Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Melancholy guitar notes and Zach Bryan’s deep twang filled his ears as Aleksei flipped a perfectly browned blueberry pancake.
Rosemary was going to be impressed. When he’d packed the pancake mix, he’d assumed his frying pan would be sitting atop his cast-iron over-fire grill, but Rosemary had rented one of the few modern cabins at the state park.
Cabin E. You’d think all the natural beauty of the park would inspire something a little more creative in terms of a cabin name.
Despite its drab name, the cabin was beautiful.
All wood planks, furnished with a stove, sink, and refrigerator.
It even had a bathroom and a shower. Even though it had two bedrooms, he’d insisted on pitching his tent out front.
Rosemary had seemed nervous last night, twisting her hands and looking at the ground instead of meeting his gaze as they’d chatted briefly.
Then she’d pleaded exhaustion and retired for the night.
She’d offered multiple times for him to stay in the second bedroom but had seemed relieved when he insisted on sleeping in his tent.
He told himself he shouldn’t be disappointed.
He’d been thrilled but also surprised that she’d asked him to join her on this trip.
Camping was a close-quarters kind of activity, and they hadn’t known each other very long.
He was taking the fact that she had given him the extra cabin key as a sign that, despite her nerves, they were still in a good place.
Maybe she was just tired. She’d worked all day, and it was a long drive from Philly to Ricketts Glen. Or maybe her reticence was because they’d barely spoken over the weekend. Barely texted.
That was his fault. Zina’s house had been nuts.
Good nuts. But still nuts. He didn’t remember having that many lessons, practices, and games when he was young.
And the kids wanted him to go to everything.
Everything. It wasn’t fair of him to assume that he and Rose would slip right back into familiar comfort and easy rapport.
You slipped into it pretty quickly on your first two dates.
And the calls and texts they had exchanged had been like those he’d had with his family and Phillipe. Easy. Even when they talked about hard things.
Her reticence could be due to Thor’s tepid response to his presence.
The giant that looked more like a deer in a cow costume than a dog had taken to Jaka right away.
The two dogs had immediately started chasing each other and wrestling.
Thor seemed to know he was more than twice Jaka’s weight and was gentle in his play.
Rosemary had explained that Thor was a Great Dane Dalmatian, a gentle and affectionate breed, but Thor had no interest in him.
Every time he approached, the dog would turn his head and walk away.
No barks or growls, just extreme indifference.
He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with a dog that, on his hind legs, was taller than Rosemary, so the tent was the best choice.
Rosemary had promised to keep Thor in her room so he could use the cabin restroom if needed.
Hopefully, Thor would warm up to him today.
He had a feeling that, if the dog didn’t accept him, Rose would send him packing.
Her love for the animal was evident. If Thor didn’t trust him, she wouldn’t either.
He slipped a pancake onto the pile he’d started on a platter and ladled more batter onto the frying pan.
He hadn’t woken until after ten. Then, he’d showered at the shower house, dressed, and packed his backpack for their planned hike.
At this point, the pancakes were going to be more lunch than breakfast. He was exhausted.
He’d slept poorly the past few nights and had the same recurring nightmare.
Even now, hours after he’d woken up in a cold sweat with Jaka licking his hand, the images still haunted him.
He’d dreamed of Phillipe. The night was dark and eerie.
The wind whipped as he stood at the edge of the walkway where Phillipe had been found dead on the cold, hard ground.
Then Phillipe’s eyes jumped open, and he rose, the bullet’s exit wound round and bloody on his forehead.
Phillipe’s arms ended in gory stumps where his hands had been hacked off.
Phillipe had Frankenstein-walked toward him, repeating the same thing over and over. “It’s all right there. Why can’t you see it? It’s all right there. Why can’t you see it?”
A hand touched his back. His heart jumped into his throat.
He squealed. Both the pancake he’d been flipping and his spatula went soaring through the air.
He pulled the earbud out of his ear just in time to hear the pancake land on the wood floor with a squishy thump.
Both Thor and Jaka skittered around the kitchen, barking.
“Shit.”
Bell-like laughter filled the air.
Rosemary’s pale fingers stroked both dogs’ heads as they butted up against her legs, nearly knocking her off balance. “Settle down, guys. Settle down. Shh. Aleksei’s just a scaredy cat. He didn’t mean to startle you with that yelp.”
Her teasing tone pulled his lips into a smile. She looked radiant and ready for action in leggings that were already covered with dog hair, hiking boots, and a forest-green long-sleeved shirt. Her hair—well, her wig—was pulled back into a low ponytail.
She must have noticed the direction of his stare, because she ran long, pale fingers down her ponytail, pulling it over her right shoulder, the white-blonde contrasting sharply against the dark shirt.
Her fingers twirled the ends of the ponytail, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “It’s the most practical for hiking.”
“The ponytail looks great.”
“You won’t tell anyone this isn’t my real hair?” she asked.
He didn’t care about her hair. Truly. And he would never betray her confidence.
“I’ll take your secret to my grave,” he said with the same solemnity he’d used when reciting his Oath of Enlistment. The heaviness of the vow and his reference to death seemed to suck the air from the room, so he shifted to humor to lighten the mood.
“Now you better swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about that ridiculous sound I made when you spooked me.” He pointed to the pancake on the floor, smushed by dog feet and half eaten before Rosemary had nudged Jaka and Thor out of the way. “And if you don’t promise, that one’s yours.”
He was rewarded by more tinkling laughter and a relaxation that continued to grow as they ate breakfast, cleaned up—him washing and her drying as if they’d lived together for years—grabbed the dogs’ leashes, and headed out for the Falls Trail.
They hiked together like longtime partners, with similar speed and caution.
The dogs continually darted ahead and circled back, spryer and more sure-footed than their humans.
Like him, Rosemary hiked with a fully stocked pack.
It didn’t matter that it was just a day hike and that, even with stopping to take pictures and have a snack, the 7.
2-mile in and out trail should only take a few hours.
She had several protein bars, a few bottles of water, Aquatabs, a couple of emergency blankets, and a first aid kit.
He liked that she was as prepared as he was, that she was smart enough to know that people got lost and accidents happened.
He'd had friends grouse at him over safety gear, telling him that he was a pessimist or that they didn’t need another grandmother, but he didn’t believe in taking chances.
Not with the health and safety of people he cared about.
“Did you grow up hiking?” he asked as they approached Wyandot Falls.
At fifteen feet, it was one of the smaller falls on the trail, but Rosemary exuded the same blissful wonder she’d shown when they’d stopped in front of Ozone.
At sixty feet, Ozone’s crash of rushing water had been nearly deafening.
Despite being petite by comparison, Rosemary gazed at the rocks and rushing water of Wyandot with an expression that mixed elation with reverence.
She took a few steps closer and raised her hands, letting the spray sprinkle her palms and face.
Just as he’d begun to wonder if she’d heard his question, she answered.
“No. I remember going to the beach and Disney when I was young but never hiking or camping. My dad committed suicide when I was in middle school, and for a while, money was too tight for travel. When my mom remarried, our finances improved, but then I got sick. So, it was lots of rest and indoor time for me.” She waved her hand, encompassing the rocks, falling water, and woods surrounding them.
“Now, I hike and camp whenever I’m able.
I try to spend as much time as I can doing the things I love. ”
“I’m sorry.” The words felt trite. Her life had been a series of tragedies. It was no wonder she tried to bring as much joy as she could into every day. With so much shit in her life, she must always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Or maybe she was trying to experience as much as she could before it did.
Maybe too many brushes with death had given her a “life is short” attitude, so she threw caution to the wind and did whatever she had to in order to live life fully before tragedy struck again.
Maybe she was working for Moresco to fund the lifestyle she’d never been able to have.
Money laundering was lucrative and could seem victimless.
Kemper hadn’t found any anomalies in her financials, but he’d done only a quick search. He easily could have missed it.
Rosemary shrugged. “It’s OK. If life weren’t hard, how would we know to appreciate what we have? If we didn’t know loss, we wouldn’t know joy.”
Her words only reinforced the worm of doubt that continued to wriggle in his thoughts.