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Jeremy, age 4 - Josh, age 8
The cabin felt too big. Empty. Stale. Only a few days had passed since they'd laid Mama in the ground up on the ridge near her special tree. Da was like a ghost, sitting on the porch staring blankly at the woods. Jason was both man and mother of the house, his face set in a stoic mask of responsibility, trying to keep their father from disappearing entirely.
Jeremy was tucked into the corner of the loft bed, curled in a ball. He tried to call for her. He wanted to ask where she went. But the words were stuck and broken by quiet sobs.
The ladder creaked. A head of messy white-blonde hair popped up. Josh looked at his little brother, his own eyes red-rimmed too, though he'd never admit it if anyone asked.
"Stop it, please. Please, Jer." Josh said. His voice wasn't mean; it was pleading. "You're gonna make Da come back in." Josh scrambled over the edge of the bed and lay down next to him, leaning his head and shoulder heavily against Jeremy's.
"She ain't comin' back," Josh said bluntly. He had no other way to be. "Jason said so. He said she's an angel now, or something."
Jeremy let out a ragged breath. "Who's g-g-g-gonna… who's g-g-g-g— who's – who's – " He clawed at his mouth, as though trying to drag the words out with his fingers.
"I'll do it!" Josh interrupted, his voice getting louder, like he was trying to convince himself. He grabbed his brother's hands into his own. "Whatever you're askin', I'll do it. I'll cook you food. I'll check for spiders under the bed. I'll help you wash. I'll read to you at night."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lucky rabbit's foot, one of his prized possessions. It was already dirty and matted on one side, though he'd only gotten it last month from a boy at school with whom he'd traded a homemade slingshot.
"Here," he shoved it into Jeremy's hand. "Take it. It's for protection. And for bravery. If you need help, you just squeeze it real tight. And if that don't work, just yell for me."
Jeremy clutched the rabbit's foot, his fingers shaking.
Josh sat up and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He was trying to look big and tough like Jason, even though his shirt was on backward and his hair stood straight up.
"Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the ladder. "Jason's making biscuits. They're probably gonna taste like rocks, and we gotta go laugh at him so he don't look so sad."
Jeremy, age 6 - Josh, age 10
Da was at the table, a bottle and an empty glass in front of him, grimly reviewing the ledger in his hands.
It was just the three of them; Jason was up at the camp. So Jeremy was trying to help. Da was working and needed water to clear his head. He carried a pitcher toward the table. But his hands were small, and the glass was heavy and wet. It fell.
The crash was like a gunshot in the room. Glass sprayed across the floorboards, and a dark pool of water formed around Da's boots.
Jeremy froze.
Da stood up, chair screeching against the floor. "Can't you do anything right?" he thundered.
He reached out, his hand raised — not a fist, but a heavy, calloused palm meant to cuff his son across the ear. Jeremy flinched, screwing his eyes shut.
The blow never came.
Jeremy opened one eye and saw Josh. His brother had dived between them, his small frame braced with legs like skinny cedar roots. He had grabbed their father's arm with both hands, pushing back with all his weight.
"Don't touch him!" Josh yelled. His voice was shrill, boyish but solid. "It was an accident, he didn't mean to!"
Da looked down at Josh, surprise darkening his face even more. "Move, Joshua. He needs to learn to be more careful."
"No!" Josh didn't let go. He shoved Jeremy backward toward the bedroom with his foot. "Go, get out of here!"
Jeremy scrambled into the dark of the bedroom, climbed the ladder and huddled under the blanket. He heard the low rumble of da's voice and the sharp thwack of a slap, then another. But Josh didn't cry out. Not once.
A door slammed — Da heading out to porch to drink in the cold or stare at the trees again. The floorboards creaked, and Josh slipped into the room. He was rubbing his cheek.
"You okay?" he whispered to where he knew Jeremy was hiding.
"I'm sss-s-sorry." Jeremy whimpered back. He absently reached to where the rabbit foot hung from his neck. He wore it almost every day. At first, he'd used one of Mama's hair ribbons to make a sort of necklace, until Da yanked it off him saying he looked like a jessie. Jason had helped him re-tie it with a length of twine.
Josh climbed up into the bed and pulled the blankets off. "Don't be sorry. I cleaned it up. Besides, he hits like a girl. Didn't even feel it." He forced a smile. "But from now on, when he's like that, you stay behind me, you hear?"
He reached out and patted Jeremy, his hands shaking, face throbbing, but feeling proud. Big brother. Protector. Sentry.
Jeremy, age 8 - Josh, age 12
The dirt in front of the schoolhouse was packed hard, perfect for rolling hoops. Jeremy held his stick against the rim, trying to get the balance just right. But he couldn't focus, and the hoop kept wobbling, threatening to flop into the dust.
He couldn't focus because Billy Thorne wouldn't leave him be.
"Guh-guh-go on, Buh-Buh-Bolt," Billy sneered, his mouth working in clownish mockery. "Tuh-tuh-tap it!"
Jeremy felt his face go red as the hoop fell. He wanted to say that Billy was only brave right now because the teacher was inside, so it was cowardly to be mean. But as usual, when he had the most to say, the logjam in his throat was at its worst.
He tried, "Yyy– um, um, y-y-"
A sudden shadow fell over the boys, and a blur of red flannel collided with Billy. Josh didn't yell a warning; he just lit into him, a messy, frantic blur of dirt and fists. By the time the teacher pulled them apart, Billy was crying and Josh had a split lip, his collar hanging by a thread.
Walking home, Jeremy trailed behind him. "I knew what I-I-I want-wanted to say," he finally whispered.
Josh spun around, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, a wild look in his eyes. He reacted with his usual bluntness, "You were just standing there, while he poked at you! You gotta quit being so slow, or you're gonna get hurt! What if I'm not there next time?"
"I'm nnn-not s-slow!" Jeremy's voice cracked. "I j-just needed a s-s-second. You never - you never - you never give me t-t-time!"
A confused flicker of hurt passed over Josh's face. But he didn't apologize. He just turned and stomped off, kicking at rocks, not waiting for Jeremy to catch up.
Jeremy stared at his feet, feeling grateful but also broken, the rabbit foot swinging against his chest as he followed Josh home.
Jeremy, age 10 - Josh, age 14
Josh was standing in the middle of the main room, holding a worn tartan blanket of faded blues, greens, and oranges — one of the few things of their mother's that hadn't been given away or thrown out. Josh's jaw was set in that stubborn, squared-off way he had when he was expecting, or hoping for, a fight. Jeremy had seen that look many times in the school yard.
"You're gonna let the moths get 'em all, aren't ya?" Josh accused. "Until there's nothing left."
"Put it away, Joshua," his father rasped. He smelled of woodsmoke and rye. He took a heavy step toward his middle son. "You know not to move her things from the chest."
Josh didn't retreat; he leaned in, holding the blanket up like a challenge, showing the holes. His face turned a hot, defiant red. "You're scared to look at it! You don't even say her name anymore!"
And Da did look scared, for a moment, as he reached out to touch the tartan, then quickly pulled his hand back, fingers clenched and trembling.
His face contorted as grief turned into anger. He banged a fist onto the table and took another step toward Josh. Jeremy glanced to the empty chair where Jason normally sat - he was staying at the camp again, more often than their father, who lately seemed unwilling or unable to leave the cabin. Jeremy had to be brave.
He took a deep breath, squeezed the rabbit foot, walked right up to Da, and tugged firmly on his sleeve.
"L-l-l-look," he said softly.
Time seemed to slow down. Da looked down at his youngest son, his breathing heavy. Jeremy didn't look at Josh; he kept his eyes locked onto his father's. That alone seemed to distract the man; Jeremy rarely looked up from the floor in his presence.
Jeremy pointed to the hearth and said as calmly as he could manage. "The fff— um, the f-f-fire's out. It's g-getting c-c-cold. Mmm-mama always liked it warm."
Da stared at him for a long minute, the anger in his eyes slowly fading into the hallow stare of a man who'd all but given up. He looked at the empty hearth, then back at Jeremy. The tension left his shoulders with a long, mournful sigh.
"Aye," Da muttered. "It is cold." He turned away from his sons and went to tend to the dying fire.
Josh stood there, his fists still clenched, not quite sure what had happened. He had been ready for a fight, and Jeremy had ended it with a whisper.
Jeremy, age 12 - Josh, age 16
"You're so slow, Jer! Come on!" Josh called out from above. He was already twenty feet further up the tree, all elbows and knees and reckless grace. "You can see town from here! You can see the smoke from camp! It's like lookin' at a map!"
Jeremy swallowed hard. His fingers were white-knuckled, gripped around a branch that felt far too thin to support his weight. He'd grown up in trees, they all had, but he rarely climbed this high. He wanted to follow Josh, to see what his brother saw from that great height. In the past year since Da died, Josh, if anything, had become more wild, more fearless. And Jeremy, more reserved.
He wanted to be more fearless.
He took a breath and tried to pull himself up. But his foot slipped on a patch of damp moss, and with a lurch of his stomach, he grabbed the trunk in a fierce hug. Then he made the mistake of looking down.
"I-I-I c-c-c-c– J-Josh, I-I-I—"
His jaw locked. His legs started to shake.
Josh peered down through the lattice of limbs and needles. "You're fine," he barked. "Just reach up. There's a big limb right over your head. Grab it and pull."
Jeremy didn't move. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He felt paralyzed.
"Jeremy, look at me!" Josh dropped down several branches. He reached down, his hand hovering just out of reach. "Take my hand. Come on."
Jeremy wanted to grab it. He felt his arms twitch, ready. But the thought of letting go sent a fresh jolt of nerves through him.
Josh's hand stayed out for a minute, then another, then another. Jeremy could see the faints scars on Josh's skin, the dirt under his nails. It was so close but he couldn't bring himself to move.
Josh shifted his weight, and his expression changed. He slowly pulled his hand back.
"If I pull you up, you're just gonna freeze again. And I can't carry you down. Maybe when you were little but you're too big now." He cocked his head to the side, thinking something through.
"I'm goin' down," Josh decided. He started to descend, his movements confident and noisy. "I'll wait at the bottom. But I ain't comin' back up for you."
Jeremy heard the rhythmic scrape of Josh's boots as he moved further and further down. Then, the soft thump of Josh hitting the ground.
Then, the silence of the woods. Wind whistling through branches. The cry of a hawk. Crackling leaves.
"Josh! Help me!" Jeremy screamed down.
Jeremy waited for the rescue he thought would come. He waited for ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty, then more. His legs and arms were aching. And out of his fear, a new feeling began to bubble up - anger. Josh had left him.
His Josh, who told him to yell for help whenever he needed.
Slowly, agonizingly, silently, Jeremy climbed down. Inch by inch. Branch by branch.
When his boots finally hit soft ground, his legs buckled, and he collapsed into a heap.
"Took ya long enough."
Jeremy bolted upright. Josh was sitting on a nearby stump, lazily carving a piece of wood with his pocket knife.
Jeremy charged at Josh with a hard shove, knocking him to the ground.
"Y-y-you– you l-left me!" Jeremy spat.
Josh stood up and shut his knife with a loud snap.
"You got yourself down, didn't ya?" Josh said, pride in his voice. He turned and started back toward home. "Come on. Jason's makin' stew, and if we're late, he'll make us eat the burnt parts."
Jeremy trailed behind, his heart still pounding. He felt for the rabbit foot and, in one shaky gesture, yanked it off his neck and threw it into the mulch.
Jeremy, age 14 - Josh, age 18
The shop in town was crowded with townsfolk catching up with each other. Josh was in his element, chatting and smiling his way through the store. He was wearing his cleanest shirt and nicest boots for the benefit of Miss Sarah Miller, the owner's daughter, who was giggling behind the counter.
"...Jason says we'll have the north ridge cleared in a month," Josh was saying, leaning against the counter with a practiced ease and grinning at Sarah.
"Is that so?" Sarah asked coyly, her eyes darting to Jeremy. "What do you think, Jeremy? Is your brother as fast a worker as he claims?"
Jeremy, who had been trying to stay invisible, felt his face heat up from the attention. He liked Sarah; he'd run errands there before, and she was always kind and patient. He wanted to tell her that Josh was one of the fastest sawyers at the camp - when he wasn't too busy flirting with pretty girls.
"H-h-he – J-Josh is – h-he's—"
The words got stuck. He just needed a second to breathe and try again. But the sudden silence stretched out like sap, thick and heavy. Jeremy saw a familiar mix of pity and discomfort forming in Sarah's eyes.
"He's tryin' to say I'm too much of a loudmouth to get any work done," Josh cut in, his voice booming to fill the pause. He glanced at Sarah with a quick "please don't make fun" look, and clapped his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, near his neck, where Jeremy could still sometimes feel the ghost of that rabbit foot hanging from a bit of twine. Josh's grip was meant to be grounding, but felt like a bear trap.
Jeremy swallowed and yanked himself away from Josh's fingers. "N-no! That-th-th-that's not – I-I wasn't done."
Josh looked abashed. "Okay. Okay, Jer. Go on."
But the moment for his joke had passed, and Jeremy knew what he'd wanted to say was no longer worth the effort to say it.
"It's f-f-fine. I'll b-be outside," Jeremy said, his voice low but steady. He walked out the door without looking back, leaving Josh standing alone in the middle of the store.
Jeremy, age 16 - Josh, age 20
The Sunday morning sun was a pale grey-green, filtering through the dense forest canopy. The air smelled of dew and pine. It was the only day the saws were silent, leaving the woods to the wind and the birds and the leaves.
"Where're we going?" Josh asked, swiping a branch out of his way. He was trailing behind for once, his boots heavy on the mulch.
"You'll s- you'll s- you'll see," was all Jeremy offered. They walked in silence for about twenty minutes, and then stopped at the base of a massive, ancient fir.
Josh looked around, the cocky grin he'd been wearing since breakfast faltered. He recognized this place, this tree. He remembered the scream for help that he had ignored, believing he was teaching a lesson in bravery.
"Jeremy…" Josh started, his voice uncharacteristically soft and uncertain.
"You s-said you wouldn't h-hel-help me," Jeremy reminded him. He wasn't saying it with anger; it was a simple statement of fact, of memory. He reached out and gripped the first branch. "This t-t-time I won't ask you to."
Jeremy climbed. Four years later, now Jeremy was all bony knees and elbows. He was smaller than Joshua at that age and didn't have his brother's reckless scrambling style; instead, he moved with a thoughtful caution, making sure his feet were firmly planted before ascending to the next limb. Josh, who was now nearly as big as Jason and could have quickly overtaken his brother, forced himself to stay a few feet below, his eyes fixed on Jeremy's boots.
When they reached the height that, years back, he'd been frozen for nearly an hour, Jeremy paused, a ghost of that old fear running through him. He took a breath, and another, and let the fear pass. His feet felt stable and his arms felt strong. He knew he could climb higher.
Below him, Josh waited. He didn't offer reassurance. He didn't try to help. He didn't tell him to hurry up and climb. He kept his hands on his own branch, still and steady, and waited until Jeremy found a new foothold, pulled himself up to a higher branch.
The brothers continued to climb in tandem until the air felt thinner, and a clear view of the town and the dark blue expanse of Puget Sound appeared through the leaves.
"Look at that! It's l-like a map. Just like you s-s-said."
Josh looked away from the view, but couldn't quite bring himself to look at Jeremy. "I'm sorry for what I did. That day you got stuck. I wasn't being a good brother. It was mean."
"It's-it's-it's ok. I know you were trying to make me… well, mmm–m-more like you." Jeremy said, looking out at the horizon. He was silent for a bit; Josh sat in the silence with him. "You d-d-don't have to do that any-any-anymore," Jeremy continued after a while, smiling gently. "One of you is more than enough for the whole-whole– um, the whole t-territory."
Josh grinned and nodded in agreement, then muttered in quiet confession, "I went back for it. That rabbit foot. I… saw you leave it here and figured I'd keep it safe in case you ever wanted it back. It's probably still at the old cabin. I hid it under my pillow. It's prolly nothing but a bit of fur and twine by now."
It was Jeremy's turn to grin. "Leave it be. I c-can just yell for my mean b-b-b-brother. Got ple-plenty of those."
They sat in the swaying top of the fir for a long time talking, laughing, sometimes in calm silence, until the sun dipped behind the tree line and smoke started coming out of chimneys far below. The descent would be long and tricky, but both knew the other would help if needed.