Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

1. Reuben

CHAPTER 1

Reuben

T he morning got off to a rough start.

Plum's chickens escaped the coop, sending us on a wild goose chase. Eventually we got them all back in their pen, but it got us off to a late start on our Sunday afternoon bike ride. We're trying to make traditions, or at least stick with the ones we have, Taco Tuesday, Sunday bike rides, and Friday movie nights, but it isn't as simple as it sounds. It feels like one of us is always in a mood. Either Plum is tired and cranky or I am.

And half the time it takes all my effort just to do the damn thing. That might sound bad. I love being a dad to my five-year-old daughter Plum, the literal light of my life, but still—being a single parent is hard. That's why I'm surprising Plum with ice cream.

As we finish the loop on Tender Trail, we pass my sister Lemon's house. She lives there now with her husband, Anchor, but I'm wondering if they're going to build something bigger in the mountains. It would be a shame if she sold Grandma's place, but maybe someone else in the family will buy it. It's got to stay in the family. Lemon's not outside though and so we keep pedaling past her place, the clinic, and then we turn in front of the diner.

"What are we doing here, Daddy?" Plum asks as I get off the bike, kicking it to stand before I unbuckle her from the seat behind me.

"I thought maybe we could get milkshakes and burgers."

"Really?" Her face lights up. She has untamed, curly hair, big brown eyes the color of chocolate milk, and freckles all over her face. I set her on the ground, and then I take her hand.

"Yeah, with all that drama with the chickens this morning, I figure we put in some hard work. We just can't eat too much and lose our appetites for Sunday dinner tonight with the family."

She smiles. "Grandma told me she's going to make pasghetti and meatballs."

"Lucky girl," I say. "It's your favorite."

She smiles as I pull open the door to the diner. The bells jingle as we walk inside.

We're quickly ushered to a table, and I see familiar faces everywhere. Some locals give Plum a wave and nod to me. I've lived in this place my whole damn life. Home is truly where the heart is. But to be honest, I'm not sure if that phrase is completely accurate.

Plum is where my heart is.

We slide into a corner booth with a perfect view of the street. Outside on the city sidewalk of Home there are giant planters filled with perennials. Baskets are hanging with overflowing flowers on the lampposts and cars are parked along the street, giving the town an atmosphere of busyness. I suppose everyone's out doing their errands on the weekend or treating themselves to something with the day off, just like Plum and me.

“So,” I say, "what are you having?"

She grins. "Cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake."

I chuckle. "Wow. Sounds like you're hungry."

"I worked up an appetite, Daddy."

"Yeah. Hard work, sitting pretty on that bike?"

She smiles. "I can ride a bike though," she insists.

"Oh, I know you can, but it's nice that we can ride together sometimes too."

The waitress takes our order and when the food arrives, we both dig in. “So, do you have anything on tap for the week?" I ask her. I try to talk to her like she's a person, not a kid, but I'm not sure that's what you're supposed to do.

"I have school," she tells me. "And a play date on Tuesday, remember, with Marie?"

"I remember," I say. "And your grandma's going to babysit on Saturday. Your Auntie Fig told me they've got a big plan for you."

"Really?" she says. "What's the plan?"

"I guess you'll have to ask them tonight at dinner."

She beams back at me, dipping her fry in ketchup. "What's that?" she asks, pointing out the window. "Those are RVs," I say.

"RV?" she asks, confused.

"Yeah. They are recreational vehicles." Her face crunches up even further in confusion. "People live in them. It's like a house on wheels," I tell her as two pass through the narrowest streets of the city. "I wonder where they're headed," I say.

On the back of the first one, there is a painted peace sign. On the side of them both, there are words painted, The Wild Family Band . They're both completely covered in murals. I smile at the rainbows painted on them, the clouds, and the birds. "They're so pretty," Plum says. "Maybe we could paint something like that."

"You want to paint my truck with rainbows and hearts?"

She smiles. "Maybe I could use my sidewalk chalk on it," she says.

I chuckle. "I think you can do chalk art on the driveway."

But then a woman pokes her head out of an RV window, her long blonde hair catching the wind, her skin sun-kissed and a smile wide on her face.

Plum gasps. “She looks like a princess.”

We finish our meal and get back on the bike. Plum is happy—though in need of a nap before we head to my parents’ for dinner. As I peddle us back home, I can't stop thinking about that blonde hanging out the back window of the RV, her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes taking in the town. She was beautiful.

When we get home, I help Plum out of her seat. She rubs her eyes and gives me a sleepy yawn. She’s worn out from the bike ride and lunch and probably crashing from the sugar high she got from that milkshake. "How about you take a rest before we go over to grandma and grandpa's tonight?" I ask her.

She yawns, agreeing to my suggestion. I grab a few books from the shelf and carry them into her bedroom. There, I sit down on her bed and flip one open. "I like this one," she says. "It's a fairy tale. All about falling in love with your Prince Charming."

I smile. "Yeah. You're interested in falling in love?"

She giggles. "I don't know. You're not in love, Daddy. Do you need a princess?"

I chuckle. "Sure," I say, "I don't think anyone would mind finding a princess. Do you?"

She shakes her head. "No. That lady in the window looked like a princess," she says, "like Rapunzel. Her hair was hanging out the window and she was..."

I cut her off by starting at page one.

When we walk into my parents' house, I see most of my siblings are already there. Half of them are paired off and married, which to be honest is a bit of a shock.

A year ago, everyone was single, and now Rye is married, Bartlett's married, Lemon's married. Graham is the next oldest sibling and I wonder if he's going to fall in love soon. I chuckle, wondering what kind of girl my brother would fall in love with. Knowing Mac, my younger brother, he'll get hitched next. He's always had a way with women. Charming and easygoing. The football star and a baseball player back in high school. Now, though, he's 21 and he's working for our dad.

"Hey, Reuben," Lemon says, "how are you doing? I thought I saw you riding your bike past my house today, but I wasn't sure since you didn't stop and say hi." She puts her hand on her hip.

Plum runs over to her and wraps her arms around her waist. "Hi, Auntie Lemon. Sorry we didn't stop; we had things to do, important things."

"Oh, yeah?" Lemon says. "What kind of important things?"

"We had to get milkshakes." She grins up at her auntie and I chuckle. That's one thing about a kid—they always tell it like it is.

"Hey, Anchor, how's it going?" I ask. Lemon’s husband smiles and offers me a beer. "Sure," I say.

I head with him to the kitchen and find my parents there, working on dinner. Mom's making the spaghetti and meatballs as Plum predicted, and as I grab a breadstick that's just come out of the oven, my mom swats my hand.

"Reuben, no stealing the food. You know the rules."

I laugh. "Sorry, Mom," I say, taking another bite of it. I take the IPA that Anchor hands me and I crack it open. "Thanks, man," I say. "How's work going these days?"

Anchor shrugs. "Pretty good. I've actually bought a piece of land up in the mountains. Lemon and I are thinking of building a place up there."

I laugh. "You know, I was just thinking that today. What are you going to do with Grandma's old house?"

Lemon has joined us in the kitchen now, along with Rye, my oldest brother. His eyes widen. "You can't sell Grandma's place," he interjects.

Lemon assures us, "I'm not selling anything. I don't know what we're going to do with it, but we wanted to build a house of our own. Is that such a bad idea?"

"I think it's a lovely idea," Mom says. "It's nice to have somewhere that’s both of yours and Grandma’s house is small, especially if you start having babies anytime soon.”

Lemon blushes. "Mom, I just got married like a month ago."

"I know," Mom says, "but I only have one granddaughter. I could use some more." She looks over at me and smiles, but they turn the conversation quickly because having Plum may be beautiful, but the fact I don't have her mother is something that broke everybody's hearts.

We sit down to dinner and everyone's in a good mood. Fig, especially. She's my littlest sister and she is going to graduate high school in a month. We've moved on to discussing her graduation party plans. "I was thinking we'll have a big thing out on the back lawn. A bonfire, barbecue, everything. Maybe we can get a band."

My mom laughs. "Fig, people don't hire bands for their graduation party."

"Yeah," Bartlett says, "we could just put on a playlist."

Fig frowns. "Everyone else in the family has gotten to have awesome parties lately. Why can't I have one?"

Prairie, Rye's wife, laughs. "I think you're going to have a big party when you get married, Fig."

"Well, that's never happening," she tosses back as she adds a heaping pile of parmesan cheese to her pasta.

"I'm not getting married either," Mac agrees.

I laugh at that. "Yeah, right. You'll come here to family dinner one night completely caught, hook, line, and sinker. I can see it now."

Mac smacks the table, laughing, "Like you should talk. What about you?"

I swallow, looking over at my little girl, worried.

Plum, though, smiles brightly. "I told Daddy he should fall in love with a princess and live happily ever after."

Everyone at the table laughs quietly. "Oh, yeah? And what did your dad think about that?" my sister Lemon asks.

Plum says, "Daddy said he thought that was a good idea and that everyone probably wants a princess, like Uncle Mac, Uncle Graham, and Auntie Fig. I guess you could all have a prince or a princess. I don't know. All I'm thinking is Daddy should live happily ever after too."

"I think your father's living pretty happily ever after with you, sweetie," my mom says, softening the mood.

Plum just shrugs though, dipping her breadstick in marinara. "Maybe," she says, "but it is springtime. Isn't that when love is in the air?"

My dad chuckles at that. "Plum, where do you get these ideas?"

She giggles. "I don't know. I think it's because I'm the only grandchild," she says, looking at her aunts and uncles. Everybody at the table erupts in laughter. And I wonder how my little girl got such a big personality.

Later, though, when everyone's hanging out in the living room, I find myself in the kitchen with my mom. She's putting on a kettle for a cup of tea. "You want one?" she asks.

I nod. "Sounds good." I open the pantry door and pull out a few tea bags and add them to mugs.

"So, Reuben," Mom says, "what was that about, what Plum was saying in there? That you need a princess."

"I don't know, Mom. She's a five-year-old girl. Her whole world is Disney movies and princesses and fairy tales."

"Do you want that?" Mom asks. She pours the hot water into the mugs and hands one to me.

"Mom, it's been four years."

"Yeah, exactly," Mom says, "four years. That's a long time, Reuben. You haven't gone on a single date."

"I've gone on a date," I say, cutting her off.

Mom laughs. "Going to a preschool auction with a neighbor you used to be friends with in childhood is not a date."

I chuckle. "And she was married. Her husband was just on deployment with the military."

"Exactly," Mom says, "that's not a date."

"Do I need a date?" I ask. "I'm happy with Plum. I have the best family in the world."

"I know," Mom says, "but your older brothers and sister, everybody's getting married. I don't want you to feel..."

"Mom," I say gently. “I feel content. I feel at peace. I feel..." My voice cracks, betraying the truth. "I don't know," I say. "I know everybody in this town. I'm not exactly going to uproot Plum. How would I meet someone anyways? I'm 23 years old and a widower. I've got a daughter; that's a lot."

"I know, baby," she says, "but maybe the right person will drive into town one day and sweep you off your feet."

Strangely my mind goes to that Rapunzel, her head out of the RV, her blonde hair waving in the air. "Maybe," I tell her. "In the meantime, I got a lot of good girls already: you, Lemon, Fig, my new sisters-in-law, and Plum."

Mom pats me on the back. "Okay. Okay. Enough of the talk from your mom. I'm not trying to lecture you."

"I know," I tell her. "It’s just your job to love me."