My head is stuck under the hood of my father’s old Chevrolet when I hear a car coming up the drive. I sigh. I hope this isn’t Bill again.
I put down the wrench in my hand and grab my grease rag to wipe my hands with. Turning slowly, I lean against the front of the truck and watch the bend in the driveway for the approaching vehicle. My eyebrows inch upward when instead of seeing the Sheriff’s pickup, I see my brother’s truck rounding the corner.
He pulls up beside me and kills the engine before hopping out of the pickup. I push myself off the front bumper and walk towards him. The driver’s side door swings open and I see Dominic’s lumbering body come into view. He grunts and nods his chin down at me.
“Got those parts you asked for,” he says, nodding his head towards the truck’s flatbed.
“I’ll help you unload them,” I answer. We walk in silence towards the back of his truck where he opens the gate. I nod in appreciation. “Thanks, Dominic,” I say. I’ve been trying to fix my father’s old Chevy for weeks, and these look like they’ll do the trick.
Dominic just grunts in response. I steal a glance his way and think of Bill’s words. I’m not surprised he didn’t ask Dominic to represent the town in the upcoming meeting. Physically, my brother is imposing. He’s even bigger than me and I’ve always been built like an ox. But he is a man of few words, and the likelihood of him standing in front of a room full of people and voicing an opinion seems almost impossible.
I help Dominic unload the parts and nod in approval when I pick up the alternator.
“Where did you find this?” I ask. “I thought they didn’t make these anymore. None of our suppliers at work had any.”
Dominic shrugs and drops his load on the work bench in the garage. “Scrap yard,” he explains. I nod and check the other things he’s brought. A smile plays on my lips and I glance at my brother.
“This should do it. I’ll have it up and running within the week,” I tell him with a grin.
Dominic nods and starts walking back towards his truck. He pauses when he gets to the door, lifting his eyes up towards me and knitting his eyebrows together.
“You going to that town hall meeting?” he asks.
The question surprises me. It surprises me that he knows about the meeting in the first place, and it surprises me that he’d expect me to go. It’s my turn to knit my brows together and I shrug.
“Not my business,” I answer. Dominic’s gaze hardens and he searches my face. I resist the urge to look away, keeping my gaze steady on my older brother. He used to look at me like this when we were kids, and it took me years to learn to keep eye contact.
“It is because of the McCoys?” he asks. Again, I’m surprised at his words. I don’t remember the last time Dominic asked me an open-ended question about something other than cars and home maintenance.
I crack and finally look down at the gravel between us. My eyes search the rocks for an answer and I can feel my brother’s gaze boring into me. I shrug.
“It’s just not my business. Got nothing to do with them. I work for them, remember? It’s not like I’m afraid of running into them.”
“Dad wouldn’t have wanted it,” he says. “The hotel.” I glance up at him and see a flash of something in his eyes. It looks almost tender, and then in an instant it’s gone. He grunts at me and swings the door open, sliding his massive body behind the steering wheel. I watch him reverse and drive away before letting out a sigh.
I don’t know what’s inside me – frustration, maybe. Anger, even. Why does it have to be me that represents the town? There has to be someone else in town that can speak up against the new hotel!
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know there’s no one. No one except us owns as much land as the McCoys. No one else has the weight of generations of family living in the area.
As much as I know it has to be me, I hate the thought of it. I hate the thought of driving into town when it’s not absolutely necessary. I hate the thought of seeing those familiar streets and swallowing all the bitter memories that come with it.
I’m happy up here on my own. I don’t need anything else. This mountain, these forests - it’s all I need. The reason I came up here and the reason I stay up here is to get away from Lang Creek and all its problems. Sure, I took a job at the garage, but I hardly have to drive into town to go there. The McCoy Trucking maintenance yard is on the way into town, so most days I don’t even need to see anyone on my way in.
My eyes drift up towards the empty old house. I can just see the corner of it through the trees. I haven’t been up there since I moved out after Dad died and it’s almost completely overgrown. The cabin that I live in looks like a shack next to it and I shake my head.
I know that Bill is right. I know that Dominic is right. I have to go to the town hall meeting. I have to fulfill my promise to my father and protect these forests with every ounce of strength that I have.
If not for me, if not for the forest, then I have to do it for the memory of my father. I run my fingers over the car parts, resting my index on the alternator. I pick it up and turn it over in my hand, glancing at the old car I’ve been working on.
What’s the point of restoring this car in memory of my father if I ignore his dying request? What’s the point of living up here if I won’t try to keep these forests free from development companies who want to clear cut the entire mountainside?
My eyes drift one more time to my childhood home and I nod to myself. I’ll go to the town hall meeting. I’ll speak my mind and I’ll do everything I can to stop this hotel being built. I owe it to this mountain, I owe it to this forest, and I owe it to my father.
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