Chapter 2
Emerson
I hated packing more than anything. I especially hated that I had to pack. Stupid political red tape was ruining my life. The grant I had busted my ass to get a few years before had been pulled, and that meant I had to move back toward home. It wasn’t a total tank, though. I was looking forward to being near my family in Portland again, and I was actually able to get on board with a research program only an hour away from the city. My grandfather had offered me a job at his environmental awareness company, but that meant more desk time than I wanted. I liked being in the woods and watching how trees and plants worked. I’ve always kind of been a nerd like that—an outdoorsy nerd.
The worst part about leaving the East Coast for the West was that I really hated leaving my best friend, Rachel. We’d been as close as sisters since we were thrown together as roommates our freshman year of college. After graduating, we leased a place together and have been inseparable. Well, aside from the time she was with her boyfriend.
I grabbed my backpack, swiveled around to take one more look at the apartment I’d called home for the last few years, took a deep breath, and turned to head out to where Rachel was waiting for me.
“I still can't believe you’re moving across the country,” Rachel signed as I placed my bag in the trunk of her car.
I looked over at her and smiled. “Just gives you a reason to come out and visit.”
“Damn straight it does,” she replied and opened her door to climb in. I shut the trunk and looked up at our condo as tears stung the back of my throat. I was going to miss this place.
The drive to the airport was filled with talk of how we were going to take turns visiting each other and how she fully expected me not to shirk my Maid of Honor duties just because I was over a thousand miles away. She was lecturing me on that when she pulled up to the curb at the drop-off area for my airline.
We hopped out and got my luggage from the trunk of her car.
“Okay, chica. I love you to pieces. Call me when you land.” She pulled me into a hug and then stepped away, tears building in her eyes.
“Don't cry! No crying! You’re gonna make me cry, dammit.” I reached for her again.
“I can't help it. You are moving and getting on with your life, and I'm just here waiting on Charlie to ask me to marry him.”
“Please! You know he’s going to. He’d be an idiot not to!” I assured her. Little did she know, he already had the ring. I helped him pick it out over a week ago. He had it all planned out, and I was excited for her. She and Charlie were great together.
I heaved my bag over my shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “I'll see you soon.” I winked at her and watched as a tear fell down her cheek. I had to turn away so I wasn't a blubbering mess on the plane. As much as I hated it, the timing was kind of perfect. I knew she was going to be getting married, so I didn't feel as bad about leaving her as I would have otherwise.
Working with the evergreens in Maine and the diseases that were killing hundred-year-old trees had been a blessing and godsend, but the powers that be apparently didn’t think what I was doing was worth the money they were shelling out; thus, my grant was pulled after three years. My original plan was to be an arborist, but during college, I realized I was more interested in the research. I wanted to know why trees grew where they did and how they got there. I also wanted to figure out how to stop deforestation by seeking alternative resources. When I was little, my grandfather used to take me out into the woods and teach me all about the forest, and I grew to love it. I owe so much to him. He’s the reason I am who I am, in many ways, not just my career choice.
I placed my bag in the overhead compartment and settled into my window seat, wondering if my things would be there on schedule. Moving in early spring meant the chances of snow may slow down the moving truck's progress, but Ryan, the guy I was renting from, assured me that he would leave some basic necessities there for me until mine arrived—meaning he was leaving a bed in the extra bedroom that he wasn’t going to need at his new place.
Ryan and I had talked a good bit over the past month. He had been super helpful and willing to rent his duplex on a month by month basis. He did tell me that his friend owned the other half and that he would probably buy him out within the year, making sure I was aware that this wasn’t long-term. I had agreed because long-term wasn’t my plan. I grew up a West Coast girl, but I loved Maine and all it had to offer. I intended to move back there some day. Plus, I was leaving my best friend, and it sucked. My eyes were still a bit puffy from crying over our last bottle of wine the night before and staying up way too late, but it was worth it.
I settled in as the plane taxied toward the runway, thankful I’d been able to get a non-stop flight out of Boston. What I needed was a nap. So, I took one.
***
Once I was able to disembark from the plane, I found the truck my grandfather made arrangements for me to have since I sold mine knowing I needed something better for the area I’d be in. I hadn’t expected a brand-new truck waiting for me, but Granddad said he wanted to make sure I had something reliable. He was always looking out for me. He apologized profusely for not being able to meet me, but there were only a few times a year that he and my grandmother went on vacation, and this had been one of them. They’d had it planned for months. He had mailed me a set of keys and driven the truck to the airport when they took their flight out to the Caribbean.
When I located the truck, shoved my bags in the back seat of the extended cab, and set on my way, I considered stopping in to see my mother before heading out of the city, but the truth was, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to visit with her. I just wanted to get out to my new place and settle in.
I smiled the majority of the hour drive as I took in the landscape. The miles of green trees in every direction made my heart happy and reminded me why I did what I did.
When I chose to go to college on the East Coast, Granddad insisted we take a month-long road trip across the country to get there. He wanted me to see the diverse areas of the country and how different the landscapes were from one region to the next. He said it would make me better at my career. What it did was make me appreciate the woods even more. The first time I saw Los Angeles, my heart hurt. I didn’t understand how anyone would want to live somewhere with so few trees. But I also got to see some of the most beautiful sites in the country—the Redwood Forest, the Grand Canyon, moss laden trees in Savannah, and Niagara Falls to name a few. It was a fantastic adventure.
When I hit the town, Ryan had told me was the last stop before I made it to the farmhouse, I decided to stop into the small grocery store and pick up a few things. Thirty minutes later, I was turning onto a dirt path covered by a tunnel of trees. It was gorgeous. The truck bucked and jumped as the tires dipped into the ruts and holes along the path.
The large farmhouse finally came into view, and I noticed two trucks parked in the driveway. One was a sleek black Chevy that had been polished to a shine; the other was a white truck lifted up on slightly bigger tires—the kind needed to get back into fields and forests without getting stuck. It was probably used for work. A few dents and dings told the story.
I chuckled to myself at the joke that my grandmother had made in Texas about big trucks: something must be small, her voice floated through my head. My smile widened as I put the truck in park and opened the door. I recognized Ryan as he walked out onto the porch. He was a little taller than I had envisioned and a bit more on the built side than I had expected after seeing his Facebook photos, but he was just as attractive as he had been when we’d Skyped to discuss the house. My eyes, however, were glued to the man walking behind him.