On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) (23 page)

After he unwrapped it, his eyes
lit up at the glossy images on the page as he leafed through. “This is perfect,
thank you.”

Wes sipped his wine while Baskia
polished off her glass. She laughed at her newly acquired interest in food
photography. They laughed easily and Baskia hardly remembered the awkwardness
present the first few times they’d hung out.

“Pretty damn good,” Wes said, between
bites, twirling the noodles onto his fork.

“Not too shabby. And now,
whenever you need to impress, you can whip up some homemade pasta and red
sauce.”

“I might let the box at the store
make the pasta for me, but I’m officially qualified in the marinara department.
So, uh, does Mellie like pasta dishes?”

Baskia’s lips parted in a smile.
“Yes, but Mexican is her favorite.”

Later, she flipped open the
laptop showing Wes some of the previous dishes Patty had her prepare.

“Oh and see this, chili and
guacamole, as delicate and polite as Mellie looks, she’d rob your grandmother
to get her hands on this. But she’d never admit it.” Baskia laughed.

“Why?”

“It’s complicated, money is
involved, family legacies…Mexican food, pizza, mac-n-cheese, don’t fit into the
equation.”

Wes’s forehead furrowed with
confusion.

“Never mind. We should just like
what we like, right? I miss her sometimes.”

“Back on New Year’s Eve, I told
her about my sister,” Wes said suddenly. “Mellie said she’d visit, we could go
see her together. But she hasn’t called. It just gets harder and harder to go
there. I believed, for sure, she’d wake up by now. She doesn’t even know—” Wes’s
voice cracked.

Baskia longed to make it easier
for him, to turn back the hands of time and make it so tragedy never happened,
so he wouldn’t have to endure so much pain, so he could be free again.

“She doesn’t even know they’re
gone.” He shuddered.

Baskia didn’t know what to say
other than, “I’ll go with you. This weekend, we’ll visit her together.”

Wes downed his glass of wine.
“Has Mellie said anything about me?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t
spoken to her. I haven’t been a very good friend. I got caught up in my
modeling career and—” She confessed about how she’d checked out when Mellie
needed her most and resented that she’d sought out comfort in Anne. “I’ve been
selfish, and I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe you should tell her that.”

Baskia nodded, wanting more than
anything to make it right. “And then there’s London. She’s just so confused,
lost, and not only because her mom died. It’s like she hasn’t even noticed that
she’s still alive. We were good friends, and now that I’ve been away from all
the drama, I’ve gained perspective. It’s not like I’m trying to tell anyone how
to run their life, but I just don’t want to see anything bad happen.”

After they discussed London, he
poured another glass of wine. “I have a confession.”

Though her body was tired and
full from all the pasta, and her mind floated on a red cloud of Merlot, she sat
up to listen, he had, after all, counseled her on her mucked up friendships.

A shy smile quirked on his lips.
“I’m a virgin.”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Choking on the sip of wine was
the only thing that saved Baskia from bursting with laughter. “That was the
last thing I expected you say. I thought you were going to tell me how you have
a crush on Mellie.”

“That too.” He nodded at the
glass of wine. “Liquid courage.” He looked closely at her then. “When we first
met, I thought you were so pretty. This town and everyone in it, me included,
had never seen anyone like you, Baskia. I could hardly speak, never mind think
straight, when we were together. And then I realized I’m just this kid, broken
by experience, but not experienced enough.”

His choice of words brought Trace
to mind. She worried he might appear, how would she explain their lavish
Italian dinner and the wine? It was jumbling up her feelings, calling forth
loneliness, and telling her the solution sat in front of her. But no, there
wasn’t that kind of chemistry between her and Wes. They were friends.
Nevertheless, she leaned in, studying him, double-checking for that spark she
felt with Trace, the electricity buzzing just under her skin when they were
near each other. All she felt was quiet.

Wes’s voice brought her back into
focus. “—I realized some people are better off as friends. I know you have a
thing with that Trace guy. It was confusing when he was here and we went out to
dinner. I thought maybe you were using me to make him jealous—” He coughed. “I
don’t know what I’m saying.” He stopped then and broke out into a laugh. “I
probably shouldn’t drink anymore.” He pushed the wine away.

“No, it wasn’t like that. Not
really. I can’t explain him and me. It’s like balsamic vinegar and oil. We
don’t go together and yet we match perfectly. But I didn’t sequester myself
here in Siberia to mess around with guys. I’ve—” She was going to say that
she’d done enough of that back in Manhattan, to last a lifetime. Instead, she
saw how the strands of her purpose in the north were interwoven, maybe part of
her mission was as much to figure out herself as an independent woman, as it
was to figure out herself in relationship, both with friends and romantically.
“Never mind. About you and Mellie…”

They chatted a while longer, Wes
shyly asking questions about Mellie, some Baskia could answer, others, she
realized, she didn’t know, especially after they’d drifted apart.

“I better crash. I have to get up
early,” he said when the fire was nothing more than embers.

In the middle of the night,
Baskia woke in a sweat, worried she was going to have to explain Wes to Trace.
But no, he’d have to trust her being friends with a guy; Wes needed a sister.
As she heard him stir in the living room and quietly exit, she knew it would
never be anything more.

^^^

When Baskia pulled up to the
nursing home, she hefted the crock-pot in one arm and a reusable grocery bag in
the other. She didn’t see Wes’s truck in the lot. At the reception desk, she
quickly told the nurse her plan, suddenly worried about rules and regulations.

“Oh, my dear, don’t you worry
about a thing. You’ve made every nurse and doctor in this place’s day. No one
ever visits Maisy. And Wes’s shouldered the burden on his own. Poor kid. Come
with me, I’ll show you the way.”

When the nurse left to get a
folding table and chairs from the day room, Baskia looked at the sleeping girl.
Her hair was long and dark blonde, surrounding her thin face. She wondered how
much it had grown while she lay there. Her expression was peaceful, of a girl
dreaming, planning to move mountains. Baskia swallowed hard, desperate to talk
to her, but afraid of her stillness. She rounded to the side of the bed.

She cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m
Baskia. A friend of Wes’s. Can you smell that? It’s home—” she said, gazing at
the pot of baked beans.

“It sure is.”

Baskia turned to see Wes framed
in the doorway. His hands were in his pockets. “I’d know that smell anywhere.”

“It turns out Patty had your
mother’s recipe. Of all things. I guess they’d traded years ago at a church
function or something. I thought you could use a taste and scent of home.”
Baskia got to her feet as the nurse came in and set up the table. Baskia spread
a cloth from her bag over it and set out three bowls and spoons. “Just in
case,” she said when Wes eyed the third bowl. “You can’t give up hope.” She
almost wanted to take the words back, afraid she’d crossed a line. She pulled
her camera out to snap a few photos. “Do you mind? Do you think she’d mind?”

Wes’s sister was beautiful, an
angel surrounded by white linens, her fair skin and hair illuminated by the
soft afternoon light.

“Are you going to put that on
your blog?” he asked in an uncertain tone.

“If that’s okay? She’s still with
us, Wes.”

“But you haven’t had to endure
this like I have.”

“Exactly. Let me share the
burden. Let me help you keep her with us.”

“You don’t even know—”

“I don’t, but I’m offering. I
will sit with her when you can’t. I can keep her company too.” Baskia didn’t
even know what she was saying until the words were out of her mouth. The girl,
though she was easily a few years older than Wes, was so tranquil, vulnerable,
and yet very much alive. Baskia wanted to be with her. “Please.”

Wes took an angry bite from his
bowl of beans. As he chewed, the hard set of his features softened. He scooped
another bite and another, until the bowl was empty. When he emptied his second
bowl, he released a long sigh. “Thank you.”

^^^

The weeks passed as winter blew
out its last storms with Baskia and Wes alternately visiting Maisy. She brought
all the leftovers from her kitchen endeavors with Patty to share with the
nurses, along with telling them about her blog, gaining a few new followers.

One evening, on her drive home,
Mellie’s name appeared on her voicemail. She listened to the message.

“Hey, it’s almost spring break,
which means it’s almost your birthday. I’m going to Mexico and want you to come
with me. It’s going to be a blast. Call me back tonight.”

Baskia pulled over, shocked, not
only by the request, but also by the lightness in Mellie’s voice. She almost
sounded drunk, but Baskia knew Mellie only sipped wine socially, unless Will
had gotten her into partying. Baskia tried the number, but it went to
voicemail.

She stopped off at the market to
pick up a few items, still processing Mellie’s call. The girl behind the
counter, Daniella, wore a long-sleeve, graphic shirt with a neon heart that
stretched over her round belly. Baskia wondered what her story was, but then
reasoned she could probably turn on the reality TV show
Teen Moms
to
find out. They eyed each other warily when Baskia put her groceries on the
counter.

“You’re still here, huh?”
Daniella asked in a flat tone.

“So are you,” Baskia shot back.

The girl laughed, breaking the
ice. “Obviously, I’m not going anywhere, not fast anyway.” She looked down at
her belly.

“When are you due?” Baskia asked.

“This summer.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Surprise. I don’t like
surprises, but this little bugger started as one, so why not go all in.”

“Go all in. Totally. I think I’d
do the same.” Baskia lingered, wanting to say more. “I’m not trying to be
nosy—”

“Be nosy. I’d rather answer
questions myself than be the object of rumors or nasty stares.”

“Fair enough. How old are you?”

“Too young.”

“Where’s the dad?”

“Left town and good thing too,”
Daniella said dismissively.

“Sometimes a baby changes people,
maybe he’d come around as a father.”

“I’d rather do this on my own.”

“How about your family?”

“They kicked me out. Said I was
an embarrassment. But everyone in town knows about it and about what they did,
so I’d say they’re the embarrassment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, I want to
do this myself.”

Baskia wasn’t convinced. Despite
her defiant scowl and the ring in her nose, the girl looked terrified and
hungry. Baskia had the sudden desire to sweep her up and bring her back to
Patty’s, but her ringing phone interrupted them. Mellie’s name appeared. “I
have to go. Take care of yourself.”

Outside, juggling a couple bags
of food, Baskia answered her cell phone. “Mellie!”

“Hey, Baskia. What’s up?” the
expression sounded strange coming through the phone in Mellie’s tone; as if the
a foreign dignitary had said, “Hey, let’s hang.”

“What’s up? Uh. Just picked up
some things, I’m learning the joy of food and cookery. What are you doing?”

She went on to describe a party
at a frat. Laughter and loud music cut through the line. “It’s almost your
birthday. You may not be a college student, but we all need a break. What do
you say? My treat?”

Money was never an issue for
either of them, but Mellie’s offer to take Baskia on spring break had her
curious. Plus, she wanted to mend things between them and find out if Mellie
was interested in Wes.

“I’ll email you all the details.
’Kay?”

“Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Will? No, not much. I gotta run.
I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Say you’ll come. It’s going be so fun!”

Baskia wasn’t sure what to make
of Mellie’s call. But if she could change from being a wild child with a bottle
of champagne permanently glued to her hand, into a woman versed in the culinary
arts, it wasn’t impossible to imagine Mellie going from reserved to outrageous,
except that it was.

^^^

Sitting in the warmth of the
farmhouse kitchen, Baskia told Patty all about Mellie’s invitation.

“Honey, if I could travel to
Mexico, I would. Or France, Italy... I want to visit Thailand. Oh, we should
make a Thai dish. We had a student on exchange one year. She taught me how to
prepare—”

Although Baskia was interested,
she thought about Mary, the librarian, and her wish to travel abroad, to return
to Italy. She wondered if they’d make good travel companions. Then she thought
of Daniella, all alone and due in August. She wondered about her pregnancy and
how they may all fit together. Possibilities and celebrations bloomed in her
mind. “We haven’t done much in the way of dessert.”

“I know, and a certain someone
has a birthday coming up.”

“If I go to Mexico, I’ll be away.
But I had an idea...” She relayed her budding plan to Patty.

“You are turning into quite the
good Samaritan.”

“It’ll be nice. A small party,
nothing fancy.”

“Usually the birthday girl
doesn’t make the dessert.”

“I’m not your usual kind of
birthday girl.”

“No, I dare say you’re not,”
Patty said with a chuckle.

By day, the two heated up the
farmhouse kitchen with both ovens running, perfecting an apple pie recipe and
pumpkin pie, because Baskia couldn’t settle on one; they were both equally
delicious. The same was true for the cannolis and tiramisu.

“Now, let’s drizzle these with
the chocolate,” Patty said, passing Baskia a pastry bag.

Baskia held the bag awkwardly.

“Don’t be shy,” Patty said.
“What’s the signature of a good cook?”

“Fearlessness and love.”

“Yes. And one more thing,” Patty
said. Her plump cheeks lifted into a smile.

“Uh…” She neatly tried to drizzle
the topping over the cannolis. She watched as Patty sprinkled a thick layer of
cocoa dust over the tiramisu.

“The signature of a good cook is
the ability to play with your food. Have fun. Go on,” she said, nudging Baskia.
After blobbing a few of the cannoli shells with chocolate, she got the hang of
it, drizzling like a pro.

“Okay, Bakerella. It’s time for
you to scram and duplicate these in your own kitchen,” Patty said, shooing
Baskia toward the door. “I have work to do.”

“Wait, what will we do with this
much—”

“The freezer. Save the leftovers
for a rainy day.” 

By night, Baskia prepared for her
trip, packing bathing suits and little else. Although it was almost spring, the
winter dragged on up north, and she was glad to be able to break free from it.
She was also thankful her work on the treadmill kept her fit, plus the real
food Patty had taught her to cook was a major step up, nutritionally, from the
food she’d previously subsisted on.

That weekend, she loaded the
desserts in her car, hoping everyone had accepted her invitation. Arriving
early at the nursing home, she set up the table as before, this time loaded
with sweets.

“It’s almost my nineteenth
birthday,” Baskia said to Maisy.

The girl was as still as ever in
the bed.