LAUREN TWISTED HER toe into a crack, relishing the familiar grippy sensation as her climbing shoe’s sole found purchase in the granite’s surface. The rock face loomed overhead, cutting off the sky. Bits of quartz flashed in the sun, brilliant against the black-flecked pink granite. Her shadow fronted her, mirroring her movements like a dark other self.
In rock climbing terminology, a boulder route was called a problem. Lauren loved that. Boulders were big, solid, immovable. They didn’t have steps carved into them or ladders affixed to their sides. If she wanted to get to the top of one, she had to work the problem.
First, find a break in the surface—some pocket or crack or crimp—and make a start, however humble. Then find the next hold, and the next, hooking heels and toes over ledges, working her hands into whatever space offered itself. Some holds were pretty straightforward; others called for creative finagling with body tension and counterpressure. Sometimes the next hold could only be reached by a quick burst of momentum—a dyno—and hopefully the right amount in the right direction at the right moment.
No two problems were the same, and no problem was ever a straight route from start to finish, with holds placed just the right distance apart. But unlike so many of the other kind of problems, a boulder was tangible, real. She could see it, touch it, feel the skin-to-rock friction. Every movement of her limbs, every shift in her weight, counted. She was acutely aware of her body—the muscles standing out in her arms and legs, the firm engagement of her core—and confident that it could rise to the challenge.
In almost every problem there came a point where there seemed to be no way forward—usually at the worst, most awkward moment possible, when she was underclinging for dear life, arms shaking, calves screaming. She had nothing left to give, no reserves of strength or reach or ingenuity or anything.
But somehow it came, anyway, like a gift, just enough to pull herself over the top. A warm rush of endorphins flooded her as the sky opened overhead.
Problem solved.
LAUREN STOOD AT the top of the granite dome. All around, for a full 360 degrees, the Texas Hill Country stretched away in gentle rolling slopes of oak, mesquite, prickly pear cactus and low rounded shrubs, interspersed with outcroppings of stone.
She’d started early this morning at Enchanted Rock with an hour-long bouldering session, then explored some of the trails before ending the day with a hike up the main dome. The mountain rose out of the Llano Uplift in a full square mile’s worth of mostly bare rock. In some spots the granite was peeling off in big flakes and chunks, with another layer of granite showing underneath, onionlike. Clumps of grass and cactus, and an occasional ambitious tree, grew out of the cracks, and a vernal pool lay at the top of the rock.
The great thing about van life—one of the great things—was how it kept all Lauren’s stuff in one place. If she woke in a panic at three in the morning from a freaky dream—say, a dream where Tony was grilling steaks in a Texas-shaped pool, and a shirtless Alex was serving Lauren Mexican hot chocolate, and the hot chocolate was spiked, and Dalia, who was simultaneously nursing a baby and shearing a goat, gave Lauren a disapproving look and said, “Do you really think you should be drinking rum?” and suddenly Lauren remembered that she’d already had the baby, only she couldn’t remember where she’d left it, and then she heard the baby’s cry and turned and saw her van rolling down a slope with Durango chasing after it, and the baby was in the van and there was nothing she could do to save it—and couldn’t go back to sleep afterward, she could make the drive to Enchanted Rock before the sun rose and be first at the gate at opening time.
Way before, as it turned out, because the park hadn’t opened until eight. She’d spent the hours in between taking pictures of the night sky, then twilight, then dawn.
Now the sun was setting in a spectacular show, setting off all the autumnal tints of russet and gold in the expanse of trees. Lauren took some pictures and started to upload to Instagram before remembering that there was no cell coverage here. She’d gotten some lovely shots today—wild turkeys, a horned lizard, an intricate miniature forest of lichen and tiny translucent fairy shrimp in the vernal pool—but they’d have to wait to be made public.
She took a few more pictures in the dreamy evening twilight before heading home. She was tired now, but in a comfortable, soft-edged way that left no room for anxiety. For as long as she could remember, she’d found her best stress relief in physical activity.
By the time she reached the familiar cattle guard at La Escarpa, she was deliciously sleepy.
But she came alert quickly enough when she saw Rosie parked on the gravel drive behind Tony’s truck. The sight of the hulking Dodge sent a quick thrill of pleasure through her.
Calm down. He’s not here to see you. He’s family, remember? He probably comes over a lot, so you’d better get used to it.
The front door of the house opened, and Alex stepped outside.
She knew it was Alex right away, even though he and Tony looked alike, because Tony was a little taller and had shorter hair. She could tell even now, when he was no more than a silhouette backlit by the living-room light.
He turned and said something to someone behind him, then shut the door and started down the porch steps.
He came down the walkway, through the gate and straight toward her. There was something stiff and purposeful in his stride and the set of his shoulders. By the time she’d pulled into her usual parking spot, he’d reached the driver’s-side door and was standing there, waiting.
Then she saw his face.
She felt sick inside. Something had happened—something bad. Was it Dalia? The baby?
She swallowed hard and got out of the van.
“What is it, Alex? What’s wrong?”
THE SIGHT OF Lauren’s headlights coming down the driveway made Alex’s knees go weak with relief. He took a deep breath, opened the door and forced himself to keep his steps slow and steady, and his mind calm, as he walked out to meet her. There could very well be a perfectly reasonable explanation. He prepared himself for stories of family emergencies, flat tires, a shattered phone, sudden amnesia—basically anything short of a claim of alien abduction.
And then she asked him, “What is it, Alex? What’s wrong?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. She wasn’t playing dumb. He could see that from her face. She was serious.
She honestly had no idea.
“Where the heck have you been?” he asked.
She took a step back.
“Me? I’ve been at Enchanted Rock.”
She was all sincerity and wide-eyed baffled innocence. Alex actually felt his blood pressure rise.
For the first time he noticed that she was dressed in outdoor gear—not the bulky, shape-shrouding kind, but the thin, clingy, ultra-insulating kind. It showed off her form to great effect, and the fact that he noticed that just made him angrier than ever.
“You what? What on earth made you go there?”
“I just decided to go. You and Tony and Dalia were talking about it last night and it sounded cool. So this morning I got up and went.”
“You got up and went. And you couldn’t be bothered to tell anyone?”
“It was early. If I’d called, I would have woken people up.”
“Dalia gets up at five a.m.”
“Well, I drove off at three thirty.”
“You what? You hit the road at three thirty in the morning? What on earth possessed you to do something so reckless?”
Now she actually looked mad. “I really don’t think it’s any of your business if I happen to decide to get an early start.”
“Early start? It was the middle of the night!”
“What does it matter? I’ve driven through the night lots of times. If anything, it’s safer then, because there are fewer drivers on the road.”
“But the drivers that are on the road are all drunk or high or sleep-deprived.”
“That’s ridiculous. People don’t get drunk or high only at night. And most late-night and early-morning drivers are probably just shift workers.”
“Why didn’t you leave a note?”
“Why would I? I don’t have to check in or get permission every time I decide to go somewhere. I’m a grown woman.”
“A responsible adult would have given some consideration to other people. Do you have any idea how worried Dalia’s been? You could’ve been dead for all she knew. She’s been trying to get in touch with you all day.”
“There’s no cell coverage at Enchanted Rock! And I have my phone set to not give me notifications while I’m driving, because I’m responsible that way.”
“You should’ve realized she’d be worried without her having to call you and tell you so. If you’d been in an accident, or gotten kidnapped or something, nobody would have even known where to begin to look for you or what hospitals to call.”
“What business is it of yours what I do? Why are you even here?”
“Tony texted me. He thought maybe I knew where you were, or maybe you were with me—which there wasn’t any reason for him to think, obviously, but by that time he and Dalia were just grasping at straws.”
“So you came over, what, to organize a search party? Or did you just want first shot at jumping all over my case the instant I got back?”
“I came to support my family. For your information, Dalia’s so worried she made herself sick. She’s been in bed all day. That kind of stress can’t be good for someone in her condition.”
For the first time, Lauren looked a little unsure of herself. “I didn’t mean to make her worry.”
“’Cause you didn’t think at all. You just took off in the middle of the night on some random whim, with no warning and no word to anyone.”
She gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Alex, have you been listening? I do that all the time. I travel at all hours by myself, across the country and out of the country.”
“I know you do, and it’s dangerous and irresponsible. A woman traveling alone, living out of a van? It’s a miracle you’ve survived as long as you have.”
“I’ve survived because I know what I’m doing.”
“Bull. You’ve survived because nothing catastrophic has happened to you so far.”
“Now you’re just being dumb. Catastrophic things happen in lots of places at lots of times. Why should I be any less safe at Enchanted Rock, or on the road, than any other place I might be, alone or with other people? I could get T-boned at the four-way stop in Limestone Springs, or slip and fall on Dalia’s front porch steps. Or I could get acute lymphocytic leukemia and be dead in three months, like my mother.”
He swept a hand up, brushing away the words. “I can’t even reason with you if you’re going to be like this. I’m going home. But will you just do this one thing, please? The next time you take off from La Escarpa on some spur-of-the-moment adventure, have the decency to at least leave a note taped to the front door.”
LAUREN SWALLOWED OVER a painful lump in her throat as she watched Alex drive away. The good feeling from her day of rock climbing and exploring was gone.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She felt like she’d been hit in the solar plexus. She sat on the gravel driveway with her head on her knees.
Dangerous. Irresponsible. Reckless.
That’s what he’d called her. And he didn’t know the half of it. He’d reamed her for being inconsiderate of Dalia, because of Dalia’s “condition.” What would he say if he knew Lauren was pregnant, too?
He’d probably add criminally negligent to the list.
But that was silly. Wasn’t it? People didn’t miscarry just because they went rock climbing. Any accident that was bad enough to endanger the baby had to be something pretty severe, to the point of endangering the mother, as well. Hadn’t she heard that once? And she was fine. Better than fine. Strong, fit. It was good for the baby for her to work out, to keep herself in top physical condition.
But she could have fallen. She hadn’t, but she could have. Rock climbing during pregnancy was an unnecessary risk, the kind of thing other people knew instinctively not to do. Other people were cautious; they stayed on the safe side. They weren’t like Lauren. They didn’t go off and leave things on the stove. They didn’t marry guys like Evan. They knew better.
Her heart pounded, and she felt sick to her stomach. She could hear her own ragged breathing and see it fogging in the cool night air.
She made herself get up and go to the house.
This was going to be rough, but it had to be done, and the sooner, the better.
Before she reached the door, Tony opened it.
“Hey there, stranger! Where’d you disappear to all day?”
“I went to Enchanted Rock. Tony, I’m really sorry. I guess I’ve gotten used to not having to answer to anyone but myself. It honestly didn’t occur to me that you and Dalia might worry.”
“That’s all right. Come in! How was E-Rock? Did you love it? You want a beer?”
The TV blared with what looked like preparatory football stuff, and the coffee table was covered with snacks. If Tony was putting on a brave front, he was doing an awfully good job.
Dalia came stumbling into the living room in a bathrobe, looking more helpless and weak than Lauren had ever seen her.
“Hey, babe,” said Tony. “Feeling any better?”
“Not really. Hey, Lauren.”
“Hey, Dalia. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going today. I left early, and I didn’t want to wake you, and then I got to Enchanted Rock and there was no cell service.”
“Oh, is that where you went? I should have guessed, after the way we were all going on about it last night. I know you like to do things on the spur of the moment. But just FYI, it’s fine to send me a text whenever. I keep text noises off at night so they won’t wake me.”
This was so sensible and Dalia-like, and so much better than what she’d been expecting, that Lauren hugged her.
“Careful,” Dalia said crossly. “You don’t want to catch whatever I’ve got.” But she did return the hug.
“She’s been sick as a dog all day,” Tony told Lauren. “Hey, where’d Alex go?”
Lauren looked out the window and saw Rosie’s headlights rounding the bend in the driveway. “Um, Alex left.”
“What?” Tony followed her gaze, then hurried to the window. “Oh, man. Why’d he go? I thought he was going to watch the game with me.”
Something wasn’t adding up here.
“Hold on a minute,” Lauren said. “I thought you guys were superworried about me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Dalia said.
“Believe me, I’m not disappointed. I never even thought about it until Alex told me.”
“Told you what?” asked Tony.
“That the whole household was in an uproar over my disappearance. He said Dalia was bedridden with worry.”
“What?” Dalia looked annoyed. “I’ve never been bedridden with worry in my life. I’ve just got a nasty cold. Worry had nothing to do with it.”
“Huh,” said Tony. “I wonder why Alex said all that.”
“He said you told him,” said Lauren.
“Wha-a-at? That’s not right. That’s not what I said at all.”
“What did you say, exactly?” asked Dalia.
“I just invited him over to watch the game. But I didn’t want to, you know, interrupt anything.” Quick glance at Lauren. “So I asked if he had anything else going on.”
“You mean you asked if Lauren was with him?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it was possible, right? They’d made plans last night to go to Alex’s thing together, and it’s not like she knows a lot of other people around here.”
“Did you call or text?” Dalia asked.
“Text.”
“Let me see your phone.”
Tony handed it to her, and she scrolled through the conversation.
“Ooh, yeah. This would definitely wind him up.”
“How could it? I never said we were worried sick or you’d collapsed with nerves or whatever.”
“No, but you did say we didn’t know where Lauren was and I was sick in bed. He filled in the rest himself. You know what a nervous old woman he can be.”
“Come to think of it, he did seem kinda jumpy. He wouldn’t settle down and watch the pregame show with me.”
“Babe, Alex doesn’t even like football. He never would have come over just for that.”
Tony groaned. “You’re right. I messed up. I’m such an idiot.”
Dalia smiled and put her arms around him. “You are not an idiot. You just don’t have a suspicious mind, and you don’t expect other people to, either.”
He kissed the top of her head, then put a hand to her forehead. “Baby, you’re burning up with fever. What are you even doing out of bed?”
“I just came out to make a cup of tea.”
“Go back to bed. I’ll make it for you.”
“You don’t know how to do it right.”
“Sure I do. I’ve got that whole step-by-step instruction guide that you made me. Seriously, babe, you look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“You really do,” Lauren said. “Go to bed. I’ll help Tony with the tea. Between the two of us, we ought to be able to get it right.”
“Okay. Make sure he doesn’t forget to put the tea leaves in. Or set the timer. G’night.”
Dalia shuffled back down the hall.
In the kitchen, Tony opened a cabinet door and studied the printed sheet that was taped there. “‘Step one. Fill the electric kettle with fifteen ounces of distilled water.’”
He took the jug down from the cabinet while Lauren found the measuring pitcher. Then he poured the water precisely into the pitcher, stopping and starting several times, and bending down to check the level. Finally satisfied, he emptied the cup into the kettle.
“‘Step two,’” Lauren said, reading. “‘Turn on the kettle.’”
Tony made a scoffing sound as he pushed the little tab down. “I think I would know to turn on the kettle without being told. This whole multistep instruction list is pretty insulting. I know how to make a cup of tea.”
“‘Step three. Take a Fiesta latte mug from the cabinet.’”
“I know, I know.”
He glanced at Lauren. “So...did Alex go off on you?”
“Like a load of bricks. He was so mad I could see him shaking.”
“He wasn’t just mad, he was scared.”
“Why should he be scared? What was there to be scared about? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know that. But you have to understand, the way me and Alex grew up...well, let’s just say there are good reasons why he freaks out when people aren’t where he expects them to be.”
Lauren swung herself onto the counter. “What reasons?”
Tony set a tea infuser inside the mug. “How much do you know about my father?”
“Not much. I know he and your mother are divorced. I met him at the wedding. He seemed like a charming man.”
“Yeah, that’s the word, all right. Do you know what people call him around here? El Jugador.”
Lauren mentally translated. “A player. Like a risk-taker? Manipulator? Swindler?”
“All of that, plus a real live, crap-shooting, poker-playing, clean-out-all-your-bank-accounts-and-drive-to-Louisiana gambler.”
“Oh! Oh, I didn’t know that. Did he really clean out bank accounts?”
“He sure did, lots of times. Over the years he won and lost some mind-boggling amounts of money. It was a giant emotional roller coaster for the family. When things were good, they were awesome. Nice cars, expensive presents. Pricey football camps for me. But he never quit while he was ahead, and when he was losing he wouldn’t cut his losses and walk away. He always thought he could turn it around. And he did, sometimes, for a while. But it never lasted.”
“When did it start?”
“I don’t even remember. Gambling was always part of our lives, but me and Alex only gradually figured out what it all meant. I actually have a lot of fun memories of going to fancy casino resorts with those kid play areas and big pools, staying in nice rooms, eating at buffets. That was when our parents were still together. Dad was always so happy when he was winning, and when he was happy, everyone was happy. He’d talk about all the nice stuff he was gonna get us. And then he’d start to lose, and keep on losing. The whole atmosphere of the house would change and I wouldn’t know why. I used to think it was my fault, like I’d done something to make my parents mad. Cars got repossessed, bills went unpaid, utilities got turned off. I tell you what, that’s an experience you never forget, having your electricity cut off in the dead of winter by some poor dude from the power co-op who looks like he’d rather cut off his own arm.”
Lauren thought of her own father, toiling away patiently on his construction projects, managing expenses, plugging numbers into spreadsheets to determine whether a house was priced low enough to realize a good profit after remodeling. He’d been the most reliable thing in her childhood. What would it be like to grow up without that, with the opposite of that?
The electric kettle went off with a click. Tony picked it up and poured the boiling water through the infuser into the mug.
“Did you remember the tea leaves?” Lauren asked.
Tony froze, then put the electric kettle back on its stand and opened the tea canister.
“It says to use a heaping teaspoon,” Lauren said, handing him a measuring spoon.
He spooned the leaves onto the top of the hot water. Some of them spilled over the edge of the infuser.
“Timer,” Lauren reminded him.
“I know,” he said huffily. He set the timer for five minutes.
“So did your dad have a regular job?” she asked.
“Sure, lots of them. It’s amazing anyone would hire him, with his work history, but he was a good talker, and smart, and really pretty capable when he put his mind to something. He always managed to burn his bridges eventually, though. Most workplaces are not real tolerant of employees who skip work to drive to Louisiana for the day. He could always justify it to himself, because he thought of gambling as like a thousand-dollar-an-hour job. But it never worked out that way. My mom worked crazy hours just trying to keep me and Alex fed and clothed with some semblance of normalcy, but there was only so much she could do. Sometimes we’d come home to find the house cleared out—cars, furniture, TVs—and Dad would be gone, too, and we didn’t know if he was at work, or out hocking our stuff, or at a casino, or dead. We just never knew what we were going to find coming home from school.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah. So you can see how Alex’s mind kinda got wired to automatically go to high alert whenever people are missing.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can see that.”
“Really, I think the whole thing was harder on Alex. I was older, and I had football. I should have taken better care of him.”
“You were just a kid yourself. Besides, Alex had the ranch to go to, right?”
“Yeah, but that was no picnic, either. The worry and stress over my dad really wore my grandparents down. They were getting old, and there was so much work to be done on the place just to keep up, and no one else to do it. My dad’s an only child, and my grandfather was pretty invested in the idea of having his son take over the ranch. It must have been hard to admit to himself that my dad was never going to step up and be a rancher, or even a responsible landowner. In fact, he never really did admit it.”
Tony sighed. “He should’ve disinherited my father and left the land to Alex, is what he should’ve done. Alex was the one who cared about it. I mean, seriously, you don’t leave a thousand-plus acres of family legacy to a man who’s blown through literally hundreds of thousands of dollars during his adult life on gaming, and who would trade the family dog for a buy-in at a poker game. But that’s what my grandfather did. When he died, my father inherited the whole thing.”
“Oh, no. And is your father selling it?”
“Not yet. Alex contested the will, so the estate’s tied up in probate.”
“That sounds hopeful.”
“It’s not, really. It’s just a stalling tactic. Alex doesn’t stand a chance in hell of getting the will thrown out. Even his attorney thinks it’s a waste of time and money. It’s a shame, you know? He ought to be a well-off landowner right now, instead of working two jobs and living in a crappy apartment. But that’s Alex. When he thinks he’s right, he won’t let go.”
It explained a lot about Alex—his fierce love of the ranch, his obsessive dedication to hard work and doing things the right way, his deep suspicion of anything that hinted at irresponsible behavior, his reverence for the past.
He was like the anti-Evan. Evan believed that once something got at all difficult, it was a sign from the universe that you shouldn’t be doing it, that it wasn’t meant to be. But what about perseverance? Dedication? Did true love—or true anything—really mean there wasn’t supposed to be any effort involved?
When the timer finally went off, Lauren slid down from the counter.
“I’ll let you get back to tea-making and football. Thanks for filling me in.”
“Sure, no problem. I’m sorry for what happened. I didn’t mean to cause any hard feelings.”
“It’s not your fault. And to be fair, Alex had a point. I should have let you and Dalia know where I was going. But he didn’t have to go off on me the way he did.”
“I know. But he really is a good guy, Lauren.”
There was something almost pleading in his tone. Lauren suppressed a smile. Tony sure was a heavy-handed matchmaker. No wonder Alex was keeping his love life under wraps.
She trudged slowly down the porch steps. She needed a shower, but she didn’t have the energy to get her clean clothes together and go back to the house. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for eighteen hours or so.
Just as she was shutting the yard gate, her phone went off.
It was Alex.
She’d had his number in her contacts since the night they’d met, but he’d never called or texted her before.
She steeled herself. “Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Alex.”
He paused, as if giving her a chance to hang up.
“I know.”
“Listen, I’m sorry for being such a jerk just now. I was out of line. I’m not your father or your brother, and it’s not my place to tell you how to live your life. I was really worried about you, but that didn’t give me any right to talk to you the way I did.”
His voice sounded rich and soft, with no hint of a grudge.
“I appreciate that,” she said. “The truth is, you weren’t wrong. I should have left word with Dalia about where I was going. While I’m staying here, it’s only right that I give her a heads-up before I take off for the day.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
Silence. There didn’t seem to be anything more to talk about, but she didn’t want to hang up. She wanted to hear Alex say something in that velvety dark voice again.
But what was the point? Much as she enjoyed his voice, and his company, and his presence, it was silly to seek them out. They both had other things they’d be better off paying attention to.
“Look,” Lauren said, “let’s just forget about the two of us going to your festival or whatever it is together.”
More silence. Lauren could hear weed stalks rustling in the wind, and the goats in their pen making chuckling sounds to each other.
“Okay,” Alex said. “I mean, if you really... Do you not want to go? Or do you just not want to go with me?”
“I don’t want you to have to take me. I know it wasn’t your idea, and I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“Cramp my...?” He laughed softly. “But do you want to go? You said last night that you did. Was that true?”
“Well...yes. But—”
“But nothing. We’re going.”
“No. I don’t want my company to be forced on you just because I’m your sister-in-law’s friend. I mean, I think it’s pretty clear that left to ourselves, the two of us never would have chosen each other as friends.”
“You’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Don’t overthink this. We’ll go, we’ll have a good time and you’ll write your article or whatever, and learn lots about Texas history.”
And I’ll see the girlfriend that Tony doesn’t know about yet.