Persuaded

by Rachel Schurig

  I followed his pointing finger out to the setting sun. Sure enough, the dark grey clouds were lighting up with pink and purple streaks, as if the entire sky was catching fire. But then, the storm clouds rolled overhead, faster and faster, heading to the horizon to block out the sun.

  “Just a few more minutes,” I muttered, holding my breath.

  “Come on, sun,” Rick said. “Do your thing.”

  The first drop hit the top of my head before the last word left his mouth. We looked at each other, a feeling of anticipation tangible in the air. “I don’t think it’s going to make it—”

  And then, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent of rain that pounded down on my head and shoulders like stinging needles. Another crack of thunder shook the air, and I let out a squeal, drenched within seconds.

  “Holy shit!” Rick cried, laughing. “This is mad!”

  A gust of wind sent his hair sticking nearly straight up on his head, and he actually took a step back against the gale. Then we were laughing, both of us, and running toward the long porch. “Come on!” he cried as a cushion blew off the patio furniture and came straight for us. “Hurry!”

  “I’m in flip flops!” I yelled back, the rain getting in my mouth and my eyes, making it impossible to see. I felt a hand cover mine, enveloping it, pulling me forward. I didn’t question it, didn’t let myself even think about the fact that Rick was touching me. Instead, I just squeezed back and let him pull me across the grounds and through the rain.

  Finally, under the cover of the porch, Rick released my hand, and I bent over, hands on my knees, to catch my breath. I looked up at him and immediately cracked up all over again. “You’re soaked!”

  “Oh, you’re one to talk, miss!” He reached out and grabbed a clump of my tangled hair, wringing it out and causing a mini waterfall to pour over my shoulders. I laughed and shook my head like a retriever, letting the water spray off onto him, making him squeal.

  “You sound like a little girl,” I cried, laughing harder.

  “Listen to this abuse!” He grabbed my shoulder, steadying himself so he could pull off his sneaker. A stream of water fell to the porch. “It’s like we jumped in the ocean or something! I thought this was a desert!”

  His face was only inches from mine as he used my shoulder for balance, close enough that I could see the beads of water clinging to his nose, his eyelashes. His eyes, usually so dark, were alight with laughter now. His T-shirt was clinging to his shoulders with the water, tight enough for me to make out each and every plane of his chest.

  I realized, with a start, that I wasn’t laughing anymore. And neither was Rick.

  “Annabelle.”

  He didn’t say another word, just stared down at me, the laughter slowly fading from his eyes. He was close enough that I could have leaned forward and found my head on his chest, in that space below his shoulder that I had always loved so much. Over the mad swirling of my thoughts, I wondered vaguely if my head would fit there the way it used to.

  “There you are!” my dad cried behind us, making me jump. “I saw that rain come in, and I thought you might have gotten stuck—” he stopped suddenly as we both turned in unison. “Rick? Is that you?”

  “Mr. Elliot,” Rick replied, his voice slightly shaking. “It’s good to see you. I thought I might come out and see the canyon with you both, if it’s not an imposition.”

  “Of course not!” My dad sounded pleased to see him, and I took the opportunity to get my breathing under control. I had just come very close to doing a very, very stupid thing. I needed to get myself together if I was going to spend the rest of the weekend with Rick in such close proximity.

  Luckily, my dad stepped in, taking control of the situation. “You should both get in here, get dried off. Rick, Annabelle and I were going to eat at the restaurant. You should join us.”

  His eyes flicked to my face briefly before he responded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good, good,” my dad said, gesturing to the door behind him. “Come on, let’s get you dry.”

  I followed them into the hotel, feeling bad for the water we were dripping everywhere. I briefly considered sending my dad up for towels but realized that would leave me alone with Rick, a thought that both excited and terrified me.

  You have to get ahold of yourself.

  But I couldn’t get the image of his face out of my mind, so close to mine. His eyes trained on my lips. His eyes dark with some unknown emotion.

  You’re reading too much into it, I thought. Making up expressions you wished you had seen. Another image of his face flashed through my mind, this time glaring at me over the table at the Harvilles. He’s never forgiven you, Annabelle. One little rainstorm isn’t going to change that.

  I knew I was right, knew that Rick and I had traveled much too far from each other to ever have a hope of getting back to where we’d been. But then—why had he come? Why had he come all this way to spend the weekend when he knew I was going to be here, too?

  That didn’t sound like the actions of a man who hated me. Did it?

  ***

  It may have been the strangest dinner of my life. Rick and my dad did most of the talking; I was surprised to find that Rick remembered the name of just about everyone who had worked in the shop that summer. My dad filled him in on what the guys had been up to, and on what he himself had been up to. The shop was doing well, better than it ever had. After my summer of working there, I had insisted he hire a full-time bookkeeper, and that seemed to have put an end to most of the problems. He had even weathered the recent economic downturn without much trouble.

  Rick, in turn, answered all of my dad’s questions about what had kept him busy over the last ten years. It was hard to hear, at first, how he had gone straight to Madrid, the way we had planned. But he didn’t shoot me any pointed glances—just laughingly told stories about how he had drunk his way around most of Spain, too drunk to remember much of anything.

  Unlike the conversation at the Harvilles, this didn’t feel like a dig to me. There was no hidden subtext, no underlying anger. It just felt like…talking. Like old friends catching up.

  I had no idea what to make of it.

  I found myself feeling increasingly worried as the end of dinner approached. My dad had been shooting me curious glances throughout the meal, probably in response to my lack of contribution to the discussion. I could see him making himself scarce, giving us a chance to talk on our own. And I had no idea what I would say to Rick in that situation. I’d spent too much time thinking about him since arriving at the resort that morning, had danced way too close to several forbidden topics in my mind. What if I did something stupid—like tell him what I had been thinking about?

  I worried for nothing. After Rick paid the bill—insisting on treating us—he stretched and told us he was beat. “I think I’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

  My dad slapped him on the back. “You better get your hiking shoes out, son. My daughter over there is pretty ruthless when you put her on a trail.”

  Rick’s eyes met mine. They were dark, and I couldn’t read the expression there. “I have some experience with that, actually.”

  Before I could form a coherent thought, he smiled at my dad, nodded in my general direction, and turned to the door of the restaurant.

  We watched him go, neither one of us speaking. Finally, my dad turned to me. “Annabelle, sweetie—whatever happened between the two of you?”

  I rolled my eyes, feeling for all the world like an embarrassed, annoyed teenager again. “Dad.”

  “What? I’m just asking. You seemed to get on so well. And then he just left, and I never heard you mention him again.”

  “I so don’t want to talk about this.”

  “I was surprised when I saw him in Emma’s office—you never said a word about seeing him again, let alone that you were working with him.”

  “Because it was no big deal, Daddy. Like you said, it was just work.”

  He watched me for a long
moment, his eyes scanning my face—which was beginning to color in embarrassment. Finally, he turned away, but not before I saw a smirk break out across his face. “No big deal. Right. If you say so.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rick had been right about needing sleep. We were up before sunlight to make the trip to the canyon. Since we were hiking below the rim, we needed an early start so as not to get stuck on the hardest part of the trail during the hottest part of the day. I felt half asleep as my dad and I made our way toward the front drive through the silent, pitch-black grounds.

  Rick was waiting there on the porch, an overhead light shining on his face, a contrast to the darkness around us. He looked a lot less tired than I felt—probably wasn’t up half the night tossing and turning thinking about an old flame, like some of us. He raised a thermos of coffee in our direction and called out a quiet good morning.

  “Good?” my dad scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s the middle of the night—what’s so good about it?”

  Rick laughed, the sound somehow intimate in the dark, and I shivered under my hiking jacket. “It will be worth it, Mr. Elliot. I promise.”

  It wasn’t until the same dark van from yesterday pulled up that I noticed the bag at Rick’s feet. “I thought the tour provided our packs,” I said, nudging it with my toe.

  “Oh, that’s not for the hike. I’m staying the night at the park.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure why the thought sent a small wave of disappointment through me. Had I been imagining us sharing another dinner here at the resort?

  “Yeah, Croft and I are going to try the North Kaibab trail tomorrow. Figured we could get an earlier start if we didn’t come back.” His eye seemed to catch something over my head, and he grinned, pushing off from the porch railing. “Speaking of Croft…”

  I turned to see a man who most definitely was not Girard climbing out of the passenger seat of the van. “Croft,” Rick called happily, meeting his old friend in the driveway. “It’s good to see you, mate.”

  “You too, Rick.” Croft pulled Rick into a tight, back-slapping hug before releasing him to peer into his face. “You look good. Better than the last time I saw you.”

  Rick rolled his eyes a little. “Croft, you remember Robert Elliot, I’m sure.”

  Croft nodded, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand. “Mr. Elliot. It’s been a long time.” Croft released my dad’s hand, his eyes flicking over to my face.

  “And you remember Annabelle.”

  “Of course.”

  I held out my hand, but Croft pulled me into a hug instead, and I had to close my eyes against the onslaught of memories. How many summer nights had I spent on Croft’s porch when Rick was staying with him? We had spent hours sitting out there, drinking beers, watching the stars come out and the flames flicker in their little metal fire pit, the Tigers playing in the background while Croft tried to convince Rick of the superiority of baseball over every other sport, particularly the European ones. The memory was so strong I felt a prick of tears in my eyes—when was the last time I was that carefree? When was the last time I had felt so comfortable around a group of friends?

  When was the last time I had been so happy?

  “So,” Croft said, pulling away and smiling down at me. “I hear you want to do some serious hiking today.”

  “As serious as we can.” I looked over at my dad and winked. “We do have the old man to consider here.”

  “Hey now.” Dad crossed his arms and gave me his best paternal glare. “Don’t you let the white hair fool you. I’m a hell of a lot more spry than I look.”

  The guys laughed. “I bet you put them both to shame,” Croft said, slapping my dad on the shoulder. “We should get going—the later we start, the harder our afternoon will be.”

  Croft led us to the van where another couple was waiting. “Ah, you must be Tim and Nancy,” he said, shaking their hands. He introduced us, gesturing everyone into the van, before shoving Rick’s bag into the back. I sat in the first row of seats, next to my dad, Rick opting for the front passenger seat so he could, presumably, catch up with his old friend. Once we were all buckled up, Croft started the engine, and we were on the way.

  “What were you saying about the afternoon being harder the later we started?” my dad asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “The temperature below the rim is considerably warmer than above it,” Croft explained, pulling out onto the dark road that led to the highway. “Even with mild temperatures like this, the sun can get brutal midday.”

  “How far below the rim are we going?” I asked.

  “That depends. We’re taking the Bright Angel trail, which goes all the way to the river—but we probably won’t get that far. The park rangers don’t recommend that anyone attempt to reach the river and go back in one day.”

  “How many miles is it to the river?” Rick asked.

  “It’s about nine and a half,” Croft said, and Rick snorted.

  “Annabelle and I could do that in our sleep.”

  I felt a rush of warmth at his words. Pride that he thought so much of my abilities. And something more…something like relief that he had joined the two of us together like that. Annabelle and I. The joining of our names like that made me feel much happier than was probably good for me.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Croft said, his voice firm. “We’re talking about a descent of more than four thousand feet. People overdo it all the time and end up stuck down there. Hiking in the Grand Canyon isn’t like hiking anywhere else. Trust me.”

  Rick turned back and caught my eye… and winked. I felt that same rush of warmth, that same thrill, like we were on the same team, and I had to look away before I did something really stupid, like blush.

  Before too long, my dad succumbed to the relaxing sway of the van and the dark night, his head lolling against the back of his seat as he snored softly. In the front, Rick and Croft caught up, their soft voices creating a soothing soundtrack as I looked out the window at the dark desert around us. I knew I should try to sleep, too, knew that my legs would be sorry in a few short hours, but I couldn’t quiet my mind enough to relax. Rick’s words were chasing around and around in my head, the way he had winked at me, the way he had looked at me the night before, the way his hand had felt, warm and steady, pulling me in from the rain.

  You’re being so stupid, I told myself, again and again. It doesn’t mean anything.

  I wished I could make myself believe it.

  The drive to the South Rim took a little more than an hour and a half. It was still dark when we arrived, though the horizon was beginning to take on the pale glow of coming dawn. We met up with another group outside the trailhead, this one led by Girard, who greeted my dad and me warmly as he handed out our packs.

  “You have plenty of water and some snacks,” he explained to the group of ten hikers. “But it’s always good to fill up your bottle whenever we come to a water source—there are a few at designated rest stations on the way down.”

  I adjusted the straps of my pack before turning to my dad. “How does yours feel? Not too heavy?”

  He ruffled my hair. “I’m not completely helpless, you know. I have been hiking before.”

  I held up my hands. “Hey, I just don’t want to be responsible for causing undue stress or pain to the elderly.”

  “You better watch yourself, Annabelle. Particularly when you’re about to be traversing a steep trail with plenty of spots for convenient accidents.”

  I caught Rick’s eye as he passed. “Do you hear this?” I asked. “The man is threatening to kill me and pass it off as an accident.”

  “And it’s no more than you deserve,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.

  “All right, let’s talk safety,” Croft said, gesturing the group to gather around. “This is a fairly serious hike we’re undertaking here. It’s very important that you keep yourself hydrated, pay attention to the trail, and, most importantly, listen to your body.” He went over some general safety
guidelines before urging us to respect the park and our surroundings. “The goal is to leave the trail in the same condition in which you found it. That means no picking anything up, no matter how pretty the cactus flowers might be this time of year.”

  “The Bright Angel trail is nine and a half miles long. There are rest stops at one and a half miles, three miles, and five miles. How far you hike is going to be a joint decision. Girard and I will be evaluating each of you as we descend, and we’ll be helping you make decisions at each of the rest stops as to whether or not you should continue. Remember, the hike back up is much more strenuous than the hike down. The final decision as to when you turn back is mine alone, does everyone understand?”

  There was a general chorus of yeses before Croft went on. “All right then, I think we’re ready to get started. Any questions?”

  Girard came around to check on our packs, and then we were all following Croft down onto the trail. The path itself was easy enough to see in the dim, growing light but the canyon stretched dark around us, barely discernible in the distance. The air was cool on my face, and I immediately felt invigorated, awake in a way that I only ever felt while hiking.

  “You doing okay?” I asked my dad.

  “We literally just left the trailhead.” His voice was a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Stop worrying about me. I won’t overdo it.”

  We made our way slowly at first, but the morning was becoming brighter by the second, the lines of the canyon becoming starker. After ten minutes or so, I heard my dad draw a sharp breath. “Annabelle, look at that.”

  I followed his pointing finger to the bright streak of pink smudging the sky near the far side of the canyon cliff. I felt a thrill of excitement. “I think we’re in for a pretty sunrise.”

  Understatement of the year, I thought to myself a few minutes later as colors streaked the morning sky, bathing the red walls of the canyon in a fiery glow. It was impossible to decide what to look at—the sky, the canyon walls stretching above and off into the distance, the green slopes and red cliffs below us. I had hiked countless miles since that summer with Rick, on some of the most impressive trails in the country, but I had never seen anything so amazing as the sunrise over the canyon. There was very little talking amongst the group as we made our way to the first rest stop; I assumed everyone else was as awed by the view as I was.