by Leah Atwood
Tapping his phone, he made the call. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. She sent me to voicemail? No big deal—she must be busy. He left a message in case she’d want to go, anyway. Even if he went alone, he wouldn’t leave for another hour. No sooner had he hung up, his phone rang.
His heart lurched. “Hi, Amie.”
“Hey. I saw you calling and went to answer but accidentally hit ignore.”
Whew. It shouldn’t have mattered, but he felt better knowing she hadn’t purposely avoided his call. “Do you have any plans for today?”
“No. Aunt Sally is at her bridge club, followed by a planning meeting for the Fourth of July celebration. What’s up?”
“Want to hit Rodham Peak with me in an hour-ish?” Holding his breath, he prayed for a yes.
“Have you checked the weather? I thought it’s supposed to rain.”
He muttered under his breath all while admiring the sunshine pouring through the windows. “No.”
“I’m pulling it up on my tablet now.”
“What does it say?” He didn’t believe in superstitions, but he crossed his fingers out of habit.
“Twenty percent chance of rain until four, then it jumps to fifty percent. Storms, possibly severe, starting at seven.”
“A little rain never hurt anyone. If we take the moderate trail, we can be back by four.” He made a note to throw a rain parka in his backpack, even if he went by himself. Folded, it wouldn’t take up much space.
“I can be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Great. I’ll swing by to pick you up.”
The noise of her shuffling echoed over the line. “Did you eat lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Want me to pack some sandwiches?”
“That would be great.” He switched the phone to his other hand and grabbed several bottles of water from the fridge. “I’ll bring drinks.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a few.”
After the call had ended, he loaded the backpack with necessities. Water, a few protein bars because one never knew what might happen, two rain parkas, a flashlight, and a first aid kit. Chances of needing anything other than the water were slim, but he prided himself on preparedness.
He jumped in the shower to rid himself of the sweaty odors lingering from the work on the deck. At the very least, he needed to smell presentable before their hike. He dressed in a pair of olive cotton shorts and a graphic T-shirt he’d bought at the general store to support the local booster club. Once he pulled on his hiking boots, he leaned down to tighten the laces, only to have one break. He didn’t have an extra pair so adjusted the strings and left the top holes empty. Today’s hike wouldn’t be strenuous enough to notice the difference.
Forty minutes after calling Amie, he left the house. Her aunt’s house was so close, his truck barely had time to pick up speed before he pulled into the driveway. Amie waited for him at the door.
His breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful in a pink baseball t-shirt and cotton shorts. Her clunky boots shouldn’t have done anything for him, but he had a thing for women who knew their way around the outdoors. Her blond hair was pulled in a ponytail and covered by a ball cap that matched her shirt.
He put the truck in park but kept the engine running when he hopped out to greet her. “You look ready for a day in the woods.”
She patted her clothes, a shy smile indicating self-consciousness. “I look a mess.”
“Not even close.” He stole another appreciative glance before taking the bag she held. “I’ll add these to the rest of the gear.”
Amie kept quiet for the first ten minutes of the drive. Her entire demeanor had shifted since he’d called her earlier in the day.
“Are you okay,” he asked as he pulled onto the interstate.
“Tim called right after you did.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Is it safe to assume the conversation wasn’t pleasant?”
“More awkward, maybe?” The sound of a combined moan and sigh came from her. “What do you say to the man who essentially left you at the altar?”
“Was this the first you’ve heard from him since he left?” Man, he wanted to punch the guy in the throat for the pain and humiliation he inflicted upon Amie.
“Yes.” She fisted her hands and growled. “He’s an arrogant jerk.”
He didn’t know what to make of her visceral reaction. “What did he want?”
“At first, it was small talk. Honestly, I almost hung up on him several times.” Her eyes narrowed to a glower, and he wondered if she realized her facial expressions spoke volumes.
“I would have.” He’d done it to Claire several times when she’d called from a hidden number before he’d left New York. “But I’m not the most forgiving of people.”
She raised a doubtful brow but didn’t negate his self-assessment. “After several minutes, I finally asked him why he was calling. He had the nerve to tell me he was sorry. Like an apology will magically wipe away what he put me through.”
“So he called just to tell you he was sorry?”
Her head shook. “No. He asked if he were to shorten the length of his assignment to one year, would I be willing to wait for him.”
He whistled low, feeling the punch in his gut. “And?”
“I told him no. What else would I say?” She repeatedly clenched and opened her fists. “If I meant that much to him, he wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
“Or he could have realized what he walked away from and regrets that choice.”
“Maybe.” Her shoulders sagged.
“Do you think you should at least consider waiting for him?” Every word he said hurt, but his own wishes weren’t a consideration in her dilemma, and he didn’t want to sway her into a wrong decision.
“Whose side are you on?” Her bottom lip protruded, either from sulking or concentration.
“Yours, of course, but I don’t want you to make a rash decision you might regret one day.”
“Do you want me to go back to Tim?” The expression on her face held a blatant challenge.
“Not for a minute, but this isn’t about me.” Glancing out the side mirror, he put his blinker on and merged onto the exit ramp. “I want you to be happy. Obviously, you cared about this guy enough that you almost married him. Those feelings don’t turn off overnight.” Oh yes, they do, and I know that better than anyone.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I know my own heart. Since Tim left, I’ve had plenty of time for introspection, and I realize now my pride was hurt more than anything.” She pulled a mint from her purse and dropped it in her mouth. “With Tim, I mistook comfort for love, if that makes any sense.”
“It does.” His heart floated in the clouds, ecstatic to hear she didn’t love Tim. Whatever happened—if anything—between them, Amie deserved better than a man who didn’t make her a priority.
“He spent a few minutes convincing me to change my mind, but I stood resolute. Once he realized I’d meant what I’d said, he gave up. I asked him not to call again, at least not for a while.”
“A while?”
Wrinkles formed when she scrunched her nose. “I agreed to find a property manager for the house. Eventually, I’ll have to talk to him regarding that.”
“You have a good heart.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Dry laughter filled the cab. “I really wanted to tell him off, that I couldn’t care less, and it could go to foreclosure for all I care.”
“But you didn’t, though you would have been well within your rights.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Kindness is a curse.”
“Only for those who possess it.” He winked. “But I happen to know you don’t believe that. If you were ever purposefully mean to someone, you’d be miserable. Your conscience wouldn’t allow for it.”
She chuckled, and a smile lit her face. “Why do you have to know me so well?”
“Call it my gift.”
Five minutes late
r, they approached the trailhead for Rodham Peak. No other cars were parked. The potential threat of bad weather likely kept casual hikers away. Drew jumped from the truck and situated the pack on his back.
“Can I carry anything?” Amie asked, coming around to the driver’s side.
“I’ve got it.” He adjusted the straps. “Actually, can you check the glove compartment for insect repellant? It wouldn’t hurt to spray ourselves.”
“Sure thing.”
After prepping themselves against bugs, they walked through the line of shrubs blocking the parking area from the forest. Once past the entrance, the trail broke up into three paths—easy, moderate, and strenuous trails. Several decades ago, the park management system paved the majority of the easy path. The parts that were still dirt were cleared out and well worn, leaving few obstacles in the way. The strenuous path followed the steepest of climbs and lengths where the trail was barely visible or passable.
He’d always preferred the moderate trail. Good for exercise, plus relaxation. It followed a stream much of the way up the mountain, and there were several spots along the way with natural springs where one could stop and indulge in naturally cold, clean water.
Amie made the first mile of the hike without breaking a sweat. He wouldn’t draw attention to that by saying it aloud, but he admired her level of fitness. He considered himself in good shape, though he felt a sheen of perspiration on his own forehead.
Out of nowhere, Amie screamed. She jumped and grabbed hold of his arm, her nails dug into his bicep.
His stomach lurched in fear. “What is it?”
“S . . . sn . . . snake.”
Following the direction in which her finger pointed, he heard the snake before he saw it. A timber rattlesnake, the only venomous snake in these parts. Only several feet ahead of them, it coiled and presented itself as ready to strike. Something must have spooked it. They’d have to turn around for now. Unless the snake moved, there was no safe path past him on the trail, and he’d rather not go off the path and risk stepping on a hidden reptile.
Drew cut in front of Amie and spread his arms wide. Gluing his eyes to the snake, he whispered calmly, assuredly, to Amie. “Back up slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves or noise.”
“Okay,” she answered, her voice gasping for air.
The snake slithered closer, and his heart raced. He’d seen a rattler a time or two, but none that wanted to chase him like this one did. Behind him, Amie took small steps. The only audible sounds were those of the rattles on the snake and the crunching of dead leaves and pine needles under Amie’s foot.
“Keep going.” He looked back for a split second to give her an encouraging smile, then promptly pinned the snake with his gaze again.
“I’m scared.” The whispered cry tore his insides.
“Nothing to be afraid of. Most snakes prefer to stay away from people. All we have to do is get far enough away he doesn’t feel threatened anymore.”
He walked backward several feet, not allowing the snake out of his sight. Eventually, the snake stopped his approach. “Thank You, Lord.” Had Amie not spotted the creature, one of them could have been bitten. “I think we’re safe now, but turn around, keep walking and keep an eye out for any more. I’ll keep walking backward to make sure he doesn’t come close again.”
Amie’s breathing came hard and ragged. “I hate snakes.”
“Not many people are fans of them.”
Once they crossed a sharp bend on the trail, his confidence increased that they were out of any danger. He turned around and got a good look at Amie. Her creamy skin paled to a pasty white, and her pupils were dilated.
Reaching out, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She swallowed and nodded. “I have an irrational fear of snakes. It sounds silly since I love being outdoors, but they terrify me.”
“You hid it well when we were younger.”
“Only because we never saw one. As long as I don’t see them, I can pretend they don’t exist.” A shudder passed through her and vibrated his hand.
“What can I do?”
“I’ll be fine in a minute. You probably think I’m just a silly girl now.” She rolled her eyes, showing annoyance with herself.
“Not at all. I’ll admit, that rattler scared me too.” He scanned their environment, reassured to see no signs of reptiles or any wildlife. “It’s pretty rare to see one out and even more so to have it chase us. May have been protecting a nest.”
To his relief, Amie’s breathing returned to normal. “Should we continue our hike?”
He made a point of looking to the sky. Dark clouds moved eastward, pushing out the blue sky. “Let’s head home.”
“Sounds good.” She blew out a long breath. “Is there still that picnic area down the road? If the rain holds off, we can stop there since we haven’t eaten yet.”
“I haven’t heard of it closing. We can check it out.”
Chapter Nine
AREA CLOSED.
The large orange sign greeted them on the road, a mile past where they’d parked for the trail. The entire picnic area was cordoned off with orange cones.
Frowning, Amie glanced at Drew. “So much for that. What’s plan B?”
“Don’t you mean plan C?” His eyes crinkled with a smile. He slowed down and pulled off the road and onto the shoulder.
“I’m beginning to think we aren’t meant to eat lunch today.”
Drew shifted his waist and turned to look at her. “How hungry are you? I have an idea.”
“Not very. I had a late and heavy breakfast.”
“We can save the sandwiches for tomorrow, go home and change, then I’ll take you out to eat for a late lunch, early dinner.”
“Tippy’s does have a great special.” She could taste the meaty pot roast now with scratch made yeast rolls.
“I’m not talking about Tippy’s.” Drew’s features tightened into a serious expression.
She tilted her head. “Where were you thinking?”
“Something outside of Jasper Lake and more along the lines of a date.”
Her cheeks warmed, and the pitter-patter of her heart sent her back to her high school years. “A date?”
“You know, the thing two people go on when they want to know each other better, or want to spend time together.” His charming grin made it impossible to say no, even though she had no intentions of declining.
“I’d like that.”
“We can go to the Timber Mountain Inn,” Drew suggested.
The Timber Mountain Inn was a grand lodge that sat on the mountainside opposite the community of Jasper Lake, but its location offered a magnificent view of the lake. It offered several rooms for overnight guests, but its main attraction was the restaurant. She’d never patronized the restaurant on a date, but had gone with her family several times and thought it the perfect romantic location.
“Or anywhere else that suits you.” He stared at her waiting for an answer.
She realized she’d been lost in thought and had failed to answer. “I’d love to try Timber Mountain Inn.”
Putting the truck in gear, he proceeded to pull back onto the road. “We shouldn’t need dinner reservations this early in the day, but I’ll call regardless when we get back. We’re in prime tourist season, so you never know.”
“What time do you want to go?” The dashboard clock read two thirty. “Factoring in travel time to get home and change, I can be ready to go by three-thirty.”
“It’s set—I’ll pick you up then.”
Once she was home at Aunt Sally’s, she rewrote her note, updating it for the new plans. Aunt Sally didn’t hold her accountable for her whereabouts, but Amie believed it disrespectful to disappear for the evening without a word, and wouldn’t want her elderly aunt to worry.
She jogged upstairs and rummaged through her closet. Most of her clothes she’d brought were casual, few were dressy. Nothing she’d brought seemed appropriate for a date. What had she been
thinking? Granted, dating had been the last thing on her mind when she left Charlotte, but she should have been prepared for any occasion.
Five outfits covered her bed—the semifinalists. She took a turn holding each one up to her and examining her image in the mirror. Get a grip, Amie. Drew’s seen you at your worst. Look what you wore today, for crying out loud. He seemed to like your hiking outfit, actually.
She inhaled and kept the breath in her lungs until she couldn’t hold it any longer. Repeating the breathing exercise, calm entered her soul. She examined each outfit again and settled on the sapphire-blue capris with a fitted black top. After she had changed clothing, she sat at her dressing table and withdrew her neglected cosmetic bag from a drawer.
A few dabs of foundation, a swipe of blush, and an application of mascara. She’d only brought one tube of lipstick from Charlotte, and it was in her purse—she’d add a layer before Drew’s arrival. She returned to the closet to retrieve a pair of sandals, her favorite black slip-ons that were dainty but comfortable.
Ready for the date, she went downstairs to meet Drew, who should be arriving any minute. She found her way to the kitchen and poured a glass of water from the faucet. She drank every drop, not realizing how thirsty she’d become, likely from nervousness.
The yellow rose from the carnival caught her eye. It sat in a vase and still flourished, showing no signs of decay. She had doubts about involving herself deeper with Drew, but she accepted the rose’s longevity as a good sign.
She went to the living room and sat in an armchair while waiting for Drew. On the end table, next to her was a decorating magazine to which Aunt Sally held a subscription. Flipping through the pages, she absently made mental notes of a few décor ideas. When the doorbell rang, she startled, having been lost in her thoughts. She set aside her reading material and went to the door. Her stomach flip-flopped the entire way.
A drenched Drew stood on the other side. “The rain came.”
