Nine

Nate warmed his hands over the small fire, enjoying its warmth and examining Carly in its flickering glow. She took a seat on a log across from him, her face a study of emotions. She may make a habit of tucking herself away in a private corner in an effort to hide from the world, but at times like now, she was easy to read. She acted as if she expected the worst, and Nate found himself in no better frame of mind. He took time to sort out what he wanted to say. When he had collected his words to the best of his ability, he shifted his position. Her gaze jumped from the fire to his face.

“I’d like to resume our conversation from where we left off.”

“Yeah, I got the feeling this wasn’t going to be a powwow to discuss the absence of the great fireball in the sky and the rain we’ve been having.”

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Nate’s lips curved into a faint smile at her choice of words. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t get how we believed that God is always there to make things better?”

“You have a good memory.” She prodded the dirt with the toe of her hiking shoe, looking at it. “I meant exactly what I said.”

“Seems a little odd to have an attitude like that and be a member of Jill’s church. On my visits there, I noticed they’re a faith-believing bunch.”

“I’m not a member of her church.”

The words scraped like sharp pebbles in Nate’s head. “Then why are you with the church group?”

“Why are you?”

“I was invited—by Ted.”

“And Jill invited me.” She shrugged. “She knew I needed a break from life and offered it.”

“I see.” He shut his eyes a moment to get his bearings. “So you don’t believe in God.” He posed the words as a statement; her attitude made it more than clear.

She eyed him with caution. “If I say I don’t, you’re not going to start preaching to me, are you?”

He gave her a sad smile. “No, Carly. I’m not going to preach to you. If you want to go get some shut-eye, I won’t keep you any longer.”

Rather than say good night and retreat to her tent, Carly surprised Nate by sitting motionless, a wistful look spreading across her face as she stared into the flames.

“The truth is before this hike, I could have said those words with conviction. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I believe there is a God.” Her midnight dark eyes lifted to his. “I’m just not so sure I want anything to do with Him.”

At least she was honest and didn’t try to fake something she didn’t feel; he may not like her words, but he respected her forthright sincerity. His stepmother had woven a web of lies to trap his dad, who’d fallen for each one. Nate pressed his lips together in thought, wondering how to respond, when Carly spoke.

“I did once.”

The three words jarred Nate. “What happened?”

She drew her knees up to her chest and locked her arms around her legs. “A little girl didn’t get her prayers answered.”

He waited, sensing more. He wasn’t disappointed.

“When I was little, I used to curl up in my bed at night and pray that God would bring my mama back to me. My aunt never taught me to pray, but I’d seen kids do it in movies, and they always got what they wanted, so I prayed, too. I told Him I’d be good. I begged Him; I made deals with Him, anything to get out of my aunt’s house and have my mama back.” She grew very still, focused on the fire. “She did come back three times; I was twelve the last time. But each time she only stayed a few days, and she was always going on and on about some new boyfriend or a job she had at a nightclub or something else in her life that excluded me. She rarely noticed me except to ask if I’d been a good girl.

“That last time, I hadn’t been, and my aunt let her know about it. My mama talked to me longer than she ever had and really paid attention to me because my aunt threatened to throw me back to her. But I didn’t care that she was mad. I soaked up every moment of her sudden interest, and from that incident, I learned that bad girls get all the attention. So I began to live up to the name. If it was wrong, I did it. I didn’t care.”

She rested her chin on her knees. “Not that it did any good. Mama never came back, and after a while, I quit trying to be bad, quit hoping for something I realized wouldn’t happen, and I quit praying to God. My aunt told me He didn’t exist, and I figured she must be right.”

Nate swallowed over the painful lump in his throat. At her wistful, childlike words and cheerless expression, he wanted nothing more than to enfold her in his arms. To pull her into a hug and kiss her, to let her know someone cared. And that was the problem: He cared too much.

Now that he recognized the truth concerning Carly’s lack of faith, he knew that to go to her, to do those things, would invite disaster. He didn’t want a relationship like his dad had. Nate had seen the results when what had appeared to his dad like nuggets of gold turned into fool’s gold—something not worth all the pain he’d endured. To become involved with a woman who didn’t share Nate’s beliefs spelled danger.

He cleared his throat, uncertain of what to say. She lifted her head, spearing him with huge eyes that glimmered with unshed tears, and he felt as if his heart had been squeezed so he could barely breathe.

“She was wrong. I feel that now more than I know it. It’s not logical after all. But at the same time, I’m not sure where I stand when it comes to making decisions.”

He swallowed hard, recognizing the question in her statement. “It’s a first step, Carly. Every important decision is arrived at one step at a time.”

She chuckled. “Especially when traveling up a steep mountain.”

He gave a wry grin. “Yeah, especially then.”

She was silent a moment. “Honestly, Nate, I’m not sure what my destination will end up being in the grand scheme of things, but just so you know, I’m not a quitter when it comes to life. I may have given up believing my mother would return and given up on God, but on the things that really mattered—school, work, relationships—I always kept right on going no matter what.”

Nate winced at her selection of words, but judging from her history, they came as no surprise. He weighed his reply.

“Carly, in your job as a reporter, you kept yourself well informed before writing your newspaper articles, right?”

“Well, I worked the entertainment section, so there weren’t a lot of hot, juicy stories to be had, but yeah, I did.”

Sidetracked for a moment, Nate homed in on her words. “If there was a hot, juicy story, would you have grabbed it?”

“What reporter wouldn’t?” she laughed. “It’s that type of story that gets a gal noticed and gains respect among her peers. Most people would rather read about what evils have hatched deep inside their town than read about who won the blue ribbon for the biggest zucchini or what band played at the Maple Syrup Harvest Festival. It’s just human nature.” She shrugged. “But Abernathy assigned me to entertainment, and what the boss says goes, so I never got my chance.”

“Human nature can be cruel.”

“It is cruel. That’s just a fact of life. But it’s a journalist’s job to record all the facts and keep the public well informed.”

“So if you still had your chance, would you take it?” The terse question left Nate’s mouth before he could think to haul it back.

She seemed a little surprised. “I don’t work at the paper anymore.”

“There are others.”

“But without credentials, I won’t get far. Not unless I could present to the editor an exclusive headline story to hook interest. Don’t think I haven’t tried looking for work already. But Abernathy didn’t send me off with any recommendations. Not after the scene I pulled at his office. Stupidity on my part, but what’s done is done.”

Nate took a steadying breath. He hadn’t meant to get off on this track. With her curious nature, she probably felt more intrigued about his curt questions and behavior than ever before. He forced himself to switch back to the initial topic. This wasn’t about him; this was about her.

“Like I said, Carly, you have to be well informed before you can make a good decision about anything in life.”

She quirked her brows as he again switched the subject. “Okay, so?”

“So you might find the information needed if you attend the nightly Bible readings on a regular basis. I’m not trying to push you, just trying to help steer you where to look.” He had noticed from the start that she didn’t always show up at their group gatherings and should have realized something was amiss, but he had just assumed she was too exhausted or that she’d had some other logical excuse.

“I’ll consider it.”

That was all Nate had hoped for; at least she hadn’t said no. He released a breath, smiled, and gave her a nod. “Well, it’s getting late. I need to get some sleep.” He stood up, noticing her expression of surprise, which she quickly masked. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay. See you.”

Her words seemed faint, uncertain, but Nate didn’t let himself turn around and ask why. The temptation to take her in his arms and hold her was still too strong.

❧

The next morning, Jill insisted she could withstand the hike, though she didn’t look much better. Kim seemed subdued, Frank appeared more tense than usual, and Ted acted almost scatterbrained. But the change in Nate baffled Carly more than anything else. He still acted as polite and helpful as ever, but he no longer sought her out. He rarely smiled, and when he did, it seemed almost sad.

She wondered whether his attitude had to do with her confession the night before, with Kim’s disappearance, or with something else entirely. Their entire group seemed downcast after last night’s frightening event, so maybe that was all that bothered him—the aftereffects and shock of what had happened and of what could have happened but didn’t.

Carly still harbored surprise that she’d revealed so much about her past to Nate, since it had taken her months to leak the same information to Jill and Leslie. She’d known Nate a little over two weeks and had brought out every skeleton in her closet for his view, save for one. What was there about Nate that invited confidence? She had avoided this very thing, told herself she wanted to keep him at arms’ length, and then, with little prodding on his part, she had revealed a good deal of her story.

Carly tried to ignore Nate and his sudden indifference to her, tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. But it did. And she thought it an ironic twist that his distance irritated her more now than his constant shadowing had done during their first days of the hike.

They traveled a short, eight-mile distance that day, surprising Carly since Ted always pushed them. But the tough drill sergeant appeared to have softened around the edges, and Carly sensed he still worried about Jill.

“Tomorrow we tackle the Camel’s Hump,” he told the group. “It’s above treeline, made of steep rock, and is as treacherous as all the stories you’ve heard. It’s one long endurance test; I hope you’re up for it.”

As usual, Ted was all cheer and optimism as he prepared them for their next climb. Carly’s gaze connected with Nate’s, and he winked, sharing with her an amused smile. Carly felt lighter, though she hadn’t yet shed her backpack.

After Carly deposited her things in the shelter, she looked at the mountain in the distance, which did resemble a camel’s hump. Earlier, they’d run across the path of some hikers coming from Canada, who’d just tackled the treacherous mountain; one of the young men had slipped and fallen, banging up an elbow and badly scraping his leg.

“Nervous?” Kim came up beside her.

“About climbing the Hump?”

The girl nodded.

“Maybe a little. But if over three thousand people have tackled it, we can, too.”

Kim flashed her a big smile, and that’s when Carly noticed the elastic band that now secured the teen’s glasses around her head.

“Smart add-on to the specs,” she said.

“Yeah, Dad made it. He’s good with putting things together from nothing.”

Carly hesitated, remembering the night before. “Are things all right between you and your dad?”

“Sure. He was teed off at me; big surprise. But he’s the greatest dad there is.” Sincerity rang in Kim’s voice. “He didn’t want me to come on this hike, but I convinced him.”

That surprised Carly almost as much as the wide variety of age groups she’d seen among those hiking the trail—from senior citizens to six-year-old twins backpacking with their parents. Kim appeared to be in good physical condition, an outdoor-type of girl. She had told Carly she’d played several sports at school.

“Why didn’t your dad want you to come?”

Kim shrugged, seeming nervous. “Just didn’t like the idea; I guess he didn’t want the added hassle.” She fidgeted with her walking stick. “I better go help Dad with dinner. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Carly answered pensively as she watched Kim head to the shelter where Frank had just emerged from the trees, hauling water.

“Heyo, what’s up with you and Nate?” Jill asked, coming up behind her.

“How are you feeling?” Carly countered. “You still don’t look in peak condition for the climb.”

Jill answered her sad pun with a groan. “I’m bushed, but I’ll live. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to test my endurance beyond reason. The outback may not have as many places to climb, but it does have its challenges, and I managed twenty-three years Down Under. You’ve seen the movie Crocodile Dundee?”

Carly nodded.

“Well, I was more the Dundee type, and Ted the one I saved. From a black snake. . .deadset,” Jill said, laughing at Carly’s skeptical look and lifting her hand in a scout’s-honor pledge. “Anyhoo, back to my question. What’s with you and Nate?”

Carly had hoped she had successfully diverted the topic. “With us?”

“I sensed friction between you all day.”

Carly snorted. “I have no idea. I made the mistake of telling him about my whole sordid life last night—well, not the part about Jake—and now he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” She shrugged. “It’s for the best; I don’t need any more hassles to complicate life.”

“That’s not like Nate.” Jill looked puzzled. “I was hoping the two of you would be good friends.”

Friends. Right. Carly gave a cynical smile. “Well, some things just aren’t meant to be, Ju-Ju. I’m hungry. Let’s eat while there’s still enough daylight to see.”

All through her preparation of vegetable stew via a food packet, Carly thought about Nate, wondering what she’d done to put the breach between them. He had seemed sympathetic last night, not judgmental—not that she wanted anyone’s pity, either. She only wanted to understand what was going on between them and why she couldn’t seem to get the guy out of her thoughts.

Growling to herself in frustration, she grabbed her mini recorder to document her day. Once she finished, she cleaned herself up as much as possible and laid her sleeping bag in the shelter. Tonight, she didn’t want to be bothered with pitching her tent; a few in her group shared the idea, since she noticed their sleeping bags also laid on the wooden floor inside. Deciding to make it an early night, Carly settled in, thankful for her warm clothes and the insulation the sleeping bag gave.

A step at the entrance and a shadow alerted her to someone coming inside the shelter. From behind, the firelight glowed where the others held devotions, casting the face of the newcomer in darkness. Carly saw blond strands of hair and noted the curved outline.

“Kim? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Are you sleepy?”

Carly sat up. “Not if you want to talk.”

Kim moved to Carly’s sleeping bag and knelt down, sitting on her knees and tucking her hands between them. “I do, sorta. I feel closer to you than the other guys, and I need to talk to someone.”

Carly tensed, thinking she knew what was coming. “Is it about your dad?” she prodded softly.

“My dad?” Kim sounded confused.

Carly bit her lip, not wanting to jump to conclusions. “Why not just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I’m sort of scared about tomorrow.”

“About climbing the Camel’s Hump?” This, Carly had not expected. They had already managed some treacherous climbs, and Kim had never shown one ounce of fear but had always been the one ready to forge ahead.

“Yeah.” Kim slumped down to a sitting position. “Remember when I told you the other night I was legally blind?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, one day—soon I think—I’m going to be blind.”

The shock of Kim’s words robbed Carly of a reply.

“This hike was sort of a dream that I wanted to make come true before I lost my sight for good. And I’m glad I came. But the symptoms the doctor warned me about have started up, and now Dad’s worried and wants to take me off the trail. But I don’t want to go. I want to keep hiking to the border of Canada like my grandparents did. It’s like one of those dream-wish sort of things to me.”

She hesitated. “The other night when I got lost, the reason I tripped is because all of a sudden I couldn’t see. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and according to the doctor, the disease gets progressively worse a little at a time and I won’t go blind all at once. I should still have several weeks left. Even months.”

“Isn’t there an operation that can help you?” Carly forced the words out through a tight throat.

“Nothing that’s even half of a guarantee. Or that isn’t too risky. I’ve prayed about it a lot—Dad, too—and I just don’t want to take those kinds of risks.”

“But if there’s a chance, isn’t it worth the risk?”

“Hey, are you crying?” Kim sounded baffled. “Don’t cry. I’m okay with it all, really. I just wanted someone else to know, maybe so you could be my cheering section. The others here don’t know because we’re still new to that church—we just moved to Goosebury a few months ago—and I didn’t want anyone to know and then start getting all weird around me. People do that; all my friends in Massachusetts did. That’s one reason we moved to Goosebury to be with my grandparents. I just want to be treated normal, and you always seem so together. I didn’t think you’d get weird on me, too.”

Carly didn’t feel one bit together, and Kim was comforting her, which further addled her mind. In these past weeks of playing cards with Kim and getting to know her, she’d thought of the cheerful teen as the little sister she’d never had.

“How can you be so strong about all this? Why aren’t you even the least bit angry?”

“At first I was. I threw a crying and shouting fit at home after the doctors told me, and I think if I didn’t have Jesus to fall back on, I might still be really mad and never have left my room. I didn’t for days. Sometimes I still get to feeling sorry for myself. But my relationship with the Lord has actually improved, and He’s given me this strange sort of peace I never had before. Even before I found out.”

“Kim, are you in there?” Frank’s voice came from outside.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m coming,” she called, then whispered to Carly, “He’s still freaked out about last night, but anyway, now you know why.” The teen hurried to her feet, leaving Carly shaken and far from feeling any peace.