“Sure.”
Penny beams. I help her climb onto my shoulders, her small hands gripping my head for balance as I stand without effort—she weighs nothing! Her legs dangle against my chest, and I secure her in place, grabbing her ankles.
“Whoa,” she breathes, swaying as she adjusts to the height. “I see everything from up here!”
I turn and smile at Lily. But her expression is tortured as she watches me carry Penny. Did I overstep? She seemed fine with the piggyback ride suggestion twenty minutes ago, but thinking it and seeing it are two different things. Did I trigger something? Maybe it’s too familiar, too paternal. Or it reminds her of Daniel in a way that hurts.
But Lily steps forward, reaching for my backpack. “I’ll take that,” she says, slipping it off my shoulders. I suppress a shiver when she touches me.
“You don’t have to?—”
“It’s only fair,” she interrupts, already slinging it over her shoulder alongside her own. “You’ve got the human cargo.”
We continue up the trail, Penny perched on my shoulders, instructing me when to duck under low-hanging branches. Lily walks beside us, keeping pace. A few times, I catch her watching us with that same inscrutable expression—half smile, half something more complex.
We hike until the trail opens onto a small clearing at the edge of a cliff face. The view stops me in my tracks. The San Bernardino Mountains spread out before us, a rippling emerald carpet stretching toward the horizon, with the deep blue of Big Bear Lake gleaming in the distance. On a clear day like today, you can see all the way to the desert beyond, where the green fades to dusty brown and then to the haze of distant places.
“Okay,” Penny admits from her perch. “That’s pretty cool.”
I lower her to the ground. She runs to the edge of the clearing, stopping at a safe distance, and stares out at the view with childish wonder.
“Worth the hike?” I ask, coming to stand beside Lily.
She nods, her face tilted up to catch the sunlight. “Yeah. I should’ve brought her sooner.”
My heart stutters.
“Let’s take a picture,” I say, getting my sack back from Lily. I grab my instant camera and hold it up to frame us. “Okay, ladies, give me your best ‘I thought it was a fart, but wasn’t’ smile.”
Lily blinks, startled, Penny makes an “ew, gross” face, and I click, capturing them and my goofy grin.
“Josh, stop making us look silly in pictures,” Penny protests, shaking the Polaroid as I unpack our lunch while Lily lays out a blanket on a patch of level ground.
“Silly? No, we look real. Funnier to remember than a pose. Now, are you ready to judge my sandwiches?” I ask, pulling the food out. “I present you my specialty: roasted chicken breast, provolone cheese, fresh basil leaves, and the surprise ingredient: homemade pesto sauce.”
Penny eyes the sandwich suspiciously. “It’s green.”
“That’s the pesto,” I explain, handing her the smallest sandwich. “It’s a sauce made from basil and garlic and pine nuts.”
“Isn’t pesto for pasta?” Lily asks, accepting her wrap with a skeptical look that mirrors her daughter’s.
“It works great in sandwiches too,” I assure her. “Trust me.”
She gives me a long, evaluating stare before taking a cautious bite. Penny, less restrained, takes a huge chomp and makes an appreciative noise.
“It’s delicious!” she declares between mouthfuls, green sauce smeared at the corner of her mouth.
Lily swallows and nods, surprise clear in her raised eyebrows. “Okay, I admit it. You were right. This is amazing.”
I wink. She flushes and looks away.
We scarf the sandwiches in silence, enjoying the view that spreads out before us like a living postcard.
Penny finishes first and starts asking questions about the mountains and the lake. I answer what I can from the research I did last night, making mental notes to look up the things I don’t know for our next adventure.
Will there be one? The question echoes in my head, a dangerous assumption that we’ll do more. That I’ll have more days spent with Lily and Penny in this strange limbo between friendship and something more. I shouldn’t get used to having them around, to the way Penny’s laugh brightens the air, or how Lily’s smiles light me up from the inside out.
They are not mine to protect, to care for, to love.
