Page 58 of The Risks of Reuniting

Chloe

SomehowourInkaMarketshopping day transitioned into lunch out, and then taking another taxi to a huge mall called Jockey Plaza. I'm out of money and luggage space, and I'm not a shopper by nature, but Rachelle is insatiable and her happiness makes it fun in a way I'd never enjoy at home. We take about a million pictures, and she's promised to send them all to me when we get back to the States. We eat dinner at a sushi bar in the mall and Rachelle talks us into another hour of shopping before I have to put a stop to it. It's nine p.m. and I'm dead on my feet.

We slip into another cab and sure enough, I'm pressed against Holt once more, but this time I relax into it. We've been together all day, holding hands, sharing ideas for souvenirs, and it's so close to old times that more of my walls are crumbling at the reminder of how well we jive. The drive back to the Lifting Hope compound isn't long in miles, but it's long in traffic, and about ten minutes into the ride I close my eyes and drop my head to Holt's shoulder. He shifts to make it more comfortable for my neck and reaches for my hand, pulling it into his lap. He plays with my fingers and kisses the top of my head and I'm melting with every caress.

It soothes me to sleep and I'm woken up by Holt squeezing my hand and Rachelle, who was sitting on my other side, shaking my shoulder.

"Chlo, we're back," Holt whispers.

I sit up and yawn, and follow him out of the car. The four of us stand at the base of the hill holding our shopping bags, and Rachelle puffs out a breath.

"I don't think I can make it up," she says. "Call Carlos to come get us."

The Lifting Hope shuttle makes it through these alleyways, but gas is treasured and only used for official business. Our shopping day would not be considered official.

"Come, let's go," Cesar says with good cheer. "We are strong." He takes several of Rachelle's loaded down shopping bags out of her hands and lifts them high. "See, strong. I will carry, you walk."

Rachelle smiles at him, and holds up the two bags he left her with. "My hero."

I glance over at Holt with a grin. "Cesar is very romantic."

He puts his arm around my waist and gets me moving forward, following heroic Cesar and sluggish Rachelle up the incline. As we start moving his arm drops from around me, and I'm okay with it. Hiking with someone's arm around you only makes it harder – I don't care how romantic it sounds. We're all too tired to talk much, and I'm content to slide over memories of this entire day while we walk. Holt holding my hand, his little touches, our apologies to each other – it's been a lot. It feels like it could be building to something, and for the first time I'm not afraid of that.

I spend the hike thinking of the good times between us. Holt said that once he'd stopped being angry, he'd become grateful, and I like that thought. As my memories bounce around I see them through this new lens and know that there was far more good than bad, far more love than hurt. I can forgive us for being young and stubborn. I look at the shacks around us, and down over the view of Lima, andthink that if I could risk coming here, I could risk letting Holt back in. Lima has given me more than I could have asked for, and I think Holt could too.

Life is about learning, and growing – stretching out of the boxes we create for ourselves. I think I'm ready to unbox my life.

We make it to the gate and all turn toward my and Rachelle's bunkroom. Cesar follows Rachelle inside, still carrying her bags, and giggles and kisses him on the cheek as she directs him where to set them. I move to follow them inside, but Holt stalls me with a hand around my forearm.

"Chloe?" he murmurs.

I stop and turn to face him, and he still holds my arm, his thumb lightly scraping up and down the inside where my skin is softer.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"I have months' worth of thoughts and I'm not sure if I should say anything, or stay quiet."

I twist my arm and take his hand in mine. "Me too."

"I have another apology."

My eyes go round. "Oh, yeah?"

"I know you don't want it, but I really am sorry for what I said after church last Sunday, about marrying you and everything." I nod, accepting that this needs to be aired out. "It was in a heated moment, yes, but it was bad timing, and I shouldn't have said it in front of others like that. Those were private thoughts, and feelings."

I give his hand a squeeze and then yawn big enough that I have to cover it with my hand. "I understand," I say when the yawn fades. "You're forgiven."

He looks relieved, but also like he has so much more to say. His expression is slightly disappointed when he lets go of my hand and steps back. "You need to go to bed. You're tired."

I smile. "So tired. But I had the best day, and we can talk soon. Thank you."

I can tell that he wants to rush ahead at this, but he's holding back for me to catch up, and I'm grateful even as he gives a sad little wave and we both turn and go our separate ways.

Rachelle is unpacking her bags and laying out her purchases when I enter the bunk room. She smiles over at me, still somehow looking fresh and raring to go. Maybe it's her life in Georgia, where humidity is a reality, that keeps her body looking unaffected. My dry Utah everything doesn't know what to do with all this moisture.

"Peru is a magical place," she sings. "Look at all this fabulous stuff."

"It really is," I agree.

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