I heard Drew’s sigh before he leaned against the front door. “See, now,Ithink talking is the best place to start. For example, why don’t you talk tomeabout what’s really bothering you? Because I know you, Henry Hawkins Sunday, and this is not the only bee in your bonnet.”
“I’m tired of talking. Talking doesn’t fix anything when the people you’re talking to have no desire to change. All it does is make you more frustrated.” I wasn’t sure if I meant the development or Jack or both. It had all sort of blended together, despite my best efforts to keep them separated. “Aren’t you the one who had that Janis Joplin quote on your wall for years that said, ‘You are what you settle for’? Well, I’m tired of settling. Just imagine what would have happened if Elizabeth Bennet had settled for what everyonesaidwas a good deal. She’d have ended up married to dumbass Mr. Collins and regretted it for the rest of her natural life. No, thank you.”
“Honey,” Drew began, but I cut him off by throwing my arms around him and giving him a hard, brief hug.
“I love you, Uncle Drew, but please trust me to know what I’m doing. I’m saying no to Mr. Collins. I’m moving forward. That’s a good thing.”
I remembered Elizabeth Bennet’s own mantra, “You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”I’d recited it to myself when I thought of my mom and how she’d left us behind when she divorced my dad years ago. I’d recited it when I thought of my dad and how much I missed him. And I’d recite it now, too.
I blew out a shaky breath. It wasn’t easy to focus only on the good times, but it was better than getting mired in it.
A thought occurred to me, and I darted into Webb’s office, where Aiden kept some of his art supplies, and grabbed some poster board and markers. I needed to make some signs. “I’m going to educate Evolaandthe people of Little Pippin Hollow on the heritage and history of the land,” I told Drew when I saw he’d followed me down the hall. “Maybe that will make it more personal. And maybe it’ll help engage the rest of the town to join me in this protest.” I tossed the markers in my bag before yanking the zipper closed again.
Drew shook his head sadly. “Man oh man. I suddenly realize how your grandma must’ve felt right before I hitchhiked to the Bull Island Rock Festival.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Just… be safe.” He drew me into a rough hug, patted me firmly on the back, then hugged me tightly again. “I love you, Hawk. And I promise you, you’re not alone. Okay?”
I nodded, but seven minutes later, when I’d grabbed some snacks from the kitchen, loaded up my car, and hauled ass from Sunday Orchard to Fogg Peak, I couldn’t help noticing there was no one riding shotgun.
And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe alone time was what I needed to finally make a clear plan for how to handle Evola… and the rest of my life.
I was surroundedby a gaggle of four-and-five-year-old nature enthusiasts, bent over a thatch of Canada Milkvetch plants, when Crys found me on the mountain later that afternoon.
“These stems aren’t fully grown yet. They can grow four feet tall—that’s taller than you, Calliope,” I told one of the kids. “See how pretty the tiny flowers are? Some people think the name isbecause the flowers are milk colored, but other people say it’s because people used to feed it to cows to make them produce more milk. Unfortunately, it can also give them a very sick tummy.”
“I had a sick tummy last week,” Cosmo informed me.
“Yes, I heard about that—” I agreed.
“Mumma said it wascarnage,” my little oversharer went on. He frowned. “What’s carnage, Mr. Hawk?”
“Uh… well,” I began.
“Mr. Hawk, Mr. Hawk!” Grayson, one of the other Scouts, had wandered to the far side of the small clearing and was practically vibrating with excitement as he pointed at a low bush. “I know this one! We learned it last week! It’s a pincushion plant!”
I straightened and walked over to him. “That’s right.Diapensia. Nice job spotting that.”
“I wanna see!” Mirabelle yelled, hip-checking Grayson aside in her enthusiasm and almost landing him in the bush.
Grayson put a restraining hand on her shoulder and gave her a solemn look. “Mira. Mr. Hawk says we needa be gentle with the plants, remember? Look but neeeeever touch.”
“Oh, yeah.” Mirabelle instantly sobered and gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Mr. Hawk.”
I bit my lip and exchanged a laughing glance with Maryanne.
“You’ll make naturalists of them yet, Hawk,” she said softly. “Speaking of which, I talked to the parents about getting involved in your environmental group. Most of them have been too busy to make it to the town assemblies, but they’re very interested in protecting this place. Maybe you could make up some informational flyers?”
I nodded, mentally adding that to my to-do list, along with creating some temporary signage to place in the parking area at the trailhead and up near the peak. “Maybe ask them to followmy new Instagram account? I already posted some pictures I had in my phone, and I’ll be adding more every day.”
Maryanne agreed, then began the long process of rounding up the kids for the trek back down the mountain. Each of them gave me an enthusiastic high five before they departed. “What plants are we gonna see next, Mr. Hawk?” Luna demanded.
“Purple hyssops. Who here likes purple?” Every one of them raised their hands. “Awesome. And we’re also gonna learn aboutbats, so be ready.”
“Sounds like fun! What do we say to Mr. Hawk, Herd?” Maryanne asked.
“Thank you, Mr. Hawk!” the kids chorused before pairing up with their buddies and heading back down the path.
