PROLOGUE
Ican see the apple tree in the distance, its branches overgrown, its red fruit scattered in the teal grass. The sight of it brings mixed sensations to my body—a lightness in my head, a tautness in my lungs, prickling on the skin of my arms and legs.
Twelve years.
The tree is not much larger than when I last saw it. I find it strange that it would not have changed drastically after all this time. As far as I know, no one has tended to it. As far as I know, it has been stuck here in the ground for years without anyone paying it a second thought, maybe not even a first. Its branches have always been overgrown and wild. That was part of why we loved it.
Twelve years. Has it really been that long? Has all that time really passed? Before continuing, I slip off my braided sandals and proceed barefoot. The grass is soft, and the sun is still up, though it will set in around an hour.
Part of me didn’t believe this day would come. When I was younger, I just couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t really think that far into the future. My mind constantly ruminated on what would happen in a matter of days, weeks, months—but twelve years? Back then, it seemed more like one hundred.
I can’t see anyone else in the meadow, but I can sense his presence. Like I’m supposed to. There is an abandoned barn here, and I turn my attention to it. Its white paint is cracked and peeling, exposing the underlying dark wood. Seeing the barn intensifies the feelings in my head, lungs, and limbs. Like the apple tree, it also looks more or less the way it did twelve years ago.
◈
Come, let us plant the apple-tree.
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
Wide let its hollow bed be made;
There gently lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mould with kindly care,
And press it o’er them tenderly,
As, round the sleeping infant’s feet,
We softly fold the cradle sheet;
So plant we the apple-tree.
-William Cullen Bryant, The Planting of the Apple-Tree
Chapter 1
“River, I don’t know if we should be here.”
He stood inches from the side of the white barn, peering in through a glassless window.
“There’s no one here, Drew. I don’t think anyone’s been here in years.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “Maybe someone owns this place.”
“It’s decrepit. If anyone owns it, they don’t care about it. We should go in and check it out.”
River looked over his shoulder at me with raised eyebrows and the start of a smile. At eighteen, his face was still largely the one I had known for years, but in other ways it wasn’t. His jawline was more pronounced now, his brows fuller. But his eyes hadn’t changed—they had the same visible gleam and earthy hue, like the color of a bird’s nest.
I was standing a distance back from the old barn and had my arms crossed over my chest. River and I were the same age, but sometimes I felt older than him. Most of the time, really.
“Come on, Drew,” he pleaded. “Just for a bit. Then we can go do something you want.”
I took in a deep breath and sighed. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”
Yet, I relented. I let my arms fall to my sides and followed him to the heavy wooden doors.
It was the weekend, a Saturday morning, and I’d originally had plans to study for my Anatomy & Physiology exam coming up on Monday. But when I woke up that morning and went downstairs to get breakfast, I’d found River hanging out on the couch with my younger sister, Cambria. I can’t say that I was surprised, because River had been doing that kind of thing for years: showing up at my house unexpected. We were best friends, after all, and had been since fourth grade.
As I grabbed a bowl of Honeycomb cereal and joined them on the sofa, River said that he was in the mood for some adventure. I told him about my study plans for the day, but next thing I knew, I was in the passenger seat of his old Toyota, heading north out of our little town of Rockwood, Washington. River ended up driving for twenty-five minutes, around a multitude of backroads, before settling on a spot that intrigued him.
It was the barn that caught his attention. We were out among quiet fields and meadows, somewhere I’d never been before, even though I’d lived in Rockwood my whole life.
Now, inside the barn, River inspected every corner of the place, but we found that there wasn’t really anything to inspect. The barn was empty, a hollow structure with a ground of dust and dirt. There were, I realized, some wooden floorboards covering about a quarter of the ground, and these, too, were coated in dust. River walked atop the wooden planks, pausing when he stepped on a loose one, watching as the other end of the gray wood popped upward. His lips drooped slightly at the corners, and he furrowed his brows.
“Well, this is disappointing,” he said.
“What were you expecting to find in here?” I came closer to where he was standing, goosebumps forming on my arms from the cooler, musky air inside.
“I don’t know, just . . . Not nothing, you know? I thought there’d be more than this.”
In that moment, River Mahlon appeared more serious than I’d ever before seen him. I didn’t know at the time that I would be seeing that serious expression more and more often from him over time. I reached out and touched his arm.
“It’s just an old barn, River.”
He glanced at my hand resting on his arm for a second before looking up at me.
“Well, we did what I wanted,” he said. “Now, what do you want to do? Probably go home and study?” He was smiling again, half teasing me, half being serious. Normally, I would in fact opt for him to take me home so I could get to work on making flashcards and quizzing myself. But there was something about the way his mood had turned while in that barn. It wasn’t like him, not the River I was used to adventuring with, and I sensed that he hadn’t fully recovered from it.
I walked to the east side of the barn where there was another window without a pane. Through that opening in the wall, I saw the meadow that stretched out in all directions. It was a rich jade hue from all the rain we’d been getting that spring. It was clear and open, except for one tree in the distance.
I wasn’t nearly as creative as River when it came to finding adventure, so I just proposed the first thing that came to my mind.
“See that tree over there? I’ll race you to it.”
◈ ◈ ◈
When I reached the tree—almost a full minute after River did—I was surprised by how large and full it was. It had looked smaller from the barn. Up-close, I saw how dense the branches were, and how far they stretched. I noticed an abundance of small, white blossoms sprinkled amidst the thick leaves. River was already sitting down below the wild tree, leaning against the twisted trunk.
“Apple tree,” he stated. His breathing was a little harder after running, but nothing compared to mine.
“Remember when you used to let me win the races?” I asked, leaning forward to rest my hands on my thighs.
“Yeah, when we were ten,” he laughed. “Come sit down.”