, Peru

"That was some bitch of a climb," Bon told Pidru. "It didn't say anything about that in the brochure."

"The brochure shows the mountains," Pidru disagreed mildly.

They set off down from Dead Woman's pass. The road fell vertiginously in curling loops. Bon gave one last look back at Junior, who wasn't there, and who had never been there. But Heather felt him falling behind, even so. Left in the past, where he belonged now.

"Pidru says that the worst of it is over," Mom said cheekily over her shoulder. "Today was our hardest day."

"And you believe him?" Heather was incredulous.

"I can read between the lines of his gentleness, and I think he's telling the truth."

"Good," Bon said firmly. "Because I can't take many more days like today." She didn't just mean the climb.

The three of them lapsed into a warmer dynamic as they descended from Dead Woman's Pass. They looked around the ruined cities of Intipata, the Sun Place, and Wi?aywayna, Forever Young. And then it was their final night on the trail together. Heather felt a pang as she realized their time together was almost over. Who would have thought she'd miss them? But she was going to. A lot.

"We should do this again," Heather said as they prepared for bed. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt this calm and happy, especially while with her family.

"But next time, no mountains," Bon insisted. "I've done enough climbing."

"And next time no ex-boyfriends," Heather said dryly.

"Or Facebook," Mom added, "I don't want to see Nick getting engaged again."

"Again? How many times do you think he'll be getting engaged?" Bon asked.

"I don't know. How many adult women are there in the world?"

Heather giggled. And then Mom started laughing too.

"You have to rule out the ones he's already been through," Bon said.

And their giggles became guffaws.

"Hot chocolate for bedtime," Wilipi announced, handing out tin mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

"Drink in your tents," Pidru said firmly, "start time is four a.m. tomorrow."

"Four a.m.!" Mom groaned. "What happened to gentling things, Pidru?"

"There's no gentling four a.m."

"You can say that again."

"There's no gentling four a.m."

"Everyone's a comedian." Mom winced in pain as she stood. Taking her hot chocolate, she saluted Pidru. "See you in . . . I mean, before . . . the morning."

Heather paused in the rain, listening to them rustle around, readying themselves for bed. The sound of them filled her with love. Tonight, she was grateful for them, in all their messy glory.

* * *

Four a.m. was insanely early. The forest was buzzing with night sounds still, and it was misty and cold. Heather trod carefully through the mud, not wanting to step in a puddle on her way to the toilet tent. Her fingertips were frozen; she blew on them, but it didn't really help. Her breath was a white plume in the streak of light from her head torch.

Heather heard muffled voices coming from the staff tents and turned, her head lamp illuminating the row of tents, and she almost lost her footing in the slippery mud in shock.

It was Mom. And Pidru.

Mom was emerging from his orange cocoon of a tent, and he was following. They froze in Heather's torchlight.

"Mom?"

Mom swore. She pushed Pidru back in his tent. "Talk later," she apologized, and then jogged over to Heather, mud splattering with every footstep. "Now, Heather . . ."

"Mom!"

"It's not what it looks like . . . well, it is what it looks like . . . but there's no need to be upset about it."

Heather didn't know if she was upset. She was shocked beyond speech, but not upset exactly.

Mom grabbed her by the arm and frog-marched her in the direction of the dining tent. "Now, there's no need to tell your grandmother about this," she warned. "Or I'll never hear the end of it . . ."

Mom had slept with someone other than Dad!

It was like the Earth had ceased to orbit the Sun.

But not necessarily in a bad way . . .

"Good for you, Mom," Heather said mildly, and she saw Mom smile.

* * *

Heather felt lighter as they prepared for the final day. Maybe Mom would be okay . . .

They reached Intipunku, the sun gate, just as dawn was breaking.

"Be glad you're not here in busy season," Pidru told them as they exclaimed at the crowds. "This is a lighter month." He was in a great mood, Heather noted.

"Thanks for making sure we didn't oversleep," Heather said, elbowing Mom and trying not to smirk. "Aren't you glad Pidru got you up, Mom?"

Mom scowled at her.

Behind them, Bon was quiet, lost in her own thoughts; she completely missed Heather's insinuation.

Clouds rolled around the sun gate above Machu Picchu, hiding the view of the city beyond. Dawn was sleepy and slow. The first filigree of gold was only just lighting the cloud edges, and it was surreal, standing on this shelf above a sheer drop, looking down on nothing but cloud, surrounded by a flock of strangers in hiking gear and head torches.

"The city was hidden for more than three hundred years."

Heather startled. She knew that voice, even though it was muffled by the cloud.

"It was abandoned around the time the Spanish came."

Owen. She felt a fizz of joy. Owen.

"Why did they leave? I doubt the Spanish would have found it, even with the road. I mean, they didn't find it, did they?"

Oh God, she knew that voice too. Shawn.

Heather craned her neck to see them, but the cottony thickness of the cloud was blurring the world. She thought maybe they were to her left, but they also sounded like they might be behind her.

"No one is sure," Owen's muffled voice said.

"It seems like an odd place to build a city. Like, a total nightmare for the builders."

Were they getting along? Heather was shocked as she listened to them converse. It was definitely Owen.

"Is that . . . ?" Bon craned her neck too.

"Owen," Heather supplied. "Yes, I think so." Heather couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.

Now it was Mom's turn to elbow and smirk.

The darkness was easing, and all around became a lilac-gray shadow world. The clouds were moving swiftly, rolling in fat churns. Long streamers drifted through the maze of hikers. Heather looked down to see the cloud sliding around her feet, so thick that she couldn't see her own boots.

"Sounds like S-H-A-W-N is there too," Bon said.

"Oh, don't mention Shawn," Mom groaned. "I want Heather to keep talking to me."

"I don't mind anymore," Heather said, her desire to see Owen stronger than her need to avoid Shawn.

"You don't?" Bon asked suspiciously. "You're sure?"

"Now you don't mind," Mom complained, but she sounded happy enough.

"Well, if you don't mind . . . Owen!" Bon abruptly screeched. "Yoo-hoo! Owen!"

There was a discontented muttering from the crowd around them.

"This is a mystical moment, missus," a young English guy behind them complained.

"Sorry," Heather apologized.

But Bon wasn't sorry. "Not yet, it's not. Right now it's just a bunch of clouds. You would have seen better views from a plane window." She set to screeching again. "Owen!"

"Bonnie?"

Now Owen was at it.

"Where are you?" he called.

"Where do you think she is?" the young guy behind them complained. "Machu bloody Picchu is where she is."

A head torch faintly bobbed in the cloud. And then Owen emerged from the swirls, like an action hero looming into shot.

God, he looked good. The pearly sheen of early dawn made him glow. His head torch had pushed his dark curls back, so they formed a mane, like a moody lion, and his square jaw was stubbled with three days of growth, giving him an added edge.

His gaze went straight to Heather, and she was suddenly aware that she hadn't showered since they left Cusco. He reached up and turned off his head torch so it wouldn't blind them. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, his pointy lips twitching.

He was glad to see her.

"You never told me about Dead Woman's Pass when you talked me into this," Bon scolded him as she gave him a hello hug. "I could have died on that hill. I'm seventy, you thoughtless oaf."

"I never talked you into anything. You were impossible to shake. Like a tick."

"A tick," Bon scoffed. "What kind of way is that to talk to a lady."

"Hi, Heather." Shawn was directly behind Owen, standing awkwardly in a puddle of cloud, holding the straps of his backpack and staring at her in his usual longing way. She gave him a curt nod but didn't speak.

"Owen said he knew you guys." He shifted on the spot.

Heather wondered how much Owen had told him. She tried to catch Owen's eye, but he was busy with Bon. She felt her mother draw close, for support. Mom stood shoulder to shoulder with Heather and smiled politely at Shawn.

"Have you had a good hike?" she asked him. Like she was asking him how his day at work had been. Heather felt the old irritation with her rise.

"Shawn! Shawney!"

Shawn winced as a high-pitched voice floated through the early morning.

"Oh, Shawwwwwwneeeeeeeey."

Shawney?

Heather watched as Shawn curdled with embarrassment.

"Shawn!" Kyle's voice boomed. "I can't handle all these girls on my own!"

"Ah, excuse me," Shawn stuttered, backing away. "Let me just tell Kyle where I am—I'll come back. . . ."

"Please don't," Heather said firmly. "Stay with Kyle."

Looking wounded, he backed away.

"Who's hollering for him like that?" Bon asked Owen as Shawn slogged off.

"Ah, there's a bunch of University of Texas girls on our tour," he said. "They've been partying together."

"Go Longhorns," Mom drawled.

Heather felt a stab of jealousy. Owen had been on a tour with college girls? "You've had energy to party?" she asked in disbelief, not able to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

"Not me," he said calmly. "I get headaches if I drink at high altitude."

Heather didn't find that reassuring. He could still hang out with girls sober . . .

"Besides, who has the energy after hiking all day." He grinned at her, and she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"This isn't a bloody disco!" The English guy was now bellowing at Shawney and Kyle and the coeds. "Keep it down."

"Dawn," Pidru told them urgently, pointing to the clouds below.

Mom and Bon took their phones out to take photos, both of them on the lip of the terraced shelf.

"Oh." Heather couldn't help but exclaim as the sun broke the boundary of the horizon and the clouds burst into golden life.

Heather held her breath as the green spears of the mountain eyrie around Machu Picchu became visible. Those spears held a bowl of sliding, tumbling cloud formations, all blazing gold as the day was birthed.

Heather was aware of Owen beside her. She looked up to find him staring at her, not at the view.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi." His twitchy mouth was just on the verge of smiling. "Your head torch is right in my eyes."

"Oh!" She reached up to turn it off.

He caught her hand as she lowered it from the head torch and held it, turning back to admire the view, as the clouds swirled into vapor and lifted, revealing the full footprint of the Incan citadel of Machu Picchu below.

"You don't have an encyclopedia entry for me?" Heather whispered.

"Sometimes even I'm speechless." He squeezed her hand. "How's your trek been?"

Heather leaned into him. "Life changing," she admitted.

* * *

It took an hour to descend from the sun gate into the citadel below. Owen regretfully fell back to his own tour group, after Pidru told him he hadn't paid for the private experience.

Heather watched him go.

"You've got it bad," Mom sighed. And she grew serious. "I really am sorry I pulled the Shawn stunt. But how was I to know you'd meet Mr. Perfect in Lima?"

"If you'd talked to me, you might have known," Bon said tartly.

"Or to me," Heather added.

"Point taken." Mom rolled her eyes. "I promise I'll talk to you both next time I ask your exes along for a vacation."

Heather groaned.

"Joking," Mom said defensively. Then she headed into the citadel. "Just think," she told Heather and Bon, "this place was built more than five hundred years before I met Nick Russo and will be here five hundred years after I divorce Nick Russo. It puts things in perspective, don't you think?"

The forest flowed thickly right to the cleared greensward of the citadel, which ran along the spine of the mountains, draped like a saddle across a steep ridge. Heather, Mom and Bon fell silent as they reached it. Machu Picchu was bigger than Heather had expected. The remains of the stone city were substantial enough to hold their own against the mountains. In fact, they dominated the eye.

"The city was only occupied for just over one hundred years," Hulya told them softly, careful not to break their awe. "Archeologists think it was a royal estate, which was abandoned and hidden from the Spanish invaders."

Heather tried to imagine it as it must have been five hundred years ago, but it was a hard task. She felt humbled as she took in the sophistication of the hundreds of reinforced terraces and the clumps of stone buildings.

"What do you think it would be like to be buried up here?" Bon asked, growing quiet when they reached Funerary Rock. "Do you think they get lonely?"

"With all these tourists?" Mom's attempt at a joke was half-hearted.

"The apus are with them," Pidru told them. "The apus are the mountain spirits. No one is alone in the mountains. The mountains reach from the kingdom of humans to the kingdom of the gods; here, we are close to Hanan Pacha, the superior kingdom."

"This would definitely be better than a golf course," Mom whispered to Bon.

They left the hut and wandered the wide terraces, which had once been used for farming. Heather could see Owen standing off by himself on one of the terraces, gazing into the cloudy jungle down the steep drop below. Shreds of cloud were caught in the treetops. She wondered what he was thinking about.

"Ahead, we will see the urban area, where the common people lived."

Bon perked up at that and walked ahead with Pidru and Hulya.

Heather watched her, noting the slight stiffness with which Bon took the stairs down the hill. Bon was the one who might need a massage when they got back to Cusco. She felt sad for her grandmother, going home to her empty house. But then she realized she was going home to an empty house too, and so was Mom.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, honey?" Mom was distracted. She kept trying to spot chinchillas, ever since Hulya said they were living wild in the ruins.

"How are you holding up, living alone?"

Mom seemed pleased to be asked. "I have to say I don't mind it. When I'm not bedridden with depression, that is."

"You don't mind it?" Heather was surprised.

Mom shrugged. "I haven't done it much in my life. It's surprisingly okay. The house stays clean; I don't have to do anyone else's dishes; it's quiet." She glanced at Heather. "What about you?"

"I like it," Heather admitted. "But I think I'm a little housebound at the moment. I need to get out more."

"This isn't out enough for you?" Mom gestured at the rainforest.

Heather laughed. "Yeah, well, this is Bon's doing."

Mom smiled. "She was always one for making things happen. She doesn't sit still, my mom." Mom pulled a face. "Not like me. I think I've got a lot to work through. For instance, I might need to do some running away when your dad actually gets married. . . Somewhere even farther away than this . . ."

"You could try running to instead of running away," Heather suggested.

"Yeah, I like the sound of that. Come with me?"

"Sure."

Mom blanched and swore. "Oh shit, sorry, honey. I forgot you'll want to go to the wedding."

Heather's stomach curdled, but not as much as it used to at the thought. "If I'm invited . . ."

Mom gave her a one-armed hug. "Well, you can always crashit?"

* * *

"Hey," Heather called to Mom and Bon as they reached the end of the tour. "Don't rush. We don't have to go until noon." She stood forlornly on a terrace by the fountains, down near the main gate.

"Yes, sit," Hulya said graciously. "There are snacks left, and tea. Have a picnic for your last hour."

"Well, I can't deny it would be good to sit down," Mom sighed, and they picked their way across to one of the wide agricultural terraces, where it was quieter. In the distance they could see llamas tearing at the grass and chewing ruminatively, looking into the jungle through their curly fringes. Mom was thrilled. "Now, if only we could spot a chinchilla, I'd be perfectly happy," she said as she poured out the tea.

"How are you doing, Bon?" Heather asked.

"I've got sore knees and I smell worse than my pa used to after a bender." She pulled off her hat and her silver hair stood up in clumps. "Our hotel room better have a bath tonight or there'll be hell to pay."

"Thanks for bringing me here, Bon," Heather said quietly. "And thank you for telling me about Jimmy and Dale and Junior."

"You're welcome, chicken." Bon rubbed her face. "Although it was some hell of a telling, wasn't it? I may need a vacation to recover from this vacation."

"Me too," Mom said dryly.

Bon gave her a thoughtful look. "Huh. You're not even done yet."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we haven't done everything we came here to do."

Mom groaned. "Let me guess, you have another husband to tell us about," she joked.

"Ha. No." Bon brushed the cracker crumbs off herself. "Come on, up you get." She stood and clicked her fingers at them. "I'm not done yet either."

Bon reached down and dug Junior's old box out of the backpack. Then she led them down the terrace to the very precipice.

"You're not throwing that box, I hope?" Mom said dryly. "You'll squash some poor chinchilla flat."

"No." Bon opened the box.

"More rings! How many do you have in there?"

"Just these." Bon held up two more gold rings. "I think it's time to set them free too, don't you?" Bon gave a bittersweet smile. "These ones are mine. Jimmy and Dale were buried wearing theirs."

"Oh, Mom." Mom was clearly hurting at the thought too. Tears had sprung to her eyes.

"You first, Dale." Bon closed her eyes and took a moment of silence. "Dale, you were solid ground when I needed it, and you gave me a kind of certain, regular love that I'd never had before. You treasured me, like no one had treasured me before. You wanted to care for me and give me everything I'd never had. And I loved you for it. But I also loved you for you. I didn't convince you of that enough. I should have tried harder. Because you were never second best." Her voice broke.

Heather's heart ached for Grandpa, and for the thought he felt second best to Jimmy Keays. Well, love didn't work like that. That's one thing Heather had learned from Bon's stories. Loving one person didn't mean you loved another person less.

You want to add anything, honey?" Bon asked Mom, turning to her, holding the ring out.

"Yeah." Mom was weeping, her lower lip trembling like a child's. "You were a good dad, Dale. Dad. And I loved you. And I'm sorry if I didn't tell you enough too."

"He knew," Bon said, sure.

Mom nodded. "I knew you loved me. And that means the world to me, Dad." She brushed her fingertips over the ring. "Bye, Daddy."

Bon swallowed hard. "Heather?"

Heather startled. She wasn't expecting to be included. "Ah . . ." Heather had cried like a baby at Grandpa's funeral, but she wasn't crying now. Instead, she was filled with an immense feeling of love for him, and of gratitude for the love he'd given her. "I love you, Grandpa."

Bon smiled, and then she gave the ring a gentle kiss. "Goodbye, honey. I love you." She took a deep breath and then placed the ring gently on the stone edge of the terrace, overlooking the cloud forest.

Heather's heart felt like it was falling. She heard Mom sniffle.

"And Jimmy." Bon took the cheap little JCPenney band between her fingers and lifted it up to the sunlight. "I never wanted to let you go. Not ever." Now Bon was the one who looked like a little kid. Her entire face collapsed in on itself as she cried. "I have kept tight hold of you all these years. But you got held up long enough, stuffed full of tubes in that hospital bed. I don't want to hold you up anymore."

Mom was making gulping noises as she tried to draw breath through her tears.

Bon exhaled. "I will never, ever not love you. Or the me I was when you were with me. I loved that you adored that kid from Shitsville. I loved that you set me on fire. I loved that you made me laugh. And I loved that you gave me a future when you gave me Sandra. I wish you could have known her, because she's everything."

"Oh God, Mom, you're killing me." Mom wrapped her arms around Bon from behind, looking like she was just about all that was holding her up.

"I loved getting struck by lightning," Bon wailed. "And I wouldn't give up one second of it, not to save all the pain to come."

One by one they said goodbye to Jimmy Keays, and then the JCPenney ring was lowered, a small hoop of memory on the ancient terrace.

"Alright, Sandra. Now it's your turn." Bon turned to Mom.

Mom frowned, wiping at her swollen eyes. "What do you mean it's my turn? You're not planning on leaving me on this mountain, I hope."

Bon rolled her eyes and took Mom's left hand. She held it up in front of Mom's face. "Your turn."

The rings. Heather saw the moment her mother realized, her eyes flaring wide. Mom made a strangled sound as she stared at her hand.

"Not the diamond, of course," Bon said dryly. "That would be crazy. You can sell the engagement ring and use the money to do something nice for yourself."

Mom's gaze flicked to Heather.

"You don't have to do it," Heather told her hastily.

Mom closed her eyes and tears splashed down. "Damn," she said softly.

There was a long, drawn-out few minutes, where the only sound was Mom's crying and the play of the wind in the trees.

"Nick," Mom managed to say in a strangled voice. "I loved you. I still love you." She drew a long, very shuddery breath. "I wish you could have worked your shit out." She stopped and stared at the rings. Then she pulled them off. She examined the engagement ring and then held it out to Heather. "You have it," she said shakily. "Keep it. It's proof that your parents loved you when they made you, even if they were screwups."

"Everyone's a screwup," Bon said sharply. "You don't have to apologize for it. It's just being human."

Heather stared at the diamond ring. She didn't know if she wanted to take it or not.

"Your father loves you," Mom sniffed. "He will always love you. He's just . . . messier than most."

Heather took the ring. She didn't have to decide right now whether she would keep it or not. And she didn't have to decide right now how she felt about Dad. She closed her hand around the diamond ring, feeling the press of it against her skin.

"I love you, Nick." Mom pressed a kiss to the gold wedding band. "But I'm letting you go." And she put the ring down, choosing a soft pillow of grass, away from the edge, as though protecting it from harm.

I love you too, Dad, Heather thought, and felt a softening behind her rib cage as she stared at the grass, which had swallowed the ring in its pillowy depths. She didn't know if she was letting him go, exactly, so much as letting go of the wish that he would be any different. He was who he was. She couldn't change him. All she could do was draw her boundaries and love him from behind the line.

Heather stepped forward and put her arm around Mom, who was leaning against Bon. "You okay, Bon?" she asked, looking over to see her grandmother staring at the cloudy forest.

"Honey," Bon said, smiling wryly at her, "I'm always okay. It's in my DNA." She sighed, but it wasn't a sad sound. "It's in yours too, you know."

Heather nodded. After this trip, she thought that was true. "Thanks for bringing us here," she said softly. "It's been the most . . ." Heather wasn't sure what the word was.

"It has," Mom agreed. "It has been the most."

"You're welcome." Bon considered the path. "You ready to try and get off this mountain now?"