On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) (24 page)

Baskia sat on the edge of the
mattress. “I’ll have to ask Wes when your birthday is. We can have a party for
you too.”

Just then, Daniella peered around
the edge of the door. “Hey,” she whispered. A tight t-shirt, with the word
Roar
emblazoned across her chest, stretched around her little, round belly.

“Thanks for coming to my party,”
Baskia said.

Wes entered then and sat down
near his sister. Mary, the librarian, followed with a polite wave.

“We’re just waiting for Patty,” Baskia
said, unsure how to explain her caper. 

Moments later, the lights in the
room went out and singing echoed down the hall. Patty appeared in the doorway,
holding a cake aloft, leading a parade of nurses and several of the folks
Baskia had gotten to know at the nursing home. They sang happy birthday to her
before Patty said, “Make a wish.”

Baskia was about to wish that
she’d discover what her heart desired, but right then, the longing, the need to
know her purpose was absent. She was content just to be in the moment. Warmth
filled her heart. She blew out the candles, wishing Maisy would wake up and be
okay.

“I want to thank you all for
coming and celebrating with me. I’m usually spoiled on my birthday, trips,
clothes, last year I got the new iPad, an iPhone, and—well never mind. This
year I wanted to do something a little different. All of you have influenced me
in profound ways. You’ve showed me what it is to be a friend and to have hope.
You’ve shown me generosity, illuminated the places in my life that needed
filling, and helped me do it. I’m thankful.”

Everyone beamed.

“Wes, your friendship and sharing
your sister’s story with me, means the world. And I promise I will sit with
her, when you can’t, until she wakes up. Patty, not only have you taught me how
to cook, but you’ve shown me what it is to be a mother, even when your own
children have gone. Mary, you’ve brought me back to books, which may be the
very thing that got this big transformation started. Daniella, you’re so brave,
but I also know that you don’t have to go it alone. I can think of one woman
who would love to have a daughter close by and another who could really use a
travel companion.”

Baskia passed each of the three
women an envelope with a ticket to Italy including an itinerary for a week’s
stay. They started to protest, but Baskia interrupted. “Daniella needs to see a
bit of the world, and I think you do too. I want to know if my cannolis and
tiramisu are as good as the real thing. Plus, I can’t be the only one ditching
winter. Mexico awaits.

“Wes, I’ll be back with a full
report on Mellie.” She winked at him. “And all of you, sometimes people carry
burdens greater than’s fair, but they carry them with grace. You’ve shown me
that. You’ve given me strength when I felt lost, guided me home. Thank you.”

Everyone erupted into cheers. She
was sure there were a few eyes, wet with tears, as the group pulled Baskia in
for a collective hug.

“Now for cake,” Patty called,
preparing to slice into the impressive creation. “You see, it’s a mountain.” 

Baskia admired the mounded cakes,
with candied, rocky detail and little frosted pine trees. A winding road ran
around the circumference leading to the top where a cabin rested along with a
little figure with blond hair, her arms stretched wide. “That’s me.”

“That’s you. Queen of the
mountain,” Patty echoed. 

Chapter
Twenty-Four

The night before Baskia was
leaving for the airport, she pulled out her journal, eager to chronicle her
birthday party, although Mellie promised her another on the actual day, at the
resort. Up until then, she’d scoffed at expressions of sentimentality, but she
supposed she’d simply never felt the warm fuzzy glow before.

If she’d been able to ask the
person she was six months prior if she expected to be friends with a senior
librarian, a pregnant teen, a mother whose chicks had left the nest, and a
woodsman who deeply grieved, she would have laughed in her face. But those four
people showed her sincere kindness and taught her more than anyone had in her
life, combined.

She wrote in the journal until
her hand ached and then started a new list.

The signature of a good cook:
these ingredients work well both in the kitchen and in life.

1.
                 
Be
fearless.

2.
                 
Always
add love.

3.
                 
Be
playful.

Satisfied, she set the alarm,
ready to leave the mountain, but assured she’d return.

^^^

After the long flight landed her
in Cancun, Baskia navigated the familiar airport, having landed there a few
times. She thought of London and their wild days that melted into nights,
hoping Mellie hadn’t picked up any bad habits. Traveling to one of the
epicenters of spring break chaos was so far from anything Mellie had ever done.
Curiosity and worry pricked at Baskia as she gathered her luggage. But when the
doors to the terminal whooshed open, streaming in bright sunshine—not frigid
air—she considered maybe it had been the best idea yet.

The Aqua Viva resort was an
all-inclusive that jutted out on the little spit of land off the Mexican coast
into the Caribbean. The blue water meeting the blue sky, and the palm trees
blowing gently in the breeze, inflated Baskia with new breath after the long
winter in the north. She checked in and texted Mellie who responded right away.

Come find me by the pool. So glad
you made it.

Mellie had been a competitive
swimmer in high school, but Baskia never knew her to lounge poolside, no less
with a fruity drink in hand and wearing a bikini. But that was exactly how she
found her, sunglasses and all. Shockingly, she was toned and tanned. Mellie
jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around Baskia, still wearing her
clothes from the plane.

“Isn’t this great?” Mellie said.
“But it’ll be even better when you get your bikini on and get your butt back
down here.”

Who are you and what did you do
with Mellie Winthrop?
Baskia wanted to ask, but kept quiet. After all, Baskia was no stranger to the
lifestyle; maybe her oldest friend was just late arriving to the party.

After freshening up, Baskia
returned to the pool where Mellie excitedly introduced her to friends from her
sorority at Harvard.

“This is Ilana, Allison, and
Becca,” Mellie said, gesturing to a girl with long, dark hair and a full chest,
a skinny strawberry blonde in desperate need of a tan or sunblock, and a blonde
who looked right at home in the spring break scene. Despite their Harvard
pedigree, the four girls gabbed about how eager they were to party and meet
guys. “I just wanted to do something different this year, something daring,”
Mellie said quietly to Baskia.

After another round of drinks
arrived, relaxing Baskia, Becca asked, “So where do you go to school?”

Mellie looked at her expectantly,
her expression vaguely like Anne’s. Baskia hadn’t thought about college since
January when she went forward with her quest for independence and
self-sufficiency. She flinched as if her answer translated into how Mellie’s
friends would regard her. “I’m starting Columbia next fall,” she answered
quickly.

“Baskia took a year off,” Mellie
said helpfully.

“Have you been backpacking around
Europe or Asia? My brother did that, and he had the best experience. He even
met his fiancé,” Allison said.

“She’s actually already been
around the world,” Mellie said. “She’s a model.” If her nontraditional year off
school had made the girls question her credibility, this factor intrigued them.

On that beach under the Mexican
sun, as coeds cheered and hooted in the background, a year in a cabin in the
woods—learning to start fires, cook, be a better friend, and just be still—felt
like the best education she could have ever gotten. Baskia relayed her modeling
career. She avoided describing life on the mountain; it seemed unexplainable.
Meanwhile, Mellie ordered yet another round of drinks.

In the afternoon, Baskia slipped
into the pool, the eyes of girls and guys alike unashamedly watching her every
move. She was eye catching even in a sea of bronzed skin, shiny hair, and toned
muscles. For the first time in her life, attention, adulation, and fame didn’t
matter.

As she slowly swam across the
pool, her thoughts landed on London. She wondered where she was, if she was
still modeling, and if she’d gotten her act together. Baskia noted that
something in her settled, she wasn’t eager to meet guys or get drunk. She
looked forward to enjoying Mellie’s company and getting to know her sorority
friends.

When Baskia returned to the
lounge chairs to towel off, Mellie and Becca were gone. Ilana didn’t
acknowledge Baskia’s return, but Allison giggled.

“What?” Baskia asked.

“Mellie said—” She giggled again.
“Mellie said you—never mind.” She kept giggling and Ilana cracked a wry smile.

“What did Mellie say?” Baskia
asked, not sure if there was animosity there or just a girl who was buzzed on
free drinks.

“Nothing.” Allison took a sip
from a frilly coconut tumbler.

“Tell me.”

“She said you’d show us how to
pick up guys. She said you’re really good at it.” She erupted into another fit
of laughter.

“I’m all set, thank you,” Ilana
said, not moving or looking in their direction.

“Did she say anything else?”
Baskia asked.

Just then, Mellie appeared with
Becca hanging on her shoulder. “Hey, there’s another pool over there. It’s way
more happening. There’s a DJ and tons of hot guys.”

Allison jumped to her feet. Ilana
stayed put. Baskia said, “I’m good here, I’ll come find you in a little while.”

They paraded off. Laughter,
brought on by fruity cocktails, fading in their wake. Baskia settled on the
chair, adjusted her sunglasses, and pulled out a magazine. She had to admit
that although she was virtually doing what she did at the cabin, she vastly
preferred the warmth of Mexico. But the din in the background made her miss the
quiet.

The next couple of days passed
poolside, with nights spent dancing at clubs and the girls consuming more
liquid calories than solid. As such, Baskia grew more concerned about Mellie
and her increasingly hard partying. But she couldn’t score a private moment
with her. After losing track of how many guys had hit on her, she longed for
Trace and grew increasingly worried why he hadn’t returned. As she slipped into
sleep, she alternately worried he might show up while she was gone and wondered
if those flashes of passion had meant anything at all.

^^^

After nursing matching hangovers,
the girls took up their spots by the pool. Mellie talked about a guy she’d hooked
up with the night before. “If I see him I’ll point him out. He had dark hair
and an incredible tan. Said he went to Brown, so…”

“What about Will? And, uh, Wes? ”
Baskia asked without thinking. She’d wondered about the two of them, but wanted
to respect her brother’s privacy.

“This is spring break, Baskia.
What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico. Speaking of which, that guy at two
o’clock has been eyeing you since we sat down.”

“Everyone has been eyeing her
since she got here,” Allison said. “I thought you were going to show us how to
pick up guys.”

Baskia surprised herself by
wanting to say,
Picking up guys was trashy
and adding the suggestion to
let it unfold naturally. The alcohol didn’t help them. She wanted to go to a
nice dinner, snorkeling, or surfing, and check out some of the scenery. But she
bit her tongue. She was Mellie’s guest and what was more, in the past, she’d
inhabited each of these girls: looking for fun, pleasure, and escape. She was
one of them, no different; she didn’t have a boyfriend, at least not
officially. In that sunny setting, she was a defacto college student and, up
until recently, loved to party. She convinced herself to let loose, help them
have some fun, and maybe, just maybe, have a good time herself.

“Let’s do this,” she said,
pulling a bottle of suntan lotion out of her bag.

“Huh?” Allison said, eyeing the
bottle. “I thought you going to help us with guys.”

“I am, but you’re going to burn
and well, you’ll see.” Baskia winked before repositioning herself so she was in
the guys’ line of sight. After squirting a generous amount of suntan lotion in
her hand, she massaged it into Allison’s fair skin, caressing her gently, but
meaningfully, smiling flirtatiously. “Five, four, three, two, one—” Baskia
whispered.

Two of the four guys approached
and asked if they could join the girls. Shortly after, the other two appeared.
In no time, they ordered another round of drinks, one of the dudes had tossed
Becca in the pool—the two of them making out and then disappearing—and Mellie was
in the lap of another. A guy named Trip assigned himself to Baskia while the
fourth tried unsuccessfully to gain Ilana’s favor. Baskia knew the dark-haired
girl’s ploy was playing hard to get, but was certain that by the night’s end,
they’d hook up.

Trip liked to say his own name,
leading Baskia to wonder if it was his real name, or an identity he used to woo
girls. He didn’t remind her of Trace in any way; in fact, she couldn’t imagine
him among the spring breakers. She envisioned the two of them walking down the
beach, the sun setting, and the seagulls cawing. She pictured him wearing
baggies with an easy surfer-vibe.

Dully, in the background, Allison
extolled Baskia’s modeling career as if cashing in a form of sexy currency. She
tried, in vain, to bring her attention back to memories of Trace, but in a
blink, the vision was gone.

“So you’re a model, huh? Have I
seen you in anything?” Trip asked haughtily, more interested in redirecting the
conversation back to himself, but more than happy to be sitting alongside her.

“What? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Baskia
flipped open a fashion magazine Ilana had discarded. In the center of a spread
for a denim brand, she straddled a horse saddle wearing jeans and nothing else.

Trip gazed at the magazine a
moment too long.

“Hey, where did Mellie go?”
Baskia asked, but Trip had placed another drink in her hand, and the question
went unanswered as he directed her to the DJ area where crowds danced in one
heaving mass. He moved in close to her, grinding up against her thighs. She
laughed remembering so many clubs, so many drinks, and so many guys. As the
lights came on around the pool, Baskia found the girl she’d left behind when
she escaped to the mountain: the party girl, the all-night rager, the easy
laughter, and the even easier kisser.

Trip’s lips closed in on hers.
“You’re so hot,” he whispered, barely audible over the blaring music. The crowd
surged and jostled her. The grin Trip wore said he was going to get lucky. But
it wasn’t Trace’s smile and they weren’t Trace’s lips.

“I have to find my friend,” she
said. Worry about Mellie and longing for Trace carried her out of the throbbing
crowd away from Trip and back to the mountain of serenity in her mind.

“Wait, she’s fine,” he called
after her. “She’s just with Cruz. Don’t worry. She’s having fun.”

Baskia paused. “I need to find
her.” She continued to push her way through the crowd.

“I thought we were having fun,”
he asked, catching up.

“I just have to find—”

“She’s a big girl. She doesn’t
need you to babysit her.”

That’s exactly what she needs me
to do
, Baskia
thought emerging into open space. She scanned the lounge chairs, looking for
the others, but she didn’t see them anywhere. Two girls in nothing but thongs
ran by, clutching their chests and giggling. Trip followed them instead. A
thought flashed in her mind, she didn’t want Mellie to do anything
Facebook-post-regrettable. She’d been there. It wasn’t pretty.

Baskia trekked back toward the
room they shared, while the other three girls stayed in an adjacent suite. She
spotted a figure, slouched against the wall in the corridor. Her teal cover-up
was askew.

“Mellie,” she shouted, running
toward her friend. “Are you okay?”

“I juss…”

“Come on. Let’s get you in the
room.”