Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

6. Prairie

CHAPTER 6

Prairie

B y the time I’ve finished explaining my story to Leila, the social worker assigned to me, I’m exhausted. I take a sip of water as she presses stop on her recording device.

“Prairie, I want to thank you so much for your vulnerability. You’re an incredibly strong woman. That's the biggest thing I want you to leave this room knowing today. You are a survivor.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I feel like a survivor. I don't feel like a victim.”

Her eyes are soft as she looks at me. She's only been with me for a few hours. But in that short amount of time, I feel like she has gotten a good idea of what I've been through.

My days were pretty redundant so there were not a lot of details I needed to explain. I woke up, played the part of Marjorie and Horace’s daughter and I went to bed. There were some days that were worse, but for the most part, it was a lot of the same. They never hurt me, never touched me—it was the chain and the monotony that made it so horrific.

“Doesn’t seem like they're going to make me go to jail or anything for killing him,” I say.

Leila shakes her head. “You've already spoken with the officers and the scene at the house corroborates everything you’ve shared.”

“It feels weird that I could do that. And then just not get in trouble.”

“You were defending yourself after years of being held against your will. Thankfully, you were able to get out of a horrific situation. And strangely enough, Horace was obsessed with chronicling so much of what you've been through on surveillance cameras.”

I knew he had video cameras around the house, but I never imagined that they would be used to help prove my story.

Leila puts her recorder in her tote bag and reaches for her jacket.

“So what happens to me next?” I ask.

“Well, it's probably been one of the longer days of your life,” she says. “It's already

after 10 o'clock at night and you've been in this hospital room for so long. Thankfully, I can say with complete confidence you are handling this all very well, and the doctors who have seen you today say you have no concerns physically. You're in strong spirits and your mental faculties are completely intact. You are brave and you are so strong.”

I exhale, feeling relieved to have her say all of that, confirming what I already felt inside.

“I live here in Home,” Leila tells me. “So I will be able to get in touch with you tomorrow and hopefully every day for the next few weeks as we figure out the next steps for you.”

I listen to her, still not quite knowing what that means for me right now.

“But what we need to decide now is where you want to be tonight. There is one option of staying here at the clinic. You could stay here for a week or even longer until we set you up in an apartment through social services. Another option, of course, is the local bed and breakfast. Not sure how comfortable you feel about staying somewhere on your own right now.”

I shake my head. “No, I don't want to do either of those things.”

“Okay,” Leila says slowly. “What do you want, Prairie?”

“Is Rye still here? Rye Rough?”

Leila nods. “Yes. He's been in the lobby all day. Interrogating the nurses and the doctors and the officers about every 15 minutes, wanting an update.”

I smile softly. “Do you know him?’ I ask her. “You said you live here in Home.”

She nods. “Yeah, Rye and I graduated the same year from Home Secondary School.”

“Is he as good a person as he seems?” I ask.

“He's a good guy, though a little rough around the edges,” she says with a laugh. “Pun intended. I mean, he's a little bit of a burly guy with a reputation for being a little gruff. But he has one of the best families in the world. The Roughs look out for each other and they will never let anyone get in the way of that. His parents, Red and Annie, they’re wonderful.”

I nod, already sensing all of this, in ways that make no sense at all.

“When I met him,” I tell Leila, “when I ran to the clearing this morning, I felt like it was fate. Do you believe in that?” I ask her. “In love at first sight?”

Her eyes widen. “Prairie,” she says, shaking her head. “You've had a long day.”

“I know I've had a long day,” I tell her, “but I also know what I feel.”

“You might be confused.”

“You just said I had a clean bill of health. That I was completely of sound mind.”

“That's true,” she says slowly.

I stand. “I’m ready to go home with Rye.”

Leila presses her lips together in a fine line. “You’re in a fragile state.”

“I'm not that fragile. You just said so yourself. You said I could go stay at that bed and breakfast alone if I wanted. There's nothing wrong with me. The police have cleared me, the doctors have cleared me, and you've cleared me. I know what I want.”

She sighs. “And you want Rye Rough?”

“You just said he was a good guy.”

“He is a good guy, but he's also a bit of an ass. I'm saying that off the record, of course.”

“What do you mean, a bit of an ass?” I ask her. I trust Leila. The last few hours she's been nothing but kind and gentle and warm. She's a good person. She's devoted her life to making sure other people feel safe when they're in a vulnerable situation.

“He's just kind of sharp.”

“Really?” I frown. “With me he's been nothing but gentle.”

Leila smiles. “Maybe you bring out the best in him, Prairie Jones.”

Driving up to his cabin, I feel a different kind of nerves. Rye looks over at me and we both feel it. I know we do.

“You finish the burger?” he asks with a grin.

“It was gone two miles ago,” I say with a laugh. I reach into the paper sack and eat more salty fries.

Rye got me the meal I wanted, which was a chocolate shake, French fries, and a hamburger from the diner. I guess they’d closed but they opened for him because he insisted somebody fry me up some potatoes and make me a shake. I guess his reputation for being an ass had its perks because it got me the one meal I was craving all this time.

I was surprised to see the news reporters swarming the urgent care when Rye I walked out, but now we’re back in the woods, driving up the dirt road to his place, and I feel like we are in our own little cocoon.

He and I together.

“I'm so glad you wanted me to wait for you. I didn’t want you to feel pressured but the thought of leaving you?—”

“No,” I say, clutching his hand as he puts his truck into park. “You're the only one I wanted to be with. I was thinking about our kiss all day long.”

It's pitch dark out and his cabin is in the middle of nowhere. It's like we're the only two people in the whole wide world.

“I was thinking about that kiss too,” Rye says. And for a moment, I think he's gonna give me another one.

But then big flood lights come on. And I see people on his front porch.

“Who's that?” I ask, startled.

“Shit,” he growls, “that's my parents.”

“Your parents?”

“It's all right,” he says. “I bet they just wanted to make sure you were okay. They’re good folks, I promise.”

I nod, remembering what Leila said at the hospital. Red and Annie were some of the best people she knew.

We get up to the porch and he tosses my food wrappers in an outdoor garbage pail. “What are you doing here?” he asks his parents as we walk across the decking.

“Well, we just wanted to make sure what we heard was true,” his mom says as we enter the cabin. It’s obvious they’ve already been inside. If his family is as close as Leila suggested, they probably have a spare key.

“I brought some food,” Rye’s mom says. “I heard from Tammy down at the urgent care that you were going to have some company here for a night at least.” His mom looks over at me, smiling. “Well, I knew the state of your cupboards and your refrigerator. And I thought, well, Prairie probably could use some good meals, so I decided to stock your fridge before you got home.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Rye says. “And Mom, Dad, this is Prairie. Prairie, this is my dad Red and my mom Annie.

“Good to meet you, Prairie.” Red steps forward to shake my hand. “I know you've both had a long day,” he says, looking at Rye.

His mom stands there awkwardly, probably thinking of 100 things she'd really like to say.

“Thanks for starting the fire,” Rye tells my dad.

His dad clears his throat. “You kids sure you know what you're doing?”

“I am a grown-ass man, Dad. I think I know what I want.”

His mom presses her lips together. “I just worry,” she says. “Prairie, you've had a rough deal and I worry… you may need more care than you can find here in this cabin.”

“I know,” I say. “I understand your worry, Annie, but,” I walk over to Rye and take his hand, resting my cheek on his arm. “I just want to be here with Rye. It's where I belong.”

Annie and Red stand there in a bit of shock. And I can guess what she's thinking. She probably thinks I must be confused after the trauma I’ve been through, and that Rye’s lost his mind to get tangled up with me.

The thing is that his parents don't know or understand and maybe never will—I belong here with Rye. Plain and simple. And I can't do anything to change that. I certainly can't do anything tonight.

“Thanks for the food,” Rye tells his parents. “I mean it, Mom. I really appreciate it. I'm guessing we'll want some coffee in the morning, and I wouldn’t have had anything to offer Prairie in the way of breakfast.”

“Well, now you have some bacon and eggs,” Annie says, putting on a smile. “Call me if you need anything. You know right where I am. I'm just up the mountain.”

“All right, Annie, come on,” his dad says. “I think we got to let these kids be.”

His parents leave and Rye locks the door behind them.

And then it's just Rye and me in the house alone.

I look at him and he looks at me.

Then, just like that, it's more than a look.

Then, it becomes everything.