Coffee, Diaries, and Bin Lids

“Do you remember,” mused Everett, twisting a length of wispy blue yarn between his thin fingers, “when Grammy made us go to Bernard’s Hill?” Sophie glanced up at him, amused. 

“Of course,” she replied, with a wry twist of her lips. “How could I not? We were terrified.” 

“You were terrified.” countered Everett, running an absentminded hand over his short mahogany curls. A small smile quirked the corners of Sophie’s mouth, but she kept her gaze on the well-worn book in her lap. 

“Grammy, can we go back home? I don’t want to go sledding down that hill!” whined ten-year-old Sophie shrilly, clutching the plastic sled to her chest. 

“Come on dearie, it’ll be fun!” replied her grandmother merrily, trekking up Bernard’s Hill. An eleven-year-old Everett smirked at his little sister as he followed his grandmother through the calf-high snow. 

“Don’t be a wuss, Soph.” he teased, and a stubborn, angry blush colored Sophie’s pale cheeks. She shoved her way through the snow past her brother, her pink-tinged nose in the air. 

“Don’t call your sister that,” scolded their grandmother gently. “Come here, Sophie dear, your hat’s on backwards.” Sophie walked obligingly over to her grandmother, staring up at her kind, wrinkled face as her grandmother fussed over her hat. Her grandmother’s familiar face was framed by hair that was as pale as the snow falling around them. 

“What if I fall?” whispered Sophie anxiously, blinking up at her grandmother, who gave her a reassuring smile. 

“That’s all part of the fun, sweetie. I promise nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Okay.” stuttered Sophie quietly, a new determination entering her hazel eyes. She clutched her sled tighter.

“Hey!” hooted Everett, who had reached the summit of the hill and was silhouetted against the sky. He waved his arms frantically. “Hurry up!” Their grandmother chuckled and, taking Sophie’s glove-clad hand, began walking towards her impatient grandson. 

It was early February, and Sophie and Everett were visiting their grandmother’s old house. They had not been back to Great Bear Lake in nine years, ever since their parents had uprooted them to Arizona from the little town in Minnesota, where they’d known every twisting path through the surrounding woods and spent many a summer with the local kids daring one another to jump into the deep end of the lake. 

But their grandmother had passed away last fall, and now the two siblings were visiting the old house, for they would be selling it soon and needed to clear out all the old things. 

“I distinctly remember you shrieking as loud as I was,” Sophie pointed out, still immersed in her novel. Everett rolled his eyes, tucking his long legs underneath him on the ancient sofa. 

“Yeah, because I was excited. Now if you’re done reading that book, we could go see the old hill. It is snowing.” Everett declared, and his sister leveled an exasperated glance at him. 

“If you need something to do, you could bring some of those boxes down from Grammy’s bedroom and stop needling me.” Sophie said pointedly. “And it’s not a book, it’s Grammy’s old diary. It’s really interesting.” 

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Soph,” wheedled Everett, tossing aside carelessly the length of yarn he’d been playing with. “We’re almost done lugging everything out, we deserve a break. And we haven’t gone sledding in seven years.” 

Sophie raised skeptical eyes to the half-frosted window, from which the imposing hill was just barely visible, blanketed in a soft white. She could hear the faint howling sound of the winter wind and shivered involuntarily at the thought of that biting cold. 

“No thanks, brother dear.” she answered, settling herself more comfortably in her seat. “Besides, we don’t have a sled.” 

“We could just use bin lids.” 

“Just go by yourself, Everett.” Sophie said wearily, rubbing at her tired eyes. “I think I’ll go to bed. See you in the morning.” Her brother watched her pad silently up the stairs, a slight frown on his face. He sighed, flopping backwards onto the couch and staring at the blank ceiling, like an unpainted canvas. Closing his eyes, Everett remembered again the memory of that day so long ago, causing a soft smile to replace his disappointed expression.

“This looks very tall,” said Sophie hesitantly, peering cautiously down it as she clutched her grandmother’s hand, as though she thought that at any moment she might fall down the hill.

“Great!” exclaimed Everett, tapping his fingers against his thigh and staring eagerly at the other children flying down the hill, whoops and yells of glee emitting from them. 

Their grandmother crouched down and gently took the sled from Sophie’s tight grip, sending her another comforting smile. 

“You can do it, dearie. It looks worse than it is. And you’ll be with your brother-”

“Not if she doesn’t hurry up-” Everett hastily closed his mouth at the quelling look his grandmother gave him and changed tact quickly. “Um, yeah Soph, it’ll be fine, come on!” 

“O-okay.” Sophie said, allowing her grandmother to sit her down behind her brother on the bright blue plastic sled, her fingers finding the sides and clutching them desperately. Everett, in front of her, held the rope in one hand and waited with baited breath.

“Alright,” announced their grandmother, smiling broadly. “You two are good to go.”

“Excellent!” burst Everett. “Hold on, Soph.” he added as an afterthought, before inching forward and sending them over the edge of the hill. 

Sophie’s voice rose in a wordless cry; she felt as if they were flying. The trees blurred by, and in front of her, Everett was shrieking in delight as the sled picked up speed, sliding smoothly over the snow. The sun glinted blindingly off of it, and Sophie screwed up her eyes because of it. 

Soon enough the ground leveled out and they slowed to a stop. Everett jumped up immediately; his eyes were bright and he had a delighted grin on his face as he glanced at his sister, still seated motionless on the sled. 

“Wasn’t that fun?” Everett demanded, and Sophie stood up slowly. She was as surprised as much as her brother when the word that came out of her mouth was “Yes!” 

“Well let’s go again, then!” Everett cried, grabbing the sled and dragging it with them as they went to rejoin their grandmother. 

The next morning, Everett awoke on the sofa to find that a patchy blanket had been arranged over him. He yawned, looking over to the small kitchen, where Sophie was bustling around, a strong smell of coffee floating over to him. 

“Thanks for the blanket,” he said, and she glanced over her shoulder, startled for a moment. 

“No problem,” she replied, and walked over to him holding two steaming mugs. Everett took one gratefully as she sat down beside him. 

“You know,” Sophie began after a stretch of silence. “I read some more of Grammy’s diary this morning, and she wrote about that day on Bernard’s Hill.” Everett gulped down a mouthful of coffee, which blistered the back of his throat. 

“Really?” he asked, and Sophie nodded. 

“It was...really fascinating to see what she’d written down about it.” she remarked, staring down at her mug absentmindedly. “She described how you were so excited about it, and how anxious I was before we went, and how glad she was that pushing me to do something ended up in me enjoying it and doing it again of my own will.” 

Everett glanced at her; Sophie had a small, sad smile on her face as she stared off into the distance. 

“You know what?” Sophie said suddenly. “Let’s go sledding, one last time. For Grammy.” Everett grinned.

“For Grammy.” he repeated, and nodded. 

An hour later they had climbed Bernard’s Hill and stood at the edge, each holding a bin lid. The sunlight reflections dazzled them; Everett shaded his eyes. Even so, it was beautiful, he thought. The snow had yet to be marked, it was smooth and inviting. Birds chittered to one another in the nearby woodland.

Sophie set down her makeshift sled. 

“Ready?” she inquired, and there was only a small trace of fear in her voice; even though she’d been down it before, the sheer height of the hill daunted her. Her brother grinned. 

“Yeah.” he said, and sat upon his bin lid, legs arranged awkwardly on the small space. “Bet I can beat you to the bottom.” 

“Sure,” scoffed Sophie as she sat down. “Okay. Three-”

“Two-”

“One!”

They both pushed themselves over the edge, and Sophie screamed as the wind howled in her ears. Her face was freezing as she sped down the incline. Her brother was a blur just behind her.

Sophie yelped in surprise as her can lid began to spin and she was suddenly facing backwards. She made an effort to right her direction, as she didn’t much like going down without being able to see what was in front of her. She leaned to the side, trying in vain to spin back around, until-

“Look out!” shrieked her brother as they collided, both tumbling off of their makeshift sleds and rolling down the hill, out of control. Sophie slid down, bumping against hidden sticks and stones under the snow, flailing her arms.

A few seconds later she felt the ground level out and she stopped rolling. She lay where she was for a moment, winded and startled, before a shadow appeared over her and she looked up to see her brother, laughing, with snow in every crease of his clothing. She snorted and sat up, batting away his helping hand.

“You look ridiculous.” said Everett amusedly, and she raised one unimpressed eyebrow.

“So do you.” 

“You crashed into me.”

“I know I did!” Sophie said indignantly, setting her hands on her hips. “It’s not like I wanted too, I was turned around the wrong way. It’s not like I rolled down the hill for fun.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Everett cracked a grin. “Wonder what Grammy thought of that?”

Sophie chuckled, imagining the look of amusement and surprise on her grandmother’s face if she could see them now. 

“She’d probably tell us to go home and drink some hot chocolate.” 

“Her hot chocolate was really good,” agreed Everett as he shook some snow out of his hair, a wistful look on his face. Sophie poked his arm. 

“Let’s go back to the house and I’ll try to make us some.” she suggested, and her brother smiled fondly at her. They picked up their bin lids and tramped off through the snow.