Page 55 of Falling Slowly
“Well, I’ve got the basics. A fresh pair of socks, a hydration pack?—”
“A what?”
I showed her my portable hydration bag, tucked to the side of my backpack, ready for sipping.
“That’s convenient. Are you also wearing a diaper so you don’t have to stop for wee-wee?”
“Damn! I knew I forgot something.”
“Haha. What else?” She reached for my backpack. “Come on, tell me! I know you want to.”
I grabbed her wrists to stop her from going in. Her eyes sparkled like the night sky filled with fireworks, and my chest responded by contracting. I could easily keep her here, locked into me. I didn’t want to force her, but the way her lips parted and breath hitched, I knew she wanted this.
“Sorry about teasing you,” she said breathlessly. “I’m sure it’s all very useful stuff.”
I released her arms and threw the rucksack on my back to stop her from diving in. I’d packed the hammock. Not that I expected to need it, but what was the point of buying all these things if you didn’t keep them handy?
“A portable espresso maker,” I confessed instead.
“What about the milk steamer?” She lifted an eyebrow.
“I grabbed some half and half singles from the cafeteria. It’s not a proper espresso, but the fresh air makes everything taste better.”
“I was kidding.”
“I’m not. Coffee tastes ten times better when you’re out in nature. Have you never tried it before?”
She looked down. “I don’t do a lot of hiking.”
“My family used to have a cabin up here, not far from Cozy Creek. It was sold a couple of years ago.”
Because dad wanted to invest in a jet. To show off. I’d loved that cabin, but it hadn’t been big enough for entertaining clients, and our life was nothing but a big show, designed to impress. And it did, with anyone else but this woman.
Me in my hiking boots and Bess in her worn-out sneakers, we ventured out of the cabin and onto the path leading past the parking lot, towards our nominated meeting point. The rain clouds had dissipated, leaving the afternoon air fresh and skyblue. The blanket of dark evergreens covered the hills, dotted by all shades of orange—like a fresh painting, hung to dry.
We joined the others, sporting various high-end backpacks and feather down vests and jackets, faces shielded by baseball caps. Bess’s faded windbreaker stood out, making me feel like one of the posers. Still, I worried she’d get cold.
Leonie stepped out of the main building, waving her arms like a happy strawberry in her red, puffy vest. “Looks like the weather gods are finally on our side! Is everyone ready? Got your water bottles? Snacks? Cameras? The alpenglow should be amazing tonight.”
“What glow?” Harry asked.
“It’s the optical phenomenon that makes the horizon glow in reddish tones right after sunset. It’s gorgeous!”
“I think I saw it the first night when I arrived.” Bess’s eyes shone with excitement.
I’d make sure we saw that glow again. But I’d be watching her face, not the horizon.
“Let us begin.” Leonie guided us to the far corner of the car park where a narrow, winding path led down a rocky hill, soon joining in with more of a beaten track that dipped into a forest of quivering aspen, so intensely yellow we all gasped.
“It’s like I’m drinking the color,” Bess said, her voice quietly reverent.
Leonie slowed down her naturally glacial pace, which suited me fine, until we emerged from the aspen, and I saw the endless, gradual climb ahead of us.
“Feel free to go at your own pace,” she announced, stepping aside to let the brisk walkers get past her. “Just follow the path. When you get to a small hunting cabin with a red door, please stop there and wait for the rest of the group.”
“How far is the cabin?” asked Miranda.
“It’s only a twenty-minute walk, roughly.” She glanced at Miranda’s heeled leather boots. “You have the option of turning around there and coming back if you don’t want to walk the loop track.”
