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Not that he’d have any proof, but four more miles in the rain should be enough for one day. Sam hit the trail hard, clearing the first switchback easily, and ran until his heart pounded and he had to concentrate on breathing. The view was forgotten as he focused on each step of the rocky path up and then back down the mountain.
Pleasantly tired and overall satisfied with tying his best time, Sam slid into the truck and started it up. Not much for a firefighter to do on a misty day like this one. There was no lightning to keep things interesting. It was a bad idea to whine about things being too quiet. Mother Nature had a way of kicking up a fuss, but his trip back to Sweetwater was easy enough. When he parked in front of the housing for Otter Lake rangers, he could see his mother’s Cadillac.
Apparently, he’d missed everything but the goodbye, though, because Regina Blackburn was trotting down the covered steps that led to the second-floor apartments. “There you are. Soaking wet.”
She smoothed her sleek bob behind one ear and plucked at his gray T-shirt. “I brought over some groceries and the leftover roast beef you forgot to take with you last night. It’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Sam said as he pretended he was about to give her a bear hug. She shook one hot-pink fingernail in his face.
“Don’t you do it. I’ve got cards with the girls and no time for a change.” She gave each cheek an air-kiss. “Now, I’d ask you what you were doing, but it was something foolish that will make an old woman have palpitations if she discovers her favorite son participating, am I right?”
Sam mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key. The Eagle Nest was safer now after the trail renovation than it had been in decades, but she’d never agree.
She raised one eyebrow at him. “How you can risk that pretty face is beyond me. You better keep it safe.” She tapped his cheek.
“Yes, Mother.” He ducked his head and wondered when she’d notice all the mud on his legs. He should point it out to hear her fuss.
“I should run,” she said and pouted. “Wish you’d been here sooner. We could have warmed up the leftovers.”
The thing about loving his mother was that he was skating dangerously close to becoming one of those guys, the mama’s boys. But she was amazing.
Since she’d retired, she’d taken keeping him well fed seriously.
“I needed to get Ash’s opinion on something.” Sam stared up at the tall pines lining the parking lot and decided to rip off the bandage. “A job opportunity. In Colorado.”
She paused midstep and slowly turned. “Ash’s opinion. On a job that might as well be on the other side of the world.” That was pretty much how he’d expected this conversation to go.
“Yeah, for the Highland team that’s based at Copper Mountain.” Sam braced his hands on his hips, prepared for the worst.
“The crew that fights out-of-control blazes,” she said slowly. “That dies fighting those fires.”
Much like the improved hike to The Eagle Nest, he could tell his mother that they were trained for those conditions and had countless successes for each accident the crew suffered, but she’d never accept that as a logical reason not to worry.
“I won’t get an interview, Mom,” Sam said as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I bet there are a hundred better-qualified applicants for this one opening. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Well,” she said as she smiled brightly, “you know I believe you can do anything you want to do, so...” Then she marched to her Cadillac and slid in. She gave him her normal jaunty wave on the way out of the parking lot, but he had the feeling she’d be losing sleep until he got his form rejection email.
That would make two of them.
He shouldn’t have told her. That had been his original plan. He always got into trouble when he did too much thinking. Sam trotted up the steps two at a time and resolved to send in his application and then eat every single bit of roast beef in his refrigerator before calling his mother to ask if she had any more.
If she was upset over his news, some of her mood would be restored by his love of her cooking. Regina Blackburn could be talked out of a funk by one needy phone call from her son.
CHAPTER THREE (#u887f6a20-e0ea-541f-9965-13f10b08a08b)
THE THING ABOUT epiphanies was that they never came when Avery wanted them to. After nearly a solid week of living under her mother’s extremely watchful eye, it had become clear they both needed a break from all their new togetherness.
Borrowing the car had been her first step to freedom. When her mother asked for a destination, only one place came to mind. It had been ten years since she’d made the easy hike up to Yanu Falls inside the reserve, but she would never forget the exhilaration of standing on the cliff overlooking the falls that led to a cove of Otter Lake.
Since her mother was hovering again, Avery had grabbed a water bottle, waved her cell phone and said she’d be back that afternoon. After so many years of living in the city, even driving the wide-open road winding up to the Otter Lake trailhead seemed to roll off the weight of years.
The first inkling that not everything would go according to her plan was when she’d collapsed, panting, on the first bench along the trail, the one she and her friends had always called “Better Off Dead.”
Because anyone who had to stop there to rest already had one foot in the grave.
She and her friends had been punks, obviously.
The hike that had taken her half an hour at seventeen took four times that long now, and she’d made unscheduled stops at every bench and flat rock she could find along the way.
None of that mattered once Avery reached the clearing, because she’d managed it. All by herself. Even two weeks ago, walking into the grocery store had been too much of a physical challenge.
“But either all that gasping for air has killed brain cells or the realization of what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life isn’t coming today,” Avery muttered and pulled her phone out to check the time. She’d sat there, legs folded under her, for so long that they might have frozen into position. She hadn’t seen a bear or an otter, the two main draws, other than the panoramic view of old, dense woods, a wispy waterfall and the sparkling waters of Otter Lake in the distance.
Avery inhaled slowly and forced herself to stand. At least it was easier to breathe here. The cool, dry air flowed in and out, something that she’d learned to never take for granted again after too long inhaling canned hospital air and feeling the crushing panic that came from watching someone she loved dying.
“Forget the revelation. You have another problem.” Avery raised her cell phone higher, hoping to find a signal, without any luck. The sun was dropping quickly, and the climb down, while it would go faster, wasn’t going to be as quick as she’d expected, either.
Her mother would be worried.
In an effort to hurry, Avery stretched her legs, grabbed her long-empty water bottle and started back up the first small rise that led back down to the trailhead parking lot. The unseasonably warm breeze had been perfect while the sun was up. Now a jacket would be nice.
Thanks to the shadows of the setting sun, it was harder to see all the rocks and tree roots that bumped across the trail, so halfway down the second long rise, Avery stubbed her toe, stumbled and landed on one knee with an ugly curse.
The urge to sit down and sob over the injustices of life welled up almost as quickly as she realized she wasn’t hurt, but banged up. The fact that her emotions ran away with her before she even knew where she was heading was twice as irritating as a scraped knee.
“You can’t sit in the dirt and cry like a baby, Avery. People will be searching for you.” The last thing on this earth that she wanted was to be the subject of a manhunt, and if she didn’t get to the bottom and her mother’s car and cell phone service soon, she’d have to move, leave the country and change her name.
She’d brushed off her jeans and tightened her shoestrings in the effort to convince her feet to get with the program when she heard someone yelling. Whoever he was was still a distance away and she couldn’t make out what he was saying, but there was no denying that her search party was already on the hunt.
Annoyed at herself and at her mother, Avery cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Here. I’m here.” Then she pulled her cell phone out and checked again. Still no signal.
Determined to save the poor guy headed her way as many steps as she could, Avery marched up the next rise and had to catch herself on a fallen tree when she tried jogging over rough rocks.
“Avery.” This time she could make out the word clearly.
“Here. I’m here.” Her voice was breathier than it should be, thanks to the pang in her side that made it easier to stay hunched over for a second.
Then her rescuer appeared over the rise and trotted down to meet her.
“Sam Blackburn. It’s been a long time,” Avery said with a lame attempt to convince him she was perfectly fine and had everything under control. They might not have seen each other except for brief flashes whenever she’d made it home for Christmas, but she’d pick him out of a sea of faces. They’d once moved in the same crowd, the previously mentioned punks. She and Sam had either been friends or vicious competitors growing up, but his grandfather was the first one to bring her here to see the falls. Sam and his mother had lived with Gee next door to Avery’s family forever. After Avery’s father’s death, he’d showed her and Sam all the trails she’d ever explored in the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve, as a way to save Janet Abernathy’s sanity. When the weekend rolled around, she and Sam were dogging Gee’s steps. And Sam had been the cause or the witness of most of her teenage stunts until she’d graduated from high school and moved to Knoxville to go to college.
While Avery was one more hike up to the cliff away from death, Sam was as strong as he’d been at seventeen. She was also in need of a rescue while he was barely breathing fast. Life was unfair.
“Have a seat.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist to test her pulse and handed her the flashlight. “Hold this for me.”
Avery eased down to the rocky path and turned on the light as Sam pulled a handheld radio off his utility belt.
“Blackburn to base.” Sam handed her a canteen. “Drink.”
Avery wanted to argue but he wasn’t ready for that yet.
Whatever he made out through the static prompted the answer: “I found her, headed back down to the Yanu trailhead. Good condition. Pulse is fast but steady. Hold the second group. We’ll walk out.”
When he turned back, Avery tipped up the canteen, took three good swallows, wiped her mouth and offered it to him. “Are you the Otter Lake ranger station’s arm of a county-wide manhunt?”
Sam eased down beside her and ran a thumb over the tear in her jeans. “I’m it. Your mother called me instead of 911. Once she told me you were headed to the park, I had a feeling I knew where to find you. The fact that she couldn’t reach you on your cell phone was another good clue. Worst cell reception in the area here.” He waved the canteen. “Drink.”
Avery snatched it back. “You know, it was a couple of hours on a beautiful fall day, not the desert at high noon.” She took three more swallows to make him happy and then capped the canteen and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ll hold on to this in case I need it, okay?”
“Good idea. It doesn’t take long to get dehydrated, especially as dry as we’ve been lately.” Sam checked her pulse again. His warm fingers reminded her how much she wished she’d brought a jacket. The shiver that shook her shoulders was impossible to ignore.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he grabbed the backpack he’d dumped on the trail. When he pulled out a balled-up windbreaker with a flourish, it was easy to remember every sword fight they’d ever had across her front yard. “Slip this on, and we’ll get moving.”
She was taking a mental walk down memory lane; he was planning his rescue. Did he remember any of those times? They hadn’t been the best of friends, but they’d been more than acquaintances.
Ignoring the spear of disappointment at something else she’d lost before she even realized it was gone, Avery slowly stood and did her best to swallow the groan that bubbled in her throat. Sitting was murder. If she didn’t stay in motion, her muscles would leave her here to die.
Before she’d made it all the way to the top, that would have seemed appropriate, sitting beside the trail to let whatever was coming wash over her.
Now she knew she could make it if she kept going. The only option was to fight her way back down to the trailhead.
Oh, man. Was that the epiphany?
“I’ll follow your lead,” she said as she offered Sam the flashlight. She hoped he could see nothing more than grim determination on her face. If he were a stranger, that was all she’d give him.
* * *
THE SPLASH OF light across Avery’s face was a reminder of how fatigued she was. When Sam had first seen her on the trail, his immediate concerns were dehydration and shock. She was pale, the finest lines around her eyes and mouth tight with pain or something.
But when she’d opened her mouth, she might as well have been the wild girl he’d explored these trails with as a boy.
“I’d rather you set the pace,” he said. “Take the flashlight. Make sure to aim it far enough out that you don’t obliterate your night vision completely because you’ll need to watch the edge of the trail.” Falling would be devastating right now. The foliage was so thick that finding her would be next to impossible until the sun rose. Even then, the old growth along the trail could be impenetrable. “When you get tired, stop.”
“Aye, Captain,” she drawled, and it was enough to draw a smile to his face. She’d never once wanted to be first mate. Avery Abernathy was going to be the king, the captain, the criminal mastermind and the first to charge the enemy.
Their pace was slow and steady. The flicker of the flashlight warned him she was tiring, but she kept going. He could hear her labored breathing but it was a reassuring sound as night settled around them.
The phone call from her mother had scared him.
He’d been preparing to take a final drive through the trailhead campgrounds when his mother called. As soon as she had handed the phone over to Janet Abernathy, he’d tried to reassure her. He could remember Avery’s favorite spot. It would be easy enough to check. There was no need to worry.
“She hasn’t been herself lately.” Janet’s voice was tight and Sam knew she was trying to explain something to him without saying it. “I...I don’t know, Sam.”
On his way up the trail, he’d run through all the scenarios, but there weren’t many that fit. She was too weak to make it back down.
Or she’d gone up with no plans of following the trail back down at all.
Suicide wasn’t something any reserve ranger wanted to encounter, but they’d all experienced the fear last year when a kid, a sixteen-year-old high school sophomore, had driven all the way from his home in Samson City to jump from an overlook along the Hickory Branch motor trail. His attempt had failed, but Sam could still remember the faces of the guys who’d brought him up.
Nobody would be the same after that.
Finding Avery fighting to get back down was such a relief he’d had a hard time getting words strung together.
She tripped and would have fallen again, but Sam caught her arm in time to ease her to the ground. “Rest. We’re close now.”
“How can you tell?” she asked as she brushed her hands over her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if she was crying, but now she had dark mud smudges on both cheeks. He reached into his pack and pulled out wipes.
“Years of experience on this trail,” Sam explained as he wiped the dirt away and tapped the canteen still hanging from her shoulder. “Drink.”
Her beleaguered sigh was enough like the old Avery that it was easy to laugh. “When I have to stop to use the nearest ladies’ room, it will be all your fault.”
“I’ll take the blame.” Sam took the canteen when she thrust it back at him.
“This was not how this day was supposed to go,” she said quietly.
“No?” He knew she was tired. Her words were slurring, and every time she shifted, a faint frown flitted across her face.
“No. I was going to go up confused and come back down enlightened.” She rested her head on her folded arms. “And you were nowhere in the picture.”
“Enlightened about what?” Sam asked as he reached under her to scoop her off the ground. As expected, she squawked and tried to struggle out of his arms. At seventeen, she’d been strong enough to set him down hard on the ground. Picking her up now was like collecting a fallen branch, lightweight and brittle enough to break. As thin as Avery was, she still knew where to hit. One smack on the arm made him snap, “Settle down or I’ll drop you.”
“On my head?” she asked. In the dim light, he could see her lips twitching. He’d threatened that a thousand different times when they were kids.
“If I think it will help, yes.” Sam grunted as she sighed heavily and dropped her head on his shoulder. “Ten minutes. You only have to suffer through this for ten minutes.”
He thought she was resolved to stew in silence. She’d taught him a good lesson about women at an early age. When they got quiet, it was time to worry.
“Thank you for coming for me.” She said it so quietly he had to dip his head to get the end of the sentence. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore.”
“Nothing conditioning won’t solve, AA.” Sam squeezed her tight and made it up over the last hard climb. “That’s all.”
This time, her sniff had to be tears.
“Aim the flashlight down, farther out.” Sam had so many questions, but the ground team was waiting, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for all the answers.
“AA. Nobody’s called me that in a long time.” She sniffed again. “Probably because I haven’t seen you in a long time. I can’t believe I missed it.”
He could see the lights of the rescue vehicles as he rounded the last curve in the path. “When we get to the bottom, I’ll hand you off to the medic. She’s going to recommend you go to the hospital for a checkup.”
Her immediate gasp made him add, “But I’ll call my mother. She can bring Janet up to get you. That’s what you’d prefer, right?” He almost offered to drive her home, but the report wouldn’t write itself.
Besides, he needed time to reconcile himself to the fact that Avery Abernathy had come back, but she was so different from the girl he remembered, she might as well be gone.
She used to be fire; this woman was fog or mist, something too delicate to last for long.
“Yes. Thank you.” She squeezed his shoulders and added, “Always the hero.”
When the medic met him at the edge of the trail, Sam handed her over and waved his cell. “A hero? You said it. I’m going to hold that over your head, AA.”
