Chapter 3
Adam
I can’t believe I’m carrying Carrot Cake through the trees. Well, I was carrying her. Now she’s walking beside me, clinging to my arm while intoxicating wafts of something fruity and sweet surround us.
Apples.
The woman I've privately nicknamed Carrot Cake smells like apples, and she kicked me in the nuts.
Now that the pain has subsided, I can almost laugh about it.
Not quite. I also learned her real name.
Her friends called her Stevie. It suits her.
It’s short, sassy, and sounds like it would belong to someone who would kick a guy where it counts if she thought he was kidnapping her.
Good for her . . . I think. I'm still feeling some residual aches.
But her hands are so soft on my arm.
I’ve seen her car in the parking area plenty of times, and I’ve spotted her ginger hair in the distance.
She’s easy to find in the green trees. I’ve wondered about the redhead who spends almost as much time in the woods as I do.
After a while I started to feel protective of her, like she was our little forest mascot.
When Ike called me and said she was in trouble, I couldn’t get to her fast enough.
I can’t let anything happen to the forest mascot on my watch.
Then she kicked me and ran away screaming—an apt summary of nearly every interaction I’ve had with the opposite sex. There’s a reason I live in the woods.
I want to ask her what she was doing out here tonight, but I’m sure her head is pounding.
She smacked that granite boulder hard, and the memory of it ties my stomach in a knot.
The cracking sound replays in my mind. I wish I could tighten my arm around her.
I want to hold her close so she can’t fall like that again.
Instead, I clear my throat to keep myself from bothering her.
“If you’re cold, you should consider wearing a shirt,” she says under her breath, not loud enough for her friends to hear.
“I’m not cold.” I won’t feel cold for a while—not when I’ve had this fiery little redhead tucked against me like this.
Stevie. I know her name now.
“You shivered,” she accuses.
Maybe I did, but when her hand tightens on my arm, part of me relaxes. “What were you doing out here at night? It’s not safe.”
“I was looking for my friends.” She says this like it should be obvious.
“Weren’t they out here looking for you, though?” I worry about anyone being alone in these woods at night, but especially her. She’s so small and slight. She’s lucky to have friends who keep an eye on her. “That’s what Ike said when he called.”
She pulls away but immediately stumbles.
I almost reach for her, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable again.
She wasn’t thrilled to wake up in my arms a few minutes ago.
What else could I have done, though? I wasn’t going to leave her unconscious on the ground.
I wanted to get her to August, her car, a hospital—anything—as quickly as possible.
And I got kicked in the junk for my trouble.
“Ike called you?” She sounds mad. “You called Shirtless Adam?” she shouts at him. Ike and his wife are ahead of us on the trail. They ignore her.
I have to say, I’m not loving the nickname.
“I’m sorry they dragged you into this,” she mutters, reattaching herself to my arm. This is a relief, since she can’t seem to walk in a straight line.
I dip my chin. I don’t mind that Ike called me.
He’s a good guy. He’s the town manager, and we’ve had to coordinate efforts a few times in the work I do for the Biddeford Land Trust. This is the first time he’s asked me to look for a missing person, though.
I happened to be nearby, so it worked out.
I don’t mention any of this to Stevie. I can’t seem to make my mouth work around her. I guide her silently to the edge of the woods, until we reach the parking area. Everyone else beat us here, but I didn’t want to rush Stevie.
Now that civilization is in sight, it’s like she can’t get away from me fast enough. Her hands fall from my arm, and she makes a beeline toward what must be her car. She tries anyway. It’s less of a beeline and more like a drunkard-line.
“Ugh. August,” she moans, stumbling. “Something’s wrong with me.”
August jogs over from his car looking serious and worried.
Unwarranted and inexplicable jealousy flares inside me.
I tamp it down like a spark that landed in dry brush.
I'm stopping that before it starts. These people are obviously longtime friends. Stevie doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her.
Why would she want my help? And why do I care whether August gets to take over helping Carrot Cake?
Stevie. Her name is Stevie. And it’s late. I should get home.
The rest of the group is leaning against a black sedan. The women are whispering to each other while Ike works out a knot in his shoulder.
I wave once, with a nod for Ike. Hopefully he won’t need me to assist in any more search and rescues, even a short-lived one like this.
I scared the woman out of her mind, and she cracked her head on a rock.
Pretty sure she has a concussion. This whole night was like an episode of The Three Stooges.
It’s time to retreat to more familiar territory. Ecological conservation, forest management, trees, and mountains—that’s my world. Beautiful women? I’m an alien in their world, and I always seem to act like one, too.
“Shirt—Uh, Adam,” one of the women calls. “Wait up.”
I turn toward them, and Ike is shaking his head. She elbows him. I think she runs the diner in town. I’ve been there a time or two. It’s crowded, but they serve good food.
“What’s up?”
The blonde woman holds out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Marlow.”
I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The other woman follows. “We've met before, but only briefly. I’m Diana. Ike is my husband.”
“Good to meet you . . . again.” I remember her. She and Ike roped me into helping at the Cape Georgeana lighthouse ribbon cutting a while back. I don’t know what to say now, though. Thanks for inviting me out here to get kicked in the groin? It’s been real?
Marlow grins. “We wanted to thank you for rescuing Stevie. Sorry about the—you know.” She motions to my bottom half.
“Uh, no problem.” My face burns. “Mostly.”
A chorus of crickets chirp in the silence that follows. Ike scratches his neck with a wince. There’s an apology in his eyes, visible even in the dim light.
Meanwhile, August returns from examining Stevie. “I want to get her a CT scan, just to be safe. Can you guys take Marlow home so I can drive Stevie to the hospital?”
They scatter, with August at the wheel of Stevie’s car, and the other three in the black sedan. Just like that, I’m alone in the woods, as usual.
Good. I can get back to my place, where no one calls me an embarrassing nickname or kicks me in sensitive places.
I can reheat my dinner, read a book, stare out at the trees, and turn in early.
There’s satisfaction in quiet rest after a day of hard labor.
I love this life, I remind myself as their taillights disappear and the forest turns quiet again.
But somehow the woods feel emptier than before.