Long Trail To Love, page 7
As Ted read aloud, Carly watched a shaft of afternoon sunlight stream through the branches of nearby trees. A flash of orange streaked through the light, and she saw a fire salamander dart over the ground from under a log and race through the tall grass.
How could this all have just happened? She’d never really thought about it, just went along with her family’s ideas; but the detail in each leaf, each flower, each creature, diverse and beautiful in its own way, had to have been crafted by a master hand.
Shivers went through her as her mind began to open up to the concept she had always denied.
There is a God.
From what she’d witnessed of her friends Leslie and Jill and seen of their lives, she was ninety-nine percent certain this all-Supreme Being was the God of the Bible. The God who had made a heaven and a hell. And knowing that, Carly experienced a stirring of personal doubt, guilt—and fear.
If they were right and Carly was wrong, then she was in even worse trouble than she’d thought.
❧
The next day, Nate questioned his decision to ask Carly if she wanted to tag along for a short, four-mile spur down a side trail, but the words shot out of his mouth before he could reel them back.
“Sure.” She looked at him, curious. “I’ll get my backpack.”
Nate didn’t blame her for her surprise. One minute, he retreated from her; the next minute, he invited her company. At breakfast, he’d barely talked to her. But he didn’t want to make the trek alone for more than just safety’s sake.
“How’s Jill doing?” he asked when Carly returned. “I saw you go to her tent earlier.”
Carly finished buckling the strap around her. “She’s a trooper, though I know she hates to hold everyone back like this. But she hasn’t been able to keep anything down and is too exhausted to move. Sounds like that virus that was going around Goosebury before we took off.”
“She shouldn’t feel bad about holding anyone back. This is a much-needed diversion. Ted has been running everyone too hard, trying to get so many miles in each day. It’s nice to kick back for a while and rest. Especially before tackling the Camel’s Hump. That mountain has challenged the best of hikers.”
“And we’re going on a short hike to relax?” Carly grinned.
“Okay, well it’s nice for the others who are new to this sort of thing. Me, I can’t sit still for long. If I do, my muscles may atrophy.”
“Same here.” Carly cast a glance up and sobered. “But the sky looks like rain.”
“So when have we ever let a little moisture stop us?”
She laughed again. “Agreed. Should we invite the others?”
“I did. They’d rather rest, and Ted is busy taking care of Jill.”
They’d only traveled about a mile before the rain hit. Nate pulled up the hood of his rain gear, and Carly did the same with hers. Instead of the mild shower he’d hoped for, the precipitation became a deluge, hindering their ability to walk.
Carly grabbed his arm and pointed off the trail to an area where the trees formed a canopy. “We could stay there until this passes.”
“Under the trees? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“There’s no lightning, and even if there were, on a mountain-side covered with so many trees, the chance of a strike are about one in a million.”
She took off without waiting for him to answer. “Lady, do you always flirt with danger?” he called after her.
Shaking his head, Nate had no choice but to follow. The other option that flitted through his brain—dragging her back to camp—didn’t seem a wise choice.
Once under the thick, sheltering boughs, which let in scant droplets of rain, Nate had to admit it was nice not to have to clear his vision by continually wiping water out of his eyes. With a little smile, Carly tipped her head back against the trunk, her eyelids sweeping down as if to absorb her surroundings and the few drops that landed on her skin.
Nate took the liberty of studying her face. Her lashes wet, they still had a curl at their tips, thick and lush, as natural as the gentle arch of her eyebrows. In this wilderness hike, the women didn’t bother with makeup, and Nate knew all he saw of Carly was natural. Rain only accentuated her beauty as the clear beaded drops played with the light, emphasizing her high cheekbones, the gentle slope of her forehead, the smooth line of her nose, which ended in a soft rounded tip. Underneath, her lips were full and moist.
A strange sensation knotted his throat, almost painful, as he stared at her mouth, then back up to her closed eyes.
“You’re staring at me,” she said. “Stop it.”
Surprised she realized it, he felt a bit disconcerted. “So, what, now you have radar in your eyelids?”
At that, her lips curled into an amused smile. “All women do, didn’t you know?” She opened her eyes, and Nate wondered if it was his recent scrutiny of her features that made him notice how shimmering dark they were and how big. “It’s the only way we can keep ourselves armed against unwanted attention.”
“Right.” Nate looked back out at the trees. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Of course, Carly didn’t want anything to do with him on a more serious level; he also had no desire to take it further. They were trail mates on the path to friendship. Nothing more.
For the remainder of the downpour, Nate focused on the range of trees surrounding them and their diversity of textures. Thick hardwoods and slender pines stood with one another, opposites in traits but equals in their cause for existence. Each trunk maintained its own space, not allowing the other trees inside its circle, but still, they all somehow managed to work together in harmony to give the mountainside beauty, the animals shelter and food.
“Nate, listen.” Carly looked toward the west. “Do you hear that?”
Broken from his wry musings, he struggled to listen. The rain had lessened, and he could hear what sounded like a faint bawling, almost a bleating.
“Whatever it is sounds as if it’s in trouble.” Carly moved toward the sound.
“Carly, I wouldn’t do that.”
Regardless, she continued her course.
“Woman, don’t you ever listen to anyone?” he muttered in frustration, following her.
She stopped at the edge of some overgrowth, pulling it back. Even above the sounds of trickling water, he heard her gasp. “Nate! Come look.”
He joined her, looking over her shoulder. A cream-spotted fawn nestled on the grasses, its head low. Its frail body was no more than the size of a large housecat, and its soft, pointed ears lay to the side as its huge black eyes watched them.
“Oh, Nate. Isn’t she the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?” Carly’s voice became soft, wondering. “And the poor baby’s shivering. Do you think she’s cold or scared?”
Nate watched Carly lean forward as though she might pet it.
“Carly—don’t.” He grabbed her arm, this time not allowing her the choice of going against him. “I know it’s cute and it’s tempting to pet, but you shouldn’t touch any wild animal, especially a baby.” Releasing his hold on her, he studied the fawn, whose bleats had grown more frantic. “It looks like it’s only a few weeks old.”
“Where’s the mother?” Carly scanned the area as if hoping to spot a doe, then turned back to the fawn. “You don’t think the poor thing has been abandoned, do you?”
“No, that’s how a doe treats its young. It hides them somewhere safe and returns when the fawns need to feed.”
“But what if she doesn’t come back? What if this poor little girl is left all alone without her mother to take care of her? Look at her now. She’s so fragile, so vulnerable. She looks as if a strong gust of wind might blow her away. What if a bear finds her?”
“The pelt helps to camouflage the fawn against would-be predators.” Nate watched doubt and compassion play across Carly’s face, noting how she’d instantly labeled the fawn a female and not a male.
Carly swung her head around to pinpoint him with flashing eyes. “We can’t leave her here all alone!”
“There’s nothing else we can do, Carly. We can’t take it back with us. We need to respect the wildlife. And hard as it may seem when things look bad, we can’t tamper with nature’s order, much less violate state laws that forbid anyone other than a wildlife rehabilitator from intervening with sick animals.”
“That just seems so wrong,” she fumed. “So let me get this straight, according to the system, we let a helpless creature, no more than a few weeks old, die because man’s law says we must. That’s just not right.” Tears shone in her eyes, astonishing Nate. “Under extenuating circumstances, I think some laws need to be vetoed or rewritten.”
“This is more than just about the fawn, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
He watched her lips part in surprise, watched her clamp her teeth and her jaw grow firm as a hard glint shone in her eyes while she struggled to maintain composure. Struggled, and lost. To his bafflement, she bowed her head, and her shoulders shook. He’d never seen Carly so vulnerable, like the baby fawn.
Compassion urged him to move forward and take her in his arms, while common sense warned him to back away while he still could. His heart triumphed in the battle with his mind, and compassion won.
He pulled her close, and she stiffened as his hands gently pressed against her back. “It’s okay, Carly. It’s okay.”
She relaxed against him, little by little, dropping her forehead to his collarbone. Along with his sympathy for whatever brought on her mute sobs, Nate couldn’t help but realize he enjoyed the soft feel of her in his arms. As she released quiet tears mixed with the gentle sprinkle of rain, Nate smoothed a hand along her slick hair. Her hood had fallen away at some point, and just as he thought about plucking it up and replacing it, she lifted her eyes to look at him. Glazed with tears, they’d never appeared so beautiful, so soft. Her lashes curled in gentle spikes, her lips trembled.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Shh.” With a slight shake of his head, Nate moved his hands to cradle her jaw, then leaned in to kiss her.
Her lips were cool, soft, wet from the rain, and what Nate had told himself he intended to be a token of gentle reassurance turned into much more. He brushed his lips over hers and heard her gasp. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt like this, or why he’d been avoiding it. Stunned, he pulled away a fraction and looked into her slightly unfocused, night-dark eyes.
“What are you doing?” She breathed a little faster, her features soft, uncertain, her lips that he’d just touched with his parted and trembling.
“I don’t know, but if you figure it out, don’t tell me,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss her again. To his shock, Carly whimpered and pressed against him, sliding her hands up around his neck as their kiss altered into one of mutual need. He moved his hands to her back and responded with equal fervor, until suddenly she pressed her hands against his chest and broke their kiss, pushing away. He released her.
She retreated a few steps, wouldn’t meet his eyes. Nate stood motionless and couldn’t keep from staring at her.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said after a taut silence elapsed.
“I shouldn’t have responded.”
“But you did, and I did.” Nate’s voice was low. “So where does that leave us, Carly?”
She shook her head in frustration. “Don’t ask; I don’t know. Maybe we should just call it a mistake.”
“A mistake is something never meant to happen. Neither of us may have expected this just now, but I think if we’re honest with each other, we’ve both felt the currents all along.”
Carly shut her eyes, and her lips parted, revealing to Nate he’d been correct. “I don’t want a relationship, Nate. Not now. I just came out of a really bad one.”
He didn’t want a relationship, either, so why was he pushing her? He shoved his hands in his pockets. Another minute passed before he spoke.
“Mind telling me what that was all about earlier?”
“You mean my crying jag?” The cynicism crept back into her voice. “I thought you would have figured it out after what I told you at the restaurant. My mom abandoned me on my aunt’s doorstep when I was a kid, remember?” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Call it a sudden weakness that overcame me when I saw the fawn. I’m really over those days, and I have no idea why I carried on so.”
Nate doubted she was as emotionally invincible as she wanted him to believe. “Carly, it really is okay to cry.”
Her brow arched wryly. “Are you speaking from experience or just saying what feels right at the moment?”
“Both.”
She didn’t answer. After a moment, she looked away from him and to the fronds that covered the baby deer. “What about her?”
He knew he would regret the words that formed in his mind, but they escaped regardless. “I guess we could stick around for a while, out of sight, and wait to see that the mama comes back. With the way the fawn was bawling, if the doe is nearby, she’ll be coming soon.”
Carly’s smile brightened the day, making him glad he’d suggested it.
“Thank you, Nate.”
Together, they moved away from the fawn and among the trees closer to the trail, hidden from view of the fawn’s bed but still within range to spy. Nate wondered how long they would have to stand there until Carly’s hopes were satisfied; he didn’t want to wait for hours. Worse, he had no guarantee the mother would return. The doe might have been hurt or killed by a carnivore. Yet Nate had a feeling Carly wouldn’t budge from her observation post until the doe made an appearance.
As the minutes passed, he thought of a multitude of questions he wanted to ask but reasoned it better to leave such things unspoken at this point. Normally, he enjoyed the sounds of nature and didn’t always like to talk, but their earlier words felt as if they’d been left teetering on a precipice, undone and unfinished. His only worry was that if he said too much, he would push her over, along with the conversation.
“Nate, it’s okay. Really.”
“What?” Startled she had spoken, he looked at her.
“You’re wondering what to say to me about my mother. Or maybe you’re wondering if you should bring up our kiss. So let me save you the trouble; I’d rather not talk about either.”
“You know, Carly, it baffles me how you always think you can read my mind.”
She offered him one swift glance at his somber words. “So, was I wrong?”
Nate didn’t want to admit that this time she was dead on target. But the thought of continued silence oppressed him. He fished about in his mind for the right words, but those that came to him seemed too trite. Those he longed to speak, too personal. What did someone say to a woman like Carly in a situation like this?
“Nate.” Her excited whisper broke through his frustrated musings. “Look.”
At the edge of the trees where he had kissed her, a doe moved with wary grace, then stopped and sniffed the ground. He hoped the delicate creature wouldn’t be able to discern their scent, that the rain had washed it away. If the doe didn’t return to the fawn, Nate wasn’t sure what Carly would do.
As they watched, the doe lifted her head, alert. The fawn bawled louder as if sensing its mama nearby. After another tense wait, the doe moved to the tall fronds where she’d hidden the fawn.
“A happy ending,” Carly breathed with a wistful smile. “That was worth every second of standing in the rain to see.” She looked at him. “Again, thank you.”
He smiled and nodded. “Are you ready to return to camp?”
“You don’t want to continue the hike?”
“The others might get worried if we’re gone too long and send out a search party.” Nate was only half-joking. “Ted’s pretty upset about Jill, and I don’t want to add to his troubles by not showing up for lunch.”
“I’ve been worried about her, too,” she said as they started the hike back.
“Well, it’s like I told Ted, she has nothing that a good amount of loving, prayer, and rest won’t cure.”
Carly didn’t respond, and Nate wondered which of the three she didn’t agree with. He doubted it was the second, since she was with a church group, and didn’t think it could be the last. Everyone complained at one time or another that Ted pushed them too hard. So that left loving, and considering the glimpse she’d given him into her past and the knowledge that she’d just come out of a bad relationship, Nate had a sneaking suspicion Carly had rarely been on the receiving end of any real affection.
The sudden thought that he might be the one to change all that sent an unexpected rush of adrenaline through his veins. One minute he fought the idea of a relationship with her; the next, he welcomed it. She was fire and water, ice and wind—her passionate nature, her free spirit attracting him like no other woman had done. He had enjoyed the times they’d conversed on friendly levels, and a part of him had been drawn like a moth to her flame when they’d exchanged heated banter. She confused him, exasperated him, magnetized him, and fascinated him.
He was beginning to feel as mixed up as Carly acted.
Eight
That night as the others gathered around the campfire, Carly held back. She couldn’t explain why on other occasions she hadn’t minded joining the group devotions so much, even if she did feel as if she was on the outside looking in, but tonight she not only felt like an outsider but also a hypocrite.
Her mind still whirled with her earlier conversation with Nate, not to mention his kiss, which she’d been shocked to find herself not only accepting but returning, and she didn’t feel as if she could paste a smile on her face one more night and pretend something she didn’t feel.
