She took a lunch break on the ridge between Spunky and Bouquet Canyons and reassessed her plans.
They hike at my speed, but I avoid them because I’m trying to be happy alone. How stupid is that?
When Max and Folger approached her lunch spot, Grace waited until they unpacked their sandwiches.
“Would you mind if we hiked together for a bit? I’d enjoy the company.”
Folger and Max exchanged a glance. “We’d love it.” Folger sipped from a water bottle. “We find hiking in a group to be quite pleasant, don’t we, Max?”
Max nodded and finished his mouthful. “I admire people who hike alone, but Folger and I have always done it together. There’s a lot to be said for having someone else to talk to now and again.”
“Still, if you meet someone else or want to slow down or speed up, that’s fine.” Folger patted Grace’s knee. “We won’t feel insulted. And don’t feel obligated to keep us company if there are younger folks around. You’ve probably heard it already, but there’s an expression on the trail. Hike your own hike. We think it’s a good rule to live by, don’t we, dear?”
Max’s mouth was full again. But he squeezed his wife’s hand.
***
That same evening, in the town of Saugus, south of Hiker Heaven, Ed Galeano slinked into the Rattlers Bar-B-Que restaurant. His eyes squinted in the dim light as he scanned the room.
The Sideways Seven sat in a row at the bar. Salsa, chips, and beer lined the counter in front of them. Ed looked at his watch.
Happy Hour. They’ll stay till it’s over.
Ed chose a dark table in a corner from where he could watch the group’s raucous antics.
Perfect. Jerry just pinched the tip from that table. Things are looking up. Maybe they’ll get kicked out again.
Ed’s teeth tore into a sticky rib. He sucked sauce from his fingers.
Scum. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.
Chapter 14
“What brought you to the PCT?” Max sat next to Grace their first evening together while Folger stirred a large pot over their stove. “I know you said your brother wanted to do this. But that can’t be the whole story.”
“The short answer of how I got here is Celine.”
“She’s a thru?”
Grace inspected her feet for hot spots. “She was Kenji’s girlfriend, so the girlfriend of a wannabe thru.”
Max handed her a bottle of blister powder. “That’s almost as good.”
Folger looked up. “Better.”
Grace sprinkled the powder in her socks. “I had all his gear, food, everything. Things piled all over my condo’s floor. I thought I was ready. But Celine kept saying I had to read those PCT books. Or join the listserv. Or get the PCT app.”
“Did you listen?” Folger dished lumpy stew into camp bowls.
“I was too busy concentrating on food prep. She pointed out I wouldn’t need food if I didn’t go. But I told her I was kind of having fun testing things out. Like one week of only Rice-A-Roni. Did you know there are over fifteen different flavors, and that’s not including Pasta Roni?”
“I’ve got three kinds right here.” Max nudged his white pack with his foot.
“I decided on one I liked on Monday, but by Thursday I never wanted to eat it again.”
“It’s different at home than when you’re out on the trail.”
“Tell me about it. Even crappy food tastes awesome when you’ve hiked twenty miles. I’ve been known to tear packages apart and lick the insides.”
Folger handed Grace an empty foil packet. “You can have the rest of my tuna.”
Grace studied the package. “Okay. I’m not proud.” She ripped the sides. Oil smeared her chin as she smacked her lips.
“So did you ever read the books?” Folger blew on her steaming bowl.
“No. Celine came over at Christmas and I finally told her what was holding me back. I knew it sounded crazy but the hike seemed like the answer to all the questions I had. My sister was moving to Atlanta and my parents had put their house up for sale. I didn’t want to be left behind. I felt like the hike would get me going.”
Folger lifted her eyebrows.
“I know. It was only slightly this side of insane.”
Folger cocked her head to one side. “You think?”
“Maybe totally insane. But I didn’t read any of the books or look at the websites because I was afraid the risks would freak me out.”
“Wouldn’t being prepared make it less risky?”
“Sure. But once I learned about everything that could go wrong, I’d start imagining all kinds of disasters, decide it was too dangerous, and not go. I’d be right back where I started. Everyone else moving on and me…well, with me being me.”
“Did Celine understand?”
“She agreed to be my base camp. She said that I was going to kick the PCT’s ass. Then she said the desert was serious shit. I almost choked.”
Folger and Max flashed her questioning looks.
Grace smirked. “Because I thought the trail was only in the mountains. So Celine took me to REI that same night. Said they’d know what I should do. And in the car she asked me to remind her to ask the clerks about crampons.”
“Wait.” Folger inspected Grace’s face. “Don’t tell me. You didn’t know what crampons were.”
“I knew what they were.” Grace paused, then grinned. “But I didn’t know there would be snow on the PCT. I’d just gotten used to the desert idea.”
“I’m amazed you’re here.” Max swished out his empty bowl with a few drops of water.
“So am I, sometimes. Teva, this thru I met a while ago, promised that there’d be some moment when I knew I was a thru. So I’ve been waiting for a single instant. But I think instead, this whole hike’s changed me. I don’t think about home anymore. I’m used to life on the trail. And the best part of the PCT is the one I’m walking along. I guess all that makes me a thru.”
Folger disengaged the stove from the small can of gas and packed both items in a stuff sack. “That. And licking out the tuna fish package.”
Chapter 15
Together, Grace, Max, and Folger traversed Jeep roads, dusty trails, and miles of the Los Angeles Aqueduct. The PCT in this section meandered through mostly low, monotonous lands where parched brown earth sprouted green creosote shrubs and infrequent, freakish Joshua trees. The sun beat down mercilessly and water was scarce again.
After seven days of hiking, they reached Highway 58. The resupply towns were Tehachapi to the west and Mojave to the east. Celine’s drop box waited at the post office in Mojave. But Folger and Max were going to Tehachapi.
“We’ll see you again soon, Grace.” Max kissed her cheek. “On or off the trail.”
“I’ll find you.” Grace kissed his rough whiskers and gave Folger a long hug. “I’ve got your real names. And you’ve got mine.”
In Mojave, Grace checked into a hotel and spent an hour in the shower, scrubbing. Dark ridges of dust and grime circled her ankles. Lines of sweat and dirt demarcated the edges of her shirt. Mud rimmed her fingernails.
I need a Brillo pad. The trail doesn’t like to let go.
She washed her clothes in the sink and lay on the bed in the air conditioning until her hiking skirt and t-shirt were dry.
Her feet, light without her pack, flew the few blocks to the post office. Torn envelopes and empty stamp booklets littered the main room’s table. Grace flipped through the worn spiral bound hiker register. Names she recognized filled the pages. But there was no hint of Lone Star.
Max and Folger would have called if his name had been in the Tehachapi register.
Grace trudged with slumped shoulders to Mike’s Roadhouse Café, where the menu in the window lifted her spirits slightly.
With all this walking, I lose weight no matter how much I eat. But it sure is fun trying not to.
She chose a rear-facing booth and perused the possible selections. The teenage waitress didn’t blink
when Grace ordered a bowl of homemade chili, a burrito with extra cheese, rice and beans, a side of coleslaw, a side of fries, and an extra thick malted vanilla milkshake.
“You want it all at the same time?” The young woman cracked her gum and shoved the order pad into the breast pocket of her freshly ironed blouse.
“Bring it as you make it.”
Halfway through her burrito, Grace jumped at a tap on her shoulder. She looked up with a mouth full of cheese and beef.
“Beartrap.” The man pointed to himself. “Remember? We met on Mount Baldy. You’re the no-trail-name woman. Grace, right?” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“That’s right.” Grace sputtered lettuce and rice and motioned for him to take the seat across from her. He remained standing and let her finish chewing. “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t recognize you at first without your pack. Beartrap was something to do with bike pedals, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
The restaurant door opened and a group of twenty-somethings sauntered in.
“I haven’t dug in yet.” Her hand again indicated the spot in her booth. “You’re welcome to join me.”
Beartrap cast his eyes toward the people entering and shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve got some shopping to do. Just wanted to say hello. Happy trails.” He held up his hand in a farewell and was out the door before Grace could respond.
She shrugged and returned to her meal. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed seven men and women with farmer tans and loose shorts sitting near the entrance.
Must be thrus.
She bit into her burrito.
Maybe those Sideways Seven I saw before.
Grace meandered back to her hotel in the cool evening breeze. A plastic bag with two slices of cherry pie swung at her side. Celine’s resupply box was tucked under her other arm. A small paper bag perched on top of the box, filled with fresh fruit from the supermarket she’d noticed on the way.
Her second floor room overlooked the pool. She fished the plastic key card out of her shorts while children in pastel suits splashed each other in the shallows. Short-sleeved adults clustered under striped umbrellas and watched, surrounded by plastic soda bottles. A tall man with dripping hair and shorts that hung precariously on jutting hip bones waved in her direction.
Another thru?
She held up her bags and wiggled them. He gestured he was coming up. She entered her room and left the door ajar.
A minute later, a knock announced Breeze. He stepped in, toweling his hair. “Hey, Grace. I thought it was you.” He sat down on the king-size bed and leaned back on his hands.
“Breeze.” Grace’s face registered intermingled surprise and pleasure. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, I imagine.”
“Resupply?”
“Yep.”
“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Grace pulled the desk chair toward the bed and sat. “I’ve been hiking with an older couple and got used to having people around. I wasn’t looking forward to spending an evening by myself.”
“It’s nice to see you too.” Breeze ran his thickly lashed brown eyes appreciatively over Grace’s thin frame. “I got in yesterday. Took a zero today.” He reclined farther on his elbows and crossed his legs with one ankle resting on his knee. The bed quivered.
Grace flushed. She hopped lightly from her chair and busied herself arranging the peaches in a straight line on the small desk.
“I’m here for a one-nighter too. I mean, a one-night stay. That is…I’m heading out first thing tomorrow.”
Breeze lay completely back and let his arms flop open. “Too bad.” His legs swung rhythmically, bumping the side of the bed, making the air vibrate. “We could have some fun together here.”
Grace caught her breath.
Breeze’s legs stopped swinging. He sat up and locked eyes with her. She turned away.
Nice try, Breeze. But you lack a certain Texas something.
“Want some pie?” She held up the plastic container. “We could eat it by the pool.”
Breeze shrugged and looked toward the door. “I never say no to pie. I’ll meet you down there.”
After he left, Grace exhaled slowly.
Wow. Guess I’m not the only one who’s spent months without sex.
She fished in her pack for a tank top and quick-drying shorts. Down by the pool, children screeched and cannonballed. Grace jumped in and splashed water at the kids from the sides. Breeze swam erratic laps. Later, at a plastic table, they shared the pie and talked about hiking, gear, and the weather.
She was licking gooey red ooze from her fingers when a woman’s terrified scream interrupted her.
“My son’s drowning. Wade!”
A large brunette in a purple sarong bounced poolside.
Breeze’s chair clattered to the ground as he dashed to the edge and scanned the depths. Before Grace understood what was happening, Breeze dove in. Grace approached the screaming mother, transfixed by the scene unfolding in the pool. Below the shimmering blue surface, the deep end drain gripped the boy’s hand. Breeze worked to free him. Legs kicked. Arms struggled.
After interminable seconds, two figures rose to the surface. Breeze hoisted the boy under his armpits. Grace pulled him onto the concrete. The boy coughed and spluttered. She turned his head sideways and he retched yellow water onto his mother’s silver manicured toes. A crowd formed around them and clapped.
“Wade…” The mother sobbed and stroked the boy’s wet hair.
Breeze pulled himself out of the water and leaned over the child. “You okay?”
“I won’t ever let him in the water again.” His mother buried the boy’s brown hair in a fluffy American flag towel. She turned to Breeze. “What you did. It was a miracle. You dove right in. I just stood there.” She reached for Breeze’s hand and kissed it.
Breeze rolled his eyes, but not before Grace noticed a sparkle of pleasure. “It was nothing, Anybody would have done the same thing.”
“Wade, honey, you come with Mommy. Let’s get you into bed. You’ve had a big scare.” She bundled the boy in her towel and led him toward the first floor rooms.
“Okay.” Grace slapped Breeze playfully on the arm. “For the record, you were amazing. I’ve seen you save someone from near death twice now. First me. Now Wade.”
A pleased look passed over Breeze’s face before he could suppress it.
“You’re quite a man.” Grace shook his hand. “We should get some reporters out here to take down your story.”
Breeze shot a glance at the street and suddenly yanked Grace toward him, clasping her body tightly against his. His lips pressed against hers in a kiss filled with demand and desire. Hands ran through her wet hair as he bent over her.
Blood rushed in her ears. Then she pushed her hands gently against his shoulders.
He pulled her body upward, lifting her onto her tiptoes. She pushed away harder.
“No.” She freed herself from his embrace. “I’m sorry. But no.”
A flash of light blinded her. Headlamp beams careened across their bodies in the growing twilight. Whistles and catcalls pierced the remaining poolside chatter.
“Who’s that?” Grace held up her arm to protect her eyes.
The look on Breeze’s face indicated he had to remind himself of his surroundings. “I think it’s the Sideways Seven. Ignore them.” When his eyes returned to hers, they lacked their previous urgency. “Sorry. I got a little carried away with myself. It’s been a long day.”
“Forget it. We’ll see each other down the trail.”
Breeze nodded. “Hope so. Guess you’re going to bed now? Alone?”
“Gotten used to that. I kind of like it.”
“Different strokes. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
Grace watched Breeze leave the enclosure with slow steps and disappear into one of the first floor rooms. The Sideways Seven dispersed. The other guest
s had gone. Grace looked at the flashing yellow neon of the ‘Welcome—Vacancy’ sign. The hotel seemed deserted.
“If that had been Lone Star instead of Breeze…” She returned to her room lost in thought.
In the shower, the soft spray felt comforting. Warm water ran over her head and dripped into her open mouth until she was afraid the manager might knock on her door for running up the bill.
If only I could wash away some of this longing.
Afterward, she pulled back the orange striped bedspread and lay down on the crisp sheets with a sigh. But her mind still raced with thoughts of the Texan. She rose and refilled her pack with supplies from Celine’s box.
I can get a head start tomorrow.
Close to midnight, she crawled back into bed but eventually rolled out her mat and sleeping bag on the carpet, unable to find a comfortable position on the soft mattress. The hard floor felt relaxing and familiar. She drifted off.
She woke at four.
Time to get out of here.
The starry sky framed the darkened windows of the other rooms.
Lone Star, here I come.
Chapter 16
After finishing the PCT’s Mojave section, Grace ascended into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the peaks that put Crest in PCT. The path still periodically descended to the desert, but it meandered more frequently through oak and pine forests, zigzagged up rocky faces, and sliced ridges with breathtaking vistas of distant mountains. She occasionally stepped in stride with a fellow thru or section hiker. But during the eight days until the next resupply stop at Kennedy Meadows, she primarily wanted time to herself.
If it can’t be Lone Star, I don’t want it to be anyone else.
A third of the way into the section between Mojave and Kennedy Meadows, the trail climbed above five thousand feet. From then on, it stayed there, a prelude to the real Sierras that began past Kennedy Meadows. The peaks and valleys on Grace’s elevation profile tightened. The trail still lacked shade, the air continued to be hot, and it never rained. But this new environment offered water in more abundance.
Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1) Page 12
