Six

All night, the wind had howled through the trees, but the morning dawned mild. Fog shimmered in the sunlight, cloaking the area in damp mist. Nate hunched down at the brook as he refilled his water bottle, and allowed the breeze to blow away from his mind the clutter of yesterday’s fiasco. For the first time in a week, he had snapped, reacting instead of thinking. Now that he’d had time to cool off, he regretted his impulsive actions. If Carly had disliked him before, she must now rank him high on her ten-most-hated-men list.

Hearing a twig snap, he looked over his shoulder. Carly approached, a silver packet in her hand. From the way her gaze darted to him, to the water, then back again, she seemed uncertain.

“Good morning,” she said at last.

“Good morning.” Nate wondered if she was deliberating giving him a push into the creek.

“I, um. . .” She brought her hand forward with the silver packet. “I brought you a peace offering. I didn’t have any of Jill’s candy, so I made do with this.”

Nate took the protein shake, eyed it, then her. “Thanks.” Feeling uneasy but thinking he should take a sip, he did so, trying not to grimace. A recollection of his youth flashed across his mind. He’d never excelled at board games, and his older sister and her friends had taken advantage of that, letting him join in when they played. They made the loser drink a “death drink” composed from any and all contents of refrigerator and cupboards that they could find to make the taste as appalling as possible. Nate always lost. Years later when they were teens, Nina confessed how she and her friends cheated to get Nate back for always tagging along.

Looking at the silver packet, he wondered if and how Carly had managed to filter grass and dirt through the hole with the straw.

“It’s not much.” She shrugged. “I had some left over when we got to the food drop.”

He could understand why.

Before she could walk away, he spoke. “About last night.” She looked at him, and he sighed. “I was way out of line, and I’m sorry. Maybe not so much in what I said, but with the way I said it and what I did.”

“I had it coming.”

Her answer shocked him. He never knew what to expect from her.

“I came on this hike, fresh from ending a relationship that went very sour very fast.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t your fault or anyone else’s. You’ve been nice no matter what a grouch I’ve been. So, I’m sorry, too.”

Nate could think of a few occasions when he’d made a come-back, saying something he shouldn’t have, but at the thought of peace between them, he decided not to bring them up.

“Anyhow.” She nodded to the silver packet in his hand. “You’d better drink the rest if we’re going to be trail mates and you plan to keep up with me.” Her lips curled into a smirk before she headed back to camp, and he wondered if her words were deliberate and she knew exactly what sacrifice she asked of him in drinking the brew.

He also wondered if squirting the awful-tasting contents into the creek would kill any of the fish. Maybe he was over-dramatizing; he took the barest sip to find out if he’d imagined it. Less than a minute later, after making sure Carly wasn’t watching, he emptied the contents of the brown shake onto the ground, then folded the packet and put it with the rest of his garbage he would take with him so as to leave no trace that he’d been there.

He hoped the concoction wouldn’t kill the grass.

After a short morning prayer, the group set off for their seventh day on the trail.

A gradual uphill climb near the summit of Beacon Hill and passage through open fields gave Nate a chance to talk to Carly, which he hoped might spur a friendship. Despite her tendency to withdraw to a corner, she possessed an independent, free-spirited quality that drew Nate to her.

“So, tell me,” he said as they approached a high ridge above a brook that sparkled with the few coins of sunlight the trees allowed through their branches, “is there part gypsy in your blood?”

Carly laughed, and Nate thought it nicer than any sound he’d heard on the hike thus far. Now that she relaxed around him, she was pleasant to be with.

“Gypsy? No. Nothing Bohemian about me except for some of my clothes. According to what little my aunt has told me, I’m supposed to be descended from an Abenaki chief who made his home in these mountains centuries ago.”

Nate studied her proud bearing and exotic features. The idea of Native American princess fit her well.

She looked at the trees. “I think I would have liked to have experienced life back then, but only for a few weeks, maybe a month. I’m too attached to home appliances to want to have lived in historic days.”

“Well, you seem to be doing okay without electricity.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I love it. Like I said, a few weeks in the wilderness is great, and the length of this hike is perfect. Those packet meals aren’t half bad, though I miss cooking from scratch. And the protein shakes were a good investment, too.”

A wash of warmth swept up Nate’s face, having nothing to do with the exertion of the hike. “Uh, yup.”

“If nothing else, they make great fertilizer.”

He shot her a sharp look at her wry words. Busted. He shook his head. “How’d you find out?”

“Nate, even the few guys I know who avoid meat wouldn’t drink that stuff. Could be because of the alfalfa grass or maybe the kelp. Who knows?”

He stopped in shock. “Kelp? Meaning the green algae that grow at the bottom of ponds?”

She gave him a sweet smile and walked ahead.

“And don’t horses eat alfalfa?” So she had been trying to feed him grass! “I knew you were trying to kill me,” he muttered softly enough so that only she could hear.

She didn’t look back, but her laugh brought about a reluctant smile.

❧

The next day took them to Killington Spur. A steady rain started, and everyone decided it best to forego the climb to the second-steepest summit in the state and head for a popular inn for skiers and hikers. To the group’s deep gratitude, Ted had made previous reservations, and all were eager for a short overnight stint to wash off the trail dust—or in this case, trail mud—and take a breather. They all knew that the farther the trail went on toward Canada, the more difficult it became, and it had already proven a challenge.

Close to evening, they arrived, weary and beaten, at a charming lodge with gleaming hardwood floors and a convivial stone fireplace in the cheery common area. Each went to their assigned rooms. Once in hers, Carly threw her backpack off, stripped down to nothing, and stood under a hot shower for a good ten minutes. The stress and pain of days on the trail melted away as the reviving needles of water did their magic and massaged tense muscles. Carly released a deep sigh of pleasure, shampooing her hair three times until she felt completely clean. She knew the results wouldn’t last, but it was nice to get all the dirt off for at least one night.

Afterward, relaxed and refreshed, she changed into a T-shirt and clean hiking shorts—her only clean clothes—promising herself she would do her laundry before bed. Right now, her stomach growled. She headed to the main part of the lodge to meet with the others for dinner, not all that surprised when Nate alone rose from the sofa in the community area. He’d also showered and changed into a soft plaid shirt, a dark green one with long sleeves rather than the usual torn ones.

“Where are the others?” Carly asked.

“The newlyweds are in their room, Kim wasn’t feeling well, and Ted and Jill went off to find a phone and run a few errands.”

“So, in other words, it’s just us.” The last three words gave Carly a strange tingle in the pit of her stomach.

“Looks like it. You hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Then what are we standing here for? Allow your trail mate to come to the rescue—just this once.” He gave her a mischievous grin and crooked his elbow in a formal manner she’d seen in old movies. She chuckled, relaxing as she took his arm. They found a table for two, and a waitress gave them menus.

“The corned beef with cabbage looks good. . . .” Nate trailed off at the look Carly gave him. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t eat meat.” He glanced at the menu. “No salad here, either. We can go somewhere else, if you’d like. There’s a pub nearby that serves food.”

“That’s okay. I do eat more than salads.” Carly thought it sweet of Nate to offer. Maybe she had pegged him wrong. He really wasn’t such a bad guy, but it wasn’t until he’d swept her off her feet the other night—literally—that he’d rattled some sense into her brain so she could see it. The memory of their close encounter made her cheeks hot, and she closed the menu.

“I think I’ll have the French onion soup and the stuffed mushrooms. Two appetizers should fill me up.” The one vegetarian entrée loomed too far out of her price range.

“I still can’t believe you fed me grass.”

Carly laughed. “Perfectly-good-for-you grass, it was, too. Not a thing in the world wrong with it.”

“If you’re a horse.”

She giggled again at his sober teasing, and conversation flowed easily. Once they gave their order and the meal came, he bowed his head in silent prayer, and she glanced out the window, a bit uneasy. She had realized he was a Christian like the others the night she’d spotted him with his Bible at the group’s evening prayer rituals—or whatever they did. But he hadn’t tried to shove its contents down her throat at any time this past week or point and call her a sinner, and that helped her to relax. Jill’s friends were a lot different than she’d thought they would be. It felt good to be around them.

“So, Carly, tell me—what’s your story?”

“My story?” She set down her spoon in the soup bowl and raised her eyebrows. “Now you’re the one sounding like a reporter.”

He stopped short of taking a bite of his sandwich and peered up at her. “You’re a reporter?”

Did she imagine it, or did his words seem tense? “I was. With the Goosebury Gazette, our town paper. I handled the entertainment section, current events, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” He took a hefty bite, but she sensed something still troubled him. “So, what’s Goosebury like nowadays? I lived there a couple of years during high school but don’t remember that much about it.”

She gave a sharp laugh, capturing his attention again. “Sorry. This isn’t the best time to ask me that question. Any other day, I’d say it’s your usual charming New England small town, filled with its covered bridges, scenic spots, and the like.”

“And on the other days?”

She shrugged.

“Any family?”

“An aunt, an uncle, and a cousin. And to save you the trouble of asking, since it always follows, my mom took off when I was barely out of diapers, and I don’t know where my dad is, much less who he is.” She hoped he didn’t hear the tremor of bitterness in words she tried to deliver in a bored monotone. But given the fact that Nate now gaped at her, again ignoring his sandwich, he must have.

He collected himself. “That must have been hard, growing up without parents. My mom died when I was just a kid, and my dad remarried five years ago.” His jaw tensed, and he set down his sandwich and took a drink of soda before returning his attention to Carly. “You said you worked at the Gazette. What do you do now?”

“I’m between jobs.”

“Funny, so am I.”

“I got fired.” She might as well be honest.

He grinned. “Me, too.”

Her eyes opened wider. “You’re kidding?”

“Dead serious.”

“Wow, talk about odd—us being in the same boat. I’m not sure it’s something I want to talk about, but I have to admit it’s good being in like company.”

“Same here.” His smile switched to full-blown and knocked Carly a little off kilter. The guy was attractive, likeable, and nice, but, she reminded herself, she didn’t want a relationship.

“As for what I’m doing now, I’m gathering information to write a guidebook for beginners, by me—a beginner—of what to expect on the Long Trail.”

“I wondered what that mini recorder was for; I figured you were recording things for a personal journal. A lot of hikers do that sort of thing.”

“Nope, I’m formulating a guidebook. I know there’s a market, but I’m hoping my inexperience as a hiker won’t cause problems in selling the idea. I doubt my old boss would give me the time of day as far as references go after the chewing out I got from him—long story; I don’t want to go there. But I have other connections in the publishing industry and the media, so we’ll see.”

This time, she couldn’t mistake his reaction. Nate became withdrawn, almost detached. He polished off the rest of his sandwich and his side of red potatoes in silence, and Carly concentrated on her meal, too. The stuffed mushrooms were zesty with garlic, just the way she liked them, and the soup was rich and smooth, perfect to take away the chill in her body. Too bad the warmth didn’t reenter their conversation.

Nate wiped his mouth. “I should call it a night. I’m beat, and we need to get an early start tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Carly floundered, a bit disconcerted by his abrupt behavior. “If you’re still feeling bushed tomorrow, I always have an extra protein shake.”

The answering chuckle he gave was weak, and as she went to her room to take care of her laundry, she scolded herself. So what if he didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening talking with her? That was what she wanted—her own space and no unwelcome advances. He seemed to have received her oft-repeated message loud and clear. So since everything now pointed in her favor, it made no sense that Carly should feel upset that he’d done exactly as she’d asked him.

❧

The next day, the trail grew narrow, the overgrowth looming high along the sides, the path shooting up then down with what seemed neither rhyme nor reason. At lunch, they stopped at one of the shelters and met some AT hikers, those hiking the Appalachian Trail. Since both it and the Long Trail traveled the same path for one hundred miles, Nate was surprised these were the first AT hikers they’d met. The robust, middle-aged married couple were hiking the trail for their twenty-fifth anniversary, and Nate admired their courage in tackling it.

Carly seemed distant, which for once made Nate glad. The trail lay cluttered with countless rocks and massive tree roots, requiring every bit of attention.

Last night, when she had confessed she was a reporter, warning bells had gone off inside Nate, and the tragedy of his family’s dilemma attacked him full force. He didn’t appreciate the unwanted reminder, though he realized Carly wasn’t to blame. She couldn’t have known his story. No one did except Ted and Jill, whom he’d sworn to secrecy. And Nate planned to keep it that way.

He was sure Carly’s journalistic blood would simmer to a boil if she knew that one of the most sought-after and evasive sources of recent headline news to hit southern Vermont hiked a few feet behind her. No longer would she avoid him; he would be running from her. Remembering his narrow escapes from the media, his “running” might become reality. And he couldn’t let that happen.

He needed this hike. He had started to feel a closeness to God he hadn’t experienced in months. For some reason, his town had marked his entire family as outcasts for one man’s sins. Nate would never understand that, but he’d felt the full brunt of their bitter rejection. Here with Ted’s church group, Nate enjoyed acceptance and anonymity; he didn’t want to lose that.

When they reached the shelter where they would spend the night, a group of hikers who’d arrived before them invited their group to share in a weenie roast. While Carly didn’t eat their food, she did participate in the light conversation as they all gathered around the fire and compared experiences they’d had while on the trail. She sat across from Nate, and he found his gaze wandering to her often. When she would suddenly look at him, he would shift his attention to something else like a misbehaving kid.

Kim excused herself, and soon after that, Carly left, too. Nate hesitated when she headed away from the shelter. Should he follow or just trust that she wouldn’t wander too far in the dark and would know to stay out of trouble?

The answer, from previous experience, made him quietly groan, and he excused himself and set off in the direction she’d taken. He moved around the shelter and almost jumped out of his skin as he came close to mowing down both Carly and Kim.

Both girls squealed in shock, and Kim beamed her flashlight into Nate’s face.

“Looking for someone?” Carly asked, her brow lifted, her tone steady.

As he worked to regain his bearings, Nate blocked the light from his eyes with his hand. He gave a disgusted chuckle and shook his head. “You would think I’d know better by now. Could you please shine that thing somewhere else?”

“Hey,” Carly’s tone came softer, “I was just teasing.”

Kim lowered the light, and it flickered. “Rats. Looks like I need new batteries. Me and Carly were just about to play cards. We could make it a game of Hearts if you want to join us.”

About to refuse, Nate noticed Carly’s expression, what he could see of it. Was the twilight playing tricks with his mind, or did she actually look hopeful that he might agree? He thought it over; a game of cards wasn’t a journalistic interview, and he needed to unwind.

“Maybe just one game.”

“Great,” Kim enthused. “I have a candle, too. I’ll get it.” She scampered off.

“A candle?” Nate arched his brow.

Carly laughed. “Well, we can’t exactly play by the light of the moon since there isn’t one tonight.”

“Good point.” They walked to the front of the shelter.

Kim met them with a lit candle, using her hand to shield the flame.

“Why do you think the front is fenced in like a half gate?” Kim asked about the shelter as Nate opened the gate for her and Carly.

Nate didn’t want to speculate, but he knew about recent bear sightings, and in the winter, porcupines made a nuisance of themselves. “Probably to keep out the animals.”

“But animals are everywhere,” Kim insisted. “It just seems sort of weird, is all.”

Two campers not from their group lay sound asleep, huddled in a far corner. Kim dribbled wax on an old boxlike crate to secure the candle. Carly dealt them each a hand. Even with the flickering light, it wasn’t easy to see the larger-than-usual numbers or colors of the cards, but Nate didn’t care. The two girls were chatterbugs when together, though they spoke in quiet murmurs so as not to awaken the other hikers. Nate enjoyed hearing more of Carly’s past when Kim asked her specific questions. From the little he remembered, Goosebury was a nice town. At least some small towns were nice.

Realizing the direction his thoughts had twisted, Nate pushed them to a back corner of his brain and concentrated on the good company. The lazy buzz of cicadas filled the night, and Kim rubbed her eyelids behind her glasses and yawned. “Well, that’s it for me. My eyes hurt, and I’m beat—though not at cards.” She laughed.

“That’s right, rub it in,” Carly joked.

“I’ll walk you to your tent.” The fence around the shelter bothered Nate more than he cared to let Kim and Carly know.

“You don’t have to.”

But Nate had already risen to his feet. Carly also stood.

“We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow. I think I’ll call it quits as well.”

Because Kim’s tent was closest, they dropped her off first.

“Keep the candle.” She handed it to Carly. “You can give it back tomorrow. It’s creepy without a moon. Dangerous, too.”

Wishing his slim flashlight wasn’t behind in his backpack, Nate walked with Carly to the tent she’d pitched farther down the line. They seemed to have run out of things to talk about, and Nate wondered if Carly also felt an odd stirring in the air, a sense of awkward anticipation. He shot her a sidelong glance.

She held the candle at shoulder level. The flame illumined her already exotic features, giving her an almost otherworldly glow. Nate held his breath at her beauty. All she needed was a beaded dress and studded headband to look the part of a real Native American princess.

She turned to face him as they reached her tent. Nate detected her uneasiness as she finally lifted the gaze of her huge, dark eyes to his. He could get lost in those eyes and not mind it one bit.

“Nate, I know we didn’t hit it off from the beginning, again my fault. But during this week of getting to know you, I’ve come to realize I do want your friendship. I can’t help but feel, what with the way you’ve been acting today, that I did something or said something to upset you at the inn. So, if I did, I’m sorry, and I’d like to be trail mates again.”

“Meaning no more veiled thoughts of pushing me into a creek?”

She grinned. “As long as you don’t hoist me up and dump me in it first.”

Nate couldn’t help but return her soft smile. “Carly.” He laid his fingers against the sleeve on her upper arm in a manner meant to reassure. “Just so you know, my behavior today had nothing to do with anything you’ve done. I’ve been going through some hard times, and last night brought it all back.”

Carly gave a nod. “I can understand that.” She moved the candle between them, her fingers almost touching his chest. “Any time you want to unload, I make a decent listener.”

“I’ll remember that.” His words came quietly, his mind spinning to another track. Standing so close to her, he felt connected. Her eyes drew him; her lips parted. If not for the chance of scorching his chin with the flame from her candle, he would have leaned forward to kiss her. Even more shocking, she looked as if she wanted him to.

He gave a slight shake of his head and retreated a step. “Well, I need to call it a night. Dawn will be here before you know it. So, uh. . .yeah, good night.”

“Do you need the candle?” Carly called after him.

“No, I can make it.”

Seconds later in the pitch dark, he stumbled over a tree root and fell flat on his hands and knees.

“You okay?”

At the worry in Carly’s voice, he hurried to his feet and brushed off his jeans. “Sure. I meant to do that.”

She giggled at his silly response, and Nate’s heart gave a light jump at the unexpected sound of her velvety laughter, but he continued his trek toward his tent. He wasn’t about to return to collect any candle, because this time he would give in and kiss her. And Nate had no idea how to handle this sudden, mind-boggling switch from thinly veiled hostility to open friendship. He’d wanted her friendship, sure, but nothing else. And as far as he knew, the powers that be hadn’t written a guidebook on the best defense against falling for another person.

Falling for another person. . .the thought almost made him trip again. No way was he falling for Carly. No way. . .

He readied for bed that night with more force than necessary, unzipping his sleeping bag so fast he felt grateful he hadn’t knocked the zipper off the metal teeth. Nate had come on this hike to get away from complications and to get in tune with God. Though the latter had brought results, the former still needed improvements.

He had no desire to start a romantic relationship.