“Huh. Sounds… fun.” It doesn’t and it doesn’t even sound like Cytha wants to go, so why do I feel so jealous? Why do her words make me itch with betrayal? She has not betrayed me—sanity tells me. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I asked her to sit at home all summer missing me?
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”
But she doesn’t.
Tomorrow comes and no word from Cytha.
“Hey, Rod asked if you were ready to go.” Summer stands in my doorway—on edge ever since I overheard her tell my uncle she didn’t know how to get through to me.
“Yeah.” I shut my eyes. They ache with lack of sleep. “I guess.”
She plays with the end of her braid hanging over her shoulder. “Are you okay, Esther?”
“I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is that all?” She shuffles from her left foot to her right, but doesn’t cross my bedroom threshold.
Before I can stop myself, I speak. “Cytha hasn’t called and Finn has been acting weird.”
“Can you call her?” She crosses her arms and I tell myself she isn’t trying to meddle. She’s trying to help.
“She said she would call me. She had a date.” I shake my head. “Normally, we would have gone together.”
“Ah.” Her eyes shift. “What about Finn?”
I nibble on my lip. I haven’t told them much about Finn—including that he has health problems. And then it tumbles out. “He—well, Finn has a heart disorder.”
“Oh.” It’s not what she expected. She stands straighter, her hands at her sides, waiting on my next words.
“He sort of startled me the other day and I sprayed him with this dusting spray.”
Summer’s brows cinch as she tries to follow my story.
“He had this coughing fit and—” I shake my head thinking about that day. About the way I held his hand. “I think I embarrassed him.”
“Oh,” she says, but this time brighter, “if he’s embarrassed, maybe all he needs is for you to act normal. You could ask him about something he likes to do—to get him talking—you know? Or invite him to do something fun.”
“You think?”
Summer’s lips part in an eager grin. “I do.”
“Thanks.”
She nods and starts to leave, but stops again. “Hey, Esther, about the other day.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I’ve had about as much of a heart to heart as I can handle this morning.
“No, I want you to know what I meant. I do feel like we take one step forward and two steps back with you.”
My heart thumps with her honesty—with her criticism.
“We have moments like this—that I love.” She smiles again. “And then we have moments like we did at the bookstore, that I don’t understand, and where I feel like you’re purposely shutting us out.” She holds up a hand to stop my pointless protest. “The reason I said what I said is because I care. Because I want to move forward with you. You’re my niece and I hope you’ll choose to stay for the year and not just the summer.” She doesn’t wait for my reply. She clasps her hands. “Rod’s ready when you are.”
The ski lodge where Rodrick works is insane. This place is fancy and gorgeous and someplace I’ll never see the inside of again—unless I can find a millionaire husband. Trees surround the park like a fence. There are fire pits and luxurious outdoor chairs along a bubbling brook. Light up umbrellas with chairs are scattered over the lawn as well. There’s a brick lodge with an outdoor bar and an amazing view of the Tetons. We’ve possibly walked miles and I can’t get enough.
“This is really cool.”
My uncle radiates his agreement. “I haven’t shown you the best part yet.” He points. “The gondola’s this way.”
I’ve never been on a gondola before. This place has lived up to all of Uncle Rodrick’s hype, so I don’t let my small fear of heights keep me back.
“In the winter it takes the skiers to their hills, but it’s got the best view of the city as well, which is why it still runs in the summer.
The contraption rolls on a cable above the tram. It rocks and my stomach turns just watching the thing. It rolls along a short moving floor to board passengers before lifting into the air. The doors to one car open for us to board. “Hello, Mr. Ray,” the attendant says before we hop into the gondola car.
The complete top half of the car is glass, and Rodrick is right, the view of the city is perfection from up here. I see a hundred places I’ve never ventured to go. Jackson is a tourist town. I should try being a tourist one day. I can see the rolling hills, but also landmarks in the town as we ride higher and higher. The arch made of antlers looks tiny from up here. There are stores and shoppers, creeks and land, log cabins that look so much swankier than I ever imagined a log cabin being, as well as normal looking houses.
There’s an interesting building shaped differently than all the others, like modern art, with a grassy area right next to it.
I stand, my palms on the glass, ignoring the gondola when it sways.
“What did you find?” Rodrick asks, and I realize I haven’t appreciated the quiet he’s given me. We’ve gone halfway up this mountain and he’s just let me look on my own time and in my own way.
“Rodrick,” I say, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, “what is that?”
“The Center for the Arts building. I should have realized that would stand out to you.”
“No, the space right beside it—the grass, the,” I lick my lips, suddenly dry, “—the circle.” The circle made of free standing walls, set in cement. My breath hitches in my throat. My dream. The place I was certain didn’t exist, the picture I’ve had in my head for the last eight days. It’s here, in the middle of Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
Rodrick stands next to me, rocking our tram car even more. His lips turn up in a grin. “That’s our modern day Stonehenge. It’s a piece of art the town had installed a few years ago. It’s called the Town Enclosure Pavilion.”
I hear his words, they sink in, but I don’t see Rodrick. My tunnel vision can only see the structure. “Where is it?”
Rodrick steps back to his side of the car and we sway again as it evens out the weight distribution once more. “Just in town. I don’t remember the street, but I can take you there the next time I have a day off.”
That won’t be soon enough—the tickle in my bones that’s more like a longing is proof of that.
The rest of Rodrick’s tour is a little lost on me. My head is with the structure. My brain somehow conjured it up without ever having seen it.
How is that possible?
16
I pause my floss, and look at Cytha inside of my phone, propped against the bathroom mirror. “Maybe my subconscious just made up a modern day Stonehenge and it’s all just coincidental. We learned about it in Wilk’s class last year.”
“Yeah, for a day, and then you never thought about it again.”