26. Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Lucy
L ucy aimed the compass at a small peak directly west of camp and faithfully followed. Aside from scurrying down a few rock ledges and weaving to avoid one particularly aggressive sticker bush, she stayed the course. Jonathan had been right; it was a straight shot.
Nerves and excitement—Lucy’s only travel companions—followed along beside her, though the former gradually lagged with each step. She fostered a deeply held desire to hike solo, but never quite managed to convince herself to do it. Doubt always seemed to stand in the way of venturing off alone. But armed with a compass and a mission, she clomped through the woods, basking in solitude and newfound bravery as she searched for fresh water to bring back to her injured guide.
Poor guy . Jonathan must be going stir-crazy. In their short acquaintance, she’d quickly learned that he was the get-it-done type who didn’t sit still. Being laid up in a hammock with nothing but his thoughts must be torture.
Subtract the injury and add a book and an ice-cold IPA and the scenario sounded like a dream to Lucy. Gently swaying in the breeze, enjoying isolation with no one imposing their will or expectations on her. Sign her up for that excursion. She’d happily trade being lost in the woods for a bit of rest and relaxation right about now.
Though if she had to be lost with anyone, Jonathan wasn’t a bad companion despite his moments of grouchiness. He sure added to the view.
Lucy wiped the bead of sweat running down her chin—sweat . . . not drool.
The memory of their kiss flooded in and warmed Lucy’s cheeks. She wanted another one, wanted more than that. He did too. The way he looked at her, oh wow. Even in her sweaty, dirty, stinky state with a rat’s nest on her head, there were moments when his eyes dragged over her like a lover’s caress. Jonathan was a dish that Lucy would love to sink her teeth into before returning to Seattle. However, the challenge was knowing whether a brief fling with Jonathan would be a wise choice or if the recent trauma and forced proximity were a little too good at fanning the flames that crackled between them. Frankly, the only thing she should be focused on was getting safely back to town. Anything detracting from that goal was liable to get someone hurt or killed. Jeez, barely two days with the guy and she was already starting to think like him.
Glancing at her compass and the peak ahead of her ensured Lucy was still on the right path, though she was unsure how long she’d been hiking. The lake had to be close. From the position of the sun, the best she could surmise was that it was late morning and she’d been at it for two-ish hours.
Suddenly, a chilly gust of wind played with the hem of her shirt and cooled her sweaty cheeks. The refreshing breeze came from ahead, beckoning her to follow with the promise of cold, wet relief. She hastened her pace and broke through a thick cluster of trees.
The view was unlike anything she had ever seen. Water, still and translucent as a pane of glass yet saturated with a vibrant cerulean hue, was right in front of her. She could see down to the bottom, but the clarity distorted its depths. Jagged gray peaks surrounded the small lake in part, while dense plant life closed the circle. The landscape encased the hidden lake, providing a shield against wandering eyes from the casual backpacker. While it was impossible that an oasis that beautiful could be untouched by others, Lucy let herself pretend she was the first to come upon it. This was her lake now.
This was why she came.
This made explaining why she was in Leavenworth alone worth the embarrassment.
This was worth paying double for a trip because one-half of the party dumped her.
This was worth a fucking landslide. Almost.
Mouth agape, Lucy scrambled down a rocky, root-exposed embankment to a flat expanse of granite that led right to the edge of the lake. She unclipped her backpack and set it a long way from the edge. She’d be damned if she lost yet another pack to clumsiness. Especially one holding so much precious cargo. Stripping to her underwear and painstakingly finger combing the tangled mop she released from her hair tie, she was satisfied and took a few steps back, ready to run and plunge into the beckoning water.
But she paused.
Looking around, Lucy grinned cheekily and peeled off her undergarments. What was the point of modesty? Who would see her? And when would she ever be in a place like this, alone, with no risk of a passerby catching a glimpse of her unusually pale ass-cheeks?
“Cannonball!” she screeched. Scuttling forward, Lucy leaped off the edge of the granite, curled up, and splashed gracelessly into the icy lake. The cold was like tiny daggers on her sun-warmed skin, propelling the air from her lungs in a rush. Paddling frantically, she broke through the surface with a shrill wheeze. “Fuck!” She hadn’t expected the water to be that frigid.
Slowly, she doggy-paddled back to the ledge and crawled out. Her heart pounded, but her limbs rejoiced once she laid back and let the late morning sun dance over her naked body.
Looking up to the sky, Lucy watched wispy clouds hang sporadically among the swath of blue. Her breaths became fast and shallow, and she didn’t fight the prickling burn at the corner of her eyes. A gasp wrenched from her lips, her throat thick with emotion. She laid there crying, sob after sob wracking her body. All of the stress, all of the heartache, all of the fear just tumbled out. She’d been doing her best to compartmentalize the last month’s chaos, but her ability to contain it all finally reached its limit.
So, the dam broke.
She released the anger for staying in a shit relationship for so long. She’d felt relief when Brodan had finally ended things, which begged the question: When had she fallen out of love with him? And why the hell did she stick around? Watching her parents she’d learned to be loyal to those she loved. Her mother was ferociously loyal to Lucy’s father. She followed him everywhere, supporting his dreams and whims.
But in her efforts to remain loyal and supportive to her ex, Lucy hadn’t put herself first. Ever. And there had to be something wrong with that. A person couldn’t be—shouldn’t be—selfless in every way. How did her mother manage to give so much without resentment?
Sally’s voice lilted through her mind, “ You can’t give water from an empty bucket, peanut. I fill mine first so I have more to give . You have to learn to do the same.”
That was the plan for her Leavenworth trip until it went wildly wrong. She released the fear from the days before. She and Jonathan had to run for their lives to escape the disgruntled force of Mother Nature. If he hadn’t slowed to grab her, risking his neck in the process, she would have been swept over the edge. One tiny misstep could have spelled disaster.
But they made it.
She was alive, and she felt the intensity of that to her core.
There had to be a way to pay him back. One thing was certain: Dude was going to get one hell of a Yelp review when things were all said and done. She cackled at the thought, rolling to her side, clutching her belly. The fresh tears sprang from a place of joy as fear and long-held anger took a backseat.
Eventually, Lucy calmed and sat back up to survey the lake once more. The ripples she’d made had disappeared, and the surface resumed the smooth glass-like appearance. Her soul could relate.
Padding over to her bag, she pulled out the biodegradable camping soap, gathered her clothes, and washed them in the water. After hanging them on a nearby branch in full sun, she hopped back into the brisk lake and washed her hair with ridiculous speed. Once rinsed, she climbed back out onto the granite slab. Laying out to allow the sun to dry her body, she marveled at how much better she felt. Between the solo hike, bathing in a crystal blue oasis, and ejecting some of her emotional baggage while lying naked on a rock, Lucy felt like a new woman.
In her near-drunken state of relaxation, she checked her clothes. Breathing out a celebratory oath, she thanked whoever created quick dry fabric. Once fully dressed, she had one final task to complete before returning to her poor, injured guide.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucy had a backpack full of freshly filtered water, her clothes and hair were washed, and she gnawed on a chunk of jerky while backtracking toward camp. Feeling so fresh and emotionally light, she was almost compelled to skip along. The sun was shining, birds whistled beautiful melodies, and she couldn’t smell herself.
Nothing was going to rain on her parade.
“Honey, I’m home,” Lucy sang as she sauntered into camp. She moved to check on her patient but found the hammock empty. “Jonathan?”
“Arghhh . . .” A pitiful groan drifted through the clearing.
Dropping the pack, Lucy followed the sound and scurried past the firepit around one of the large boulders at the perimeter of the clearing. Jonathan lay face down in the dirt.
“Oh my god!” She knelt next to him. “What the hell happened?”
He turned his head in her direction but rested the side of his face back on the ground. “Needed to pee.”
“Did you”—she began then scanned the dry dust around him—“make it in time?”
“Yes, Lucy, I managed to avoid pissing my pants.” She couldn’t fault him for the scorn in his voice. “But I fell on my way back.”
“How long have you been lying here like this?”
“Who knows.” Jonathan gave a semi-shrug and sighed. “Thirty minutes? A week?”
“Well, let’s not be dramatic,” she murmured, rolling her eyes despite the niggling feeling of guilt twisting her insides. Maybe she’d spent too much time away. If she had come right back after pumping fresh water, she probably could have helped prevent his tumble. But besides travel time, she had only spent half an hour at the lake. It wasn’t like she lazed all day in the sun and water.
“Uh, Lucy? A little help?” His snarky grumble snapped her back to the present.
“Yes. Shit, I’m sorry. What do we do?”
“If I’m on my side, it’s easier to sit up.”
Lucy scooped her hands beneath Jonathan’s large torso and heaved as carefully as she could. He flopped over like a landlocked seal, letting out a painful grunt as he settled on his back. Like before, she managed to sit him up and help him rise to his feet. After considerable effort, he was securely in the hammock. She grabbed a bottle of freshly filtered water and a couple of Tylenol.
“You still have to wait a bit before taking another dose of muscle relaxers, but this’ll help some.”
He took the offering and swallowed the pills with a long gulp. “Thanks,” he said, handing back the Nalgene.
“Have you eaten anything?” she asked.
“Handful of trail mix.”
Lucy shook her head then rummaged through the pile of supplies she’d removed from the pack earlier that day. She grabbed a small bag of dried mangoes and the remainder of the pork jerky and brought it over to him. He held up his hand in refusal.
“What, you don’t like mangoes? You packed them.”
“They’re my favorite, but we need to conserve our rations.”
“Correction: You need to heal and be strong enough to get me the hell out of here tomorrow.” She tried to keep her tone as soothing as possible (really, she did), but she couldn’t keep the scold from her words. She gave him an unyielding look that she hoped said, I’m not taking no for an answer, buster .
The stare-down lasted a long seventeen seconds ( stubborn man-child ) before he begrudgingly accepted the snack. He paused before taking a bite and sniffed the air.
“You smell . . .” He inhaled again, face scrunched in confusion.
“Clean?” Lucy wiggled her eyebrows. “I snatched the biodegradable soap and washed up at the lake. That Dr. Bronner sure knows what’s up. It’s way better than that old-school green stuff my dad used to pack.”
“You bathed? In the lake?” Jonathan questioned, scanning her neatly braided hair and dirt-free face.
“Sure did.” Leaning in, she mock-whispered behind her hand, “You’re welcome.” Not only had she brought back water all on her own, but she gave him the gift of a fresh-smelling roommate for the night—two good deeds in one.
“Are you kidding me?”
Come again? Is he upset?
That was not the reaction Lucy had anticipated.
“No, I’m not kidding. I felt disgusting, and I had soap. I took five minutes to clean up. What the hell is wrong with that?” Lucy challenged, feeling less sympathetic to his plight. She’d gotten water for them and trekked into lands unknown by herself. And now he was pissed she’d taken a moment to feel less like a swamp monster?
“This isn’t some spa or woo-woo retreat where you can just splash around in a lake.” He winced with every frustrated gesture, dust-caked hands swinging everywhere until he finally crossed them tightly at his chest.
What was with the man-tantrum? Mantrum? Lucy smirked then remembered his gripe.
“Why not? It’s not like I spent hours lounging around working on my tan. I was in, out, and dried off just like that.” She snapped her fingers to illustrate.
“Because it’s not safe!” Jonathan’s voice reached bellowing proportions. “You were alone, Lucy! What if you’d gotten hurt? What if you slipped on a wet stone and cracked your skull? And fallen into the water and . . . and . . .” His ribs expanded and retracted wildly with each aggressive breath. His face reddened beyond his initial sunburn. The rapid thrumming of his pulse tested the strength of the veins in his neck. His anger was next level, and Lucy couldn’t understand why.
“And what?” Who is he to chastise her like this? What? Was he, lord of the woods now? He was acting like she went cliff-diving after chugging a case of beer. It wasn’t like she swam out to the middle of the lake. She splashed around a little and washed her hair and smellier bits of her body. She’d been in the water for maybe five minutes. If that!
“You could have drowned!” he roared as moisture welled in the bulging whites of his eyes. His body shook, and his breath increased ferociously. The violent flex of his forearms matched the savage clench of his jaw. Lucy worried he’d break a tooth as she took in the volatility that consumed him. “You could have—” His deep voice broke. “You could have drowned.” The anguish washed over his tight features, muting the rage until clarity tackled Lucy like a three-hundred-pound linebacker.
His wife.
Cynthia had died that way. No wonder he was reacting the way he was. In his mind, Lucy put herself in a situation where she would have been screwed if things had gone sideways. In any other instance, her actions would have been inconsequential. But in the wake of her guide’s deeply traumatic loss . . .
She’d misjudged.
“Jonathan. I . . .” She struggled with the words and didn’t know what he needed to hear. He turned away from her, swiping at his eyes while struggling to regain composure. All she could think to do was lay a hand on his forearm. He surprised her by settling his other hand on top of hers. Strong fingers curled around hers and squeezed.
Lucy knew it wasn’t about him losing her specifically, because they hadn’t known each other long enough for that. Instead, it was about another person dying that he felt responsible for. He took the safety aspect of his job seriously. It was one element of Jonathan’s personality that Lucy picked up on almost immediately after meeting him. It only took a small logical jump to deduce the rest.
He blamed himself for his wife’s death. Feeling responsible for another would destroy him.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy said.
He met her eyes; thick emotion swirled around the liquid amber. His throat worked, and he swallowed a few times before speaking. “Thank you.” The words came out as a timid croak. “I’m sorry I freaked out. It just—”
“Stop. I understand. I’ll be more careful. Ok?”
He nodded while chewing on the inside of his cheek, a fresh glisten forming along his lower lashes. Lucy gently swept away a tear and settled her hand on his prickly jaw.
“You really need to heal. Maybe try and get some rest, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s probably best.”
“I’ll handle things around here. You relax.”
“Thank you, Lucy.”
She smiled and stepped away to busy herself around camp.