Page 37 of Cherry Picked
“‘TheMan?’” He scowled. “You work forJack. And I’m as fired up as I’ve ever been, whippersnapper!”
“Then you should know our letter-writing campaign wasn’t enough. No one’s taking this issue seriously.” I headed back downstairs. “Do you know that clear-cutting often contributes to reductions in root strength and the water-holding capacity of the soil? It also reduces the area’s ability to remove carbon from the atmosphere. We’re basically agreeing to poison ourselves if we allow them to come in here with this project.”
Drew followed me down and stood in the hall as I rifled through the front closet for equipment. “But they’re not proposing to clear-cut the entire ridge. They said—”
“Why’d they say clear-cutting if they didn’t mean clear-cutting, huh?” I demanded. “Have you asked yourself that? Doesanyoneelse care about this land?”
Drew shook his head. “Hawk, of course I care. Christ, kiddo, I haven’t used a pesticide since 1965—”
I emerged from the closet long enough to glare at him. “I. Am not. Akid.”
Drew’s eyes widened, and his mouth shut with a clack. “Okay, then,” he said cautiously.
“Whenever I bring up my questions, everyone’s answer seems to be ‘Well, of course Evola wouldn’t do that, silly Hawk!’ and then they pat me on the head. But nobody can point to a part of the proposal where it says they won’t do that. So what if they do it? Then everyone will be really sorry, and it’ll be too late. If Dad were here, he’d…” I broke off with a headshake. “Anyway. I’ve gotta go. I told Maryanne I’d take her Mini Nature Scout Herd on a short hike, and I don’t wanna disappoint the kiddos, but then I’m pitching my tent up there and getting to work.” I stacked the camping lantern, the two-person tent, a first aid kit, and a wind-up generator on top of my blanket and pillow.
“Please take a breath.” Drew put his hand on my shoulder. “I hear you, and… maybe you have a point. I just don’t know that camping out there is the best way to make your stand. What about scheduling another meeting between the Environmental Committee and that Simon guy to see if Evola will change the proposal? Or contacting the town attorneys to see if they can negotiate—”
“We don’t negotiate with terrorists, Uncle Drew!” I yanked a thick fleece off the hanger and dropped that into my stack as well. The nights would be cold up there.
I heard Drew’s sigh before he leaned against the front door. “See, now,Ithink talking is the best place to start. For example, why don’t you talk tomeabout what’s really bothering you? Because I know you, Henry Hawkins Sunday, and this is not the only bee in your bonnet.”
“I’m tired of talking. Talking doesn’t fix anything when the people you’re talking to have no desire to change. All it does is make you more frustrated.” I wasn’t sure if I meant the development or Jack or both. It had all sort of blended together, despite my best efforts to keep them separated. “Aren’t you the one who had that Janis Joplin quote on your wall for years that said, ‘You are what you settle for’? Well, I’m tired of settling. Just imagine what would have happened if Elizabeth Bennet had settled for what everyonesaidwas a good deal. She’d have ended up married to dumbass Mr. Collins and regretted it for the rest of her natural life. No, thank you.”
“Honey,” Drew began, but I cut him off by throwing my arms around him and giving him a hard, brief hug.
“I love you, Uncle Drew, but please trust me to know what I’m doing. I’m saying no to Mr. Collins. I’m moving forward. That’s a good thing.”
I remembered Elizabeth Bennet’s own mantra, “You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”I’d recited it to myself when I thought of my mom and how she’d left us behind when she divorced my dad years ago. I’d recited it when I thought of my dad and how much I missed him. And I’d recite it now, too.
I blew out a shaky breath. It wasn’t easy to focus only on the good times, but it was better than getting mired in it.
A thought occurred to me, and I darted into Webb’s office, where Aiden kept some of his art supplies, and grabbed some poster board and markers. I needed to make some signs. “I’m going to educate Evolaandthe people of Little Pippin Hollow on the heritage and history of the land,” I told Drew when I saw he’d followed me down the hall. “Maybe that will make it more personal. And maybe it’ll help engage the rest of the town to join me in this protest.” I tossed the markers in my bag before yanking the zipper closed again.
Drew shook his head sadly. “Man oh man. I suddenly realize how your grandma must’ve felt right before I hitchhiked to the Bull Island Rock Festival.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Just… be safe.” He drew me into a rough hug, patted me firmly on the back, then hugged me tightly again. “I love you, Hawk. And I promise you, you’re not alone. Okay?”
I nodded, but seven minutes later, when I’d grabbed some snacks from the kitchen, loaded up my car, and hauled ass from Sunday Orchard to Fogg Peak, I couldn’t help noticing there was no one riding shotgun.
And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe alone time was what I needed to finally make a clear plan for how to handle Evola… and the rest of my life.
* * *
I was surrounded by a gaggle of four-and-five-year-old nature enthusiasts, bent over a thatch of Canada Milkvetch plants, when Crys found me on the mountain later that afternoon.
“These stems aren’t fully grown yet. They can grow four feet tall—that’s taller than you, Calliope,” I told one of the kids. “See how pretty the tiny flowers are? Some people think the name is because the flowers are milk colored, but other people say it’s because people used to feed it to cows to make them produce more milk. Unfortunately, it can also give them a very sick tummy.”
“I had a sick tummy last week,” Cosmo informed me.
“Yes, I heard about that—” I agreed.
“Mumma said it wascarnage,” my little oversharer went on. He frowned. “What’s carnage, Mr. Hawk?”
“Uh… well,” I began.
“Mr. Hawk, Mr. Hawk!” Grayson, one of the other Scouts, had wandered to the far side of the small clearing and was practically vibrating with excitement as he pointed at a low bush. “I know this one! We learned it last week! It’s a pincushion plant!”
