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Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Katie Powner
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

Sometimes when the clouds are low, the Bridger Mountains disappear. A person can drive past on the interstate and never even know they’re there. The clouds are like a cloak. A shroud. But if you know where the mountains are, you can feel them. You can sense their towering presence and know that everything is where it should be, even if you can’t see it.

I peer at Mitch’s face and search for the mountain through the clouds. I know it’s there. I squint and lean closer, straining to make out the shape of my memories. To distinguish between the figures and shapes, the lies and the truth. The real and imagined.

“I want to go home,” I say again, and that’s when I see it. The outline of what Mitch was trying to say.

He can’t trust me anymore. I am not safe.

There is a tall, stark mountain peak cutting through the mist like a knife. And I can’t drive by and pretend it isn’t there.

TWENTY-NINE

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Mitch shifted the truck into park in front of his parents’ house and let out a slow breath. It had been a long couple of days. Kenny Chesney’s hit “Don’t Blink” faded from the radio speakers, and Mitch looked over at his mother in the passenger seat. The song was about how fast life goes by. How fast things change. It was fitting.

As he moved to open his door, his father reached up from the back seat and put a hand on his arm.

“No need to walk us in. We’ll be all right.”

Mitch turned and gaped at him. They would be all right? How did he figure that? His mother had just spent two nights in the hospital because she thought she could climb the mountain on foot searching for lost treasure. What about that was “all right”? Then he noted the hard set of his father’s jaw, the determination in his eyes. Mitch didn’t want to pick a fight.

He took his hand off the door handle. “Are you sure?”

June opened her door and stepped outside. The October sky was clear, the sun reflecting off the new snow blinding. She stood there with her face turned up, and Mitch could see the woman who used to race him to the barn and churn homemade ice cream and swat his backside. The woman who used to remember everything.

She stuck one hand in her pocket, held the other out to the side as if welcoming whatever was to come, and started walking unhurriedly toward the house.

Rand moved to open his door and follow her.

“Dad, wait.”

He paused.

Mitch cleared his throat. “I don’t feel right about this.”

“It’s not up to you.”

“But—”

“I won’t leave her again.” His father’s voice was resolute with a hint of defensiveness.