Chapter Twenty-four. Grace zipped up her jacket to ward off the chill

Grace zipped up her jacket to ward off the chill. It was early morning and much of nature was still asleep. The campsite was secluded, far from the highway, which minimized the possibility of human interaction. And that was what she wanted.

She followed the trail uphill, amazed that the only sounds she could hear were the crunching pine needles beneath her feet and the shrill calls of two birds high up in the trees. She trudged along slowly, admiring the rock formations, the fallen trees struck by lightning and the immense vegetation blanketing the forest floor. Everything had bloomed a few months prior, and the morning hike was a gift she relished with each step.

The trail veered right, but twenty yards to the left an enormous flat rock jutted from the side of the mountain, creating a makeshift overlook. She perched on the rock and stared down at the wall of trees that surrounded the valley below. Mist swirled like a steaming cauldron, obstructing her view of the basin. She closed her eyes, allowing her senses to overwhelm her. She inhaled deeply, the morning air filling her lungs, making her dizzy. It was almost as intoxicating as the Root of Passion.

After the evening with Margo and Joseph she’d never mentioned the potion again. She realized that regardless of its origin, to replicate the effects continuously would make her an addict, just like someone who couldn’t survive without alcohol, meth, or pharmaceuticals. Still, she missed that feeling of the river rushing past her, giving her the courage to face her fears. And she needed that courage now.

She had to make a decision, one that could change her life. She’d hoped that coming to the mountains—alone—would help her see clearly, but the mist over the valley seemed symbolic and aptly timed. She reached for the satellite phone attached to her belt and hit speed dial one.

“Hey, ” a sleepy voice said.

“Hey, yourself. Did I wake you? ”

“Yeah, but that’s okay. You’re up on the rock, right? ”

Grace smiled at her intuitiveness. “Yes. I’m thinking.”

“Good. You need to think. Did you have any trouble with the tent? ”

“No, it went right up. Everything’s been great.”

“I’m glad. Is there a specific reason you called? Have you had any epiphanies you’d like to share? ”

“I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m hanging up now.”

Penny laughed. “That’s just tortuous, Grace. Thanks a lot. You wake me up just to tease me. When are you coming back? ”

She let the question hang in the air and watched the mist roll over the valley. “I’m due back at work on Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

They both knew the implications. She could either spend another day alone in the mountains and drive back to Penny’s for a quick unloading of the camping gear she’d borrowed, or she could drive back today, and they could spend time together— something they’d avoided since her last trip to Vegas.

“I’ll call you later, okay? ”

“Sure.”

“Penny, are you angry? ” she thought to ask.

“No, I’m not. Really. You believe me, don’t you? ”

She did. If Penny was anything, she was the most sincere and honest person Grace had ever met.

“Okay, ‘bye.” She disconnected and stared into the valley. Floating high above the tree line, she felt powerful, omnipotent. Of course, you had to four-wheel in Penny’s Jeep the whole way here, Grace. How God-like does that make you?

Penny. What to do? Their connection had started innocently when Grace had Googled Linus McWhirter’s address and returned her clothes. They began exchanging e-mails. At first, they discussed the unbelievable weekend and Logan’s outrageous behavior, but then, without realizing it, the flower of trust opened, and one comment linked to another, until they were friends. She had no idea when it happened; although if she reviewed all of Penny’s e-mails, which she kept in a folder, she knew she could trace the evolution of their relationship.

Somehow, though, that no longer seemed important. Much of their initial correspondence revolved around Dina, who, after four months, disappeared one night, leaving a note for Grace in her mailbox detailing her plan to work in a surf shop in Ocean Beach, California. At first she’d been devastated, but it was Penny who pulled her from the malaise and she found herself hurrying home each night and firing up her computer to see Penny’s latest e-mail, which always made her laugh or think. Penny was as intelligent as she was funny, and Grace knew she’d be a wonderful psychologist.

Once in a while they spoke on the phone, but they shared the same disdain for small talk, and the awkward pauses eventually led to an agreement that e-mail was their best form of communication. Eventually Penny asked Grace to return to Las Vegas for a camping trip. One weekend led to another, and another. It was at the end of their third trip a month before that the relationship unexpectedly shifted. When they went to exchange a friendly kiss on the cheek at the airport, the corners of their lips brushed together, and the kiss lingered far longer than it should have. Grace had spent the entire flight home thinking of that moment and reliving the tenderness of Penny’s mouth, one she’d never felt against her own.

Of course, they’d talked about the kiss and their feelings in the e-mails that followed. Honesty and candor created the comfort in their relationship, and Penny admitted that she wanted more— much more. She’d been accepted to Arizona State and UC San Diego, and she’d told Grace that she’d go to ASU if it meant they would give their relationship a shot.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the battered photograph of her and Penny at the wedding. She’d removed it from the photo album months ago and kept it by the computer. She’d received an invitation to Logan’s show in New York, which featured her latest and greatest photo, Moment of Grace, but of course she didn’t go. It would have been far too embarrassing.

For the hundredth time in the last day, she gazed at the picture. Penny’s soul was in her smile, and whenever Grace stared at her she sighed, thinking of her kind heart. She’d ignored her during the wild weekend, too enamored with Logan and dazzled by Lena to really see her.

She peered over the edge of the rock, noting the sharp drop toward the valley. It felt like her life. Should she leap or remain safely planted on solid ground? If she had the Root of Passion, she knew exactly what she’d do, but this decision wasn’t just about her. Penny was potentially altering her life for Grace. No pressure there, Grace. She wasn’t sure she could handle that responsibility.

She should tell Penny that she didn’t know if it would work. Then Penny would make her own choices—and perhaps choose San Diego. Maybe she’ll run into Dina. That thought sparked jealousy, as irrational as it was. Still, wherever Penny went, the doctoral program would consume her life, and Grace knew the probability of seeing her was minimal if she was far away. And if she chose San Diego, she would likely relocate there after graduation. How do you feel about losing her? What if she wasn’t in your life—at all?

She pulled the phone out and dialed.

Penny chuckled when she answered. “That was quick. You’re not lost, are you? ”

“No, but I do have a few questions.”

“Okay, ” Penny said hesitantly. “What? ”

“Are you still in bed? ”

“Uh-huh. And I’m alone, in case you wanted clarification.”

She laughed. “That’s good to know. So, my next question is, when you’re lying in bed, can you see the Pollock? ”

There was a long pause, and she heard Penny sigh deeply. “Yes, Grace, I can see the Pollock from here, and every time I look at it I think of you. I told you I was rather ambivalent toward it when my dad got it for me, but now I totally love it.”

She wondered if Penny had any idea that she was grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks. That’s all I wanted. ‘Bye.”

She pulled the tattered note paper from her pocket and read through Michelle and Margo’s infamous list once more. Number five still remained undone. You know how you feel about loose ends, Grace. She closed her eyes and lay down on the rock. The sky was a rich blue, not as deep as the cerulean that swirled in the Root of Passion, but beautiful nonetheless. She slowed her breathing, envisioning the intricate pathways of her body that she knew so well as a surgeon, imagining the Root of Passion swirling inside her.

And, unexpectedly, the river appeared again, roaring over her prostrate body, pressing her deeper into her rocky perch. Eventually she opened her eyes, rejuvenated and bold. She held up the picture and the list once more—and leaped.