like a lunatic, she climbed to the same spot where only a few nights ago she’d teetered and then fallen, sliding down on her ass in the inky dark.
There was no fog now so she could see, and the view was breathtakingly gorgeous. The sun poked through the lush growth, dappling the trail. Far below, down in the meadow, the steam rose from the rocks as the sun hit the dew. Making her careful way down the steep incline to the meadow floor, she walked through shoulder-high grass and wildflowers to the wall of thirty-foot prehistoric rocks on the far side. The meadow was a lot longer than it appeared from above, and there was no path, so this took another half hour. Finally she stood before the towering rocks, feeling quite small and insignificant.
Heart pounding, she slowly walked the entire length of them. Names and dates had been carved into the lower stones by countless climbers before her. Not needing to read her grandma’s journal, Amy followed the right curve as far as she could and found the last
huge
“diamond” rock. There were rows of initials, and she painstakingly read each and every one, looking for the RB and SB that was Rose Barrett and Scott Barrett. It took her another thirty minutes to decide they weren’t there.
Frustrated, she sat in the wild grass and stared at the rock. To give herself some time to think, she pulled out her sketch pad and drew the rocks. She needed to start back soon but she was hesitant to leave withoutanswers. She looked at the rocks again and let out a breath.
Then she reached for her phone and called the one person who could help her.
“Hello?”
Amy went still at the sound of her mom’s voice.
“Amy?”
Amy cleared her throat, but the emotions couldn’t be swallowed away. Guilt. Hurt. Regret. “How did you know?”
“You’re the only one who ever calls and says nothing. Though it’s been a few years.” Her mom paused. “I suppose you need something.”
Amy closed her eyes. “Yeah.”
Now her mother was quiet.
“I’m in Lucky Harbor,” Amy said. “In Washington State.”
More silence.
“Following grandma’s journal.”
This got a reaction, a soft gasp. “Whatever for?” her mom asked.
For hope and peace, Amy nearly said.
To find myself…
But that was all far too revealing, and her mother wouldn’t believe it anyway. “Her journal says they left their initials on the mountain, but there’s no RB and SB for Rose and Scott Barrett anywhere that I can see.”
Nothing.
“Mom?”
There was a sigh. “It was all a very long time ago, Amy.”
“You know something.”
“Yes.”
Amy wasn’t breathing. “Mom, please tell me.”
“You’re looking for the wrong initials. You should be looking for RS and JS. JS is for Jonathon Stone.” Her mom paused. “Your grandma’s first husband.”
Amy felt her heart stutter. “What?”
“Rose ran away when she was seventeen, you knew that. She eloped.”
She hadn’t known
that
. “With Jonathon Stone.”
“Yes. Their families didn’t approve. Not that Mom ever cared about what people thought. You’re a lot like her in that regard…” Amy’s mother sighed again, and when she spoke this time, there was heavy irony in her voice. “The women in our family don’t tend to listen to reason.”
Amy ran back to the rock and searched again. It didn’t take but a minute to find it, the small RS and JS together. She pressed a hand to the ache in her chest. “No,” she agreed softly. “We don’t tend to listen to reason.”
There was another awkward pause, and Amy had this ridiculous wish that her mom might ask how she was. She didn’t. Too much water under the bridge. But she hoped there was enough of a tie left to at least get the answers she wanted. Needed. “What happened to Jonathon?”
“It’s a sad story,” her mom said. “Jonathon was sick,” her mom explained. “Lung cancer, and back then it was even more of a death sentence than it is now. Jonathon had a list of things he
There was no fog now so she could see, and the view was breathtakingly gorgeous. The sun poked through the lush growth, dappling the trail. Far below, down in the meadow, the steam rose from the rocks as the sun hit the dew. Making her careful way down the steep incline to the meadow floor, she walked through shoulder-high grass and wildflowers to the wall of thirty-foot prehistoric rocks on the far side. The meadow was a lot longer than it appeared from above, and there was no path, so this took another half hour. Finally she stood before the towering rocks, feeling quite small and insignificant.
Heart pounding, she slowly walked the entire length of them. Names and dates had been carved into the lower stones by countless climbers before her. Not needing to read her grandma’s journal, Amy followed the right curve as far as she could and found the last
huge
“diamond” rock. There were rows of initials, and she painstakingly read each and every one, looking for the RB and SB that was Rose Barrett and Scott Barrett. It took her another thirty minutes to decide they weren’t there.
Frustrated, she sat in the wild grass and stared at the rock. To give herself some time to think, she pulled out her sketch pad and drew the rocks. She needed to start back soon but she was hesitant to leave withoutanswers. She looked at the rocks again and let out a breath.
Then she reached for her phone and called the one person who could help her.
“Hello?”
Amy went still at the sound of her mom’s voice.
“Amy?”
Amy cleared her throat, but the emotions couldn’t be swallowed away. Guilt. Hurt. Regret. “How did you know?”
“You’re the only one who ever calls and says nothing. Though it’s been a few years.” Her mom paused. “I suppose you need something.”
Amy closed her eyes. “Yeah.”
Now her mother was quiet.
“I’m in Lucky Harbor,” Amy said. “In Washington State.”
More silence.
“Following grandma’s journal.”
This got a reaction, a soft gasp. “Whatever for?” her mom asked.
For hope and peace, Amy nearly said.
To find myself…
But that was all far too revealing, and her mother wouldn’t believe it anyway. “Her journal says they left their initials on the mountain, but there’s no RB and SB for Rose and Scott Barrett anywhere that I can see.”
Nothing.
“Mom?”
There was a sigh. “It was all a very long time ago, Amy.”
“You know something.”
“Yes.”
Amy wasn’t breathing. “Mom, please tell me.”
“You’re looking for the wrong initials. You should be looking for RS and JS. JS is for Jonathon Stone.” Her mom paused. “Your grandma’s first husband.”
Amy felt her heart stutter. “What?”
“Rose ran away when she was seventeen, you knew that. She eloped.”
She hadn’t known
that
. “With Jonathon Stone.”
“Yes. Their families didn’t approve. Not that Mom ever cared about what people thought. You’re a lot like her in that regard…” Amy’s mother sighed again, and when she spoke this time, there was heavy irony in her voice. “The women in our family don’t tend to listen to reason.”
Amy ran back to the rock and searched again. It didn’t take but a minute to find it, the small RS and JS together. She pressed a hand to the ache in her chest. “No,” she agreed softly. “We don’t tend to listen to reason.”
There was another awkward pause, and Amy had this ridiculous wish that her mom might ask how she was. She didn’t. Too much water under the bridge. But she hoped there was enough of a tie left to at least get the answers she wanted. Needed. “What happened to Jonathon?”
“It’s a sad story,” her mom said. “Jonathon was sick,” her mom explained. “Lung cancer, and back then it was even more of a death sentence than it is now. Jonathon had a list of things he
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