Page 24 of Big & Lily

“Onward, folks,” says Brick. “We’re almost out of the woods. You’ll be safe from the mosquitos, Bridget.” His smile is warm andencouraging. He’s not pissed that I fell behind, or snarky because I’m the only one with bug netting.

“I might keep it on,” I say. “It makes me look mysterious. And no one can see how beet red I am from huffing and puffing up the hill.”

Someone steps up next to me (the peripheral vision in this thing sucks) and slips their arm through mine. “But then we wouldn’t see the joy in your face when you experience all that Mother Nature is presenting to you,” says Luna. Mimi comes up on my other side as we finally make our way out of the last stretch of the woods and into the sunlight and an open field.

We are surrounded by tall grasses, straggled bushes, and bursts of purple and blue flowers. Above us in every direction are hills and cliffs and mountains. The closest are covered in shades of green like the paint-chip display at Benjamin Moore. Behind them, it’s charcoal-colored streaked with sandy patches and rocks. In the far distance, blue-and-white snowcapped mountains. The sky above is cloudless. I spin slowly, and it’s the same in every direction. How is this one tiny corner of one state? I think about our neighborhood in the suburbs. Every house on our street separated only by the width of a driveway. I need to remember to close the bedroom curtains at night if I don’t want the Heinkels to see me braless in an old, ratty, oversize Disney sleeping T-shirt.

“See,” says Luna.

“I do.” I pull off the netting and breathe deeply. The mosquitos are gone, the sun is shining, there is a slight breeze that’s wicking away the sweat it took me to come this far.

My sister is in a patch of wildflowers with Xavier. The boy picks a few and hands them to her. She ruffles his shaggy hair and laughs. This is why we’re here. To see Lily being Lily. Excited about the littlest things: a candle that smells like real apple pie, or a songshe hadn’t heard in twenty years, or the first crocus of the season poking up through the cold ground.

“You were right,” I say to Brick. “This summit is beautiful.”

“Oh, this isn’t the top. We have a while to go yet.”

My heart sinks. I thought it would be all downhill from here.

Lily and Xavier come back to the group, pointing up to the mountains ahead of us. “What are those white dots? They’re moving.”

“Is it polar bears?” asks Xavier.

“Dall sheep,” says Brick. He rummages through his backpack, pulls out binoculars, and hands them to Lily. “They’re pretty cool. The male horns can grow into a three-sixty-degree circle, and you can tell how old they are by counting the rings in the horn.”

“Like a tree,” says Mimi. She pulls her sleeve up and reveals a tattoo of a cross section of a tree and all its rings. “Strength, resilience, rebirth.”

“That’s right,” says Luna, placing her hand over the tattoo and looking into Mimi’s eyes, having a silent conversation. Mimi looks down and puts her hand over Luna’s.

“Well, yes. Right. Something like that,” Brick answers.

Lily focuses the binoculars like she’s Captain Jack Sparrow with his spyglass and scans the distance. “Oh my God, I can see babies! So cute. Can we get closer?”

“Well, it’s lambing season. We’re probably safer where we are. Lots of overprotective moms over there.”

“Oh, like you, Big.”

That gives her a laugh. I’m not going to defend the maternal need for vigilance. The feeling that, as a mother, you can never let your guard down, that no matter how old your kids are, they will always be your kids. Wait until it’s Lily’s turn—okay, shit, that’s right. Damn Eric.

I force a chuckle and give my sister a playful bear hug like thegood sport I am. “Everyone needs a helicopter mom once in a while. Even little sisters.”

“Well, you might need a helicopter to get off this mountain. You should see how red your face is.”

“Everyone ready to carry on?” Brick moves us forward. No one came all the way up here, so close to the sky, to hear the Ackerman sisters bickering.

The narrow dirt path becomes rockier until it is nothing but stones. Not tiny pea pebbles or small egg-size river gravel; they are boulders the size of our heads. Every step is an opportunity to break an ankle.

“Watch your footing, folks. It’s scree from here on for a while.”

The more experienced trekkers—everyone besides Lily and me—carry on as if they are walking on a sidewalk. Brick looks at me—his special-needs hiker. “Use your poles for balance. The rocks are loose, and the incline turns steeper here.”

“Fantastic.”

My sarcasm is wasted on him. “Yes, it is,” says Brick Malone, Earth Walker, Soul Searcher. “Just wait till we reach the top.”

“Can’t wait,” I say through my clenched jaw.

Gripping the walking poles until my triceps burn, I slowly make my way up the “scree,” which I’m now sure is short for “scream,” as my lungs start to work overtime again. In the near distance I hear rushing water, and we soon come upon a turbulent creek. Water, tumbling over rocks, causes small, foaming rapids. The sound of thrashing fills my ears. I can barely hear what Brick says next.