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I put on my best haughty British accent and pull items from my bag with a spectacular flourish. “Our first course will be this lovely blend of nuts and dried berries, all gathered and assembled by blind nuns. Then, for our main meal, we shall explore a variety of PowerBars, delicacies prepared around the globe. And, for dessert, our chefs have procured the rarest of fruits. This wonder is referred to by the locals as an ap-pel.”
“It is glorious to behold!” Holly snatches the apples from my hands, as if they were made of gold, and does a great impression of examining them.
I’m the first one to break, letting out a snort. She giggles in return, tossing one back to me. We tuck into our meals, eating in companionable silence, the same way we hiked here.
When we’re done, Holly stretches out her legs and reclines back on her elbows. Now that we’re out of the woods, the sunshine finally reaches us. It warms the air and the rock we’re sitting on to an almost-comfortable temperature. Both of us stare out over the treetops.
“I can’t get over how beautiful it is here. Did your grandfather show this to you?” Holly continues to gaze out over the forest below.
“Yeah. He loved hiking. He’s the one who first told me about the Pacific Crest Trail. Always saying how he wished he’d tried to hike it when he was younger and stronger.” Bet he wouldn’t have screwed it up royally like I did. Veering away from those negative thoughts, I focus on Holly’s original question. “We’d come here in the summer and paint. Just watercolors mostly. Practicing. Or I’d draw. I’m better with a pencil over a paintbrush, but Grandpa was the opposite.”
She nods and doesn’t ask anything else.
But, suddenly, I have the urge to say more. I want to talk about him. I want to talk about him with her.
“He was the one who took me to get my first tattoo.”
This gets her attention, and she gives a half-smile and raised eyebrow. “How’d that go over with your parents?”
“They were pissed when they found out. But I was eighteen.” I shrug. “Nothing they could do.”
“Which one is it?”
“Which tattoo was my first?”
She nods. I hesitate but then start to unzip my jacket, experiencing the same raw nerves I did in the car weeks ago when I went to unbutton my shirt for her. I’m revealing an important part of myself, and I want more than anything for her to understand it.
“Actually, my grandpa was kind of the inspiration for it.”
Even with the sun, the autumn air chills my skin, working its way through my long-sleeved thermal when I shrug out of my jacket. It’s going to get worse in a second.
“There aren’t any books in the cabin, but that’s because I took them all when he died. He read to me all the time when I was a kid. One book was his favorite.”
I pull up my shirt, revealing my rib cage on the right side. There’s a whole series of images there, but I point to the one I want her to see. It’s of an old dog with shaggy hair and drooping tail but with one ear perked. Behind the dog is the shadow of a man.
“The Odyssey. There’s a scene where Odysseus finally makes it home, and his dog is the first to recognize him right before he dies. That image stuck with me. So, I drew it. A bunch of different ways. Finally ending on this one. And, when Grandpa Ben asked me what tattoo I wanted to get, I felt like it had to be this.”
After giving her another second to look, I let my shirt fall back into place and thrust my arms into my coat. But, even with my clothing shielding me again, I am exposed.
If she wanted to, Holly could really do some damage at this moment.
“That piece … I don’t want to say it’s beautiful. Because that’s not right. It’s … haunting. Yeah. Haunting.” She leans forward and squeezes my arm, so I meet her eyes. “You’re so talented, Ben.”
With her face close and the warmth of her words, I’m at risk of becoming drunk on Holly. This would be the time to lean in and capture her lips, but she pulls back before I can focus my mind enough to make a move.
“I’ve never read The Odyssey. I’ll have to add it to my list.”
I watch as she stands and brushes some dirt off her tight jeans. My teeth bite into my lower lip as she smooths her hands over her backside, innocently looking for debris.
Clouds drift across the sun, lowering the temperature.
“Time to head back.” I collect our trash, shoving it into my backpack, suddenly eager to return to the cabin.
Holly’s smile is small and a bit regretful. She turns to face the overlook, spreading her arms wide, as if to embrace the whole scene. “Good-bye!” Her call echoes over the expanse, fading as my grin grows. With a firm nod, she turns back to me. “Ready.”
We fall into an easy, slower pace once we’re on the trail again. I listen to her breathing behind me, the crunch of her steps, and imagine I can feel the heat of her on my back. I wonder if she looks off into the trees as we walk or if she stares at me. I know, if she were leading, my eyes would see nothing but Holly for as long as I followed her.
18
