Four

The farther they walked through this part of the trail, now thickly wooded and giving off a feeling of extreme isolation, the more grateful Carly was for her walking stick—though every so often, the staff became stuck in the slurping mud and she had to pull it out. The traction on the bottom of her heavy hiking boots helped her keep her footing on slippery ground, and two pairs of socks prevented blisters. But at times she longed for the freedom of bare feet. Still, the positives outweighed the negatives.

Earlier the group had taken several levels of stairs up the Glastenbury fire tower to see the sun paint the Taconic Mountains with early morning gold, and Carly hadn’t been disappointed. Staring at such an impressive vista, Carly could almost believe God existed.

“Look!”

Kim stopped on the path and turned sideways, her pink face alight. Carly followed her gaze to see a small porcupine bristle through the undergrowth.

“Look at it walk,” Kim giggled. “It waddles like an over-blown pincushion on rickety wheels.”

Carly smiled. It did look funny. She grabbed her camera and readied it, then noticed Nate come up beside them.

“Permission granted?” she asked dryly, not failing to see Kim’s blue eyes widen behind the lenses of her glasses.

“Whatever.” Nate gave a grunt mixed with a less than amused half smile. “Don’t get too close, Kim,” he warned the girl, who’d also taken her camera out and edged closer to the trees as the porcupine waddled away.

“I was just hoping to get a shot from the front,” Kim explained, disappointed.

“Better safe than sorry. If you advance, you might scare it into thinking you’re a predator. And you don’t want to get on the wrong end of a porcupine’s quills. They’re loose, and if it lashes out its tail, it can hit you, embedding the quills in your leg like darts.”

“Too bad I don’t have quills to lash out and discourage advances from predators of the two-legged variety,” Carly muttered under her breath once Kim resumed walking.

“What?” Nate turned a sharp glance her way.

“Nothing.” Carly smiled sweetly and continued her trek. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to myself.”

“Sure you were,” she thought she heard him say but didn’t look back to ask. She chuckled under her breath, so busy giving herself a mental two points that she didn’t think to step around the large puddle like Kim had and instead sloshed right through it. The tip of her clunky hiking shoe caught on a tree root hidden beneath the inches-deep muddy water, and she went sprawling forward to land hard on her hands and knees.

Nate came up beside her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just dandy.” Embarrassment that he should see her in such a humbled position put a bite to her words. She moved her hands to get better traction, but the mud and the weight of her heavy backpack made her slide forward, drenching her shirt even more.

He held out his hand. “Need a lift up?”

“No.” She gritted her teeth. “Thanks. I can do it myself.” This time she planted her hands in front of her and pushed her right foot forward to boost herself into an upward lunge. Despite the traction of her sole, she slipped hard and fell farther into the mire with a splash. She spit out muddy droplets in disgust.

“You’re doing a great job of it so far.”

She heard the thread of amusement in his voice and glared. “Don’t you have anywhere else to go, or do you get your kicks out of annoying me?”

His eyebrow arched, and she felt a moment’s remorse. She knew he was only trying to help, but her pride stung worse than her body. Had anyone else witnessed her dilemma, it might not have wounded so bad, but that it was Nate made it feel like alcohol on a cut.

“Just. . .please. Go. Really, I can handle it.”

“Suit yourself.”

His light words and merry whistle as he walked off didn’t surprise her half as much as the fact that he’d actually left her alone on the trail. Sure, that was what she wanted. But what happened to his claim of needing to take up the rear to watch over any laggers? She guessed he wasn’t as sincere or genuine as Jill had tagged him.

Planting her walking stick in the sludge and using it as a brace, Carly struggled to her knees and finally to her feet. With care, she stepped out of the puddle, then surveyed herself, letting out a heartfelt groan. Her whole front looked as if she’d been dipped in a vat of milk chocolate. Maybe if it were milk chocolate, it wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, the bugs might then feast on her despite the noxious repellent she wore.

She took the bend on the trail and stopped in surprise.

Nate stood off to the side, his camera focused on the summit of Glastenbury Mountain, just visible through the trees.

“Glad to see you made it okay,” he murmured.

Suspicious, she studied him, not failing to notice the slight quirk of his lips when he turned and took in her appearance.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to loiter behind and take pictures along the trail.”

“That was only because of the rainstorm. No danger of rain on the trail right now. . .though of course there’s always danger of getting wet.”

She wanted to remain aloof, but his deadpan words struck her as funny. She could feel the corners of her telltale mouth edge upward in a smile. Astonishment swept over his face before she turned away, resuming her trek.

“Speaking of water, the sooner I find a body of it to immerse myself in—preferably clean water—the better.”

“Don’t take it so hard.” He fell into step beside her. Here the trail was wider, though most of the time they had to walk single file; the pamphlet Jill had given her said that to prevent erosion, hikers should stick to the middle. She opened her mouth to remind him, but he spoke before she had a chance.

“Falls are a natural part of life when hiking. Skinning knees, scraping hands—I imagine every one of us will do it many times before we reach Canada. Shedding a little blood is a given with as rough as this trail can get.”

Strangely, his quiet words reassured her, didn’t make her feel so awkward or humiliated, and she cut him a glance.

“I think the worst for me was when I fell down some rocks and scraped one side of my face and side. For days, I wasn’t a pretty sight—unless you like red, black, and purple as a color combination.”

She took note of his profile, his straight nose, and his strong, lean jaw. His skin had undergone a slight burn, especially the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones, but was unmarred. She couldn’t imagine him unattractive. When she realized where her mind had taken her, she forced her attention away from him and onto the hike.

He fell back into step behind her, and she wondered if he had just remembered the single-file rule or if he had given up trying to steer her into conversation. Regarding Nate, Carly felt nonplussed and uncertain, and she didn’t like anything that threatened her independence and self-control.

❧

A few nights later, Nate grew reflective as he gathered with the others in a circle, using the remnants of the flaming sunset for light. Of all the summits they’d crossed, the one today was a favorite of Nate’s: Bromley Mountain, with a spectacular view of the landscape in all directions.

Fire rings were allowed at some camps, but the wind blew too strong that evening to build one. Nate relied on his slim pocket flashlight once the red and gold in the western sky gave out. This was the first evening they’d reached the shelter early enough to set up camp and still have time for group devotions before sunset. The shelter housed eight, and five new high school graduates occupied it, so Nate’s group had needed to pitch tents. After the other young men and women introduced themselves, they dove into their sleeping bags and zipped themselves in, exhausted. This had been the first evening Nate’s group hadn’t just wanted to let their aching bodies tumble into their sleeping bags after having said a communal prayer of thanks for making it to their destination alive and in one piece yet again. At long last, they felt acclimated to the hike.

Nate flipped to the seventh chapter of Romans in his pocket Testament and listened as Ted’s strong voice seemed to shake the air as he read. A snapping twig diverted Nate’s attention to the trees across from him. Carly stood at the edge of the clearing, her stance rigid.

He watched her until she turned her head, her gaze meeting his. The same jolt of awareness hit as it always did when they seemed to connect. Then to his disappointed frustration, she turned on her heel and walked back to the shelter and, he assumed, the latrine.

He had trouble concentrating on the discussion afterward, but he made a monumental effort to keep his focus on the topic.

“I find it interesting how Paul said he always wants to do what’s good, but he winds up doing those things he doesn’t want to do instead.” Kim let out a sigh. “That makes me feel better. To know someone like the apostle Paul dealt with messing things up, too, well, I don’t feel like such a hopeless case. So I guess the question I have is this: What was his secret? How did he overcome all that to be able to be so strong in prison and through all those beatings and the torture?”

Amazed, Nate stared. He had never figured the bubbly teen, who giggled constantly and talked about pop bands at all the breaks, would have so much depth.

Jill smiled at Kim. “I think the answer is that we must build our spirits, put the ol’ flesh man to death—the one that always hassles us and craves sin. The only way we can tackle that is by spending significant time in God’s Word and in prayer.”

Nate listened with half an ear. Carly came into view again, and he focused on her, waiting for her to rejoin them. He was surprised when she went to her tent instead.

“Jill’s right,” Ted said. “This hike is a great chance to get in tune with our Creator and get closer to Him. I encourage all of you to do that. I like to pick a time of day when I can be alone and just go off a short distance to look at the mountains and meditate on God.”

“So then, we can wander from camp?” Kim sounded puzzled. “I thought that we’re supposed to stick together. Especially after we saw that sign on the road.”

Everyone grew quiet. Nate recalled the sign that the U.S. Forest Service posted with photographs of two backpackers who’d been killed and an appeal requesting the public’s assistance in identifying the perpetrator.

“Everyone needs some time alone. Just don’t stay away long or go far. No more distance than a half block. Tell someone before you go that you’re leaving, as well as what direction you’re heading. And always take your backpack. That way you’ll have your compass, your flashlight, and anything else you might need.”

“You mean if we get lost?”

“You shouldn’t get lost if you don’t go too far.” Ted’s words became abrupt, a sign he now felt boxed in by Kim’s worried attitude. He had never developed good people skills.

“Why do you think they call this Lost Pond Shelter?” Bart asked, not helping matters any. “You think someone got lost here once? I read on a Web site there have been people who signed the register and took the trail but were never heard from again.”

“Thank you, Major Suspense,” Sierra joked, rolling her eyes.

“What?” He looked at his wife. “I’m just curious.”

“Kim.” Jill’s voice was gentle. “Whenever you need to take some time off, give me a nod, and I’ll walk with you most of the way.” She looked at her husband. “Since you, Nate, and I have taken this trail and all the others are new to it, I think we should use the trail-mate system in such cases.”

“Assign all the greenhorns expert buddies?” Ted wanted to know.

“We could do that.” Jill nodded. “I’ll be stuffed; I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before. That sounds like a corker of an idea.”

“I’d like to be assigned to Kim,” her father said. “I’ve had experience hiking along the Appalachian Trail.”

“Sure, Frank.” Ted gave a nod of consent.

The young newlyweds shared a smile, and Bart winked at his wife. “We’d like to be trail mates,” he said, turning to Ted.

“I think,” Jill observed, “since you’re both new to this trail, it would be better if I take Sierra, and Ted takes Bart.”

“That sounds doable,” Bart agreed.

“So, I guess that leaves Carly for Nate.”

Hearing the words jarred Nate, though he saw it coming the minute the topic had switched to assigned buddies.

“That okay with you, partner?” Ted asked.

Even in the dying light, Nate detected the amused glint in Ted’s eyes. Thinking of the curt treatment he’d already received from the independent spitfire, he sent Ted a look that promised payback.

“If it’s okay with Carly. Sure.”

Sending a resigned look to her tent, he wondered who would convince her of the new plan.