“Of course I’ll go on our road trip,” my voice was thick, and I had to fight with everything in me to stop myself from crying. But she needed me to be strong, to not allow this to be about the grief which was already part of every breath I took. I cleared my throat, my promise sealed. “And you’ll be going too,” I chirped the words like they weren’t a lie.
But they were.
And we both knew it.
Now she’s gone and I’ve spent the last two weeks following through with my promise. Still, when I set out, there was one more conversation, one more goodbye I hoped was asee you later. I wasn’t looking forward to leaving Montana in Seneca Falls.
All too often she was overlooked by the people around her. It wasn’t cruel and I’m not even sure she realizes it. She’s never mentioned it. But I’ve seen the moments, subtle that they are.
Maybe part of it was because Forest was always more comfortable in the spotlight. Everyone always talked about how he was going to take over the family’s ranch. Everton, the oldest Connors kid, was never destined to spend his life on the family’s land.
That’s not to say he doesn’t respect it and couldn’t easily rope a calve, but his heart was never in it. Their dad wasn’t going to force the issue, and Forest clearly wanted the legacy. He always wore the mantle like it wasn’t heavy.
Everton lives in Las Vegas now and is part of a motorcycle club. I guess you can’t predict where someone belongs.
Two weeks ago, with my car all packed, I scuffed the toe of my shoe against the asphalt, unsure of where to even start or what to say. So much was left unsaid with Hillary, and I was regretting it more and more every day. I didn’t want that to be how it was with Montana. Not now.
“I wish I could go with you,” she whispered and looked at me with glassy eyes filled with understanding and a shared pain. “But this road trip was your thing with Hillary.”
My heart started racing, fear gripping me that we excluded her and treated her like some of the other people in her life. The words rushed out of me, unstoppable and without finesse orcare, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to leave you out. It’s just that we know Seneca Falls is your home. Your roots are deep here and while one day you might travel, but now isn’t the time.”
Montana slapped her hands over my mouth, and I looked at her, bewildered because the action was not her style. She shrugged with a smile on her face.
“I had to shut you up somehow.” I blinked a few times at her explanation before we started laughing together.
I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it was just what we needed. There was a moment there, just one second, when it didn’t feel like we had lost her at all. It felt like we were whole again.
But the moment couldn’t last, not with the reality of our grief waiting around the next breath.
“I’m not mad or offended. You had a friendship with her that had nothing to do with me, just like I did with her, and we do without her. It’s important and it’s special; I’m not upset that you’re going on this road trip and I’m glad you are. I just wish I could go with you because I don’t like the thought of you out there alone and doing this.”
“I’m not going to be alone,” I whispered, a wave of pure longing sweeping through me with such strength and clarity that I had to lock my knees.
Montana reached for me like she understood, like she felt it too.
“She made me promise something too,” Montana’s voice shook slightly. “When the time comes for me to keep it, I hope I’m as brave as you are.”
I hugged my friend, words sticking in my throat, because I didn’t feel brave. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, honestly. I just knew I had to get on the road, it was as if Hillary was pushing me forward.
“You’ll be able to keep your promise,” I murmured the words as we hugged, wanting to reassure my friend and remind her of her strength, even when it was hard to find.
“Maybe.” It was all Montana was willing to give, her voice unsure. As we pulled away, she looked at me, her gaze intense. “She told me to remind you that this trip is about more than the journey. The destination matters.”
My heart was pounding in my chest because we never quite worked out where we were going to end up, where the last stop was.
“Okay?”
Montana just shrugged one shoulder and gave me a look to remind me it’s Hillary we’re talking about. She would say things like that a lot, at the most random times. They were her little sayings to live by.
And she did.
Which meant we did too. For the most part.
But we never put the same credence into them that she did. Maybe we should have. Now isn’t too late. Hopefully.
If nothing else, it’ll keep our friend alive.
I’ve checked in with Montana over the last two weeks, and I’ve told her about the towns I’ve seen and the people I’ve met. It’s been difficult putting myself out there and talking to strangers.
