Page 19 of The Last Thing You Said

So Lulu closed her eyes, and she reached down deep to the place inside her soul where she kept her most guarded reserve of courage, the one she relied on when she was most in need but kept protected because she did not want to use it all up at once. She began to climb.

And the climb terrified Lulu in ways she could not have imagined. She had felt dizziness before, but this sensation—the sky spun, the tower itself swayed—rocked her to the core. Many times, Lulu and Trixie paused so that Lulu could place both hands on the wooden railing, close her eyes, and wait for the world to come to a halt.

“We’re almost there,” Trixie said in a tender voice. “You’ll be glad for it.”

They climbed and rested and climbed again for what seemed like hours.

Finally, Trixie and Lulu reached the top of the tower. Lulu’s balance returned and her stomach stopped its relentless lurching.

And the view, as Ben had promised, was spectacular.

In every direction, their world had no end. They looked across the tops of pine and oak and maple, of birch and aspen and willow, to the myriad lake and river and pond, all glimmering in the summer sunlight. The sight took their breath away.

Lulu turned to her best friend. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Then Lulu glanced to the floor of the platform, which was covered with fragrant creeping thyme. Before her very eyes, the purple flowers multiplied and swirled around her feet, the end of a trail that tumbled down the stairs, all the way to the ground.

“Trixie, look!” Lulu cried. “Where did it come from?”

Trixie smiled. “From you, from your footsteps.” She reached out and squeezed Lulu’s hand.

The friends gazed upon their world a bit longer until the sun dipped below the trees to the west. They began their climb down through the cover of thyme, but Lulu was not as terrified as she had been going up.

When they reached the safety of the firm, solid earth, Trixie looked at her best friend with a smile and said, “Always remember that the thrill of the view is worth the terror of the climb.”

Lulu would remember those words for the rest of her life.

JUNE

Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying, but the never needing to say that counts.

—Margaret Lee Runbeck

11 · Lucy

It’s the first week of summer break.

Emily and I are playing on the resort’s small playset. From here, I have a clear view of Ben as he works. He helps guests with their luggage and fishing gear, gives tours of the resort. He stands with his hands in his pockets and scowls as he watches a guest back a giant SUV and pontoon down into the boat launch—badly.

“Do you want to go to the library?” I ask Emily, pushing her so high on the swing that she squeals. Ben looks over and I duck my head down.

“No,” she says. “You promised to teach me cartwheels.”

It’s such a beautiful early summer day that I don’t blame her for not wanting to be inside. We move to a grassy spot closer to the lake.

“Do one,” Emily says.

It’s been months since I’ve set foot in the gym, but I lift my hands in the air and go over easily. The ground here is uneven and I stumble a bit on my landing. When I look up, I see Ben watching me from across the beach. I quickly turn away.

“Here,” I say to Emily, my voice shaking, “you need to start small. Little jumps.” I show her where to place her hands on the ground and how to hop from side to side. It will be a while before she’ll be able to flip.

She flops down in the grass after a few hops. “Whew! That’s hard work.”

“Keep practicing and you’ll get it.” I do another cartwheel, then a roundoff. It feels familiar, freeing. I miss gymnastics. I miss movement. I feel like I’ve been standing still for months.

I sit down next to Emily. The grass is warm from the sun.

“Why don’t you like Ben?” she asks.