39

The cool morning air carried the aroma of fall, campfire smoke, brewing coffee, and the murmurings of her hiking and rock-climbing buddies. Tara closed her eyes and soaked it in. Songbirds chirped loudly as sunlight made the autumn foliage even more spectacular. Thoughts of her brothers clung to her, even now, sixteen months after their deaths. But grief didn’t own her.

Hope did.

Still, grief, with its ever-shifting size and weight and methods of torture, was a constant companion. But it was a quieter roommate as Tara pushed to keep her mind, soul, and body busy and productive.

She spread the ashes inside the fire ring and doused them one last time. She picked up her backpack.

“Hey.” James, one of her longtime hiking and rock-climbing buddies, lumbered toward her, shoving a water bottle into his backpack. When she was in high school and he was her instructor, she’d thought he was really old. Funny, now that she was the same age as he’d been then, they both felt young to her.

He slung the straps to his backpack over his shoulders. “You ready?” He looked behind him at the rest of the hiking buddies. “Some will join in a few minutes. The rest will wait to begin the hike once we’re back from the overlook.”

She nodded. James and the others were thru-hiking—backpacking for eight days straight on the Appalachian Trail. But Tara was doing the same as she’d done for months—going to various outfitter stores along the Appalachian Trail for her nonprofit. Her usual method was to drive as close as possible to each AT outfitter store and either hike in or take a shuttle bus. But months ago her hiking and rock-climbing friends had plans to be here at this time, and she was scheduled to be in this general area now too. So five weeks ago they had arranged to meet at this campsite last night.

“Our first moments alone.” James planted the end of his walking stick in the dark soil as he went. Walking sticks and long-distance hiking often went hand in hand, and Tara hoped that by the end of the day, she didn’t regret not bringing hers. “Everyone was so excited when you could work it out to be here at the same time as we are.”

“Thanks. I have tons of goals I’m working toward, but my actual schedule is very flexible.”

She’d crisscrossed the US, meeting with store owners or managers and starting marketing campaigns. She’d spoken to dozens of churches and colleges, and she had a strong base of supporters.

Underprivileged families were already registering to have gear loaned to them without charge—gear for camping out, fishing, canoeing, and the like. And they could sign up for lessons and gear for mountain climbing and rappelling. The packages included a stipend for food and, when needed, transportation to the site location.

“How’s the book writing going? Nonfiction, right?”

“Yeah, and I think it’s going pretty well. I finished the first round of edits a few weeks back, and I have a few more editing rounds to go, but it’ll hit store shelves this time next year.”

“Hmm. Let me think about this.” He angled his head and rubbed his chin. “Gavin was a first reader for you, because it definitely wasn’t me or my wife.”

She chuckled and nodded. “Should I apologize?”

“Nah. I’ll forgive you and him.”

James had met Gavin about six months ago when Tara invited him to North Carolina to rock climb and camp out with the group. Gavin came, and he’d been so much fun. He had seemed to really enjoy it too. He would probably come for another outing like that if she’d invite him. So why hadn’t she?

He’d given her an open invitation to the island, but the only time she’d returned to the Golden Isles was for Luella’s wedding, and even then she didn’t go to St. Simons Island. Luella and Charles wed at the Jekyll Island Club Resort, and all Tara managed to do was fly in a few hours before it and leave a few hours after it was over.

James and she reached the overlook, moved to a jutted rock, and sat. The view was breathtaking. Looking at the fallen planet from this perspective was like a glimpse of heaven, and she was filled with gratefulness to God.

After taking a picture of the view with her iPhone, she sent it to Gavin. A longing to stop the constant traveling for the nonprofit and put down roots in St. Simons Island tugged at her once again. How else would she and Gavin ever figure out if they could be more than they were?

Tucking the phone away, she soaked in the view.

James propped his arm on her shoulder. “I’m sitting on this rock with you because my wife’s back at camp, taping her feet for today’s hike. Why are you here with me?”

He knew her well.

She shrugged. “I’m not ready. I don’t know why.”

But Tara missed Gavin. He felt the same, didn’t he? They talked almost daily. At times it was simple chatter, but other times they laughed so hard it was difficult to breathe, and when her grief spilled over into tears, he listened, neither assuring her it would be fine nor rushing her to change the topic.

She’d fallen in love, and she had a constant desire for a life teeming with love and chaos—one that included being near four rather dramatic mamas, a firehouse filled with pranksters, a quiver full of his babies—or at least two or three along with a foster child or two—or gobs of helping the Boys and Girls Clubs of America. And most of all, one quiet, stalwart, gripping, patient, and tender man.

James shifted. “It’s bound to be terrifying. You grew up without the ones you loved. You later loved and lost. Is that it?”

“Maybe.” Did he have to be so direct?

Gavin and she didn’t talk about their relationship, not even when she’d invited him to hike and camp with her friends or when she’d invited him and his mamas to North Carolina a few times. All of them had slept in the cabin a couple of nights, hiked, and camped out a few nights. Only she and Gavin had rock climbed and rappelled, laughing and talking until love felt tangible.

He and the Glynn Girls as well as Hadley and Elliot and their families had helped her survive every first without Sean and Darryl—Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, and the worst of all, the anniversary of the day they died. Much of that was done via texts and phone calls, but he never forgot to be there for her, even when he was exhausted after a day of saving people from burning buildings.

Her insides quaked at the thought of giving her barely healed heart away again.

Her phone pinged with Gavin’s tone. A text. She was sick of texting and phone calls and too little real contact. Weary of avoiding the topic of what she felt for him. At the very same time, she couldn’t wait thirty seconds to see what he’d written, and she moved at breakneck speed to answer his calls. If he was off this morning, she’d FaceTime him and show him a live view of the overlook. They’d drink their coffees and talk as if sitting across the table from each other.

What was she doing traipsing the countryside, thinking about him all the time? She pulled her phone out and read the text.

Good morning! That’s gorgeous. You still making rounds in Virginia?

Yeah. With James at overlook. Group still at campsite. Have a ten o’clock appointment with next outfitter store on AT.

That sounds like all good stuff. The fire station alarm just went off, so I gotta go. Talk later, okay?

Absolutely. Be safe.

James tapped his stick against the rock. “He’s waiting for you, Tara. You know that, right?”

Gavin’s actions did say that…didn’t they?

The desire to find a place on the island to live had started months ago, and it continued to grow. Gavin had deep roots there and a career he was good at, one that often allowed him to help those he cared about. With hundreds of pieces of the nonprofit now in place, she could travel less often. If Gavin wanted to, and he would, he could take time off here and there and go with her.

“I don’t want to sell or abandon the cabin.” But she knew she could let underprivileged families stay there for weekends or a week at a time, and then she could return at will. Was she getting ahead of herself? She had no experience with men and dating.

“That’s your excuse, T? And you believe it?”

She didn’t respond. They both knew she didn’t believe it.

Fog hovered in the valley, rising in patches like swirling snow and dissipating into thin air. That was life—beautiful, mysterious, and gone.

James scratched his scraggly five-day beard. “I can’t imagine how you feel, but love is the beginning and ending of everything good. Everything, T. You can’t stop love. But you can waste it. I know Pastor Mike said to wait a year, but you’re three months past that and procrastinating. That’s fine. It’s your life. But be honest with yourself about what you’re doing and why.”

“If Gavin and I date and it doesn’t work out, everything will be awkward between me and the Glynn Girls, and they are like family now.”

James said nothing, but he knew what she was just now realizing—when it came to her and Gavin, fear had taken on many forms and excuses.

She missed him. “I don’t think there’s another man for me like Gavin.”

“I’ve known you since you were a teen, and I agree. And yet you’re living in a cabin six hours from him, and your days are spent sending pictures and texts.”

She mulled that over. Love, however fleeting, was never wasted. Didn’t she know that by now? Love and legacy didn’t disappear. It broke off into tiny pieces, like seeds on fertile soil. She couldn’t stop it from growing. All she could do was let its fruit rot on the vine.

“Yeah.” Her whisper echoed back to her. “What’s with me living like that?”