Boys, Bears, and A Serious Pair of Hiking Boots

by Abby McDonald

  “She’s acting human?” I finish. “Nope, no idea. Maybe she finally decided to be mature about it.” We pause. “Or maybe she’s been taken over by aliens.” I offer a more likely scenario.

  “Either way, it’s wonderful.” Susie grins.

  I nod. A wonderful mystery.

  Inspired by the B and B’s first booking, I decide to stop waiting around for Ethan and take charge of the website project myself. He put up the basic Stillwater info and some maps, and we’ve added video footage of the fun activities available around here, but it could be so much more.

  “You could go horseback riding,” Fiona suggests through a mouthful of raw brownie mix.

  “I don’t know. . . .” I hop up on the kitchen cabinet and take a spoonful from the bowl. This time, the baking effort doesn’t seem to be a product of sheer rage, so I figure it’s safe for me to be around. “The stuff we’ve done so far has involved all this expensive equipment — the bikes, the kayaks, the fishing gear.”

  “What, so you want, like, a hike?” Fiona wrinkles her nose. “Thrilling.”

  “But it would be a way to get loads of photos of how beautiful it is around here.” I ponder, licking brownie mix off my wrist. Now that the idea is in my head, the more I like the plan of going out on another group trip. After all, it’s been four days since I last saw Reeve around town. . . . I catch myself, embarrassed, before I can take the thought any further. “Are there any good trails around?” I ask instead.

  “There’s the path up Mount Jacobs.”

  “A mountain?”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s only like, a big hill. But you get views all over the valley.”

  “Sounds perfect!” I brighten. “I’ll see if the guys want to do it, maybe tomorrow. I think Grady has the day off.”

  Fiona begins scraping what’s left of her mix onto a baking sheet. “I could maybe come too,” she says, not looking at me.

  I blink, surprised. “Umm, sure, that would be cool!”

  “But don’t expect me to carry anything.”

  We meet the next afternoon, equipped with juice, energy bars, a flashlight, and a cardigan — at least, I am. Grady and Fiona look at my bulging backpack with amusement, but I’m taking no chances out there in the forest again. Jeremiah B. Coombes would call me a doggone fool if I went out without proper supplies, and in my serious pair of hiking boots and sturdy shorts, I’m ready for anything.

  Almost.

  “All set?”

  I called to invite him, but Reeve’s arrival still catches me off guard. He slams his truck door and walks over, a water bottle still dripping in his hand. I try very hard not to notice the way his soft blue T-shirt brings out his eyes or how he’s slung his pack diagonally across his chest so it stretches the fabric taut and —

  “Yup!” I exclaim brightly, hoping my sunglasses hide my expression. “I think we’re just waiting for Ethan.” I glance around. Fiona is dressed in a cute red top for a change, her hair actually brushed, while Grady loiters a few feet from her, spinning his baseball cap on his fingertips. He looks up.

  “Didn’t he tell you? He has to watch the store today. Our parents are out of town for the weekend.”

  “Guess you drew the short straw,” Fiona says, like it’s a question.

  Grady shrugs, looking awkward. “I guess.”

  “OK then!” I say brightly. “Let’s get going!”

  We set out on foot along road that winds up out of town. Grady assured me it was a half-day hike at most, but I’m not so sure: the peak of Mount Jacobs rises from the valley, blanketed by the same thick forest that stretches all the way down to the lake. It looks pretty far to me.

  “Hey.” Reeve falls into step beside me, Fiona and Grady lingering behind.

  “Hi,” I say. Eloquent, I know, but it seems like Reeve is feeling just as talkative. We fall into a companionable silence for a while, walking in the shadows of the forest, with sunlight falling through the tall pine trees. The air is hot and close, and soon I peel off my cardigan, tying it around my waist.

  “I hope it doesn’t storm later.” Reeve looks up at the clear, blue sky. I laugh.

  “Seriously? It hasn’t rained all week.”

  “Exactly.” He gives me that half smile of his, the one that only curls his lips at the edges. The one that makes me shiver. “They can creep up on you.”

  “Oh . . .” I fall silent again, unable to think of a single interesting thing to say. I stifle a sigh instead. It didn’t used to be like this, I know: I was getting comfortable around him, just hanging out like I do with Ethan. But now? Even mustering a basic sentence seems fraught with peril.

  “So, uh, how are things with the B and B? It was looking good today.”

  “Yes!” I quickly fill him in with the good news about the booking. “That reminds me . . .” I pull out my camera and take a few shots of the surrounding forest. And then I casually snap some of Reeve, too. I need to give Olivia as much visual evidence as possible when I talk about him, I figure. If I ever get her on the phone, that is.

  Reeve puts his hands in his pockets and looks away awkwardly, but once I tuck the camera away, he glances at me again. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be into helping out with the tourism project,” he says casually, kicking a rock along the road. “I mean, isn’t that what you’re against?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, tourists damaging the perfect, natural wilderness,” he says. “All those cars, with their bad, bad gas fumes . . .”

  “Hey!” I get that he’s teasing me.

  “What? That’s your thing, right — environmentalism?”

  I shrug, snatching a leaf from a branch as I pass. I begin to tear it into strips. “Well, yes, but not when you put it like that.”

  “So how would you put it?” Reeve’s tone is still light, but I get the feeling there’s more under the question than he’s letting on.

  I carefully consider my reply. This was a touchy subject with us from the start, and if this is some kind of test, I desperately want to pass it.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with letting people know how beautiful it is here, and we’re doing things to be eco-friendly, like recycling.” My big ideas for expensive renovations may have been unrealistic, but there have been plenty of small things to keep the impact low. “I mean, the B and B gets guests, there’s more trade in town — everyone wins. Although, I’d prefer it if they didn’t drive cross-country in a huge SUV,” I can’t help from adding.

  He chuckles, and I slowly let out a sigh of relief.

  Soon, we veer off-road, into the forest at the base of the mountain. The terrain is too steep to just hike straight up, so we follow a broad zigzag of a trail, walking diagonally across the width of the peak before crossing back, a little higher every pass. By the time we stop for a rest about halfway up, my thighs are aching and I’m sweating hard.

  “Just a large hill?” I tell Fiona, taking a gulp of juice.

  Somehow, she’s barely out of breath. “Suck it up.”

  “Nice.” I pause, walking to the edge of the clearing. The valley stretches as far as I can see, Stillwater nothing but a small collection of tiny buildings and the thin thread of Main Street snaking out toward the wider ribbon of highway. I feel very small.

  “That’s Blue Ridge up there.” Reeve points at a collection of faux-log buildings, looming over the top of a far ridge. “They built a whole new road off the highway, just to get construction materials up there.”

  I carefully lift the video camera from my pack and slowly pan out, away from the ugly resort. Wispy clouds are drifting across the sky, and I swear, the air feels even crisper up here. “Act nice for the camera, Fiona!” I turn to her, but she covers her face with her hands.

  “Don’t point that thing at me!” She backs away. “I told you: I don’t want — argh!” She lets out a sudden cry as she trips and tumbles heavily to the ground.

  “Graceful!” I giggle at her mishap, but she doesn’t g
et up. Instead, Fiona stays folded on the ground, nursing her ankle.

  “Thanks a lot, I bet it’s broken.”

  “Oh, no, really?” I lower the camera and start to move toward her, but Grady gets there first.

  “Does this hurt?” he asks, crouching down by her and pressing around the edge of her sneaker.

  “No, it doesn — OWW!” Fiona cries out. “God, are you all trying to kill me?”

  “It’s not broken,” he reports. “Maybe just bruised, or a sprain?”

  “Just? It hurts like hell!”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

  Reeve looks at her, concerned. “What do you want to do? Wait here a while until it feels better?”

  “We can rest as long as you need to.” I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Fiona shakes it off and presses her foot back to the ground, testing the weight for a split second. Then she sighs dramatically.

  “No, I don’t think I’m up to it.”

  “You want to go back?” Grady asks, still crouching beside her.

  “I think so. Slowly.” Taking his arm, Fiona maneuvers herself onto a nearby boulder. “But you guys don’t have to quit.” She looks over at me and Reeve. “You should keep going.”

  “No way,” I tell her. “We’re not letting you off on your own — we have rules, remember?”

  “I can go with her,” Grady says immediately. “You two finish the hike.”

  “No, it’s OK,” I tell him. “We can all —”

  “But you wanted the view!” Fiona insists. “You’re almost there. It would suck to turn back now.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s . . .” Then I pause. She’s giving me a particularly meaningful look, but I can’t figure out what she wants. Unless . . .

  Seriously?

  I look from her to Grady and back again. He’s waiting, restless, by the boulder, while Fiona doesn’t seem to be in pain at all anymore. But she does seem pretty eager to head off down the trail with Grady. Alone.

  And just like that, her recent thaw begins to make total sense. I bite my lip to hide my smile as I watch them awkwardly avoid eye contact. I hoped maybe that fight we had made a difference because, deep down, she cared about our feelings, but it turns out there’s one person whose feelings she definitely cares about: Grady’s. Just how long has this been going on?

  “I’ll be fine,” Fiona says again, taking Grady’s arm and pulling herself to a standing position. She leans heavily against him, one of his arms around her shoulder. “Grady can take me home, and you and Reeve make it to the top. Right, Reeve?”

  He looks at us all, clearly confused. “Sure, but I mean —”

  “Then it’s settled,” Fiona declares. I swear I see a satisfied smile.

  We split the packs and remaining water, and soon she and Grady are heading slowly back down the trail.

  “I guess it’s down to us.”

  I turn back to find Reeve waiting for me. “I guess so.”

  By the time we clear the tree line and make it up the final stretch of trail, I’m dead. No, really. My limbs are practically numb with exhaustion, every breath is a chore, and I figure that the only way I’m still managing to put one heavy foot in front of the other is if I’ve died and this is my zombified self plodding along.

  Man, I need to exercise more.

  I’m so busy staring down at the path in front of me that I only realize we’ve reached the top when Reeve stops walking. I look up to find that we’re in a small clearing littered with shrubbery and grasses. Above us, there’s nothing but impassable rock all the way to the real summit, but on my left, the cliff falls away.

  “There.” Reeve grins proudly. “Worth it, don’t you think?”

  I look out across the valley. He’s right. For a moment, I can forget all my aches and pains. It’s utterly breathtaking. A dark green blanket of trees, gray mountains under the gray mist of cloud, even . . . “Is that snow?” I squint at the far mountain peaks.

  Reeve gulps from his water bottle, then wipes the top with his shirt before passing it to me. He nods. “Some ranges never melt. The Rockies go too high; it doesn’t matter if it’s baking down in the valleys.”

  “Wow.” I can’t believe how far the horizon stretches. I get out the camera and begin filming, shivering slightly.

  “You need a sweater?” Reeve asks.

  “Hmm? Oh, no, I’ve got one.” As I pull my cardigan on again, a small splatter of rain begins to fall. I turn my face up to the clouds, the water cool relief on my sweaty skin.

  He looks around. “We better take cover for a while.”

  I laugh. “It’s just a little rain.” At that, a boom of thunder rings over the valley. “Or not.”

  “Come on.” Reeve points across to the far side of the clearing, where a small wooden hut is almost hidden in the trees.

  “This is where you say ‘I told you so,’ right?” I joke, as we dash toward the shelter.

  “Yup!” Reeve laughs. He waits for me to get inside before ducking in after me.

  “Inside” is kind of an exaggeration, I find. The hut is nothing but a roof and three walls, perched back from the edge of the cliff. The ground is basic concrete, covered in dirt and a couple of food wrappers some other, less careful hikers must have left behind. Reeve kicks them aside and sits down against the back wall as the rain and winds howl away outside the open front.

  I join him, gladly sliding off my feet. “Oh, my . . .” I sigh, loosening my boots. It’s no warmer in here, but at least the wind isn’t whipping around us. “What is this place?”

  “Emergency shelter.” Reeve shifts to get comfortable on the hard ground. “All the peaks have them around here, for snowstorms mainly.”

  “People climb these things in the snow?”

  He chuckles. “I didn’t say it was a good idea.”

  We sit in silence for a while, the rain thrumming steadily on the roof. The vista outside that had been so clear is now completely opaque. With the world shrouded in clouds outside, it feels like we’re the last two people left in the world. I rummage in my pack for an energy bar and wordlessly offer Reeve half. He takes it with a nod, and we sit, watching the rain fall in thick sheets. A flash of lightning streaks through the sky, with another rumble of thunder sounding out right away.

  The storm must be on top of us.

  “Are we safe in here?” I ask, nervous.

  “Safer in here than out there,” he reassures me, but it’s only after a minute I realize that doesn’t quite answer my question. “Are you scared?”

  “Of the storm? No.” I elbow him lightly. “I’m not that pathetic.”

  Reeve gives me a brief smile. “Sorry.”

  “I usually like them — storms, I mean. All the noise and wind . . .” I flinch as another flash of lightning illuminates the valley, and hug my arms tight around my body. “But I’m usually snug inside with four solid walls between me and all that out there.” As I talk, Reeve seems more distracted, looking outside at the pouring rain until finally, he cuts me off.

  “Wait a sec. I need to check something out.” He stands, silhouetted in the open entrance for a moment, and then disappears back the way we came, toward the trail.

  “Reeve?” I leap up and call after him, but I soon lose sight of him in the trees. I panic for a moment, wondering if he’s left me here, before remembering his patience up on that climbing trip. Reeve isn’t the kind of guy to just bail.

  I wait, shivering, until he reappears a couple of minutes later, drenched and dripping from the storm.

  “We need to get going,” he tells me, looking worried. He was only out a short time, but his sweatshirt is already soaked through.

  “What, in this?” I protest. “It’s still thundering out there.”

  “I know, but the trail is already way too muddy.” He reaches for his pack and reties his boots. “All the water is just streaming down that path, and it’s getting darker out. If we wait much longer, we’ll be trapped here all night.”

  For a
split second, the idea of being stranded on a mountaintop with Reeve has a kind of romantic allure. Then I remember that I’m cold and damp and hungry. “OK, let’s make a run for it.”

  “No running,” Reeve tells me, his voice low and serious. “You could skid and break your neck. Seriously, Jenna, you’ve got to be really careful out there.”

  I nod, chastened, and brace myself to follow him.

  The minute I step outside, I’m hit by the noise. Not just the thunder, which still rings out occasionally, but the sound of the rain itself, beating down on every rock and tree branch in a loud drumming that makes it hard to hear a thing. I’m small and insignificant in the huge, gray world. Despite what I told Reeve, I begin to feel scared.

  We should have gone back with Fiona and Grady.

  “Watch your step!” Reeve yells at me. I start down the trail after him, trying to follow his route exactly as he picks his way through the perilous mud and streams of water gushing down what used to be the plain dirt path. In minutes, my thin cardigan is soaked through, water trickling down my back and the rain freezing my bare legs. I grit my teeth and keep moving.

  We manage to keep up a quick enough pace: something less than jogging but faster than a walk. The steep incline that caused my thighs so much grief on the way up now makes just as many problems as I skid and slip down, trying to keep my balance. Five minutes stretches into ten, and then twenty. The ground begins to level out as we descend into the main forest, but my skin is numb from the cold, and even these supposedly waterproof boots of mine are beginning to squelch around the toes.

  I wish I were anywhere but here.

  “You OK?” Reeve pauses to glance back at me. I can only imagine what I look like, hair plastered to my cheeks and teeth chattering. I nod, determined not to show how truly miserable I am, and plunge onward past him. Focus on warmth, I tell myself. Long bubble baths. Hot chocolate. Soup. Anything soft and dry and —

  Suddenly Reeve yanks me back, his hand gripping my arm hard.