Her Beautiful Mind Page 24

  “Because I’m an idiot,” I whispered back. And then I kissed her again. The kiss led to many more, not only on her lips but every part of her. I knew she had very little experience with boyfriends, love, or sex, for that matter, but she was eager and so responsive to everything we did.

  Our first time was slow and unhurried. I wanted her relaxed and ready before we joined our bodies, but it was difficult to restrain myself. It’d been over four years since I’d touched a woman. As soon as I realized I was falling for her, I quit dating completely. No one was as interesting or as fascinating as she was. Now I was here, in her bed, all her beautiful caramel skin exposed to me, ready for me to touch, to kiss, to explore with fingertips and lips. By the time she welcomed me into her body, I was shaking with need.

  We fell asleep afterward, arms wrapped around each other, blissful in our exhaustion. Sometime later, she woke me. This time, it was her kisses on my skin. Her fingertips and her lips that explored. She was as passionate and needy as I was, almost demanding in her actions. Her gasps and moans only fueled my desire. Any thoughts of restraint were quickly forgotten.

  Later, I lay half-sprawled on top of her, eyes closed, head resting on her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. I opened my eyes to find her left breast in front of me. Blowing on her nipple, I watched in fascination as the skin rippled and hardened rapidly. This close, I could see the tiny bumps covering the areola. I leaned over, kissing the swell over her heart, adding a tiny bite at the end. Ariella shifted and giggled. I looked up at her, grinning like a naughty boy caught stealing cookies, and marveled at the beautiful, happy woman who smiled back at me.

  Thick, luxurious hair covered the pillow around her. Her face was flushed, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips swollen from our kisses. Luminous eyes framed by dark lashes watched me in the dim light of her bedroom. In her face, I saw my future, saw all our tomorrows. We would make our big sale and move our company closer to her home. Eventually, there would be marriage, a house, and children to fill it. I would tell her tomorrow, after our signatures were on the contract with Italia. I would share my thoughts and my plans for our future.

  “I love you, my bella mente,” I whispered to the woman beneath me. “Now and for always, I love you.”

  She didn’t say it back then, but she did in the register I still clutch to my chest. Opening it, I turn back to her words, reading them over one more time. I realize there is some hope in her last two paragraphs. She wants to be important enough for me to search for. She would choose to make her journey with me rather than without me. Perhaps it’s not goodbye after all.

  The eyes are once again watching me from the edge of the nearby woods. They seem to grow larger as I stare at them. Dark and luminous, they remind me of Ariella’s eyes that night in her room. “I love you, Ariella,” I whisper into the darkness around me. “You’re important enough to search for, and when I finally find you, we’ll make this journey together.”

  The eyes stare at me for a moment longer before they’re gone. I hear the soft pitter-patter of retreating footsteps in the dry leaves before the night is quiet once more. Tired from a long day of hiking, I welcome the warmth and comfort of my sleeping bag. Tomorrow, I’ll resume walking toward the woman who can heal my heart and soul. For now, I let the blissfulness of deep sleep work its magic on my worn-out body.

  Chapter 33

  The Fall

  Date: Saturday-Monday, March 22, 23 & 24,

  Starting Location: Plumorchard Gap Shelter

  Destination: Siler Bald Shelter

  Total Trip Miles: 110.5

  Like a man possessed, or perhaps obsessed, Ghost sets a punishing pace for the next two days.

  Exhausted from days of big miles, hard trail, and the emotional turmoil from reading her letters, I somehow manage to sleep through most of the hikers’ morning preparations, waking only when my sleeping bag becomes too warm. Markham is packing his gear when I finally rise and stumble my way to the privy. I’m sore, my feet hurt, and my back is stiff. I may be a young man, but I move like an old one. Even his friendly “good morning” does little to improve my mood.

  “Ghost?”

  “Left before dawn,” he tells me. Then he asks if I need him to stay.

  “No, I’ll be fine. Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  Nodding, he shoulders his pack and leaves the shelter. I notice he limps slightly as he begins hiking, and I wonder if his ankle is giving him trouble. Thirty minutes later, I follow him.

  My trail guide mentions an old, gnarled oak tree that marks the state line between Georgia and North Carolina. I pass it some four miles later. It’s strange looking—all bent over and growing close to the ground with a crown of antler-looking branches at one end. If I were thru-hiking, I’d probably be celebrating the completion of my first state, but my journey is a different one, and I barely take time to notice it as I walk by.

  Ghost and M&M are taking a break in the grassy meadow beyond the oak. As soon as I sit, I’m handed his large bag of candy and told to eat my fill. The sweet, chocolatey treat never tasted so good.

  Travis doesn’t seem to be able to sit still. Trail guide in hand, he paces the area, muttering about miles, and food, and the girls. Markham watches him warily, and then, finally fed up with his agitation, tells him to go. “Easy and I will rest a little longer, and then meet you on the trail somewhere.”

  When Travis hesitates, M&M yells at him again. “Go,” he demands. “You’re driving me crazy with your pacing.” Without a backward glance, Ghost takes off.

  “Is he all right?”

  “Yeah,” he finally answers. “He’s been in a real temper since we heard the news about those guys at the road crossing yesterday. Ghost has this driving need to protect, ya know. Protect his fellow Marines, protect his fiancée, protect his sister—protect your girl,” he adds, grinning. “I guess his father was a real abusive piece of shit, and he blames himself for not taking care of his mom and sister. Course, he was just a kid himself, but … Well, that kind of stuff sticks with a guy.”

  I consider his words, nodding slowly to myself. When I turn to answer him, I find him examining me closely. “Your girl, is she going to be happy to see you?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What did you do?” he asks quietly.

  “Everything and nothing,” I finally reply with a long sigh. “Took her for granted mostly. We were in business together. I had everything planned out—money, marriage, children, our future. Everything I wanted. Problem was I forgot to include her in the planning. Thought I was protecting her from the ugly parts of life,” I finish with a disgusted huff.

  Shaking my head, I stare down at the ground between my bent knees, absently plucking at the grass growing there. M&M says nothing, letting me gather my thoughts. “Someone from my past reared her ugly head, and because I wasn’t open and sharing with her, she believed the worst and left. Now, she’s out here hiking, convinced I’m a cheater and a thief.”

  “What do you intend to do when you find her?”

  “Grovel,” I admit.

  “Sounds like a plan.” He laughs, reaching for his backpack. “Come on,” he adds. “We’ve got a mountain to climb, and I understand it’s a real doozy.”

  He’s right. Standing Indian Mountain is a huge, hulking monster of a mountain. We walk and walk and walk. Sometime during the long, never-ending uphill trek, Markham gradually pulls ahead of me. I seem to be getting slower and slower. To make matters worse, I’m hungry. I’ve heard about “hiker hunger.” It’s a constant need to fill a stomach that never seems to get full. I didn’t expect it to hit me this soon though. Thinking about yesterday’s trail magic from the Boy Scouts only makes my stomach growl louder.

  Mid-afternoon, I stop and examine my food bag. I’m carrying only enough for the rest of today and tomorrow. The extras have been added to Travis and Markham’s rations. I’ll be resupply
ing the day after tomorrow when I meet Tator. I snack, drink, and move on.

  When I finally get to the shelter near the top of the mountain, Ghost and M&M aren’t there. They’ve decided to hike another mile or two and are waiting for me at a camping spot farther along on the trail. With a weary sigh, I trudge on.

  The aroma of cooking food greets me even before I reach their camp. Ghost takes one look at me and quickly removes my pack, handing me a pot full of piping hot beans and rice topped with corn chips and cheese. He’s even prepared a large bottle of sweet lemonade. I have to make myself eat slowly.

  While I eat, they finish setting up camp. They’re using their tent as a ground cover and unroll our bags and pads on top of it. The weather’s nice, and we’ll cowboy camp tonight. Travis takes care of my gear, arranging everything neatly and conveniently beside my bed. He doesn’t say much, just glances at me from time to time. I’m not in a mood to talk to him either. When I’m finished with my meal, he takes the pot, cleans it, and packs it away.

  Finally, he sits down on the log beside me. “Sorry about today,” he says. “I really need to be alone sometimes. You, uh … You okay?”

  “Yes, just hungry and really tired.”

  He nods his head in answer, then shifts nervously before he speaks again. “I thought maybe if we did a couple more miles today, it would make tomorrow a little easier.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” I answer, still not warming up to him.

  “Well, okay,” he finally says. Standing, he points to a trail that leads off to the side. “There’s a nice spring down there. You should probably clean up, and then turn in. It’s been a long day, and we’ve got another long one tomorrow.”

  Still sitting on my log, I look up at Travis. He’s a good-looking guy, fit and muscular from years in the service. Blond curls peek from under a battered cowboy hat. He stands like a Marine officer, talks and moves like someone who’s used to giving orders and being obeyed. I can see Markham sitting on another log behind Travis. He’s watching me, a slight smirk on his face as if he suspects what I’m about to do. Standing, I face Travis, coming to attention. “Yesss, Sirrr,” I answer, mimicking M&M’s answer from yesterday.

  Markham howls in laughter and nearly falls off his log. I’m laughing as hard as he is. Travis looks back and forth between the two of us, trying to maintain his scowl, but soon he, too, is laughing with us. “Assholes,” he mutters, shaking his head as he walks to his bedroll. “Go to bed.”

  Tension relieved and friendship restored, we do just that.

  ~***~

  The second day of “Travis Buckman’s Forced March,” as I call it in my head, begins at the crack of dawn.

  Sleeping outside was a new experience for me. With nothing above me but sky, I stargazed until I could no longer keep my eyes open. The temperature dropped sometime during the night, and I found myself pulling the hood of my sleeping bag snug around my face, leaving only my nose exposed to the cold night air. Exiting the warmth of my down bag was an exercise in stubborn determination.

  I feel better today. A hot dinner and a solid night’s sleep make for a happier hiker. The trail helps, too. It drops down off the mountain in a series of long, gradual switchbacks that are easy on the knees and back. My pack is the lightest it’s been. With very little weight from food, water, and gear, I almost forget it’s on my back.

  Ghost is in a much better mood. Maybe it’s the big miles we’re doing, or maybe because we’re one day closer to his fiancée, but he stays with M&M and me most of the time. He makes sure we eat, drink, and take rest breaks more often, too.

  The hardest climb comes twelve miles into the day. Albert Mountain rears its steep, rocky face in front of us. A few log stairs are built into the trail, but it’s mostly a hand-over-hand rock scramble up the almost straight cliff. At times, I’m so bent over my face is only inches from the ground.

  The fire tower on top offers a great place to rest and cool off. Markham takes off to the edge of the woods, saying he has a date with a bush, while Travis and I climb the tower. The cool breeze dries our sweat as we gaze at the forested mountains spread out before us. I’m still a little uncomfortable around him and try to think of some topic to start a conversation.

  “M&M told me he wants to go into the medical field now his service is over. Do you have plans?” I finally ask.

  Ghost nods, still staring at the view before us. “I always wanted to be a teacher. Before I joined the Marines, I planned to get an advanced degree in history with an emphasis in military campaigns. Thought I would teach at the university level.

  “I grew up around guns—it’s hard not to when you’re from Texas,” he explains with a slight smile. “And I was always fascinated by everything concerning the armed forces. My nana wasn’t very happy when I left graduate school and enlisted, but I wanted to serve my country. I thought I was keeping us safe from our enemies.”

  “And now?” I prompt after he doesn’t speak for several minutes.

  “Now, I’m not so sure,” he finally continues. “I knew I would probably have to kill people. But they weren’t real people. They were the nameless, faceless enemy, and I was good with it. When they made me a sniper, it all became personal.”

  He shifts around to face me, watching my reaction as he continues his story. “When you look down the scope of your rifle, you see a person. They’re someone’s husband, brother, son. I killed them. I squeezed the trigger of my gun and watched my bullet enter their head and blow the back of it off. They weren’t nameless or faceless anymore.”

  I stare at him, speechless by the painful truth of his revelation. “Travis, I didn’t realize … I didn’t know—”

  “Don’t,” he interrupts. “It’s okay. I’m okay. But you can understand why I don’t want to teach military history anymore,” he continues with a slight smile. “I still want to teach, but now it’s going to be art. Painting and drawing have helped me deal with some of my issues. I want to get certified as an art therapist and use it to help other vets like me.”

  Turning his attention back to the scene before us, he stares off into the distance, lost in his thoughts and memories. I say nothing, thinking about the two men I’m hiking with. Both are a few years older than me, both have served their country under some of the worst conditions, and both of them have decided to use their talents and interests to help other people. What have I done? I ask myself. Building the business and making money don’t seem as important as they once did.

  We pull into Rock Gap Shelter as the sun sets. It’s the end to a long, tiring, eighteen-mile day. Depending on how much time Allison and Ariella spent in Franklin, it’s very possible we will catch them tomorrow or the day after. It makes the long miles worthwhile. Travis cooks our last meal. With only snacks left in our food bags, my resupply tomorrow can’t come quickly enough. Markham and I unpack and set up. An hour later, we’re asleep.

  ~***~

  When you get up with the sun, you start your hike early. The problem with starting early is getting to your destination way too soon. With only three miles to Winding Stair Gap, we arrive long before Tator does. I’m not sure when Liam asked him to be here, but I know it wasn’t this early. We can’t skip this resupply, and we can’t hitch into Franklin and risk the chance of missing him. We’re stuck.

  Travis is antsy again. He paces, mutters, and scowls at the empty parking lot. Markham and I watch calmly from our seats at the picnic table while we eat a trail bar. Finally, when I can’t take any more, I call him over.

  “Take this,” I say, emptying the contents of my food bag on the table. “Take what I have and go. This and what you have left should get you and M through today and maybe tomorrow. By then, you’ll have caught up with Allison and maybe Ella, if they’re together. I’ll wait for Tator and start as soon as I can. If he has any extra food, I’ll bring it, too.”

  Travis can’t seem to make up his
mind. He glances at the food, at M, at me, at the clouds rolling in overhead.

  “Go,” I urge. “Go find your girl. I’ll be fine.”

  Finally, he nods. “Okay,” he agrees and begins gathering up the food on the table. “Looks like the weather is getting colder. You gonna be all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You got enough clothes?”

  “Yesss, sirrr.” I laugh. “Wool long johns, hiking pants, and rain pants to put over them. Wool sleeping shirt, two T-shirts, and my rain jacket to cover those. A knit cap and a hood. Extra pair of socks for my hands. I’ll be fine, Ghost. Just go.”

  “Wayah Bald is ten miles,” he tells me. “We can camp inside the tower on top if the weather turns bad or push on to Cold Springs Shelter, which is another six miles from there. Depending on conditions, we’ll meet you at Wayah or we’ll leave you a note there.”

  “Sounds good,” I agree.

  “Be careful,” he adds before he and M&M make their way across the road and into the woods on the other side.

  With nothing to do but wait, I crawl up onto the top of the table. The temperature is dropping, so I pull out my sleeping bag. Then, using my pack for a pillow, I fall asleep.

  ~***~

  “Hey,” a voice wakes me. “You Hudson?”

  “Yes,” I mutter, sitting up with a groan.

  The older man standing in front of me smiles. “Sorry to wake you. Name’s Tator,” he explains, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I have some supplies for you, but you might want to reconsider staying on the trail. Looks like a pretty nasty storm headed our way. I can take you into Franklin, and you can wait it out there, if you want.”