to pick out something to wear from the rack here and then I’m headed upstairs to grab a shower and shave.” She gave him a blank look. “I live in the apartment upstairs.”
“Oh, that’s you?” She winced. “We’ve been storing some stock up there, so forgive the mess. I’ll make sure to get it cleaned up tomorrow.” She sent him another nervous smile. “Just leave the tags from the clothes on the counter.”
He and his mother had never had a very traditional relationship. She’d raised him on her own, and Eli hadn’t known who his father was until he was fifteen. Even then, he’d never been able to talk to the man. Maxwell Quinn, a noted mountain climber and adventure guide, had died on Everest when Eli was eight. But it hardly mattered. To Eli, he was nothing more than a name on the back of a faded photo.
After Eli’s birth, Annalise had stayed home for a few years, attempting to accept a traditional role as the mother of a toddler. But the moment he was toilet trained, Annalise continued her adventuring, leaving Eli in the care of his grandmother, Trudie Montgomery, or his grandfather, Buck Garrison.
His grandparents’ lives were just as nontraditional as his mother’s. Buck had never married Trudie, and after the brief affair that produced Eli’s mother, they each took up with an odd assortment of lovers. His grandparents tried to give him a normal life—high school, sports, hearty meals and a lot of time spent outdoors.
Eli knew at an early age that his family was different. Trudie had disregarded societal norms and raised her daughter on her own, working any odd job she could find to put food on the table. Annalise had left home at sixteen, dropping out of school to take off with a climber she’d met at a local roadhouse. A few years later, Trudie wandered into the wilderness of the Rockies, built a rustic cabin on the edge of a mountain meadow and never returned to civilization.
She spent the rest of her life writing books about feminist empowerment and a woman’s connection to the natural world, turning herself and her little mountain home into a symbol for independent women throughout the world.
Most of the people around town, however, thought Trudie and Annalise were a bit crazy. There were times when Eli had to agree, although he preferred to think of them both as unconventional. After all, they were family—his only family—and he’d learned to accept them for who they were: two very confident, powerful women who didn’t need a man in their lives to be happy or fulfilled.
Trudie had passed away seven years ago after a valiant battle with breast cancer. After a brief stint in the hospital, she’d returned to her cabin to die. Annalise and Eli had buried her in the meadow, in a coffin Trudie had built herself. After her death, her cabin became a destination for hikers trekking into the Arapaho National Forest and a pilgrimage for women who had admired Trudie’s tenacity and her talent as a writer.
When Eli was home, he often spent time at the cabin, making sure the roof was still sound and the cupboards were stocked in case someone wanted to stay there, or it was needed as an emergency shelter by a lost or injured hiker. Though many other empty cabins had fallen prey to squatters or vandals, Trudie’s cabin, like her memory, had been revered by those who visited, and left untouched.
“Annalise is on her way,” Vanessa called from the far end of the store.
“Thanks,” Eli replied.
He found a pair of cotton cargo pants and a T-shirt on the sale rack. His mother’s shop was a popular stop for tourists, but she still went on climbing expeditions all over the world and led treks for breast cancer survivors, in honor of her mother’s battle for both equality and survival.
Annalise had also founded one of the country’s most successful breast cancer charities. She still served as the face of the group, though she’d never been interested in the day-to-day business workings.
Eli walked to the back of the store, then past his mother’s office to a narrow stairway. When he got upstairs, he wove a path through the boxes that littered the hallway, stripping off his travel-worn clothes along the way.
He found a pair of scissors in the kitchen, then made his way to the bathroom. Eli stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. This was the first time he’d been home without an exit strategy already planned. Usually, his visits had an expiration date, a day when he was required to leave so he could make his next adventure. Over the past few years, he’d trekked the Andes, worked a fishing boat in Alaska, hopped a freighter for Taiwan, taught a series of workshops for Outward Bound and helped film a documentary about surfing in Hawaii.
Maybe it was time to reassess his choices in life, Eli mused. Though he’d never wanted a traditional career, he felt as if he ought to be contributing in a more profound way. Both his grandmother and his mother had carved out legacies for themselves. What would his legacy be?
Some guys built powerful careers, and their lives were all about money and accumulating wealth. Others, like politicians, preferred to build their power. Others married and found their legacies in their children. And then there were those that set themselves apart by accomplishing impossible things, like climbing the highest mountain or finding a cure for a fatal disease or pitching a no-hitter.
When would he figure out his place in the world? And when would he be perfectly happy with his life? These questions always seemed to plague him at the end of one of his adventures, when he was left with just the memories and nothing more. Usually he was able to push them to the back of his mind by finding another adventure, but this time, he had nowhere to go and nothing to take his mind off of his murky future.
Eli carefully clipped off the beard, but left his hair a little long. He’d make a quick visit to the barber tomorrow. Rubbing his face, he turned on the shower and when the water was nice and warm, stepped beneath the spray and sighed.
He hadn’t had a real shower, or bath, in almost two months. The luxury of hot, fresh water was almost more than he could bear and he groaned softly as he let the spray pound his back.
By the time he’d scrubbed his skin and lathered his hair, he was starting to feel almost human. The lather dripped off his body and gathered around his feet as he rinsed, then he reached for the faucet and shut off the shower. Wiping the water from his face, he yanked the curtain back and reached for a towel. He wrapped the soft fabric around his waist and strode into the bedroom to grab the T-shirt and pants.
“Look at you!”
His mother was perched on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed in front of her, her wavy gray-streaked hair falling around her face.
“Jesus, Annalise!” He clutched the towel and made sure it was tightly knotted.
“Oh, please. I’ve seen you naked before. Many times.”
“Get out,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom door.
She jumped off the bed, then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re home!” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then rubbed it in as she’d done when he was a child. “So it will last,” she murmured, as she always did.
He waited for her to close the bedroom door behind her, then cursed softly. Was it any wonder that he’d never figured out the female mind? Maybe if he’d had a normal mother and grandmother, he’d be married with two or three kids by now. Instead, he survived on a series of short-lived affairs with women who seemed perfectly normal at first, but who strangely always ended up unsuitable or unstable.
When Eli finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the cargo pants and T-shirt, Annalise was waiting
