Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

2. Meadow

CHAPTER 2

Meadow

T he best part of being in a traveling family band is that I constantly get to see new places, but the moment this caravan pulls into Home, Washington, I feel like, well, like I've come home.

It sounds a little cheesy, but it's true. This place is not real life. It's magical in the sweetest sort of way. It's like a little fairy tale. The sidewalks are clean. There's flowers everywhere. There's a tiny little diner, a hardware store. Everything is picturesque and perfect.

My sister, Lulu, who loves arriving in a new town, finds the place charming. "Ooh," she says, "look, there's even a tarot store. I'm definitely going there before we leave town."

I smile. "Well, we're here for a week," I tell her, "and we don't have to play a single concert."

She laughs. "I thought you loved playing and singing?"

"I do," I tell her, "but, I don't know, a vacation sounds great."

We're in the back of the second RV, sitting at a little table that we've covered with lace doilies, and Lulu's tarot cards are spread out in front of her. She says she's giving me a reading, but we're distracted by how cute this town is.

My older brother, Nate, and his wife are driving this rig. My parents are in the other one with our three little siblings, triplets, if you can believe it, 14-year-old boys and moody as ever. Lulu and I prefer sitting back here by ourselves.

"I still can't believe Dad agreed to a week-long vacation," I say as she shuffles her cards.

"Kind of a vacation," she says. "We're at a campsite. I want to go to some luxurious resort one day."

I laugh. "Yeah right," I say. "How are you going to afford that?"

"I don't know," she says. "Maybe we'll get a record label. We'll get a contract and fly all over the world, be jet setters."

"Right," I say, "because family bands that travel in RVs often get picked up by record execs."

She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to be so bitter."

"I'm not bitter," I say. "I'm just..."

Lulu sighs, handing me the deck of cards. "Hold these. They need your energy before I do this reading."

I don't necessarily believe in the power of tarot, but I acquiesce to her request. "I'm not bitter," I say, passing my energy—somehow—to these cards in my hand. "I'm a little tired of going nonstop. It's always another town, another city, another show, writing a new song, practicing the music. I'm 22. Sometimes..."

"Stop," Lulu says. "Do not break my heart with the rest of that sentence."

"Okay," I say, giving her the cards back. "I'm not going to break anything, just trying to be honest. Isn't that what Mom and Dad are always preaching about?"

"Yes," she says. "They're also preaching about commitments and how to follow through once you've started something. Last year, when we made the decision to stay on the road, you were all in. We have the tour dates set. And you are an essential member of the band!"

"I know," I say. "I was. I still am. I'm as committed to this family, to this band, as anybody else."

Lulu pulls a card for me, placing it down on the table. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. When she exhales, her eyes open, sparkling green. "Look," she says, "it's the wheel of fortune."

"What does that mean?"

"It means something like one door opening, another door closing, but I have the strangest sensation, the weirdest thought."

"And what's that?"

"I don't know. You see this tree on the card?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think it's like a peach tree, or I feel like it's some sort of stone fruit. Does that make any sense? I just keep seeing that when I think of you, in this moment."

I laugh. "Okay. You're getting a little too witchy for me. Now you're intuiting what this card means from my energy?”

Lulu rolls her eyes. “You might be a pessimist about how real tarot is, but I think I’ve got a skill here."

"I don't doubt that, Lulu. You definitely have talent."

The RV pulls into a campground in the Rough Forest, and my sister-in-law, Jessica, calls back to us. "Hey, girls, we're here."

We stand up from the table and walk toward the front of the RV where Jessica and my older brother Nate are sitting.

"How does it look?" I ask.

"It's beautiful," Jessica says. "I know you wanted to stay at some fancy resort, Lulu, but this is paradise."

She's right. Once the RVs are parked, we get out and stretch our legs, taking in the beautiful lake, the enormous pine trees, the sprawling campsite with hookups and bathrooms.

"Wow," I say. "Okay, Dad, you did good. I don't know how you heard of Home, Washington, but this place does seem pretty spectacular."

My mom and dad and the triplets, Jonathan, Jasper, and Jonas, walk over, grinning. "I told you," Dad says. "I have a knack for these things."

Mom wraps her arms around my dad's biceps and leans up to give him a kiss. "You did good, Dave. I love it here. I feel like this is going to be the perfect place for us to recharge our batteries, work on our new material."

I frown. "Work on new material? Mom, I thought we were having a break, a vacation."

"We are," she says. "We're not going to do any performances for a little over a week. We planned and budgeted for this."

"I know, but I thought we were going to read books and swim in the lake and walk into town and get milkshakes. Working on material?"

"You can do all that," Mom insists. "I promise. In fact, anything you want, you can do, Meadow. You're a grown-up. You're 22 years old. I'm not keeping tabs on you, not anymore."

I smile. We grew up sheltered, homeschooled. Now I'm 22 and feel lost.

Sure, I did training in alternative medicine online, but I've never actually practiced it beyond making salves and elixirs for my family. I considered ripping out the cabinets in the back of the second RV and making a little workshop, but the space is cramped and tiny, and it's not my own.

Besides, I am on the road to play in this band, not to start a home business.

But that's why Mom is doing her best right now to give me permission to be a grown-up. We have been living under her wing for so long that I think it's really hard for her and Dad to let go. Recognizing this, I've done my best to give everybody space.

My brother, Nate, who's 25, fell in love with another musician, and they're happy as clams being on the road with us. But they have each other. I just have Lulu. Not that I don't love my little sister. It's just, sometimes, I look at my big, happy family and I want something just for me.

"So what should we do first?" the triplets ask. "We want to go swimming."

Lulu takes my hand. "We're going to go into town because I want to go to that tarot shop."

"Great," I say. "I'll just grab my purse."

"Hey," Dad says, "you guys aren't going to help us set up?"

I exhale. "Sure," I say. "Lulu, we can go tomorrow. Let's help Dad now."

Lulu rolls her eyes. "Do you always have to be such the perfect sister?"

I laugh. "I just want to have running water before I try to take a shower tonight," I say.

We do our jobs setting up shop, something we've done plenty of times before. Eventually, the sun begins to set, and Dad fires up the grill for veggie burgers. I put together a mixed green salad with green goddess dressing, and Jessica makes a batch of margaritas. We sit at a picnic table, eating together.

It's Sunday. Hence, we're having dinner. Usually, this is my favorite part of the week, but right now, I have an itch inside of me, a longing, a desire to just get up from this table and run into the woods. I don't know where, just somewhere, anywhere.

I feel like I'm a girl locked in a tower like Rapunzel, even though no one has forced me into a room, no one has thrown away the key. I chose to be here. I made a commitment to my family, but as I take a bite of my salad, I can't help but think maybe it's time for something more.