Anna’s grandfather still refused to speak with her or let her come to the bookstore. Her train was leaving at half past five the next morning, so she’d be long gone before he awoke.
She looked up from the dough she was kneading as he left for the morning without even glancing in her direction. Her face grew hot.
Folding her arms over her stomach, she looked to Greta. “Is he just working by himself, then?”
Greta didn’t look up from her own handful of dough. “Last week he hired that temporary gal full-time.”
Throwing off her apron with a huff, Anna grabbed a basket before heading outside. She climbed the cherry tree, and her eyes strained to see the mountain. But a light summer rain had rolled in for the afternoon, and clouds obscured the view. The limbs of the tree were mossy, but she managed to hold on tight while she reached for the farthest branches to fill her basket with the biggest, ripest cherries.
A bright red cluster at the end of a thin branch caught her eye. She leaned forward to grab it, but her feet slipped from underneath her on the slick branch. She reached for the trunk of the tree, but it was too far away.
Her stomach sank, and her hands grasped at air. Finally, she lunged for the last branch on the way down and clung to it with both hands. She dropped the few feet to the wet ground and wiped her dirty, shaking hands on her skirt. With her heart pounding in her chest, she imagined having to send word she couldn’t make the excursion on account of a broken leg. She rushed back to the house feeling the gravity of all she’d worked for and nearly lost.
Inside, she slammed the basket of cherries onto the kitchen counter, still shaken. She went to her room to towel off her face and arms, then opened her closet to survey her gear. Everything was ready to go, including the letter she’d planned to leave for her grandfather to find. She was already sorry for how hurt and worried he’d be, but she didn’t want to lie about where she would be.
Then she thought of Greta. All of her support and goodwill throughout the years seemed suddenly obvious. What would Greta think of her disappearance?
At the dinner table that night, Anna was abnormally quiet.
“Met a strapping gentleman today,” her grandfather said, looking up at her for the first time in days. “He’s just moved to town and asked about places to purchase a home. A lawyer and unmarried.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“He sounds nice,” Anna said, looking into his eyes and trying to find forgiveness.
Greta frowned. “What about that Ben? Is he comin’ back?”
“Ben’s a charming young man,” her grandfather said. “I half expected him to ask to court you.”
She folded the napkin in her lap and didn’t respond.
Greta nonchalantly buttered a slice of bread. “Did you fancy him?”
Had she caught on? Ben’s soft lips on her hand filled her mind, and she sighed. “Ben’s a fine man.”
Her grandfather shot Greta a look.
Greta changed the subject. “How’s June’s baby?”
Anna sat back in her chair and sighed, relieved to talk about something else. “He’s doing well. June’s all right too. I’m not sure what her plan is moving forward, but Connor has assured me he plans to take care of them both indefinitely.”
Her grandfather cleared his throat. “I don’t know how long I can keep quiet about this. I ran into his father yesterday and he told me his plans to set Connor up with a nice young lady for dinner this weekend. That family is full of secrets. Good thing you didn’t get caught up in it.”
After they finished, she helped Greta clear the table and wash dishes. As they worked, she stole glances at Greta. She had a few more soft wrinkles since she’d first joined their family, but she still looked much the same. Her cheerful spirit had breathed life into the Gallagher family back then, and still did. Anna’s breath caught as she realized she probably should have confided in her about the mountain, but now it was too late—telling her was too great a risk.
Cozied near the fire, she spent the rest of the evening composing a letter to Greta. Her grandfather worked on carving some details on the arm rests of a new rocking chair he’d made while Greta knitted.
Dearest Greta,
I hope you’re not terribly disappointed in me, but I’m leaving to summit Mt. Rainier. I’ve written more details in Grandfather’s letter, but I wanted to tell you personally. I wonder now if I should have told you about all of this.
If I succeed, I’ll be the first woman in American history to summit. I hope this might make you proud. Thank you for the years of love and the grace you’ve given me. It means so much, and I know my parents would be grateful for the tenderness you’ve shown my brother and me.
Fondly,
Anna Gallagher
It was just what she needed to calm her nerves before the big adventure. Lastly, she studied Muir’s words once again, trying to commit the distances to memory so she’d be prepared.
The distance to the mountain from Yelm in a straight line is perhaps fifty miles…. The distance from the Soda Springs to the Camp of the Clouds is about ten miles.
As she tried to sleep that evening, she wondered what Ben might be doing and if he dreamed of her. Would he be proud of her for summiting, or would he think she was irresponsible? She couldn’t quell her anxiety until she imagined his face inches from her own, the way he’d looked when he leaned in that night. As her image of him sharpened, she relaxed her shoulders, finally fading into sleep.
She woke every hour that night, checking her small bedside clock to make sure she hadn’t overslept.
At three in the morning, she was wide awake and got dressed, even before the early summer sun had risen. She tiptoed around, eating a hearty breakfast, filling her canteen with water, and bringing her bag down the stairs as quietly as she could.
Just as she was heading for the kitchen, a noise at the top of the stairs stopped her cold. Swinging around, expecting to see her grandfather, she found Esther, who purred and weaved her way through the banister.
She sighed with relief, kissed the cat goodbye, and put her things on the porch under the dark blue sky before dawn.
It would have been such a comfort to receive a letter from Ben before leaving. All she could do was hope he understood and that he’d forgive her for attempting to summit the mountain without him.
She pulled the letters out of her pocket and set them on the table—one for Greta, and one for her grandfather. Then, with doubt in her heart, she strode through the thick silence of the sleeping city to catch the train to Yelm.