“Ridge,” they say in unison.
Their heads turn toward each other and they laugh. Ivy’s is warm and encouraging, like the first day of spring. Madison fights to stay hidden behind a thin veil of teenage nonchalance. But in that moment, the similarity in their expressions is unmistakable.
Ivy shrugs and guns the engine, veering right. The path narrows and steepens, challenging enough that it requires full concentration. For several minutes, there’s nothing but the roar of engines and the splatter of mud against my jacket.
When we finally break through the tree line onto the ridgeline, I kill the engine and dismount. The sudden silence is broken only by our breathing and the distant patter of dripping trees.
Madison and Ivy follow suit, removing their helmets. The clearing offers a panoramic view of the entire estate. From here, my house sits centered in the landscape. The limestone structure with its slate roof stands surrounded by land I’ve left mostly wild, save for the trails and the small stretch of gardens visible from the east wing. Madison stares at it all with poorly concealedenvy, while Ivy’s eyes track the property lines that stretch to the tree line and beyond to where the creek cuts through the southern border. Strange to see my place through their eyes. To them, it’s probably just another rich man’s retreat, not the escape I’d designed it to be. Not that it worked. No place has been home. Not this estate, not Quebec. Not anywhere.
“Wow,” Madison whispers, stepping to the edge of the clearing. Despite myself, I note that she has the sense to keep a safe distance from the drop-off.
“It’s beautiful," Ivy agrees, joining her. Her caramel-colored hair has escaped its braid, curling wildly in the humidity. There’s a smudge of mud across her cheek that she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about.
I stay by the ATVs. From this distance, with their backs to me, I can almost forget the complications they represent. Almost.
Madison wanders a little ways down the ridge, examining something in the distance, giving me a momentary reprieve from her presence.
Ivy turns to look at me, head tilted slightly to one side. “You don’t strike me as the type to appreciate scenic viewpoints.”
“I’m not,” I say, then add, “but I used to come here when I needed space to think.”
“And how often was that?” she asks, moving closer to me.
“Often enough.”
She studies me, then asks. “Do you miss Kentucky?”
I consider shutting down this line of questioning, but something about the rain-soaked air and the distance from the house loosens my tongue. “Yes and no. Like you, I’m a Kentuckian, through and through. It’s in my blood and in my livelihood. But Quebec gives me space to breathe without my father’s shadow over me.”
She nods. “And now?”
“Now he’s dead, and I’m back with his ghosts and mine.” The admission costs me, though I’m not sure what.
“There’s a path down there! Where does it go?” Madison asks, running toward us.
I’m thankful for the interruption. Fuck-knows what would have come out of my mouth next. I find it too easy to talk with Ivy. “To the creek. There’s a swimming hole at the bend.”
“Can we go there?” she asks.
“Not today,” I reply. “The current will be too strong after all this rain.”
Her face falls slightly, and I feel a twinge of... something. Not guilt, exactly, but discomfort. I look away, adjusting my helmet strap.
I look at the darkening clouds. The pressure drop signals an incoming downpour. “We should head back,” I tell them. “The rain’s coming in again.”
“Race you to the creek crossing,” Madison challenges me directly, already jamming her helmet back on.
I’ve never been good at turning down a challenge. “You’re on.”
She sprints to her ATV and takes off down the trail before I even sit on mine. “Shit,” I mutter, swinging a leg onto mine and kicking the engine to life.
The skies open up, going from light drizzle to biblical deluge in seconds. The sudden downpour turns the trail into a treacherous mess of slick mud and overflowing puddles. Madison chooses now to become fearless and powers ahead with a whoop of delight.
“Slow down!” Ivy shouts after her, but the rain swallows her words.
“Take it slow,” I tell her. “I’ll catch up to Madison.”
Visibility drops to almost nothing as sheets of rain pummel us. I keep a careful eye on the ATV ahead and keep glancing behind me to check on Ivy.
