Her Beautiful Mind Page 18

  I teased her, the hard-nosed, science-loving, math genius believing in something as fantastical as magic. She laughed right back at me before finally confessing it was Granny Cora who explained the magic of mountaintops. She said she always wanted to see Springer’s summit, to stand in winter but look down at spring. We debated driving to the top, taking the backwoods’ forest road, which would get us within a mile of the famous long-distance hiking trail, but finally decided it was getting too late, and we would save it for another day.

  Instead, we drove back to the cabin where I spent another restless night in her grandmother’s bedroom, tossing, turning, and thinking about the woman who was sleeping down the hallway in her childhood bed. The woman I was desperately trying to keep my distance from even as I fell more deeply in love with her every day.

  I never thought I would fall for someone like Ariella. When Dr. Albright persuaded me to attend her eighteenth birthday party, I went for one selfish reason only: I needed an idea for a startup business. To complete my MBA at Harvard, I had to submit a business plan for starting and managing an actual company. The requirements were very specific. Everything required—from product to investors, from manufacturing to distributions, from legal to practical—had to be written, described, and included. I knew I could do all of it, I just needed an idea, a real idea, not some bullshit made-up scenario like some of my classmates had chosen.

  So, I went to the party, and I met not the geeky, socially awkward, badly dressed, math genius I expected, but a shy, very lovely young woman who had no idea how special she truly was. She seemed so real, so innocent and open, so trusting and unspoiled. There was no hardness about her, no veneer of false sophistication or manipulation so many of the young women in my social and educational circles seemed to have acquired over the years. I was interested and intrigued, and then I fell in love. She became my bella mente—beautiful mind, beautiful heart, beautiful person, and a beautiful name that only I called her. But she was also my business partner, and that was a line I could not, and would not, cross.

  When we became partners, Albright sought me out, warning me about taking advantage of her. He told me a little of her difficult past and upbringing, hinted vaguely at her medical diagnosis, and reminded me how my wealth and social connections made me more powerful than her. He needn’t have worried. I’d never consider hurting her in any way, but I also understood how it could appear to the outside world.

  I was a wealthy man from a wealthy family, and that meant power in our country and society, but I also knew all that wealth had been handed to me—I’d done nothing to earn it. I grew up with trust funds, real estate investments, and stock portfolios. With my connections, it would have been simple to gain control of her theories and discoveries. Starting a romantic relationship would have made it even easier. So, I stayed away, trying to be a good friend even when I wanted so much more.

  We never made it back to Springer. Other activities filled our time until we returned to New York. Instead of making the trip with her, I traveled the forest road with Liam, who dropped me off at the dirt parking lot with a gruff “good luck” before handing me a loaded backpack and pointing to the path I needed to follow to reach the summit. At least, he used words this time and not his fist.

  Thinking about his violent greeting when I entered the store at Neels Gap has me rubbing my sore jaw and shaking my head at the memories. It took me nearly a week to finally get away from New York and follow her to Georgia. Every time I tried to go, something would demand my attention and prevent me from leaving. Meetings with Vincent, with Susan, with the police, with the FBI, and finally, with the US Military had me so anxious and on edge I could barely remain civil.

  Keyed up and agitated, I stormed into Mountain Crossings, demanding to know where she was, only to be met by a furious Liam Crow and a mean right hook I managed to avoid only at the last minute. He still caught me with a glancing blow, which sat me on my ass. I’m sure the next punch would probably have broken my jaw if Emma hadn’t stopped him. The disgusted look she gave me hurt almost as much as Liam’s fist.

  “Take it to the back,” she demanded, pushing the two of us ahead of her and out onto the patio. Pointing to two chairs, she told us to sit. “And you,” she said, glaring at me, “you better start explaining yourself, and it better be good, or so help me, I’ll beat your ass myself.”

  “Have you seen her? Has she been here? Is she okay?”

  Liam couldn’t hold back. “What do you care, you lying, cheating, backstabbing, son of a—”

  “Liam,” Emma warned. “That’s not helping matters. Let him talk.”

  He sat back, arms crossed on his chest, staring at me with a scowl, daring me to say something wrong.

  “I do care. Look,” I said, leaning toward him, “I’m not sure what she told you, or what she believes, but I can explain everything.”

  “Then explain it to me,” he spat out through gritted teeth. “Explain how you forgot to have her sign those papers protecting her interests in the company. Explain how you accepted a position with Banca Italia and basically stole the company from her. And then”—he stood, taking a threatening step toward me—“you can explain to me why you slept with my little cousin while you’ve been living with your bitch of a fiancée in your condo for the last two years. Explain that, Hudson.”

  Liam glowered down at me, hands fisted, jaw clenched. For a moment, I think I knew what true fear was. Then, he sat back down, still scowling, still waiting for me to say something to make him angrier.

  His accusations made me realize how terrible this whole situation must appear to Ariella. I wasn’t exactly sure what Gia had said to her. I knew it was bad, but I hadn’t known the extent of her deceit.

  “Oh, God,” I groaned, rubbing the worry lines I was sure were permanently etched into my forehead. “They’re lies, Liam. Everything is a lie. I didn’t take a job with Italia, Gia is not my fiancée, I don’t own the condo and haven’t for over two years. And I swear to you, I swear, I would never cheat or steal the company from her.”

  My words didn’t appear to satisfy Liam or Emma. Both were still glaring at me, waiting for me to say something else to convince them.

  “I love her. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. She’s more important to me than any condo, any business deal, or any other person in my life. Please,” I begged, glancing between them, “please tell me you’ve seen her. Tell me she’s okay, that I still have time to make this right.”

  “She’s been here,” Emma finally answered me. “She left earlier this afternoon.”

  “Do you know where she’s going? Can you tell me how to find her?” I said, jumping out of my chair, ready to go wherever she was.

  “Sit down, Hudson,” Liam commanded. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

  “Dammit, Liam. What do I have to do to make you believe me? Tell me,” I begged. “I’ll do anything.”

  For a long time, Liam stared at me. His stone face gave away nothing, no hint of what he was thinking. “Anything?” he finally said.

  “Anything,” I replied. “Just tell me how to find her. I have to fix this.”

  “Okay,” he said and stood up. “Have you had anything to eat this evening?”

  “What?”

  “I said … have you had anything to eat this evening?”

  “No, but—”

  “Emma made venison stew today. I’m sure there’s some left you can have. You’re welcome to sleep in the guest room, and we’ll continue this tomorrow. I have to go back to work.”

  He turned his back on me and walked toward the back entrance to his store. I started to follow him, but Emma stopped me.

  “Don’t,” she warned. “He’s been torn up about all this. You’re his friend, and he wants to believe you, but Ari is family, and family is important to us.”

  “Emma, tell me, please. How is she? Where is she?”
<
br />   “To tell you the truth, Hudson, she looked horrible. She’s sad, confused, depressed. She stayed with us a couple days, and I think it helped, but I’ve never seen her so quiet, so withdrawn.”

  Her words hurt. I frowned, wondering how I could have let this happen. I’d been such a clueless fool. Despite my money, education, and family connections, despite all the privileges I’d grown up with, all the business acumen I thought I had, I’d been played, royally played, by a conniving bitch I thought was out of my life for good.

  “She’s hiking the Appalachian Trail,” Emma continued. “Being in the woods is good for her. I’m sure Liam will figure out the road crossing closest to her location and take you there tomorrow. But for now, let’s get you fed and into bed. Knowing Liam, he’ll have you up at the crack of dawn.” I followed her into the kitchen, and then spent another restless night worrying about Ariella.

  Liam did wake me at sunrise, but he didn’t take me to a road crossing to find her. Instead, he brought me to Springer. He stopped in the parking lot before telling me to get out. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was doing. When I told him I would do anything to find her, he’d taken me at my word. This was a test—a test of my determination, of my willingness to do whatever I needed to do to find her. A trial of sorts to win Liam’s trust and friendship again.

  He pulled an old, beat-up, heavily laden pack out of the truck. I swung it up onto my back, staggering a little from its unexpected weight. I caught a glimpse of his pleased smirk before he handed me a small paperback book.

  “This is a trail guide. It should tell you everything you need to know about the trail, where to camp, where to find water, where the shelters are. Today’s Sunday. You have three days to make it to Neels Gap. I’ll pick up Ari on Tuesday morning and have her there when you arrive. If you get there,” he added with another infuriating smirk. “Good luck.”

  Then he climbed into his truck and drove off, leaving me standing in the middle of the parking area covered in his dust. I followed the sign to the summit, thinking of Ariella, and wondering how to get through the next three days until I could see her again.

  ~***~

  This place is busy. Groups of people wander around the area, posing for photos, admiring the scenery. Some are backpackers laden with gear, excited to be starting their hikes. Others are family members saying goodbye to those hikers, and others are sightseers, enjoying a beautiful day on top of the famous mountain. I notice more than a few passing around a battered notebook, thumbing through it before sitting down to write something with the attached pen.

  There’s a lookout point at the edge of the mountain, and I walk over to stand on the flat rock and gaze at the scenery below. It’s just like Ariella said—“winter here, but spring below.” I’m standing alone without her on this magical mountaintop, looking out over the rivers, the valleys, and the forest. I’m looking at the future when all I want to do is change the past.

  If I were a real time traveler, I’d go back. I’d tell her everything, share everything, and make her a true partner, both in our personal and professional lives. I’d acknowledge what a strong, fully capable person she is, a woman who doesn’t need my misplaced, misguided protection. When I find her again, there will only ever be trust and truth, the whole truth, between us.

  Shaking my head at my melancholic thoughts, I find a rock to sit on and drink from the water bottle stored in one of the pack’s side pockets. Lost in my reflections, I don’t notice the person standing in front of me until he speaks.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asks.

  I look up to find a young man staring at me. He’s lean, fit, dressed in standard hiking garb of convertible pants and moisture-wicking shirt. There’s a small, well-worn pack on his back and trail runners on his feet. Something about him reminds me of Liam, perhaps his skin tone, high cheekbones, or his long dark hair. I wonder if he shares the same Cherokee heritage with Liam and Ariella.

  “Oh, uh, yes, thanks,” I manage to mumble.

  Instead of walking away, he continues to examine me, his gaze wandering over my pack and clothing. Suddenly, he sticks out his hand. “Randall Green. I’m the ridgerunner for this section of the AT.”

  “Ridgerunner?”

  “Yeah. During hiking season, I work this section of the trail, mostly to keep it clean and do some maintenance. I pick up the trash people leave behind and shovel shit out of the privies when they get too full.” He laughs at my grimace. “But my main job is to help hikers who run into problems or look like they could use some, uh, guidance. And, to tell the truth, you don’t look like a very experienced hiker. So, tell me—”

  “Hudson. Hudson Calder,” I answer, standing and extending my hand.

  Randall’s grip is firm when he shakes my hand. “Tell me, Hudson, have you done any long-distance or overnight hiking before?”

  “No, not really. What gave me away?”

  He shakes his head, grinning as he chuckles at my question. “Well, just about everything, especially those clothes you’re wearing. Your jeans look nice, expensive, too, but denim is a bad choice for the outdoors. It takes forever to dry if it gets wet, and those shoes aren’t exactly made for hiking over rough ground.

  “And then there’s this pack. It’s a beautiful, old classic backpack, but nobody … What the hell?” he exclaims when he bends over to pick it up, grunting at the weight of it. “What have you got in here? Rocks?”

  “I don’t really know,” I confess sheepishly. “I didn’t know we were coming here. I was dropped off, handed the pack, and told to be in Neels Gap by Tuesday. I have no idea what’s in it.”

  “This some kind of prank or something?” He glares at me, his voice loud enough for people around us to hear. “Because let me tell you, Hudson, people die out here, and I’m not about to be responsible for your dead ass because some stupid, city boy decided to play Daniel Boone for the weekend.”

  “No, no, it’s not like that at all, really. I just … I have to be in Neels Gap on Tuesday. It’s important. Help me, please. Tell me what I need to do to get there. Preferably alive,” I add, grinning.

  Randall’s glare softens a bit at my plea, but he’s still fuming at what he thinks is some ridiculous, dangerous stunt. Finally, he nods. “Okay, but first you have to tell me who left you here.”

  “A friend of mine,” I reply. “He owns Mountain Crossings at Neels Gap.”

  “Liam Crow?” he questions, clearly not believing me. “Liam left you here in those clothes, with that backpack?”

  When I nod, he begins to laugh, a full-on belly laugh, which leaves him gasping for breath and sitting down on a nearby rock. “Oh,” he finally gasps. “You must have really pissed him off.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. I have to go to Hawk Mountain Shelter. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll spend some time going through your pack. I can show you how to use your stove, tent, and water filter when you get there.

  “It’s almost eight miles, which will leave you twenty-two miles to cover in the next two days. You should be able to make it there by nightfall. Take it slow and easy and be sure to take some breaks to eat, drink, and rest. Sign the trail register before you leave. Use your real name and the date so we can prove you were here, in case your family wants to sue Crow someday.

  “Good luck, Hudson,” he says, shaking my hand again. “I think you’re going to need it.” He walks off, still laughing to himself and muttering something about Liam and how he can’t wait to talk to that asshole.

  No one’s using the register now, so I pull it out of its protected metal box and begin thumbing through it to find an empty spot to write my name. I’m not sure how long it’s been since Ariella was here, five to seven days I imagine. I skim the dates quickly, trying to find her name, and there it is. Five days ago she was here, had added her name and the date with a few words b
elow them, all in her very neat, very precise handwriting. With my finger, I trace her words.

  Ariella Dobbs

  Thursday, March 11, 2003

  Terminus: an ending or a beginning?

  My choice.

  My eyes linger on her words. They’re so like her—few in number but full of meaning and significance, with just a hint of strength, determination, and intelligence hidden beneath the surface. “Oh, my bella mente,” I whisper to myself. “I’m so sorry, my love.” I add my own entry beside hers.

  Hudson Calder

  March 16, 2003

  Terminus: A second chance to get it right this time?

  Please don’t give up on me yet, sweetheart.

  Your choice, always your choice.

  She won’t ever see this, I know, but it helps a bit to answer her, to tell the world I’m not ready for an ending. Closing the notebook, I reach to put it back into its container when a sudden gust of wind catches the pages, flipping them open. For a brief moment, I glimpse what looks like more of Ariella’s handwriting. Quickly, I search through the back of the book until I find it. She’s written me a letter, a whole page of her thoughts and feelings.

  Dear Hud, it begins. The words are full of sorrow and pain, her devastation so clearly evident. I frown at the mention of the sales presentation. I knew she’d been nervous, but I thought she’d done a good job trying to explain a program based on theories and math calculations even the most intelligent person in the room would have been hard-pressed to understand. I remember glaring at Gia when she so obviously tried to hide her fake, bored yawn behind her hand.

  But it’s her mention of the lies and the love that broke her heart that has me feeling like someone just punched me in the gut. I didn’t outright lie to her, but I did keep things from her. I lied by omission, and those lies hurt as badly as intentional ones.

  I finish reading her letter. Although it doesn’t have a happy ending, it does have a somewhat optimistic one. She says she’s okay, and she will cherish what we once were. It gives me hope we can start again, hope she will give me a second chance.