The Reunion(94)

“But your whistle’s still intact,” Larkin teases.

I toot on my whistle, which is supposed to scare away wildlife. “So, when I’m bloody carnage, unable to move, thanks to these shoes, at least I’ll have my whistle to ward off predators. Told you it wasn’t a stupid purchase.”

“You’re right—thank God for the whistle.” She looks back at me and chuckles. “You’ve never looked more attractive in my eyes.”

I pause and stand up straight. “What did I tell you? No making fun of me.”

“You borrowed your assistant’s pink hat because the sun was too bright on your eyes.”

“And it’s rather fetching; at least that’s what the birds have been chirping as we’ve walked by.”

“Aww, and here I thought you were a novice when it came to outdoor adventure, but you’re already picking up on the language of the birds.”

I tap the side of my head. “Quick learner.”

We’re met with one more four-foot rock before we reach the top of our hike. With ease, Larkin uses a smaller rock to propel herself on top and then turns around, hand outstretched.

“I think I can handle it,” I scoff.

“Oh, I was just offering to hold your whistle.”

“As if I would trust you with such a brilliant outdoor tool.” I stuff it in my pocket. “No, thank you—I will be handling my own whistle.”

I step up on the small rock and launch my body over the tall boulder, rolling across the rock and then standing on my feet.

I brush myself off as Larkin starts to slow clap. “That was the most graceful thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

“No doubt in my mind,” I say, knowing damn well I just looked like an idiot. After brushing myself off, I take in the views of the harbor. “Wow,” I say as I reach for Larkin’s hand. “It’s beautiful up here.” Stretched in front of us is endless ocean. Standing on the west side of the island, we aren’t graced with the Seattle skyline, but rather are offered the perfect escape from the bustle of the harbor around us. The sky mirrors the ocean, a magnificent blue with minimal clouds in the far distance. Breathtaking.

“It’s one of my favorite places to hike because you get a beautiful panoramic view of the channels, and if you’re lucky, you can catch whales breaching out in the distance.”

“You know, I don’t take enough time to do things like this.”

“I know,” she says. “You’re always working, and when you’re always working, you tend to lose who you are. You don’t take a moment to actually live in your own head. Getting lost in work is easy; stepping outside of that work and exploring yourself, that’s hard.”

“And I work too hard, which has left me ignorant to what I’m missing out on.” I open my arms up. “To all of this—nature, what the company was built around. That and bloody feet.” I glance down at the death-trap boots. “There is no possible way we can carry this company anymore in the stores, especially if this is what happens to our consumers. Blood feet.”

Larkin laughs. “You do not have blood feet, and you’re probably dying because you’re not wearing the proper socks. I told you to buy—”

“I know what you said, but who thought buying a certain kind of sock would help?”

“I did. I knew,” Larkin says, pointing to herself.

“I thought you were just trying to make me look like an idiot, like you did yesterday.”

She feigns shock. “How on earth did I make you look like an idiot yesterday?”

“I did not have to wear the waders around everywhere. I could have put them on when we got to the stream.”

She laughs out loud. “But where’s the fun in that? Seriously, though, seeing you in that getup, eating dainty slices of cake with Nora—best thing I’ve seen in years.”

I pull her in close and kiss the top of her head. “Glad I could amuse you.”

“I don’t think you’re just amusing me—I think you’re amusing yourself.”

I pull her toward a rock that overlooks the majestically blue views of the channels. “I think I’m starting to amuse myself.”

“You’re more relaxed,” Larkin points out. “Normally, when you get an email thread from your siblings, you’re irritated all day, but it’s like you let this last one roll off you.”

“There’s no point,” I say. “I can tell them to back off until I’m blue in the face, but they’re not going to listen. It is what it is.”

“Why do you think they don’t listen?” Larkin asks.

“If I knew that, I’d fix it.”

“There has to be something that is causing all of this tension. I’ve seen those emails—they’re a powder keg, ready to explode. And do you think it would help if you solved things with your siblings?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think there might be too much history, too many disagreements to actually fix anything. And the weirdest thing is I can’t really say how it all began—and I think we’re all the same in that, but no one will address it.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to talk about that right now. Not when we’re here, in this beautiful place. Not when we’re together, alone, enjoying nature like you used to with your brother and dad.”