6. Clover

Istare down at the few bites of shepherd's pie left on my plate. I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I grind my teeth, fighting the urge to flip my plate over and start shouting at them to knock it off.

Every dinner has been like this for the past four days. Trish devotes her evenings to making vegetarian versions of my favourite foods, Emily asks me how I'm doing in the soft tones one would use to speak to the gravely ill, and Dad finds a couple opportunities to pat me on the back and tell me I'm a tough cookie.

Before this week, I'd never heard my dad use the phrase ‘tough cookie' in his life.

Even Newt is being weird. He refuses to lie anywhere but directly under my chair while we're eating, even though it's a little-known secret that my dad is far more likely to covertly feed him scraps.

Jinx is the only one not treating me like I've got the mark of death on my soul. She's been as stubborn as ever. I haven't even seen her since I was awoken by yet another one of her attempts to sleep directly on my pillow this morning.

"Does it taste okay?" Trish asks, breaking almost a full minute of silence. "I tried to get in some of all your favourite seasonings, but if—"

"It's delicious," I grind out through my clenched jaw.

I scarf down the last few bites and only lift my head once I've cleared my plate. Sure enough, I find all three of them staring straight at me. They glance away a split-second later and pretend to be busy with their own food, but after four days of the same routine, that split-second is enough to push me over the edge.

"Should I even bother telling you I'm fine, or is that going to be as ineffective as the last few hundred times?"

I bite my lip. I sound like an asshole, but gently requesting some space hasn't had any effect on them.

"Look," I continue, "I appreciate everything you're doing. I know you care about me. It's just really not a big deal, and I'd feel much better if we could all go back to normal now, okay?"

Trish and Emily glance at each other in yet another one of their telepathic exchanges, which just makes me tense up even more.

For the most part, I can make peace with the fact that they're closer with each other than I've ever been to either of them. It makes sense, after all. I'm seven years younger than Emily, five years younger than Trish, and I haven't even lived here for most of the past four years.

Still, something about the last few weeks has made the seamless rhythm they have with each other get under my skin, and this whole ‘pampering baby Clover because she's sad' routine is only ramping up the irritation.

"Okay?" I repeat when all they do is blink at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

Emily is the first one to clear her throat. She straightens her already immaculate posture and rests her fork on the edge of her plate.

"I'm sorry, Clo. We'll all try to lay off. We're here whenever you need us though, okay?"

A pang of guilt rocks me when she apologizes. They really are just doing their best, and I know I haven't given them much to go on. I've been throwing myself into my job of getting all the new seasonal staff trained up for the summer rush, and I've barely shown my face in the house besides meal times.

The guilt transforms my frustration at them into frustration at myself. I'm asking them to be normal, and I don't even know what the hell normal looks like for me anymore.

Even setting her reappearance aside, nothing about the start of this summer has felt normal. Nothing's felt like I expected since graduating.

"Thank you," I say to Emily. "I appreciate that. I think I'm going to go out for a little evening hike now, if I may be excused?"

All three of them give me a weird look. The last time I asked permission to be excused from the table was in elementary school, but I don't want to seem like I'm rushing out in a huff—even though I kind of am.

"Uh, sure?" Trish says.

"Take Newt with you," Dad adds. "Which trail are you taking?"

I think for a moment and then decide on Lone Wolf Point, a short loop trail that starts just outside of town. I'll have plenty of time to finish the route before dark.

I drop my plate off in the kitchen and then change into a sports bra and an old Patagonia fleece over some leggings before bringing Newt with me out to my dad's truck. He hops into the passenger seat, and I roll the window down enough for him to feel the wind in his hair while I drive up the dirt road to the highway.

The cloudy sky has cleared enough for the hint of an orange glow to peek through by the time I park at the trailhead just a few meters down from the edge of town. I can see tourists taking advantage of the warm evening to get ice cream from the local stand, and I'm sure the bar is packed with people cramming in for happy hour. The town's population always swells to triple its miniscule off-season size as seasonal workers show up for the summer.

River's Bend is coming to life just like it always does at this time of year. Usually, I can feel myself lighting up right along with it. When I was a kid, the start of summer always made me feel like I was opening the first page of a brand new story I'd been waiting all year to read.

This summer, I feel like I've cracked the spine open just to find out every page is blank. There's nothing for me to do but flip through pages and pages of empty space, wondering what's supposed to be there.

Newt, however, is fully on board with the joys of a fresh season, specifically the olfactory variety. The second he's leapt out of the truck, he's got his nose to the ground, devouring every scent he can find while his tail wags so hard his whole butt shakes.

"That's quite the happy dance," I tell him as I lock the truck and follow after him up the trail.

Despite being so close to town, the route isn't too well known. There's no sign, and the only parking is a worn-down patch of dirt just wide enough to pull off the road. The trail is narrow and overgrown, with scratchy bracken stretching out to snatch at hikers' arms.

The final ascent makes the whole thing worth it: a scraggly hillside leads up to a gorgeous vista overlooking one of the famous three rivers. The hill is topped by a rock that looks, with a very large stretch of the imagination, like a lone wolf surveying the river. An ongoing local joke is to take some tourists up here and tell them you've got to bend over, look at the rock upside down between your legs, and squint with one eye to see the wolf's shape.

It's even funnier if the tourists are a little drunk.

I do my best to focus on swatting the bracken aside and ignore a very unwanted memory of bringing Neavh up here. We hadn't even kissed at that point. We'd gotten close—a few ‘accidental' brushings of fingertips and some instances of staring way too deeply into each other's eyes—but we were still on the precipice of falling in deep.

I'd snuck a few beers out of the staff fridge that night, and I'd invited her to join me and some of the other Three Rivers employees for a round of ice cream in town. I framed it all like a spontaneous evening I invited her to on a whim, but really, I'd orchestrated the whole thing as an excuse to hang out with her.

Somewhere amidst all the beer and ice cream, someone suggested hiking up to Lone Wolf. A half hour later, we were all stumbling up the hillside. Neavh and a couple of the employees hadn't heard about the prank yet, so the rest of us put on our best act to hype up the legendary wolf rock of River's Bend.

I made it up until the point where Neavh was practically twisted up in an Exorcist contortion with one eye squeezed shut while she scrambled for balance in the dirt, and then I started laughing so hard I literally fell on my ass.

She was not impressed by being victimized, but one night weeks later, she admitted that was the moment she decided I have the cutest laugh in the world.

It was the first time a girl ever called me cute.

She was so many of my firsts.

A sting of pain in my arm makes me yelp. I'm yanked straight out of my thoughts to confront the branch that's managed to poke through my fleece and nick my arm.

"Owww," I complain to the empty forest.

Newt pauses his sniffing routine and looks back at me, one ear cocked.

"I'm fine," I call out. "No need to interrupt your important forest observations on my behalf."

He wags his tail a couple times and then turns around to shove his nose back into the dirt.

I start walking again, faster now. The slight burn in my lungs as we start to climb uphill is a welcome distraction. We get all the way to the wolf in a matter of minutes, and despite my bad mood, I have to chuckle at how very much not like a wolf the rock looks.

I lean up against the bumpy grey stone while I catch my breath. Newt patrols the length of the vista, his snuffling noises now joined by the melodic sound of the river rushing far below us.

I watch the fading evening light make the swirling eddies glimmer with gold, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can take a full breath of air.

I fill my lungs up until they ache and then release everything in a long, slow exhale.

This is home.

This river. These trees. Even this lumpy old rock. This whole island is the reason I want to dedicate my life to doing as much as I can to save the earth. Vancouver Island has given me everything, and I want to do everything in my power to give even a fraction of what I've been blessed with back to this land.

That's always been my path. Everything has always seemed to be leading me there. One of the best schools of environmental science in the world is right here on the island. My whole family is here too. Staying has always made the most sense. Staying has always felt like enough.

It has to be.

My lungs contract again, my chest tightening and refusing to fill all the way back up as questions I don't even know how to begin asking fight to surface in my mind.

I block them out.

I turn away from the river and call for Newt.

"Come on, boy. We've got to get back to the truck before dark."

His head pops up over a clump of tall grass, and I can't stop myself from laughing when I see his face is completely covered in pollen, even if it means the drive home is probably going to include a lot of snotty dog sneezes.

He trots along ahead of me, the two of us picking our way down the hillside. I've just made it to the first few feet of flat ground when Newt goes stock-still in the middle of the trail. His ears perk up, and he lets out a low whine.

I freeze too, straining my ears to catch a hint of whatever has got his guard up. For a few seconds, I can't hear anything except the regular twittering and creaks of the forest, but then the rhythmic sound of footsteps getting closer becomes clear.

Newt keeps his feet planted up ahead of me. We both watch as a woman steps into view.

She gasps and takes a couple fumbling steps backwards. I'm about to apologize for startling her when I realize who she is.

I've devoted hundreds of hours of my life to studying the likelihood of certain events happening in nature, and as I watch her expression shift from shocked to horrified, I can't stop wondering if there's some equation out there that could predict exactly how likely it is I'll bump into Neavh Beaudoin at any given location at any given moment within a certain kilometer radius of River's Bend.

I'd shell out the entirety of whatever measly sum I have saved in my student bank account to get access to that data.

Neavh mutters a few swear words in French, just loud enough for me to hear.

I forgot about the way she slips into French sometimes. I used to think it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

I clench my jaw but don't say anything. Newt's tail has started wagging, but he must sense the tension crackling in the air; he stands there whining instead of running over for scratches like he would from pretty much any other stranger.

I remind myself to give him some extra treats at home for his loyalty.

I'm not sure how long I stand there facing off with Neavh. It can't be longer than a couple minutes, but I'd believe it if I found out I'd been staring at her face for an hour.

I didn't know someone could look like the love of your life and a stranger all at once.

It's cheesy and overdramatic, but that's what falling fast and hard as an eighteen year-old in the summertime felt like: like she was the fucking love of my life, like there'd never been anyone who came close to her and like there never, ever would be.

Eighteen year-olds are stupid, though. The fact that I haven't found anyone else who makes me feel even a fraction of all that is beside the point. We were a fevered daydream. There was no way we could have kept burning like that forever. There was no way it was real.

We were a jumble of hormones and romanticized ideals, swept up in the magic of the countless firsts we got to claim with each other. Maybe that's a kind of love, but it's not the kind that matters.

That's what I told myself when she left.

That's what I'm telling myself now as I stare into her eyes and search for the girl I once knew, hunting for her with a hunger so desperate my knees shake and every bone in my body sings out for the way her hand used to fit so perfectly in mine.

"Do you want me to go back?"

I blink, startled by the sound of her voice in the quiet forest, and it takes me a moment to realize what she's talking about. For a wild second, I wonder if she means all the way back out of River's Bend.

For an even wilder second, I wonder if my answer could be anything other than yes.

Then I see she's hiking her thumb over her shoulder towards the start of the trail.

I shake my head.

"No. I'm, uh, going that way."

I point in the same direction, hating how hoarse my voice sounds. I fight to muster up some of the burning rage I felt at the sight of her in the Riverview parking lot, but instead of hot, I feel clammy and cold, like I'm caught in a swirling fog I can't see the way through.

"Also, I don't own the trail," I say, doing my best to fake an aloof tone. "Walk wherever you want."

I march forward, even though every step feels like I'm slogging through mud. My heart hammers in my chest as I get closer to her.

Newt takes my movement as a cue to run up to Neavh. He sniffs at her pant leg and then stretches his head up towards where she's got her hand balled into a fist at her side. His tail wags.

So much for loyalty.

Neavh stares down at him with wide eyes and then glances at me, her face pale and alarmed, like I might just bite her hand off if she touches him.

I'd laugh if I could manage to find anything about this funny.

I take a few steps closer, and still, all she does is look back and forth between me and Newt like she's waiting for permission.

I sigh.

"Just pet the damn dog, Neavh."

She uncurls her fist like an animal coming out of hibernation, and Newt bumps his nose against her palm. She scratches behind his ears, and his tail wags even harder. I watch as the corners of her lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

Newt scooches up beside her legs, and she hunches down to give him some pats while trying to keep her face out of reach of his appreciative licks.

"Ugh, Newt!" she says after he manages to get a swipe at her cheek. "You're cute, but your breath is gross, mon gars."

I cross my arms over my chest as I watch the two of them, doing my best to look unaffected while my heart pounds so loud I'm convinced Neavh will be able to hear it reverberating through the forest floor.

Newt always adored her, but Newt always adores everyone. The sight of her petting him reminds me of the far more impressive reaction she'd always get out of Jinx. My haughty little queen who usually hides from strangers for days before she even deigns to grace them with her presence was curled up in Neavh's lap like a kitten an hour after they first met.

If I'd needed any more confirmation that I was about to fall head over heels for Neavh, that would have done it. People might be able to lead you on and make you think they're something they're not, but animals don't lie. What you see is what you get, and when I saw all my pets loved her, I knew I wasn't going to get through the summer without doing the same.

My heart keeps racing as I watch her. The forest seems to sway as I try to process all the emotions swirling in my body, like I'm sifting samples through a sieve as I hunt for the rules and order hiding in a slice of chaos.

I don't know how she can be the girl I loved, the girl who left me, and a girl I don't even know anymore all at once.

"Well, um…"

Her voice jerks me back to reality. She straightens up and shoves her hands in her pockets. My gaze snaps up to her face, and I can't stop myself from looking for clues there, some sign of all the answers I never got.

Her hair is a few inches shorter than it was back then, the dark brown strands falling just below her chin in an overgrown bob with some shaggy bangs haphazardly clipped out of her face. She's standing too far away for me to see if she still has those faint, golden freckles peppered across the bridge of her nose, but even from here, I can tell her deep brown eyes still have the ability to shift from warm amber to piercing obsidian in a single glance.

I'd never met anyone with eyes like her.

I still haven't.

"I guess I should get go—"

I don't know what makes me interrupt her and blurt my question out. Maybe it's the way the fading daylight makes everything feel more urgent, like if I don't say something now, she'll slip away into the dusk and disappear.

Again.

"Why did you come back?"

She freezes, her mouth dropping open and that panicked look returning to her eyes. I watch as she opens and closes her mouth a few more times, her gaze locked on mine.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmurs, her voice hoarse. "I—"

A flash of irritation shoots through my chest.

"I didn't ask you to apologize. I asked you why."

I want an answer. A real answer. There has to be a reason she came back to a tiny tourist town on Vancouver Island, and it can't just be to spend time with her cousin and work in a bar.

Not when it's this town.

Not when it's my town.

She jerks her hands out of her pockets and runs them through her hair instead, her face pinched in an expression I can't read.

"There were…a lot of reasons."

She shakes her head like she knows that's not enough, but she doesn't add anything else.

Newt starts whining again as he tries to work out what's gone wrong.

"Any you care to share?" I ask. "Or are you just going to…to…"

The iciness I tried to put in my tone fades as I trip over my words and stutter to a stop.

I was going to throw it in her face: the way she left without telling me anything, the way she threw aside all our half-baked plans and desperate wishes on summer stars without even bothering to explain why she couldn't go through with them until it was way too late.

If I use that against her, I'll be admitting those plans and wishes mattered at all, and the only reason I can face her now is by telling us both they didn't.

She's still fighting to come up with something to say. She paces up and down the trail, her hands still digging into her hair and making a mess of her bobby pins.

"Look," she manages to choke out, "can I…can I buy you a drink or something?"

I literally wheeze.

I'm so shocked I can't even be embarrassed by my reaction. My eyes flare wide as my muscles go rigid. I don't know what I expected her to say, but it wasn't that.

She winces at the look on my face and holds up her hands.

"I mean, can we just sit somewhere?" she clarifies. "I want to tell you. I want to talk to you. I just…fuck. Fuck."

She spins around and starts pacing again, her movements jerky and erratic. I'm stuck frozen in place as I watch her, waiting for the shock to wear off.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'll go."

She takes a few steps towards the trailhead and then stumbles to a stop.

"Oh, wait, fuck. You're going that way." She turns around again and points past me. "I'll go that way. I—"

"Neavh."

She goes still and presses her lips together, squirming a little as she waits for what I have to say.

I'm not even sure what my answer is until it leaves my mouth, but once the words ring out through the forest, there's no taking them back.

"You can buy me a drink."