Chapter 13 #2
She turned from the waterfall, her face slightly damp. “I feel my parents with me in places like this. In the rocks, the trees, the water, the ferns, and the flowers. I know they’re watching me from above. I know they’re with me.”
He wished he felt Phillipe the same way Rosemary felt her mother and father.
Or maybe he did but had never realized it.
Maybe he felt Phillipe in the space next to him he had never filled.
He and Phillipe had hiked and camped together for years.
After Phillipe died, Aleksei hadn’t wanted anyone with him.
Hadn’t wanted the intimate closeness created by sharing nature, by sharing resources and space.
Hikers took care of each other. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility of another person. Not again.
“You’re quiet. What are you thinking about?”
He pasted an easy smile on his face. One he’d spent months practicing before his first undercover op. “I’m wondering how experienced a hiker you are.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Her pack, pace, and ease on the trail made him think she’d been hiking for years, but that didn’t gel with her earlier comments.
She whistled and then scanned the area around them, turning her head to answer him only after Thor and Jaka trotted out of the woods and onto the trail.
“I’ve been hiking for about eighteen months.
I started as soon as I began taking Remiza.
The drug performed well in trials, but I wasn’t sure if it was going to work for me.
If it didn’t, I wouldn’t have had much time left.
I love nature, and I didn’t want to die without spending more time in it, so I started hiking and figured what would happen would happen. ”
The calm acknowledgement of her potential death was like a physical blow. He tried to ignore it. “You pack like an expert.”
“I pack like someone who knows how to take care of herself,” she retorted.
“My mom and sister wasted years of their lives taking care of me. Years. I swore to myself that if Remiza cured me, I was taking care of myself going forward. I hate that I was a burden on them for so long. I promised myself I was never going to be a burden on anyone else ever again.”
He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.
The spray from the waterfall that had beaded on her lightweight jacket was cool and wet under his palm.
He’d seen the deep affection in Sage’s eyes when worry drove her to track Rosemary down at the restaurant.
She’d come to check on her sister out of love, not a sense of obligation.
He hated the thought of Rosemary separating herself from her family because she felt like a burden.
The thought of her standing alone unsettled him.
The fact that she saw herself as an obligation rather than a gift made his heart ache, but his body reacted with an odd sense of ease, a softening of muscle and bone.
As Phillipe’s partner, he’d taken on the same responsibility Rosemary’s family had accepted.
The responsibility to do everything in their power to protect a life.
Rosemary’s family had succeeded, and he had failed.
But instead of that contrast making him rigid with guilt, his body had relaxed.
Rosemary didn’t want anyone taking responsibility for her life. The weight of that sat too heavily on her shoulders. For him, bearing that responsibility was something he could never do again. He’d learned that the cost of failing was just too high.
Shame washed over him as he recognized the warm ease that had settled into his bones. It was the emotion of a coward.
It was relief.
* * *
Hiking with Aleksei was easy. Almost too easy.
He was in better shape than she was—not surprising considering his military background and job—but he didn’t rush her.
She spent more time at each waterfall than the few other hikers they crossed paths with on the trail, but he seemed just as content to watch the crashing, swirling water as she was.
At every fall, while the dogs splashed and played or explored the nearby woods, they would choose fallen leaves and place them in the stream to race.
She’d won more races, but maybe he was letting her win.
Before the hike, she’d have said it was impossible to “fix” a race based on purely natural elements, but now that they’d been out several hours and she’d discovered just how vast his knowledge of the outdoors was, she wasn’t so sure.
The nature Rosemary had learned about was a different kind of nature.
No. Not a different kind of nature. She’d just learned different things.
Her mother had focused on the rhythm of life, as expressed in the seasons and the cycles of the sun and the moon.
She’d taught Rosemary how to meditate to foster a deep connection with the earth.
So, with each stop at each waterfall, Rosemary would touch the water and feel the falls as if they were rushing through her veins.
When they stopped for a snack, the tree she rested against shared its life with her, entering her bones, warming her back and shoulders.
This was the knowledge of nature her mother had passed to her.
Aleksei’s knowledge was all practical. He pointed out slippery spots on the trail that she didn’t notice.
He identified various plants and trees, pointing out some mushrooms and leaves that were edible in a pinch.
Not tasty, he said, but edible. He knew what kind of rock surrounded them.
Apparently, there was sandstone, shale, and siltstone.
They saw some fish in a deep, clear pool, and he told her they were brown trout.
They both laughed when the dogs jumped in, and the fish scattered.
When a bird cawed loudly in the trees, he told her it was a blue jay.
Of course, she’d already known that one.
She wasn’t completely clueless.
Despite offering information and insight from time to time, Aleksei didn’t fill the silent spaces with idle talk.
They hiked most of the time in the same kind of companionable silence she shared with Sage during long car rides or when they did a jigsaw puzzle.
Each was comfortable focusing on their own thoughts, chiming in only if they found a missing puzzle piece, saw something exciting out the window, or some interesting or funny thought popped into their minds.
But this hike was punctuated by strong hands holding her steady when the trail turned steep, a firm chest and hips pressed against her back when they squeezed against the rockface to allow other hikers to pass on narrow sections of the trail, and soft touches on her back and shoulders to get her attention.
Quiet time with Sage was, well, sisterly.
The thoughts that crossed her mind with each graze of Aleksei’s hand across her back or shoulder, each brush of his thigh when they sat together on rocks, each puff of warm breath when he leaned close to say something in her ear so he could be heard over the cacophonic music of the falls—those thoughts were not familial.
She wanted him to press her against a rock, wrap her legs around his waist, and kiss her senseless.
If there were fewer hikers on the trail and the weather were warmer, they could risk making love in one of the frigid pools formed by the falls.
She imagined him lying her next to one of those pools.
She could almost feel the cold rock against her back, smoothed by years of flowing water, and the chilly water that would swirl around her calves as she lay back, her legs dangling in the water.
The early spring air was not much warmer than the water.
His tongue would be deliciously hot on her icy skin.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” He glanced skyward. “We should get moving. It’s getting late.”
They’d hiked longer than expected, covering the entire Falls Trail and exploring some side trails as well, taking their time at each waterfall, letting the dogs run and play. The sky was beginning to gray. The hours had passed like a gentle flowing stream.
Was it normal to feel this comfortable this soon? Was the thing budding between them a pile of kindling? Something that would burn fiery hot, but die out quickly? Or was it something that would last?
She was reluctant to move. They sat side by side, backs propped against a sun-warmed boulder, their feet cooling in the water.
Her feet had gone numb in the icy cold. The swirling water tugged on her buoyant feet.
This was a perfect moment in a perfect day.
But Aleksei was right. The spring equinox had not yet come, and sunset still came early.
Dark would come fast on the wooded trail, and temperatures dropped quickly at this altitude. It was time to head back.
She watched him don his socks and boots, his long fingers quick and efficient.
A curl of jealousy snaked through her. All his movements were expertly fluid.
Thor had even seemed to recognize his skill, accepting him as the leader of their little hiking group, responding quickly when he called.
After her feet were snuggled back in her padded socks and cushioned boots, he pulled her up with one rough-skinned hand.
“We probably have only ninety minutes of good light left,” he said.
“I know. And at least forty-five minutes of straight hiking to get back to the cabin.”