Once Upon A Road Trip

by Angela N. Blount

  “What, now?” Zak reappeared in the doorway.

  “You’re going to give me a tour of the Canadian Shield. Just as soon as I get dressed for hiking,” Angie informed him. When she was met with Zak’s puzzled stare, she got up and headed down the hall.

  “Wear something light! It’s sweltering out there.” Eve called after her.

  Donning a pair of shorts and a pale green halter top, Angie made her way back down the staircase several minutes later. To her surprise, Zak was at the bottom of the steps waiting for her. He’d changed into a blue polo shirt and khaki pants, looking ready to leave.

  “Whoa,” he murmured in surprise, looking her over. “I think I’m overdressed.”

  Angie froze on the second to last step and glanced down self-consciously. “Was this a bad choice? I don’t normally go hiking.” She gave herself a half turn in preparation to dart back up the stairs. “I never wear shorts. This is like my only pair,” she added, attempting to sound less defensive than she felt.

  “Why not?” Zak gave her a look of confusion. “You’d be doing the world a favor.”

  “Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes, shrugging off his remark. “I was in a car accident when I was twelve—I got knocked off my bike and my legs were run over by a pickup truck. I had tread mark-shaped bruising for weeks. They’ve been a little messed up ever since,” she explained. Bending, she patted her left knee to indicate the nickel-sized scar she bore as lasting evidence. “I still can’t feel anything to the left of this kneecap.” She expected Zak to join with the majority of people she’d ever mentioned this to and declare disbelief. Instead, he gave a slight wince and ventured an assessing sweep of her legs.

  “Well, they look fine to me. You should let them out more.” His brow furrowed then as he seemed to reconsider his choice of words. Angie thought she caught a flash of embarrassment before he cleared his throat, turned, and strode toward the front door. “Let’s get going before it gets any warmer out, eh?”

  Angie stared after him for a bewildered moment. Was he just flirting with me? She’d never been much good at picking up on that sort of thing. Even if he had been, did it mean anything—? Probably not, she decided. She stepped down and around the banister.

  “Just a sec. I want to say goodbye to your sister in case she’s gone by the time we get back,” she called over her shoulder, following the sounds of conversation between Cathy and Eve back into the dining area. Considering how engaged they were in talking, Angie was sure they hadn’t overheard the awkward moment between her and Zak.

  That was a relief, at least.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Half an hour into Quebec, tall buildings gave way to forested hills and minimal civilization. Save for offering basic directions as they approached turns, Zak kept to himself.

  He eventually directed Angie down a road that sent them winding around a deep mountain lake. Much of the terrain surrounding the clear, glittering water was made up of steeply angled shale and granite, with the occasional bit of vegetation clinging to the near-vertical surfaces. Several minutes beyond this, they arrived at a small gravel lot that proclaimed itself — in both French and English — to be the start of a nature trail.

  With the sun at its highest point, the shade of the rugged walking trail was a welcome reprieve. Zak set a leisurely pace along one of the least demanding routes. Less than a mile in, they reached the flat clearing of a precipice overlooking a vast swath of the Quebecian countryside. The view was like nothing Angie had ever seen.

  Well below them at the base of the mountain range, the forests and grasslands stretched out for miles with only gently sloping terrain. The vista made it appear as if they were situated on a hilly plateau overlooking the rest of the visible world. To their right, one long, continuous cliff face had been carved out of the landscape into a gently curving backward C shape.

  “That’s…the Shield?” Angie asked, once she found her voice.

  Zak stood off to her left with his arms folded, surveying the landscape with a pensive smirk suggesting he was proud to be showing off the sight. He looked to her and nodded. “Nice view, eh?”

  “It’s incredible,” Angie agreed, still genuinely in awe.

  Their trek back to the parking area was over a mile long as they completed the trail circuit, but it was well worth the effort in Angie’s mind. The scenic overlook had given her the same sensation as being up close to Niagara Falls, but without the bitter aftertaste of solitude. She’d had an pleasant companion to share the experience with, and there was something profoundly validating about that.

  It doesn’t hurt that I could really like having this guy around. She had to admit that much to herself.

  Zak directed her onto a rural road, where she noticed the occasional weathered cabin cropping up behind the tree line. A handful of aged but well-kept buildings clustered around an intersection ahead, and Zak motioned to a dirt lot in front of a small storefront. Angie glanced around at the little shops as she parked — all constructed out of raw logs and planks to give the impression of a French village with rustic influences. The overhead signs were in French, which didn’t help to orient her.

  Stepping out of the car, she caught the smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries pouring out of the open door directly in front of them. The sign overhead was fashioned from wood with elegant lettering. The background was darkened by charring, which caused the name to stand out: La Boulangerie.

  “Bakery?” Angie guessed, looking across her car’s roof to Zak as he got out.

  “Yep.” He gave an easy smile. “I’m not real hungry yet, but I thought we could grab a few things and go walk around.”

  “I like this plan.”

  As divine as she found the enveloping smells, the sound of water slapping against stone drew her attention to the village square behind them. “Photo op!” she announced, noting a trio of other visitors standing around a fountain exchanging cameras. “Come on. I don’t have any pictures of both of us yet.” She motioned for Zak to follow her and she jogged over to the fountain before the tourists moved on.

  Handing off her camera to an affable old man, Angie backed up to stand in front of the three-tiered, circular construct of gray stone and flowing water. Zak caught up and moved to her right, standing so close their shoulders brushed. While the older man sized them up with the camera, Zak casually wrapped an arm around her. She caught her breath in surprise. Unsure what to make of his proximity, she forced herself not to move until the picture was over with.

  Still nonchalant, Zak withdrew his arm and stood by while she retrieved the camera and thanked the man.

  Angie stole a quick glance at Zak, but he was already heading back toward the bakery. Don’t read into it. She had to guess the gesture was nothing more than friendly. To assume otherwise would be unwise — if not wishful thinking — on her part. She wasn’t about to do that to herself.

  Zak tilted his head to one side as they approached the back of her car. “Normal people worry me?” He glanced her way, a single dark brow arched.

  Angie let out a short laugh as she realized he was reading her bumper stickers. “‘Normal’ is such a socially skewed term.”

  “I love dorks,” Zak went on, nodding in approval. “All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost.” He smirked at the J.R.R. Tolkien quote and shifted his gaze her way. “That one fits you.”

  “I hope so.” Angie smiled in cautious satisfaction. She wanted to ask him which part he considered most befitting, but quickly thought better of it. “I tried to express my personality in a thought-provoking, but minimally offensive way. That happens to be a real challenge when you have an abrasive personality.”

  “I don’t think you’re abrasive,” Zak said, flashing an amused smile.

  Angie’s stomach skipped a beat. “Only because I’ve been on my best behavior.” She managed a factual tone, looking to the back of her car to keep herself from staring at him.

  Okay, get a grip.

  The ins
ide of the bakery was stifling. Cramped and unadorned, there was barely enough standing room for six people between the door and the cash register. Display cases on either side of the central counter showed off rows of pastries to the right, and crowded shelves filled with rolls and loaves to the left. A young blonde girl manned the cash register while a squat, older woman went bustling back and forth between the front cases and the ovens behind her. Angie counted three oscillating fans, one making sweeps of the standing area, and the other two presumably making conditions in the back more bearable.

  “So what’s good here?” she asked Zak, who seemed to be engrossed with the piles of fresh bread.

  “Everything.” He motioned toward the more dessert-oriented display. “Pick yourself a few of anything you’d like to try. Go nuts.”

  While Zak struggled through his French vocabulary in giving instruction to the older woman, Angie shifted herself over to survey the delicacies. The younger girl behind the counter smiled and patiently ran a pair of tongs over each row as Angie pointed out three different sweets that caught her eye. She had no idea what they were, but if they tasted half as good as they looked, she wouldn’t be disappointed.

  The cashier placed the goodies in a white paper bag and set them on the central counter, where they joined the three wrapped loaves Zak had picked out.

  “I got it,” Zak said, stepping to the cash register with an open wallet. “I had to get extra for my mom and my sister, anyway. They love this bread.”

  Angie wasn’t sure if he was using courtesy to his family to cover for his continued habit of paying for her, but she decided not to protest his generosity.

  What she -was- fairly certain about was that their doe-eyed cashier, who she guessed to be around the age of fifteen, was taking every opportunity to stare at Zak while she rang up his purchases. Zak didn’t seem to notice.

  Angie couldn’t blame the girl. It was almost as though he possessed his own gravitational pull. The fact that he seemed completely unaware of this only compounded the effect — so much so that she’d already caught herself unconsciously leaning toward him on more than one occasion. To her it was an unfamiliar phenomenon, this unnervingly literal take on the term “physical attraction.” She’d been hesitant to acknowledge it, but the effect was becoming impossible to ignore.

  “Merci,” Zak thanked with a nod. He grabbed up the bread loaves and headed for the door while the cashier followed him with her eyes.

  Angie thought the girl looked ready to swoon over the fact that he’d spoken to her. Suppressing a chuckle, she grabbed up her small bag of sweets and followed Zak out.

  Leaving two of the bags of bread in the car, they made their way across the tiny village to a dirt path that wove its way into the forest. They walked side by side, with Zak passively leading the way. Soon the trees became widely spaced, permitting countless shafts of sunlight to breach the canopy and illuminate the mossy ground.

  Angie thought of the woods behind her house, where she’d often wandered as a child. As calming as their shady depths had been at the time, the image of steeply knifing ravines with their thick carpeting of dead leaves paled in comparison to this. She looked to Zak, though he was ever intent on monitoring the trail ahead of them. The silence between them was a natural one, and she was surprised when he was the one to break it.

  “Here,” Zak said as the forest around them gave way to a clearing. “This place is really old. Eighteen hundreds, I think.” He pointed ahead several meters to a framing line of decaying iron fence before wading into the tall grass.

  Angie followed after him, curiously surveying the meadow. Toward the middle of the clearing the greenery was studded with rounded stones of varying sizes — none more than a foot and a half in diameter. As they drew closer she noticed their spacing was oddly regular. By the time she’d become certain of the intelligent arrangement, the purpose of the place dawned on her. She stopped in her tracks several feet away from the first row of overgrown markers.

  “It’s…a cemetery?”

  Several paces ahead, Zak came to a halt and turned back to her with a vague look of concern. “Yeah. I mean…you’re okay with that, right? Not too creepy in the middle of the day?” He formed a dubious smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s been a good century since they added any new residents.”

  “No, not creepy.” Angie laughed, deciding she wouldn’t have to conceal the fascination she already had with the place. She made her way down one of the rows, searching for discernible markings that might still remain etched into the headstones. “I’ve just never seen a cemetery that was so…I don’t know. Pretty?”

  “Peaceful?” Zak volunteered, slipping his free hand into the front pocket of his khakis. He stood by, casting a sweeping gaze out across the meadow.

  “Peaceful.” She nodded in agreement. The small graveyard was unlike any she’d ever visited. In spite of its purpose, there was no sense of foreboding or rigid order. The forgotten quietness was more charming than disconcerting.

  Angie stooped to brush away caked dirt and other debris from the worn face of one of the basketball-sized stones. The shape of a dove was still visible carved into the upper portion, and half of the name below the year. She moved on to the next stone. “1828 to 1834… 1826 to 1833… 1830 to 1834.” She spoke the dates aloud to herself at first. In a tentative tone, she finally shared her suspicion. “Zak…I think it’s a children’s cemetery.”

  “Take off. …Really?” He breathed out, a look of intrigue lighting his features. He walked several dozen yards off to the farthest row of stones and began his own investigation. After several minutes he seemed convinced. “I don’t see any that made it to twelve.” He frowned. “I remember hearing something about a cholera outbreak in my Canadian history class. That would probably explain why most of them were put here within the same year or two.”

  “That makes sense. How sad…” Angie murmured, though the words were more obligatory than heartfelt. The idea of so many children being buried here was certainly dismal, but cemetery itself didn’t evoke any sadness in her. For whatever reason, she felt just as tranquil as she had before the revelation.

  “I keep thinking I should feel worse about it, you know?” Zak said, looking conflicted. “I mean, it’s horrible all of these kids died before they had a chance—even if it was a really long time ago. Is it weird that I always liked it here?”

  Angie gave Zak a reassuring smile. “I don’t think it’s weird. Like you said…it was a long time ago.”

  If anything, we’re both weird. And that’s just fine with me.

  Zak gave an absent nod and turned, motioning for her to follow him. Across the cemetery the path resumed, taking them deeper into the forest. Angie gave him some time to his thoughts before making an attempt at lightening the mood.

  “Are we going to eat that, or are you using it to leave a trail once we find the gingerbread house?” she joked, pointing to the bread loaf he’d been carrying in the crook of his elbow.

  “We’re almost there.” Zak glanced her way, smirking.

  Ahead, the gurgling sound of moving water grew to fill the air just before the forest floor yielded to the broad banks of a creek bed. Clear and fast-moving, the water surged over rounded chunks of sandstone and slapped at the ferns that encroached along its borders. An old wooden bridge arched over the creek, connecting the paths on either side. When Angie started toward it, Zak held out his arm in a staying motion.

  “Hang on, I’ll go first.” He stepped forward as he spoke, cautiously testing his weight over small sections of the weathered planking.

  Angie held back, idly considering methods of rescue in the event he fell through into the water. Not that she thought he’d actually need rescuing. From studying his movements more intently, she had the distinct impression he was prepared to spring out of his relaxed demeanor at a moment’s notice. Something about the broadness of his shoulders and the taut movement of the muscles along his back made her want to shiver, in spite of the heat of
the day.

  Oh, good grief. Down girl.

  She shook her head slightly to clear it.

  By then, Zak had reached the middle of the bridge and turned toward the railing. He eased into a crouch and then sat down, allowing his legs to dangle over the water. “It’s fine. Come on,” he called, waving to her.

  Angie made her way out to join him, careful to follow close to the route he’d taken. The boards complained at her weight, but none threatened to give way. Dropping down to sit, she settled herself as close to him as she dared while keeping her gaze on the creek below.

  Zak slid the bread out of its bag and broke the loaf in half, handing one portion to her. He pinched off a crusty piece of his own half and ate it, brushing the crumbs off his knee. The moment the sprinkle of bread bits touched the water, a swarm of minnows darted to the surface to claim them.

  “Do you think those kids are in a good place? Like, heaven, I mean...” Zak voiced what had apparently been weighing on his mind. He turned his head aside and his dark eyes assessed her. His expression was enigmatic, but his tone carried a distant air of concern.

  “Yeah. I do.” Angie answered with certain ease, giving him a reassuring smile. “No reason to think anything else.”

  “Maybe that’s why it feels okay to be there.” Zak went on, making short work of his remaining bread. He brushed his lap clean and used his arms to prop himself up as he lounged back, staring up at the sky where the canopy parted. “I don’t know much about all of that afterlife stuff... easier not to think about it. But I figure somebody like you must know how it works.”