Riding the Pause (3 page)

She ate her slightly flattened sandwich and sipped her water, tipping her head back to let the sun warm her face. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t have to run off anywhere. She wanted to get to the shelter before nightfall, but there was plenty of time and no reason in the world not to enjoy the sun.

By late afternoon the light was changing, sliding toward dusk and her legs were burning from hiking downhill. Careful not to lose her footing on the narrow rocky trail, she wove her way back and forth along the switchbacks and through enormous thickets of rhododendrons, towering over her head. It was like something out of a book and tired as she was, she couldn’t help but be charmed.

The rhododendrons and steep descent gave way to more open gentle rolling hills with trees that looked like they’d been deliberately spaced out. Leaf litter covered the sloping curves of the hills and the path widened so she could walk without using her poles for balance. There wasn’t another soul in sight and with the exception of the swish of the leaves under her feet, not a sound.

Worries tried to crowd her head. What was she going to do next? She didn’t want to be a failure. How could she have gotten fired? Everything she’d done since high school had been to prepare for the career she’d had. If she didn’t have her job what was she? What did she want to be? Every time a thought circled like a buzzing bee, she swatted it away and forced her concentration back to the step swish of putting one foot in front of the other in a walking meditation.

As she hiked further down into the valley, the light dimmed, the blue sky going gray and the air felt colder and damp. By the time she could hear the sound of running water that meant she was getting near the Bryant Ridge shelter, she was zipping her fleece up to her chin, glad she hadn’t taken it off when she stopped for lunch.

She reached the small stream with the sign pointing out the path to Bryant Ridge, and she grinned to herself as the almost fairytale like structure came into view. She’d spent the night in the two story timber beam shelter with her Girl Scout troop when she was in middle school and had lots of good memories of noisy girls giggling and climbing up and down the rung ladder to the loft. Keeping her gaze on her feet, she stepped gingerly over the tops of the rock to cross the narrow trickle of water and came face-to-face with the largest black German Shepherd she’d ever seen.

Aside from his intimidating size, he didn’t seem the least bit menacing. If anything, with the way he was snuffling her hand, she thought she was in more danger from being licked to death than bitten.

“Well aren’t you a handsome fellow,” she said, tipping her head to confirm he was indeed a he. In size and color, the dog reminded her of her brother Jude’s dog Max. But Max had mellowed in old age, even more so since he got hurt defending her sister-in-law Autumn. This dog was more of a puppy. One that was about to knock her over if the way he’d gone down on his front legs was any indication. She braced herself. The heavy pack already made her off-balance and if the dog jumped he could easily put his paws on her shoulders. She’d go over like a turtle on its shell, and probably have as much trouble righting herself.

“Apollo, come,” said a deep, rich masculine voice.

Without hesitation, the dog turned and trotted down the path toward his master. Rachel wasn’t as eager to follow. She knew in all likelihood she’d have to share the shelter, but after the peace she’d found walking that day, she wasn’t eager to make small talk. Maybe she could get away with a smile and then keep to herself. With two separate levels, there was more than enough room and it was just for one night.

It wasn’t like she had a choice. The next shelter was miles away, and there was no guarantee it would be empty. She’d known it would be like this when she decided not to buy the four hundred dollar tent the outdoor guy tried to sell her. It would be dark soon. Her legs were aching. She was tired and hungry, and all she wanted to do was eat and go to sleep. And the dog seemed nice if a little too enthusiastic. How bad could his owner be? If he was an ax murder there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it anyway. Besides his dog seemed to like him and she was pretty sure dogs didn’t like ax murderers.

Taking a deep breath, she followed the path the dog had taken to the shelter.

It looked exactly like she remembered, the heavy hewn timbers framing the open first floor and the pickets providing a visual barrier to the upstairs. Well almost like she remembered. Instead of being filled with giggling girls, there was a man who looked to be in his thirties stretched out on the first floor deck with his arm around the dog. He wore a soft olive green Henley almost the color of his eyes and faded jeans low on his narrow hips. His strong square jaw was covered with stubble not quite long enough to be a beard but too long to be a five o’clock shadow. She watched him give her a quick once over, taking in her new pack and walking poles, and then he smiled at her with a crinkle around his eyes that said he thought he knew more than he actually did.

It didn’t matter. He could think what he liked. She’d never have to see him again. Besides, his dog liked her. When he saw her, the big black dog –Apollo, that’s what the man called him – crawled out from under his master’s arm and came over to her, bumping his huge head against her palm, demanding attention. She gave the dog an absentminded scratch behind the ears and nodded in greeting to the man, who didn’t seem to want to talk any more than she did.

So far it looked like it was just the two of them in the shelter, and the man’s tattered pack already hung on one of the pegs above the main floor’s sleeping platform. Ignoring her tired legs, Rachel reached for the rung of the ladder and forced her burning muscles to carry her and her pack up to the loft. Unbuckling the sternum strap and the wide belt at her waist, she slipped the pack off her back and collapsed gratefully onto the dusty, rough floor boards. She worked the laces loose on her boots and groaned in relief as she pulled them off her feet.

She couldn’t tell if it was because she’d stopped moving or if the temperature had dropped, but either way she minded the cold. Digging around in her pack, she found her windbreaker, slides and the bag with her food and stove. She’d just have to steel her nerve and light the damn thing. If she let herself be afraid of her cook stove then she really was the newbie the man downstairs already seemed to think she was.

Shoving her feet into the slides, she grabbed her toiletries and food bag and made the climb back down the ladder to the main floor. Apollo lifted his big black head in greeting, but the man was too busy with his own stove to do more than nod at her as she went past him on the way to the bathroom. It suited her. She didn’t want to make friends, and even though the bathroom was far up the hill from the shelter, it wasn’t more than knee walls around a porta potty, open at the top and covered with a roof. Once she closed the gate behind her, she couldn’t help but feel a little like a gopher with her head poking up over the top of the wall.

She’d much prefer that no one else paid attention to her, although it was kind of nice to see Apollo sitting and waiting for her when she came out. He led the way back down to the shelter, looking over his shoulder every few feet to make sure she was still following. She gave his shaggy head a quick rub as she climbed up into the open area of the shelter next to the picnic table. Apollo’s owner was stirring something that smelled delicious, like cooked onions and tomatoes in a small enamel pot on his cook stove. Rachel’s stomach growled loud enough that she was sure he must have heard it, but he didn’t look up from his cooking.

Pulling out her own stove and canister of fuel, she set it along with her instant mashed potatoes, a chunk of cheese, another beef stick and a tired looking apple. Her dinner didn’t look as good as his dinner smelled but she hadn’t wanted to be bothered packing too much food. She wasn’t that great of a cook when she had a full kitchen to work with. She’d rather leave the culinary accomplishments to her sister Bailey, the chef and restaurateur. The piece of dark chocolate she had squirrelled away for later would have to make up for any deficiencies.

Apollo’s owner filled a collapsible bowl with food for the dog and turned off his stove, taking his own dinner to the picnic table to eat. It was silly that they hadn’t bothered to introduce themselves, but when she turned around to remedy that, he was watching over the rim of his mug. One eyebrow arched in a gestured that said he was sure she had no idea what to do with all the fancy new gear she had and he was waiting to see her screw up.

She turned back around without saying a word. She might not know how to work her stove, but it wasn’t her first time hiking. She wasn’t one of those people who bought all new gear and set off to hike the AT without any idea what they were doing. The fact that she had brand new gear was a coincidence and not a statement about her skill set.

Feeling his smug amused gaze on her, she hooked the fuel canister to the stove, praying she didn’t blow anything up. The guy who sold her the stove showed her how to make the connection but she hadn’t taken the time to try it ahead of time. Normally she would have checked and double checked to make sure she knew exactly how it worked, but there hadn’t been time. And how hard could it be. Willing her fingers to stay steady so Apollo’s owner wouldn’t see how nervous she was, she twisted the fuel to open, pulled the lighter out of her pocket and lit the stove.

There was a hiss and then a whoosh and before she knew what happened the whole stove was on fire, flames dancing closer to the canister. God, she was going to set the shelter on fire. She tried to close the canister but every time she got close the flames shifted and she was afraid she’d burn herself.

“Shit shit shit,” she said, jumping off the deck to grab handfuls of sand from the outside of the cold fire ring on the ground in front of the cabin.

Apollo barked and jumped around her, ready to get in on whatever game he thought they were playing.

“Wait, wait!” shouted his owner, but Rachel didn’t.

She didn’t need the smug know it all to save her. She dumped handful after handful of sandy soil on the stove until they smothered the flames. Drawing in a shaky breath, she turned off the canister and looked down at the mess that had been her new stove.

“It was supposed to do that,” said Apollo’s owner. “That’s what the screen is for.” He held out the folded metal shield she hadn’t bothered to use because she thought it was just to protect the flame from the wind.

“Oh,” she said, picking up the tiny stove and dumping off the sand. There was dirt everywhere and even banging it lightly against her hand didn’t seem to dislodge all the granules from the holes in the burners.

“You can’t light it now,” he said, looking down at the ruined piece of equipment. “Or you really will set things on fire.”

Fine by her. She had no intention of lighting the damn thing ever again. She looked wistfully at the pouch of instant potatoes as she packed the stove in the small cloth bag it came in.

“We can heat some water for you if you want.”

She wanted tea and a hot meal, but she wanted to avoid the man’s laughing gaze more. Embarrassment and her pride had her shaking her head.

“Thanks anyway, but I can’t use your stove.”

“That’s not what I meant, princess. No way am I letting you near my stove.” He shook his head, a smug smile plastered on his handsome face. “But I’ll be happy to heat the water for you.”

God, she wanted to wipe the self-satisfied grin off his face. She didn’t know how the dog could stand him. Instead, she pulled herself up to her full height, gave him the kind of smile her momma used to say made her look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, elongated her neck and gave her head a demure shake.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said, lacing her voice with enough sugar to give them both diabetes. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for thinking of me.”

Turning away from him, back straight like she was wearing her Louboutins instead of flip flops, she slid the stove along with the fuel canister and screen back into her food bag. She packed the rest of her food and hung the bag in a tree away from camp and then she took her cold dinner up to the loft to eat it in peace, grateful she still had her chocolate.

The scurrying tickle at the neckline of her long underwear woke her. It took her sleeping brain a few seconds to work out what had crawled into the sleeping bag with her and then she screamed.

She was frantically dancing in the freezing cold, tripping over herself to get out of the sleeping bag when Apollo’s owner pulled himself up into the loft looking ready to do battle with whatever had threatened her. Down on the main level, the dog barked, desperate to get in on the action. She’d managed to get one foot out of the sleeping bag when she felt the mouse, either the original or one of his vermin friends, climbing up her leg, and she started to scream again.

“Christ, what’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

“M-m-m-mouse,” she managed to get out.

In the dim light of the moonlit loft, she watched as his concern turned into amusement and then to her horror he laughed, a full on deep belly laugh.

“They crawled into my sleeping bag,” she said indignant. It wasn’t like she just saw one scurrying across the floor. She wasn’t exceptionally scared of mice, but having them crawl on her in her sleep was an entirely different situation.

“Can’t blame the little buggers,” he said, wheezing with laughter.

He took the sleeping bag from her, flipped it inside out and gave it a quick shake before grabbing her Ensolite pad and heading for the ladder.

“Wait,” she said as he made off with her bed.

“Sleep down here with us for the night, princess. Apollo will keep the mice away.”

At the sound of his name, the dog stopped his barking. When she peered over the railing she saw him sitting at the bottom of the ladder, his eyes shining in the dark.

“I’m not a princess,” she said, finally catching up with what he’d said.

He simply snorted and dropped her sleeping bag and foam pad through the hole to the first floor before climbing down the ladder after them. She had a choice to make. She could stay in the loft and freeze to death or she could follow the infuriating man and her bed. Hopping from foot to foot, she shivered, her wool socks not enough protection against the cold seeping through the gaps in the floor boards. Growling to herself in frustration, she blew out a breath she could see even in the dark and made her decision.

When she reached the bottom of the ladder, he had her sleeping bag spread out on the foam pad next to his with enough space for the dog in the middle. She eyed the bag suspiciously, not sure she’d ever be cold enough to climb in it again.

“Mouse free. I promise,” he said, and she could see his white teeth, grinning at her in the dark.

Needing to prove she wasn’t the princess he thought she was, she took a deep breath and climbed into the sleeping bag, relaxing a little as Apollo settled himself in between them.

Ian’s heart had almost come to a full stop when he’d woken up to her screaming. He hadn’t realized it was possible to climb a ladder that fast until he found himself standing next to her ready to fight whatever monsters threatened her. When she said it was a mouse, he’d been so relieved; he couldn’t hold back his laughter. It wasn’t all that uncommon for a hiker to wake up to find his gear had been nibbled on in the middle of the night. The mice love the shelters and without the snakes around to stop them, they had no real predators. They must have smelled the remnants from her sad dinner the night before and gone looking for something to eat.

God, the way she’d stared him down after the stove incident had been magnificent. He was a little sorry he’d been such a jerk, but she gave it right back to him. Nothing in her backed down even a fraction of an inch, which may be why when he heard her scream he assumed something was hurting her. She seemed much too cool to be rattled by something as minor as a mouse. Although, even he had to admit, seeing one scurry across the floor was a lot different than waking up to sharing a sleeping bag with one.

“I’m not a princess,” she repeated in the dark, and he wondered why it was so important to her that he know that.

She was beautiful enough to be a princess, her features refined and polished even without makeup and despite the frantic dance in her long underwear, more than graceful enough. But there was something regal in her bearings, something in the way she carried herself that made him think princess the moment he saw her. Not in a spoiled brat way, more in a rule the world kind of way. Stove malfunction evidence to the contrary aside, she carried herself like there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was simply that they’d been thrown alone together, but he’d been watching her as intently as Apollo had, and Ian could already tell the dog would follow her anywhere.

“I know,” he said, the shared intimacy of the dark adding importance to his words. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay.”

He heard her rustling around in her sleeping bag and felt Apollo shift his weight away from him and toward her. Traitorous dog. He held his breath, willing her to keep talking but not sure what to say himself that wouldn’t sound crazy.

“Thanks for coming to rescue me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, smiling to himself. “Apollo can’t climb a ladder.”

She laughed, a clear sweet sound that made him want to think of things to say that would make her do it again.