The weather of late spring and summer in Jackson are almost indistinguishable. Normally the only way to tell you've entered into summer is the lengthening of the days and the warm breezes that move through the mountains. Snow recedes to the highest peaks and the hillsides explode with color from the wildflowers blooming in alpine meadows. The woods are alive with game and the monotony of the winter food supply is replaced with the summer abundance from backyard gardens and hidden gathering spots all over town. There are patches of berries that grow in corners along the fence line, wild herbs and delicate weeds that spring up in yards that supplement the hardy winter greens that grow in the greenhouses.
Joel keeps coming back to do the bread pickup for Tommy, and even when he and Ellie move into their own house he still makes sure that he's the one to do pickup. I invite him to stay for dinner again sometimes but he turns me down saying that he's got patrol or is helping Tommy with some project. After a couple weeks since his return, I realize that I rarely see him around town even when I figure that he should be having a day off. Maria is adamant about folks taking time away from their work to have a life other than the grind of survival, and I figure that Joel would be no different. There's always a period of adjustment when someone first arrives and they are put into the rotation of patrols and other jobs to try and figure out where they might be best suited to work. I'm nervous to ask him how it's all going when he comes to get the bread, wanting to breach more topics of conversation.
But the walls around him that I'd felt on the first visit last fall still remained. After the dinner of rabbit stew, where Joel had eaten three bowls and hardly said a word, he seemed to hesitate when he came in to the bakery. I'd decided to let him take the lead and decide how much talking or conversation that he wanted to do, and it was starting to feel like I was never going to get to know him beyond the rough exterior. I kept expecting him to stop coming to collect his bread, that maybe Ellie would take over. But he still showed up, vouchers in hand. It was thin, but it gave me a little hope that maybe he would open up himself a little more to life in Jackson someday.
I hadn't seen Tommy in a few weeks when he suddenly came by, wanting to chat with me during a lunch break. We sat out back on the steps where I'd had tea and listened to the chickadees, the little songbirds now spending most of their time collecting materials for nests they built under the eaves and nooks of the buildings around town.
"I'm worried about him," he was saying, describing Joel's habits these days.
"All he does is work, sleep, then go back for more," Tommy says. "Getting him to take a day off is like pulling teeth. Every time I bring it up to him when we're out together he just shrugs me off."
"You think he'll be able to stay?" I ask, choosing my words carefully.
"I think he's got it in him to stay," Tommy answers after consideration. "I just don't reckon he remembers how to live like this." Tommy lets out a big sigh and he rests his elbows on his knees. I've never seen him so deflated and I wonder what this kind of burden is like. How long has he waited for his brother to come back from whatever brink he was at when they'd parted ways. Those memories are held in the low set of his shoulders and the sadness at the corners of his eyes, memories that I am not privy to and will never be.
"So, how does this involve me?" I ask tentatively, already thinking I might have an idea.
"Could you talk to him?" He asks and his voice is heading to the verge of pleading. "I don't know, if you could just get him to take a day off every so often, that'd be a big improvement."
"Why can't you do it?"
"Joel's still just as stubborn as ever, especially when it comes to taking advice from me, I expect. I'd probably be too if I was him. But he's got to see that he can do things differently. Even with everything that's happened, he's got to see that he can choose differently."
I want to believe Tommy that Joel could stay and be happy here. But we've both seen enough people stop and try to stay, try to assimilate, but then be gone again when they couldn't get the hang of living a normal life again. I tell Tommy that the best I can do is try, and he thanks me for agreeing to do at least that. I can't make any guarantees.
It's still a few days before Joel comes back for his bread and I'm consumed with thinking over how I will bridge the topic with him. The long summer days that are carrying us into July are reaching their peak with the summer solstice and there are patches of berries in a corner of town that I have used to make pies and jams in years before. It seems like a good outing to invite Joel on in an attempt to talk to him about what Tommy was thinking.
The night before he's due in, I'm awake late into the night watching the moonlight crawl across my bedroom floor while my brain spins through memories of my own early days in Jackson. The time before living here feels so long ago and many of the memories have dulled around their edges, but my body hasn't forgotten the months of travel that it took to make it out here. I hadn't expected it, but Tommy's request unearths the feelings of inadequacy that I've been fighting since I took up my spot in the bakery. I fall into an uneasy sleep when the moonlight has crept nearly to where it will disappear as the moon gets low in the sky before the morning comes.
It's a long day waiting for him, but my muscle memory takes over in my tasks while my exhausted brain goes on autopilot for most of the day. The rhythm of working with the large bins of dough that have rested over night is one that I'm sure I could do in my sleep, and it settles my nerves some to be in the familiar patterns.
I've got the windows open in the bakery and am enjoying the fresh afternoon air when Joel comes in. Even after these weeks, I still get that small flip in my stomach when he walks through the door and raises his hand just slightly in greeting. He usually waits by the door if there are other people inside, giving everyone plenty of space. I think in a way he's waiting to see if he needs to head back out the door if something goes awry. Even though he hasn't had to worry about it, it's a tough habit to break.
We chat a little about the weather, about how his days have been, and I decide to just throw it out there and see what he does with the invitation.
"When's your next day off?" I say.
"Don't know," he muses, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms in front of himself. He's got on a plain grey t-shirt today, and his forearms are sporting a deepening tan from all his time outside. The fresh air and steady supply of food has done him good, with some of his sharper corners softening a bit since he and Ellie came back. But his hazel eyes are still a little suspicious, even of me, and especially at this moment.
"I was thinking if you've got the time, there's a patch of boysenberries at the fence line by the high school that are good for picking if you'd want to come along." I try to keep my hands busy with wiping down counters, twisting the towel in my hands when I'm dong in a lame attempt at keeping my nerves quiet. Joel considers the request, and I think for a second he's going to turn me down. But instead he takes a deep breath and squares himself at me again.
"Did Tommy put you up to this?" His tone is not angry even though his words accuse me. It's more a tired edge that I can sense is behind the question.
"Yes," I say, deciding that honesty is the best policy when it comes to Joel. He seems a little surprised that I would tell him directly. "Would you rather I lie to you?" He does smile a little when I say that and his expression and body language lose the edge that he's been carrying. I can feel myself relaxing.
"No, guess not," he answers and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, letting his hand come to rest on the back of his neck while he thinks it through for a second.
"I suppose I've got time now," he says finally. "If that works for you. Otherwise I'd have to go find that schedule Tommy's always talking about and seeing when my next day off is."
"Yeah," I answer quickly, almost cutting off his response. "Yeah, we can go now if you like. Let me close up and then we can go." Joel agrees and tells me he's going to drop his bread off at his house and then be back. Knowing that there's still plenty of daylight left, I take my time wrapping up the day and stowing the dough for tomorrow in the coolest part of the building. It will bulk ferment most of the night until I come in in the early morning to shape the loaves for baking that day.
I'm finishing sweeping the floor when Joel returns, helping me with the task by holding the little dust bin while I sweep the dust and flour from the day into it. It's hard not to notice the way his shirt stretches between the breadth of his shoulders when he's crouched down like that near the floor, one hand holding the dust bin and the other resting on his leg to maintain his balance. Don't think about it, I chastise myself, even though I am totally incapable of then thinking about anything else in that moment. I tell him thanks for the help and he just nods in response.
Joel and I walk out towards the edge of town, leaving behind the low key hum of activity around the center shops. We make our way out to the farthest corner by the high school, where there is a large patch of boysenberry bushes that grow along the fence line. The warm weather of these late June days have turned the berries ripe and we each carry a big bowl to take advantage of the bounty. The further we walk, the more Joel's shoulders drop and I almost feel the tension he's carried fall away. When we arrive at the bushes I settle in to the task at hand and he moves along the bushes beside me, watching at first for the details of what kinds of berries I'm selecting and then moving to pick his own without comparing it to mine.
It's a perfect June afternoon and we move slowly together along the fence line filling our bowls. Every so often I sneak tastes of the berries as we go. There's moments where Joel stands still for a bit, staring off into the tree-line, his senses alert and watching for some kind of threat to emerge and rush the fence.
Joel will come abruptly out of these moments, putting his head back down and scowling almost at himself for seeming to enjoy the moment and the day around us. He will then go back to keeping one eye on the trees and the other on the berries.
"You know why Tommy asked me to talk to you?" I say by way of bringing him into conversation. Joel stops moving along and I keep my fingers busy with the berries and I move slowly along the bushes towards him.
"I got some idea," he finally answers with that same sigh of resignation as back in the bakery.
"He's worried you're working too much," I say. "He thinks maybe you should take advantage of your days off. Settle into life here."
"He said all that, did he?" It'd be hard to miss the tension in his voice and I don't blame him for being frustrated with the situation.
"He said as much," I answer. Joel doesn't go back to picking while I slow my advance on his spot, thinking he'd prefer it if we faced each other for the conversation.
"You know what Tommy told me when I first got here?" I ask. Joel shrugs in response.
"He told me that whatever it was you had to do to get here, you gotta leave it at the gate." I say as gently as I can. "We all got our histories, especially folks who've survived this long. And what they're trying to do here building a life again, it don't matter a whole lot if we don't find some way to move on from the choices we had to make just to get here. If we don't make room for some kind of grace and forgiveness for ourselves then it's that much harder to stay. You can find some kind of peace in this place, you just gotta find a way to leave all that stuff at the gate."
Joel holds on to what I've said and I let him be in the silence for as long as he needs to be. Since it's just the two of us, I figure it as good a time as any to open up to him and let him in on some of my story.
"When I first got here," I say, "I didn't think I'd last. They tried to incorporate me into the outside patrols, but I just couldn't do it. Every time I'd get close to the gates I'd panic and couldn't leave. It was awful. I could just see it in everyone's eyes how embarrassed they were. Almost to the point of bordering on disgust. I don't know if that's what it was exactly, but it's what my brain decided on. It'd been so long since I'd been around decent people that I just assumed everyone was liable to throw you back out the door unless you could prove your worth. You'd think that someone who had made it all the way here on their own would have the skills to handle a patrol with a partner, but the reality is that I got really good at moving quietly and making my way without being seen. But here it felt like that skill set was a liability. Like I was a failure for not being able to face the dangers head on. I did what I needed to do to survive, but I didn't want to have to keep killing things just to get by."
It's almost immediate the way my body remembers the anxiety of that time when I wasn't sure that I'd be allowed to stay if I couldn't contribute to the community. I look away from Joel and wonder if he can read it on my face, or feel it in my stance. But that part of my journey was almost harder than the earlier bits, the parts that I'd kept intentionally buried and wasn't willing to dig up for anyone. I could still skip all that recitation right now, it wasn't important to dig up that far in the past to let Joel know that in Jackson life could be okay again.
"Tommy came by one morning and asked me to take a walk," I finally continue. "He was going on and on about how on every team you've got the folks who make all the big plays, do all the work that you see out in the open. But then how you've got all the folks behind the scenes making sure the whole thing is running. That you can't have the stars without the support. We ended up at the bakery and he introduced me to the man who used to run it. They'd decided I'd try a few weeks shadowing the guy, seeing how I settled into the work inside the walls and if that would suit me better. I'd never done anything like that before, but it was like coming home. I felt like I had a purpose again. And that was a gift. Tommy helped me find my place and in that I felt like I had finally found a home."
Joel listens and lets me talk all the way to the end of my story, his expression slowly relaxing into one of resignation.
"Maybe you should start listening to him.,"I offer gently. "Even if he is your little brother, he seems to know what he's doing."
"Yeah, I know," Joel answers. "He's always been good at reading people, even before all the shit hit the fan."
"Joel," I say, my voice going soft and it pulls his eyes back to mine. "You can relax here. You can start over and live again. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Listen to the birds. The quiet that's all around us? It's real. We're vigilant, sure, we keep our eyes peeled, but we also let ourselves savor the day that we've been given. As long as this thing has been going on we've all had to make unbelievable decisions and do shitty things. But it's true what Tommy and all them say, this place can give you a second chance if you let it."
"Yes, ma'am," Joel says with a smile and it's just right amount of teasing that I can't help but smile back at him and roll my eyes a little. Maybe it was overdramatic, but I can't help the truth.
There's no way for me to know if anything I've said has any real impact on him or if he is just listening for the sake of his brother. We pick more berries, a comfortable silence stretching between the two of us when we walk back to the bakery and he leaves me on the porch to watch him amble back up the street and disappear around the corner. He looks back once, and when he does he raises his hand again in a two-finger wave But even if just for a moment, he's slowed down and stopped for long enough to live a normal moment with me in the summer evening.
About a week later Joel comes by around closing time with a package wrapped in butchers paper tucked under one arm and I'm supremely curious while he watches me close up and we catch up. It's when he lays the package down on the counter that I finally see the two fish tails sticking out the back end and smile at him.
"Joel Miller," I tease, "what have you brought?"
"Tommy and I went fishing this morning up at that lake just outside of town," he explains while he proceeds to unwrap a pair of beautiful rainbow trout.
"Thought maybe you'd be interested in them."
"You don't want to cook them yourself?" I say offhandedly.
"I'm not much in the kitchen," he admits. He does that thing where he runs his hand through his hair and then lets it drift down his side and ends up scratching at his belly. I hate it, because it's the exact gesture that I've imagined him doing while I'm laying awake at night in bed trying to fall asleep.
"So, let me get this straight," I say. "You want me to cook these fish for you and then you're going to take them back home and eat them all by yourself? Seems like a lot of effort for a couple trout." The question could be accusing, but I end it with a smile and he looks slightly embarrassed by me calling him out.
"I thought maybe, if you're ok with it, we could just eat here," he says finally, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. He levels his gaze on me and the corners of his relaxed features pull me in to the moment.
"I'd like that," I tell him, and it's with all sincerity because there's nothing I'd like more than to cook a meal for Joel. Since he'd arrived one of my favorite things to daydream on is what I would cook for him. Every kind of elaborate meal had passed through my imagination at this point, even ones that would require ingredients that couldn't possibly be sourced in this world. The fact that I was actually being asked to do the thing I had been secretly dreaming of elates me.
"Is Ellie coming by to eat?"
"No," he says and glances out the window as if she's going to appear on the porch. "She's got her own things going right now."
"That's to be expected," I try to reassure him.
"Yeah," Joel trails off, like he's contemplating what to say next and measuring how much he wants to share. "She hasn't been around other kids really since we left Boston. It's good she can finally make some real friends. 'Specially since we're gonna be stickin' around for while."
"Are you?" My heart races and I lock eyes with him, not even trying to hide my excitement at his decision.
Joel nods slowly, like he's just coming to accept that truth himself. "Figure I'll stay as long as is necessary till she's got her feet under her. After that, we'll see."
"Good," I say, grinning at him. He doesn't break my gaze and he smiles all the way into his hazel gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly with it. "Let's have a meal, then, shall we?" He nods in agreement and slides the fish across the counter to me.
"Yes, ma'am." His words are all the encouragement I need.