“That must have gotten dumped here during the ice age,” I say.
She nods, but her hands are already moving to her camera pack. “I’m going to take some pictures.”
“While you do that I’m going to set up our food.”
Again a nod and how sick is it that I find it charming that she’s totally absorbed with her photography.
I admire the scenery, mainly Alyssa, as she quietly sets up and takes picture after picture. We had been hiking for two hours and I’m thinking she hasn’t realized she’s spent the last sixty minutes snapping photos so I pull up behind her and snag her to my middle. Playfully she tells me off and that she’s busy. I laugh but remind her we have to eat and hike down before it gets dark or before the bears come out to play.
That immediately gets her attention. “Give me five,” she says, and I’m smitten enough to realize I’d give her all the time she needs.
I pour our wine and don’t point out what was supposed to be five minutes had turned into fifteen before she sits beside me.
Without hesitation she plants a firm one on my mouth. “Thanks so much for being patient.”
“I can see you totally love what you’re doing and it’s nice.” I hand her a large sandwich and we settle into filling our stomachs. The silence is special and I don’t feel one bit awkward with it. The wind is picking up and the scent of wild roses fills the warm breeze.
“These sandwiches are really good.”
“According to the chef in the kitchen, they are gourmet. Her special recipe.”
Alyssa laughs. “She’s an amazing chef and she’s always whipping up these new dishes which we get to sample. I’m sure I’ve gained ten pounds since being here.”
“Well, if you have, the pounds are all in the right places.”
We tuck back into our food and I pour us a second drink.
“So, Blake, tell me a little bit about yourself.”
A dip settles inside of me. I want to tell her the real me but I’ve got to be careful. “Not much to tell.”
“Or not much you want to tell,” she says, looking at me over the tin mug that’s filled with red wine.
“Alyssa, my childhood wasn’t great. My father’s an alcoholic and we bounced from one place to the next while he tried to hold down a job. What about you?”
“Like you, not much to tell. My mom died when I was an infant and my father sort of raised me.”
“Is he still alive?”
A hawk cries overhead and Alyssa grabs her camera. I let her fire off about a dozen shots but she’s not off the hook. Only when she’s resettled and while I pack up our stash do I raise the question again.
“So is your Dad still around?”
A look so full of sadness passes over her face and I’m kicking myself. I drop the backpack and pull her in for a reassuring hug. “Shit. Listen you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I catch a whiff of that sweet exotic scent of her.
“Some days it’s so hard to realize how much my life has changed.”
I wait but she doesn’t say more. As much as I long to push, to make her open up, I’m also not willing to have her pry into my life.
“We should get going.”
“Thanks,” she says, going to her toes to kiss my lips and just like that we’re wrapped in a heated embrace. With more will-power than I knew I had, I release her. “Can we continue that later at my place?”
Taking my hand in hers she says, “That sounds like a good plan,” and I finally release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
We make our way down the mountain and it takes twice as long. Alyssa had pointed out places on the way up she’d want to stop on the way back and I let her snap her fill. It’s so cute to watch her work. She gets real quiet and pulls her bottom lip in when she’s concentrating.
Only once we’re back on Stone Cliff property does she stop holding my hand and I hate that I miss her warmth.
I see Amy walking toward us and wonder for a second what Alyssa will say.
“Mr. Samson I have an urgent message for you from the front desk,” she says, handing me a slip of white paper.
“Thanks,” I say, waiting until she walks away to open it.
I read it and feel my world tilt.
“Everything okay?” asks Alyssa.
“Nope. My father’s in the hospital. Again. Christ, just once I’d like for him to get his shit together and leave me alone.”
“Oh my god, I hope he’s okay.”
“Oh, trust me he’s okay. Just drunk. This has happened before and it’s nothing new for me to deal with. I’m going to call the hospital number and check in on him,” I say, almost marching toward my cabin and just like that I feel her slip her hand into mine. I grasp onto it like a lifeline I shouldn’t crave, but I do.