Page 62 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
The town appears through the trees, a picturesque mountain community of wooden buildings and hanging flower baskets. I check into Mable’s Guest House, a rustic but clean B&B with reliable Wi-Fi—my lifeline back to my regular existence.
After the longest shower of my life, washing away a week of minimal bathing with limited water, I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone.
The National Geographic number glows on the screen, my thumb hovering over the call button.
One call and I commit to six months in Australia.
One call and I leave Angel's Peak behind.
One call, and I leave Caleb firmly in the past.
What's stopping me? This is exactly the kind of opportunity I've worked my entire career to earn.
Instead of making the call, I open my camera and scroll through the images from the past week. The majestic eagle in perfect flight. The fox family playing near their den. The mountain vistas in shifting weather.
And Caleb.
Caleb kneeling beside injured wildlife, tending them with gentle hands.
Caleb explaining forest conservation with rare animation.
Caleb gazing at the mountains with quiet reverence for the wilderness he protects.
I stop at an image captured without his knowledge—his profile against the setting sun as he explained the eagle's nesting habits. Something in his expression, the rare contentment visible in the softened lines of his face, pierces me anew.
My phone rings, startling me from reverie. My agent's name flashes on the screen.
"Harper! Finally!" David's voice bursts through the speaker. "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days!"
"Stranded in a storm. No signal." I clear my throat, trying to sound more professional than I feel. "I got your messages about National Geographic."
"Are you sitting down? Six months in Australia, full expenses, exclusive rights to your eagle series, and prime placement in their endangered predators issue. It's the breakwe've been waiting for."
"I know." My voice sounds distant. "It's an incredible opportunity."
"Incredible? It's career-defining. They need your answer by tomorrow. The paperwork is in your email—just sign and return, and you're booked on a flight to Sydney next week."
"Next week," I repeat, the timeline suddenly very real.
"Is there a problem?" David's tone shifts from excitement to concern. "Harper? You sound off."
"No problem." I force enthusiasm I don't feel. "Just processing. It's a big commitment."
"Six months flies by in this business. You'll be back before you know it, with a major international credit to your name and connections that will set you up for life."
"Right." I stare at Caleb's image on my camera screen. "Let me review the paperwork. I'll call you in the morning with my decision."
"Decision? Harper, there's nothing to decide. This is a yes, obviously." Confusion colors his voice. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just need to... think." I end the call before he can protest further, dropping the phone onto the bed beside me.
Hours later, I've reviewed the contract multiple times without absorbing the details. My thoughts remain entangled, torn between professional opportunities and personal connections.
The rational choice is clear—take the assignment, advance my career, continue the nomadic existence that has defined my adult life.
Why does the thought of leaving Angel's Peak—leaving Caleb—feel like tearing out something essential?
Chapter 17
