Her Beautiful Mind Read online
Page 12
“That was a scary story,” she whispers. “I’m glad you escaped unharmed, but I don’t know if I could have been so brave.”
“I think I may have had a little help from my granny today,” I whisper back. “It felt like she was right there with me, climbing the mountain.”
“Ah,” she yawns sleepily. Her eyes close, and she pulls the hood of her sleeping bag up over her head, snuggling down into its warmth.
“Wonderland?” I ask quietly, a few minutes later. “What does Yellow do for a living?”
She chuckles softly before answering. “Rosemary Buckman is an assistant district attorney for Tarrant County, Texas.”
“And you? What do you do for a living?” I ask into the darkness but get no answer.
My shelter mate has entered a wonderland of dreams and is sound asleep.
Chapter 19
Goodbye, Hud
Date: Wednesday, March 19
Starting Location: Plumorchard Gap Shelter
Destination: Standing Indian Mountain
Total Trip Miles: 84.8
The temperature plummets during the night and I wake cold and shivering in the early predawn darkness. Rummaging through my clothes bag, I pull on my down sweater, wool socks, and wool cap. I also shift my sleeping pad and bag around so I’m closer to the back wall and away from the open edge of the platform.
The next time I wake, sunshine is warming the shelter, and I’m too hot. I’m also alone. I can hear the hiking group below me as the teachers give last-minute instructions, and they prepare to leave. They remind their students to always hike with a buddy and make sure they’re wearing their safety whistles. When they leave, I’m surrounded by silence.
I sit up and stretch, groaning at the stiffness in my shoulders and arms. Pulling myself up the mountainside yesterday used long-ignored muscles, not only in my upper body but in my butt and thighs, too. It takes me a few minutes of hobbling around before I can stand and move comfortably.
There’s a piece of folded paper on the floor near me. It’s a note from Yellow, telling me they decided to let me sleep since I seemed to need the extra rest, and they hope to see me at Bly Gap where they plan to eat an early lunch. Wonderland has added “and take a nap” with a smiley face at the bottom of the page.
When I begin to pack up, I realize how tired I am—physically, emotionally, and mentally. Yesterday was more draining than I realized at the time. Yet the extra sleep has helped. By the time I climb down to the bottom level and begin organizing my food, I’m ready and eager to start the day.
While I eat my breakfast bar and dried fruit, I thumb through the shelter register. I find entries by most of the hikers and both groups here last night. A few have been added this morning. Most of them mention my narrow escape from the bullies. Some call me brave or lucky. Someone points out how important it is to always be aware of your surroundings. The entry that makes me laugh, however, is from Wonderland, who calls me a badass, take-no-shit hiking girl.
I reread my story from last night, checking to make sure I’ve described everything accurately, and then I find myself flipping to a page near the back, pen in hand, and writing to Hudson.
Dear Hud,
Yesterday was one of those days. You know the ones you look back on and realize how so many events in your life have been leading to that day. How all the “cause” in your life came together to form one beautiful “effect,” and how a different pattern for your life was revealed, ready to be explored and enjoyed. That’s what yesterday was.
Three things happened.
The first was I stopped being a victim. No one can bully me if I don’t let them. I stopped ignoring them, stopped pretending I didn’t hear them or that their words and actions didn’t hurt. I talked back. I told them to put up or shut up, and I fought back. It felt so freeing to be rid of the weight, to shift it to their shoulders where it’s always belonged. No one—not the tormentors of my youth or the Gias of New York—will ever make me feel inadequate again.
I hope you would have been proud of me for the second. I stood in front of a group of strangers, and I told a story. I spoke clearly and calmly, without stuttering or stammering, shaking or sweating. If my accent was more pronounced, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what I looked like, how I was dressed, or in this case, how bad I smelled. Ha! I had something important to say, and I said it. They listened to me and thanked me for sharing.
The third thing happened during a long talk with LC. He wanted to know all the details about New York. During our long discussion, I told him I loved you. How sad is it I told him but not you? It’s not as if I didn’t have the opportunity. I could have said those words when you told me how you felt. I could have told you the next morning when you showed me how you felt. But I didn’t. Granny loved me, of that I have no doubt, but she was never one to talk about feelings. None of her family did. So, when you said you loved me, I didn’t say anything, just kept my words to myself. I’m sorry. People should know how you feel about them; children need to know they are loved. Not just shown but told.
So, here goes ... I love you. I love you enough to forgive you for everything that happened in New York. I love you enough to want you to be happy. If it means marrying G and having a career with BII, then that’s what I want for you. I love you enough to let you go, and I love me enough to move on without you.
There is one more thing. (I know I said three things, and this is four. Sorry.) Before he left yesterday, LC asked what he should say if you came looking for me. I laughed at him, sure it was the last thing you would do. Yet I have to confess some small part of me, some last, small hope left inside, wants to think you will come looking for me. A little part hopes I was, and still am, important enough for you to follow me.
There’s a journey waiting for me. If I had a choice, I would make the journey with you by my side. With or without you, I’m going forward, and I’m going to savor every moment of it.
Goodbye, Hud.
Chapter 20
Girlfriends
Date: Wednesday, March 19
Starting Location: Plumorchard Gap Shelter
Destination: Standing Indian Mountain
Total Trip Miles: 84.4
Bly Gap is famous for three things.
The first is a much-photographed, gnarled oak tree that grows in the open meadow. Sometime in its past, the tree was bent, causing the trunk to grow horizontally along the ground. The limbs grow perpendicular at one end of the trunk. From some angles, it looks like a large reclining deer or elk with a huge set of antlers, one of which sports a white blaze.
There’s no road access to the gap. Instead, you have to actually climb up to the flat area, which has a spring and nearby tent sites. The flat, grassy field has amazing vistas to the north and is, for all practical purposes, the border between Georgia and North Carolina. Northbounders can celebrate one completed state with only thirteen more to go before they reach Katahdin. Southbounders celebrate because they have only one state left to hike, and their goal is almost within sight. One more reason for its popularity. I catch up to Yellow and Wonderland at Bly Gap.
Despite the cold night, the day has warmed quickly. The sky is a perfect, clear blue. With very little humidity, the slight breeze quickly dries the sweat generated by the heat and the physical activity. The girls are taking advantage of the beautiful weather by sunbathing. They’ve found a rocky outcropping on one side of the meadow and they lie stretched out in the sun, using their sleeping pads for a little cushioning.
Wonderland appears to be asleep. Lying on her stomach, head resting on her arms, she’s stripped down to her sports bra and underwear. Her skin is very pale, and I’m instantly worried about sunburn.
Yellow must feel the same way because I hear her scolding and telling her to cover up when I approach them. Yellow is wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and hiking pants, which she’s rolled
up to mid-thigh. She quickly rolls them down when she spots me but not before I notice what looks like a raised, jagged scar running from one knee to ankle.
Both of them seem pleased to see me, and soon the three of us are happily sharing a picnic lunch. We talk, we laugh, and we enjoy the sunshine and each other’s company. I can feel something bubbling up inside me, and I realize it’s pure joy. Joy at being here, at this place, at this time, with these new friends. After the drama of yesterday—the long, difficult conversation with Liam, the frightening confrontation with the two men, and the public speech in front of so many people—I welcome this new feeling. It makes me want to laugh, to giggle. The trail has given me another wonderful gift.
All too soon, we’ve finished lunch, and it’s time to face the third thing that Bly Gap is famous for—the beginning of a nine-mile hike to the top of Standing Indian Mountain. At 5,498 feet in elevation, Standing Indian will be the tallest mountain we’ve climbed so far. There are steeper and longer ascents in the Smoky Mountains and in New England, but this is the first time the trail goes over five thousand feet. There are no carefully engineered switchbacks on this section; instead, the trail goes straight up the ridge. It climbs over several smaller peaks located on the flanks of the massive mountain before beginning the final assault of the summit. The first of these is Sharp Top. As the name implies, it’s steep.
Without the benefit of leaves, the trees give little shade. The trail is fairly open, and the views are amazing. But no leaves mean no shade, and it’s not long before we’re sweltering in the early afternoon sun. It takes over two hours of endless plodding for us to cover the three miles from Bly Gap to Muskrat Creek Shelter. When we get there, the small shelter and the meadow around it are full of hot, tired hikers.
A swiftly flowing creek runs nearby. Without even stopping, Wonderland turns and follows it downstream until she finds a small, secluded pool. Pack comes off first, then socks and shoes, shirt and shorts. Seconds later she’s in the icy water up to her neck. With a squeal, she ducks her head under, soaking her hair in the process before lunging to her feet and grinning with glee.
“It’s cold but wonderful,” she exclaims. “Come on, get in.”
I’m shucking off my outer clothing and heading into the water when I look back at Yellow. In her long pants and sweat-soaked, long-sleeved shirt, she looks hot and uncomfortable. Yet she’s still standing on the bank, hesitating.
“Rosemary, honey, there’s no one else here. It’s just Ella and me. Join us … please,” Wonderland pleads with her friend. “It’ll make you feel a lot better, and you don’t even have to take off your clothes—leave them on and come cool off.”
Finally, Yellow nods and, after taking off her shoes and socks, steps gingerly into the cold water. She walks to the far side of the pool and, with a sigh, sinks down into the cold water. Her hair is in two braids today, and she loosens them both before leaning back into the water and scrubbing the sweat and dirt from her head and hair. With closed eyes and a small, pleased smile, she lets the cold water run over her neck and shoulders.
Wonderland has decided our clothes need a rinsing, too. She tosses my shirt and shorts to me, and we spend the next few minutes trying to wash some of the hiker funk away. By the time we finish, we’re chilled and beginning to shiver. It’s time to get out and resume hiking. We still have almost six miles to the next shelter.
I get a good look at her back as we dress and start packing up. It’s obviously sunburned. She must have been miserable wearing her backpack and hiking in the heat, but she never complained.
Yellow seems to need some time alone, so Wonderland and I hike together while Rosemary gradually pulls ahead of us. We get glimpses of her from time to time as the trail twists and turns. She stumbles more than once, and I notice a pronounced limp. I want to say something, to ask if Yellow’s okay, but I’m not sure how or what to say. I’ve never had “girlfriends” before. I’ve never hung out, or gone to sleepovers, or done any of the normal things female friends do. My social skills are sorely lacking.
Worry twists my stomach, and finally, I stop and turn to Wonderland before blurting out, “Is Yellow okay? I know it isn’t any of my business, but she’s limping, and I noticed the scar, and then in the water she wouldn’t …” Shrugging my shoulders, I try to find the appropriate words. “I’m sorry,” I start again. “I’m just really worried.”
She studies me intently for a few moments while she gathers her thoughts. “Yellow hasn’t had an easy life,” she begins. “I’m sure if we stay together she’ll eventually share more of her story when she feels comfortable around you. I know she already likes you a lot. There are all kinds of scars. Some are on the outside, and some are on the inside. Some of them eventually heal, and others never do. She has all of those scars and more, but she’s dealing with them the best she can. This hike is already helping her both physically and mentally. Thank you for caring about her. It’s okay to ask.” With a nod and a smile, she starts walking again, and I join her.
Nothing else is said for the next thirty minutes or so as it takes all our breath just to scramble up the steep incline. Finally, the trail levels off and begins a slight downward slope. When I can talk again, I ask Wonderland about last night.
“You said Yellow is an assistant district attorney? She seemed different last night—really professional, very organized, and direct.”
“Oh, yes.” Wonderland chuckles. “You saw the formidable Rosemary Buckman in action last night. Known far and wide throughout North Texas for inspiring fear in even the toughest opponents.” She grins. “Her expertise is domestic violence, and she can go all mother bear to protect people she thinks have been threatened or abused, particularly children.”
“And what do you do?”
“I work in the emergency room at Harris Methodist Hospital in Fort Worth. I’m a trauma nurse.”
“Oh, did you treat Yellow there?” Realizing I’ve asked something that isn’t any of my business, I stop and start to apologize again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay, really. Rosemary can share the details when she’s ready, but I can tell you I did meet her and her family when she was in my care.”
“So, she’s not your sister?”
“What?” Wonderland stops abruptly and turns to face me. “Sisters?”
“Yes. I thought I heard you call her ‘sis’ last night.”
Wonderland’s giggling lights up her whole face. “Oh, you are a smart one. You must notice everything around you. Is there anything you miss?”
“Well.” I stutter in embarrassment. “I’ve always been pretty observant.”
“A good thing,” she grins, nodding. “When I met Rosemary, I also met her brother. We’re engaged,” she confesses with an even bigger grin. “Technically, we’ll be sisters-in-law, but she’s as close and as dear to me as a sister can be.”
“Congratulations. Is he going to be joining you for part of the hike?”
Her happy face falls at my question. “No, it doesn’t look like it. We planned to do this together. A kind of ‘spend lots of time in the great outdoors, get reacquainted, vacation/reunion,’ but Travis is a Marine, and his discharge papers were delayed for some reason, so he couldn’t join me. My leave of absence was already arranged and approved, and I really wanted to do this hike. Rosemary volunteered to come with me, and here we are.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, not knowing what else to say. “Maybe another year, after he gets home?”
“Maybe,” she answers with a shrug before we turn our attention back to the trail and continue hiking.
The trail offers us a reprieve when it dips down into a slight break in the ridgeline. We can see Yellow ahead of us. She’s stopped in the middle of the trail, hunched over what appears to be a wooden trail sign. Her shoulders are shaking, but it’s impossible to tell if she’s been hurt or injured.
“Rosemary?” Allison reaches out to her friend, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Sweetie, what happened? Are you all right?”
If I live forever, I will never forget the look on Yellow’s face when she turns to look at us—such pain, such sorrow, such utter defeat. Her face is pale, sweaty, hair plastered to her forehead. She steps away from the sign, pointing to it, and begins to laugh hysterically, tears running down her face as she gasps for breath.
“Look at it, Allison; look at that motherfucking sign!” she shouts. “A thousand miles from Texas in the middle of the woods of North Carolina, and I still can’t get away from that goddamned nickname.”
Wonderland and I look at the wooden sign. It marks the spot where the Chunky Gal Trail crosses the AT before heading off in an easterly direction. I have no idea what could have upset her so much, but apparently, Allison does. “No, no, no,” she whispers before leading Yellow away from the sign and farther down the trail. She pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back soothingly while she murmurs to her. “You’re okay, hun. He can’t hurt you anymore. Shh, Rosemary, it’s all right. You’re beautiful and wonderful, intelligent and smart, and stronger than any childhood nickname. Shh, shh.”
Once again, I curse my lack of social skills as I watch the two friends. I want to offer comfort, but I’m uncertain about what is appropriate.
Yellow gradually calms. She lifts her head from Wonderland’s shoulder and gives me a tentative smile. Then she straightens, opens one arm to me, and I step into their three-way embrace.
Girlfriends, another gift from the trail.
~***~
It takes the rest of the afternoon and early evening to reach the top of Standing Indian Mountain. Neither Wonderland nor Yellow seem inclined to talk, so we mostly hike in silence. From time to time, I point out a new wildflower or identify a bird, but little else is said. I’m left to my thoughts and worries.
Her Beautiful Mind