Short Story: Climb Every Mountain

Short Story: Climb Every Mountain

This piece has not been edited by the ShortbreadStories team.

I reached the top of Bald Mountain by noon that August day. The sign at the top said ‘Old Baldy Peak. Elevation 9,978 feet above Sea Level. 1,100 feet above Twin Lakes. Please do not leave debris behind. Enjoy the view and come again. U.S. Forest Service’.

I had climbed more than a thousand feet, but if I climbed into outer space, I would not find my father again. It was for him that I climbed one more mountain because he always cautioned me that there would always be one more to climb. This was only one of many.

I started peeling off some layers of clothing, at least heavy jacket and sweater, and stood looking over the vast expanse of wilderness. It was green as velvet with thick stands of conifers, some aspens and oak that would be beautiful with color in fall. There were streams from the melting snows, running into the two lakes on this side and several on the wilderness side. I had noticed on the way up that one could sustain oneself very well: Wild onions; strawberries about the size of my little finger nail, but sweet and ripe; mini carrots in soft soil, rich in taste. Too, I had seen wild blackberries and currants a couple of times on the way. I thought: With a couple of trout from the streams and hardtack from one’s back pack, one could make it for several days, maybe a week or two.

I sighed and stood where Dad had stood when I was still too small to accompany him. A light breeze tugged at the lock of my dark hair that always fell into my eyes—just like Dad’s always did. His name had also been Jared. I sucked in a deep breath to rid myself of the pain of his loss. Somewhere I got the notion that real men don’t cry, and refused to do so now.

All seriousness fell away as I looked down at my feet and beheld a plump gray squirrel sitting upright beside me, looking into the distance as if he would see what I was seeing. I stood still, it looked up at me and twitched its tail. Since I had no tail for twitching a reply, I said softly, "It is magnificent, isn’t it buddy?" The tail twitched again. We stood very stoically for some minutes before it scurried away, and I turned to look back down to where the campground was suddenly alive with people.

My friends were arriving, three cars, three couples. One of those vehicles contained an extra young lady who would even up the numbers with me. I had never met her. They had said she was named Huntleigh Robbins, but everyone called her Leigh. I would wait to see what to call her. As I watched, I could make out June and Del, Kate and Devin, Rockie and Tom — and a small slender girl in snug jeans, boots and a hooded jacket. She threw back the hood and flaming red hair was caught by a breeze and lifted and swirled before it was caught in graceful hands and tucked behind her ears. She looked up.

Although we were too far apart to actually see each another, I felt the impact of her gaze. We stood for sometime before they called her, and she moved to help with setting up their camp,right next to mine. Tom had his binoculars out and was scanning the mountain. Suddenly he stopped and waved and whistled, and I laughed and returned the greeting. He signaled me to come down. The piercing notes echoed off the mountain.

But I was not ready. I wanted a few more moments with my father, wherever he was in his eternity. I could hear his voice: "Jared, you must always try, son. Whether you win or lose, it will not matter. What matters is that you tried. You do not have to be best, you have to be the best you can be. That will help you to be a better man, my boy. That and kindness toward others, always."

Overhead, through a watery mist, an Eagle swooped low enough for me to see it, another followed and then they were gone. An omen? A message? I lowered my head and watched the tears drop onto the pine needles and slip down to the soil below. I had never let anyone see me cry, not even my father. I had never seen him cry, and I had never thought that men were allowed to weep until my mother, in her extreme grief lashed out at me after the funeral and said, "Don’t you care enough to grieve for your father, Jared? Can’t you shed a tear for him?" I could only stare at her because my throat had closed, and the pressure in my head was a loud roar of ocean on the rocks, spewing and pounding until I ran away to the family car and climbed in. But I had not wept.

Now I wiped my face, feeling a warmth still from the sun, and sighed, "I will always love you more than my own life, Dad. Be happy where ever you are. I will do my best, as I told you— in your, uh, last, uh moments. You, and God."

There is a tremendous relief in the closure of loss; grief softens and, unlike my sister April, I had not cried until now. Presently, I stood up and stretched to the four winds. Grabbing up my jacket and sweater, I went back down the mountain.

I have never thought of my self as a fanciful man. I am twenty seven, have been fortunate enough to have parents who guided my sister and I through the childhood mania to live forty years in twelve. And with a finesse that I hope I can use with my children, took us through the labyrinth of the teens to adulthood. Some might say we missed the excitement, but on the contrary, we had our own. My parents saw to that. And college was a serious business with us because by then we both had focus,and purpose, and were grateful for the education and future. Oh, April married before graduating college, but she did finish and now works in her husband’s firm, with him. They have no children yet. I nearly did marry once, but that sweet girl was not able to commit, just wanted to party, and we went our separate ways.

I say I am not fanciful because sometimes things happen to me that I cannot share with others. You see, for sometime now I have dreamed this recurring dream. It is of a girl and she is looking at me and saying hello. Just that. But she is special for some reason. I am not sure when I will ever meet her but I hope it will be soon. For now, I told myself as I slithered and leapt down that mountain, I had a weekend with friends, nothing more. And with that I reached the campsite just before dark.

They were all busy as bees, campfire going, food sizzling and boiling on the rock fireplace built by the forestry people. Tents were pitched in close proximity,to mine. I wondered where they had assigned Huntleigh, but when I went into my own to relieve myself of a few layers of clothes I found out. A blanket had been suspended inside, dividing my space into two compartments. My stuff was neatly placed in one, and someone’s was beyond the curtain. It had to be her—had it been one of the fellows we’d have no need for the curtain between us. So, I calmly walked back out carrying my camp dishes and she was only a few feet away, staring at me as I strode toward her. Was that fear on her face? My heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, Huntleigh, I’m Jared. Glad you could make it. It was great of you guys to hang a curtain for your privacy. Hope you don’t mind sharing my tent. I promise I don’t snore. "It was worth the effort to see the visible relief on her face. I stood smiling at her and I knew I had found that girl who haunted my dreams.

"I, I don’t think I do, either," she said shakily. "At least my little sister has never complained. But most of the time she crawls into bed with me before the night is over." She put her hand over her mouth and looked at me with large grey eyes, fringed with dark lashes, and full of fear again.

"Well, I am known to stay in my own bed. So not to worry on that score. Okay?" She relaxed again and still looking a bit flustered gestured toward the table. I nodded and took her arm and guided her to the table. "Hey gang, glad to see you could all make it."

Del grinned, "Surprised that she’s so pretty? Better treat her nice, Jared, or we’ll get you, man."

"Let me fill you in on Huntleigh," June began.

I interrupted, "Nah. I can get her to talk, can’t I, Huntleigh? We’ll have all night with only a blanket hanging between us to get acquainted. Thanks, guys, but I can make friends myself you know." As far as I was concerned I knew her well. Just had to fill in details.

"Okay, mountain climber," Kate laughed. "Have it your way. Now let’s eat, guys. I am starved."

Sitting beside me on the bench, Huntleigh moved closer and I felt the warmth of her body against my thigh. "Please pass the mustard," she said, and gave me a look that was sure to take me up the next mountain with no little effort. I even felt the cool breeze that whispers at the top forever.

We now live on a mountain top, have four children, two dogs (one large and one small), a lady cat who just had four kittens, a Gerbil, four rabbits, and occasionally a lonely garden snake comes to visit . . . .come to think of it, the snake is still here.

I am sure my Dad would say, "Well done, Jared."