Eleven

Carly stared at Nate, resigned that he’d found her. He always did.

“I noticed you left and wondered what happened to you.”

She offered a weak smile, the best she could do. Not even one of her usual flippant replies would surface to her brain.

“Is this about Kim?” he prodded, his voice still low as if afraid he might upset her.

She shook her head. “I’m still worried about her, sure, but no.”

He moved closer and hunched down before her. “It might help to talk about it.”

Why did he have to be so nice? It would have been so much easier if she’d ignored him all along like she’d planned to do, like she’d wanted to do, and if he’d kept his distance. It wasn’t too late; she still held the key to drive him away. Once she told him, once she admitted her sins, then he would give her all the space she wanted. Her heart mocked her that now she was lying to herself, but her mind remained firm. She did want distance. She needed distance. Besides, once this hike ended, they would go their own ways. Her, back to Goosebury, and him, to wherever he came from. Suddenly she wanted to know.

“Where do you live?”

Her question took him by surprise; she could see that in the way his eyelids flicked up and how the soft rays of moonlight brought out the whites of them a little more. She was glad she sat in shadow so he couldn’t see her as well as she could see him.

“Bridgedale.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Southern Vermont.”

She heard the puzzlement in his voice.

“Is Bridgedale a small town or a big city?”

“A small town.”

“And are the people there as unforgiving as people in Goosebury? Are they as eager and ready to condemn a person for a stupid mistake when they probably do things just as bad?”

He grew so silent, she didn’t think he would answer. “Bridgedale has its share of hypocrites. Unfortunately, there isn’t a town called Hypocriteville for all of them to move to.”

His voice came both tense and light, and she gave a half-amused chuckle at his remark. “But you’re not one of them, are you, Nate? You don’t judge a person by their faults, do you? No,” she answered her own question. “You’re not the type. At least I hope you’re not the type.”

Another tense round of silence. “Carly, where’s this heading?”

“Good ol’ honest Nate. Fair dinkum, Jill calls you. You’re always so straightforward in your approach. Genuine, cutting straight to the chase. You would’ve made a good reporter, except you’re just too nice. Reporters have to be tough sometimes, aggressive, mean. That’s why I would’ve made a great one if I’d had a chance. I’m all those things. Good stories don’t just fall into our laps, Nate, we have to pursue them, like a dog sinking its teeth into a mailman’s trousers.”

She wished the moon revealed his face better. When he didn’t answer, she sighed, folding like a leaf under the weight of the rain. “You want to know where this is heading? All right, I’ll tell you. That woman they talked about tonight, the adulteress Jesus saved from stoning? Well, that’s me, Nate. Only it gets worse. I fell into that trap with the same guy—twice.”

He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She wished he would do something. Strike out with sharp, condemning words, clear his throat in nervousness, shake his head in a superior manner—anything!

“At the beginning, I saw the faded mark on his finger and asked about it. But he promised me he wasn’t married, that it was from a class ring he no longer wore—he said the stone had come loose—and like a fool, I believed him, or that’s what I told myself. Some things just didn’t add up—his private calls on his cell when we were together, him living in the next town but never taking me to his home. I wrote our advice columnist at the paper to get some help, telling her he was married, though I didn’t know for sure. Jake made me feel pretty and wanted—all lies, of course, to get what he wanted. I know that now. I found out a year and a half ago at the museum where I was doing an interview. I ran smack into him and his wife.

“You’ve heard of the expression ‘the fur flew’?” Carly asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. “Once I made it obvious I was more than another art patron with my opening remark to Jake, she hit him with her purse, and he lost his balance and fell into a cordoned area.” She laughed through her tears. “At that moment, I both admired the woman and despised her. I got my licks in, too, and threw the guidebook I was holding right at his gaping mouth.”

She looked past the satisfying humor of seeing Jake sprawled at the foot of a painting of Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii, then grew serious. “We were both Jake’s victims, his wife and I, and I swore I would never have anything to do with him again. But then he came to Goosebury several months ago, all penitent and charming. He told me his wife had left him, that he’d filed for divorce, and like a gullible fool, I believed him a second time. But I found out he had lied again—his wife phoned me at the office. That was the day I lost my job—I was so mad at him I ripped the phone from the wall and threw it on the floor. Later, Jake found me in the park, and we had it out. Our argument was overheard, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Nate’s continued silence provoked Carly’s irritation. “So there you have it! Now you know the deep, dark sins of Carly; now you can brand me with your scarlet letter or throw rocks at me. There’s plenty around, so why not just grab one and get it over with!”

He recoiled as if she’d hit him. “Throw rocks at you? Why would I want to do that?”

“Don’t you get it, Nate? I’m that woman Sierra read about tonight. Even Jill doesn’t know all my darkest secrets. No one does but you.”

“Carly.” His voice came very quiet. “Didn’t you hear the rest of the passage? About how Jesus forgave and saved the woman, telling the mob that those without sin should be the ones to cast the first stone? No one did. That’s because everyone sins and falls short of the mark.”

“Even you, Nate?” she mocked. “You’re so good. Surely you don’t sin.”

He sighed, and it sounded almost sad. “Everyone has sinned at one time or another. Being a Christian doesn’t mean we do everything that’s right and never slip up or miss the mark. It means we’re forgiven and continue to allow Jesus to work through us. I still mess things up, Carly; I’m not perfect. But I know I have a Savior who’s there, ready to forgive me when I turn back to Him and ask.”

She froze, her mind refusing to believe what her heart had begun to hope. “God wouldn’t want me, Nate.”

“You’re wrong, Carly. I think maybe He’s the one who brought you here, away from everything else, so you could come to this point. I think He knew it was time, and you were ready to hear His message.”

Tears glazed her eyes, and she flicked them away. Why was she always crying lately? This time on the trail she had probably cried more than she had in the last year.

“But if you want to know what I think—you weren’t the only one in the wrong. That lowlife boyfriend of yours is the real jerk as far as I’m concerned.”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore. I never want to see him again. I may have been pretty loose and wild these past years, but the thought of being with another woman’s husband makes even me sick. Especially since my mother did it. That’s why my aunt hates me so much. On my thirteenth birthday, she couldn’t wait to tell me what trash my mama and I both are and how my mama and uncle had an affair. Sometimes I wonder if I could be his daughter and that’s why they took me in when Mama dumped me on them.”

Nate became as still as if he’d been turned to stone. Shame washed through Carly at her outburst. If she could bite off her tongue, she would do it. Why had she said all that?

Nate cleared his throat, clearly ill at ease. Who could blame the poor guy? In this world with the slogan of “Do What You Like,” her wild lifestyle wasn’t a rarity except to the old gossips of Goosebury. And evidently to Nate. She had never been attacked with such fierce guilt before; Carly felt lower than she ever had in her entire miserable life.

“Carly, God hasn’t seen or heard anything that will shock Him or keep Him from loving you. He doesn’t ask you to clean yourself up before you come to Him; He asks that you come to Him and let Him clean you up.”

Despite his calm words, her tears kept falling. She was glad she remained in shadow so he couldn’t notice them.

“Nate.” She worked to keep her voice steady. “For an entire lifetime, I was told there was no God. Lately, I’ve started changing my position on that. I appreciate what you’re saying, but as the investigative type of person, I just can’t accept what you say on blind faith. I need to dig in, to get the facts and see for myself.”

“Then do it.”

His three words took her aback, mirroring her earlier thoughts. “What?”

“You’re a reporter; do what reporters do—dig in. The most realistic place to find out about God is in the Book of old records and documents, the Book that talks about Him. I have a pocket Testament if you want to borrow it. If you have questions, I’m here, and I know either Jill or Sierra would be happy to explain anything, too.”

Stunned, Carly asked, “Why do you care so much?”

He glanced down before meeting her gaze. “We’re friends, Carly. Friends care.”

A painful lump lodged in her throat; she couldn’t believe he would still consider her a friend after all she’d told him. “I’m not always a nice person, Nate. But you already know that by my attitude toward you those first days.”

“Hey,” his voice teased, “I thought we already put that behind us.” When Carly remained silent, he went on. “Like I said, everyone occasionally misses the mark, Christian or not. No one here thinks any less of you, least of all me. Everyone has a bad day now and then.”

Carly snorted. “That was more than one bad day, Nate.”

“Week, then?” Nate flashed her a grin. “Believe me, I understand. I had a bad five minutes beside a creek once, and as far as I can tell, no one’s held it against me. Come to think of it, I held her against me.”

Shocked amusement chased away the gloom, and she swatted his arm. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“If you want the truth, neither can I. But then, I never said I was perfect.”

She chuckled. “Okay, Nate. I accept the offer of your book.”

He moved to his feet, holding out his arm. “Need a hand up? I think we should get back now. We don’t want to start another panic like the other night.”

Carly nodded and accepted his help, surprised she didn’t want this talk with him to end. It had been one of the most emotional times of her life, one of the most shameful, one of the most awkward—and one she felt may have been the most important she had ever lived. Despite knowing her past, Nate still wanted her companionship.

He had not rejected her, had not thrown verbal rocks at her, had not eyed her with disgust. He had accepted her and offered his hand in friendship. He might not be perfect, but he came awfully close. And with another shock, Carly realized the only people who knew her secrets and still had shown her kindness were Christians: Leslie, Jill, and now Nate.

What made them different from the gossips in Goosebury, from her stern aunt, from her former coworkers who’d whispered behind her back? Was it their relationship with God? She had watched from a short distance that morning as the group stood in a circle, holding hands and praying for everyone, especially Jill. They’d then prayed for angels to guard their whole group as they hiked up the Hump. Carly thought about her near fall. Had an angel saved her from death, or had it been coincidence that the ledge had been there? Had God really cared enough about someone like her to assign a guardian to take care of her, despite all she’d said against Him in the past?

Once so sure she’d possessed all the logical answers, Carly now floundered at the unexpected questions.

❧

The next day, the climb loomed as hazardous as before, and the early morning rain didn’t help. Whoever named the stretch of land a trail must not have known that trail implied something that could be hiked, whereas this northern section had to be climbed most of the time. Nate had expected it, though as a former section-hiker, he’d never traveled this far.

It was an obstacle course, the trail going up one side of a mountain, over nearly upright slabs of rock, then down the other side—dangerous for anyone, but especially an inexperienced climber. At one point, they had to descend a forty-five-foot ladder to get down a cliff. The going went much slower, everyone taking more care how and where they stepped. Nate forgot to breathe when Kim’s foot slipped on the rung twenty feet above ground, but she managed to hold on and found a foothold, continuing the descent. Nate’s heart pounded as Carly took the ladder. Every time she approached a dangerous descent, he held his breath, praying she would make it.

As she stepped onto safe ground—however “safe” ground could be on a mountain—he let out the breath he’d held. The last one down, he grabbed the ladder and began his descent. He never knew what happened. One minute, he had about six more rungs to go; the next, he lay sprawled on the ground, pain shooting through his backside.

“Nate!” All of a sudden, Carly knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Concern flashed through her eyes.

“Yeah.” He moved his legs to experiment. “Nothing feels broken.” Except he felt like he’d fallen fifty feet and not five. “Just bruised.”

Ted approached and offered him a hand. To Nate’s surprise, Carly took his other arm, and they helped lift him to his feet. He winced and doubled over at the sudden pain shooting through his hip, but after a while, it faded to a degree that he felt he hadn’t fractured it and could walk.

“Think you can continue?” Ted asked.

“What choice do I have?” Nate joked back. Secluded in the middle of the wilderness as they were, the only choice was to go forward.

As they continued their trek, he leaned on his walking stick until the fire eased into a sting. He noticed Carly’s frequent glances over her shoulder, as if she were afraid he might suddenly fall off the mountain, and he recognized the irony that now she worried about him.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her when she was out of his sight, and when she was within sight, walking in front of him, it was worse. Every day, his feelings for her increased; every day, he wanted what he couldn’t have.

Stupid, Nate. Really stupid. Hasn’t your experience with your family taught you anything at all?

But. . .would it really be so bad? Carly was nothing like his stepmother. He’d never felt this strongly about anyone; even Susan had injured his pride more than she’d hurt his heart. But Carly. . .she was sincere, even if she did have some rough edges; compassionate, funny, smart, beautiful. . .would it really be so bad?

Nate already knew the answer, but his heart defied logic. Carly’s story didn’t shock him as much as she’d thought; he’d sown some wild oats before becoming a Christian, ones accepted by society as a whole but rejected by God. He hadn’t been pure either, not until Jesus forgave him and washed away his sins with His saving mercy. And as Nate had told her, he still wasn’t perfect. What shocked Nate had been the unspoken message she’d revealed through her rush of words—“I’m not worthy of love or forgiveness; I’m trash because my aunt says I am, because I had a relationship with a married man, because my uncle might really be my dad. . . .” The unspoken words had hit him harder than the spoken ones. In her mock indifference, as the tears glistened on her cheeks, he had glimpsed her genuine hurt and vulnerability. And at that moment, he’d known without a doubt: He loved Carly.

Since he’d come on the trail and reflected on the beauty of nature all around him, since he’d taken part in the Bible readings and devotions each night, Nate had rediscovered the peace missing inside him for months, as well as a channel back to his Creator. He relied on that channel now.

“God,” he said under his breath. “She’s almost to the point of finding You; I can feel it. Maybe by dating her I could help be a better witness to her than I am now. Because if it really is so dangerous, if I could fall away from You by dating her and backslide, like losing my grip and falling down one of these mountains, then You’re going to have zap these feelings I have for her out of me or send a chariot from the sky to sweep me off this trail.”

Being with Carly every day—and her trail mate to boot—was slowly killing Nate’s steadfast ability to resist temptation. Last night, as she’d sat there so sweet and lonely, all the while trying to act so strong and courageous, he could barely restrain himself from showing her just how much he cared by taking her in his arms and initiating another kiss. Their first kiss burned itself into his memory each night before he fell asleep and reminded his heart when he was awake and their eyes would by chance meet.

If only he’d known then what he knew now, he would never have let this happen; if only he’d known she wasn’t with the church group and didn’t share his faith, he would have been polite, yes, but certainly never kissed her. Yet he hadn’t known. And that made him feel as if he’d been tricked—though he wasn’t sure who to blame. Was it his fault he’d been ignorant of the facts and drawn close to her vibrant personality, seeking friendship? Was it his fault that he was a man, with all a man’s feelings, and attracted to a very beautiful woman?

But you know now.

Nate shut out the small whisper and concentrated on the next climb.