Page 71 of Total Jane Wreck

My supplies are low; the only thing I have left for dinner that night is dehydrated bean soup. But my stove ran out of fuel two nights ago, so I mix it with cold water, turning it into brown-and-black-streaked mush. I’m still not warm from the hailstorm, and my damp sleeping bag is useless. Thus, it’s impossible to sleep that night, not just because I’m cold and wet, but also because I itch. Like, everywhere.

In the morning, I discover why. How in God’s good name did I contract poison ivy when I spent most of the day staying clear of foliage? But the proof’s in the pudding. My legs and arms are streaked with red blisters.

“That’s it!” My yell is loud, directed at the rolling clouds. I’m not even a fifth of the way through this hike, and I’m falling apart. So after determining from my map that I’m close to a trail stop near Lake City, I decide to hitchhike into town and call Marigold to come get me.

Yes. I’m throwing in the towel.

But Dan was right. Reading this stupid guidebook backward is confusing. Thus, I underestimate how far I must walk. The trail just keeps going and going, and I’m exhausted and uncomfortable. So exhausted and so uncomfortable. In a fit of pure desperation, I throw my backpack to the ground, kick it, and fall to my knees, sobbing. This time, I don’t worry about coyotes overhearing. Thus, I’m unaware that another living being—or beings—have approached.

I’m unaware, until there’s a hand on my shoulder and a soft voice saying, “Jane?”

Looking up, I find an angelic face peering at mine. Golden-brown waves, like a halo. Brilliant green eyes and a warm smile. A safe harbor in my stormy, chaotic sea. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life.

“River?”

Chapter Thirty

It was my time to assume ascendency. My powers were in play and in force.

“I’m impressed you made it this far alone,” River tells me. “Many more experienced hikers would have given up much sooner. Or not even started in the first place.”

He and I are sitting underneath the stars, a dry fleece blanket draped over my shoulders. The moment River and the rest of his crew found me, they pretty much scooped me up and nursed me back to health. Jocelyn has cold compresses and hydrocortisone cream stored in her first aid kit. She used both to soothe my poison ivy. Now I understand how traveling in a group has its advantages. Like sharing the burden of carrying excess stuff, not to mention the emotional support. They’ve been propping each other up, encouraging each other, one person being strong when someone else is feeling weak. Plus, they’ve got a working stove with plenty of fuel, and somehow, extra dry clothing and blankets.

So they make me a hot meal and lend me warm sweatshirts and blankets. They save me, just in the nick of time.

“You understand why I did it though?” I ask River. For some reason, I need his approval. “After everything that happened, I had to get away and do a major reset.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “So wild though. Who’d have thought Chet was hiding his ex in the blue barn?”

I told River the whole, sordid tale, feeling a bit disloyal as the words fell from my lips. However, it’s neither my responsibility nor my burden, keeping Chet and Birdy’s secrets. I’m a little embarrassed to even be worried about that.

“Birdy was hiding by choice.” I sigh, looking up at the Milky Way. It’s easy to feel small underneath a sky like this.

“That doesn’t make what Chet did right,” River says.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

We’re both silent for a moment. But after a few turbulent breaths, I’m able to turn abstract thoughts into concrete words. “I want to forgive him,” I say. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh yeah?” River asks. “And what do I think?”

“That I’m still in love with him. That I still fantasize about a picture-perfect future, where he and I will overcome all our obstacles, be normal, and act like a traditionally happy couple.”

“No, that’s not what I think.” Shifting as he sits on the ground, River chuckles. “Come on, Jane. Is there even such a thing as a normal, traditionally happy couple? I believe such a notion is a myth.”

“You’re probably right,” I concede.

Head tilted back, eyes toward the sky, River drums his fingers against his bent knee. “Okay. But I’ll tell you what I do think.” He turns his green eyes onto me, gaze searing. “Solitude will never make you happy, Jane. You need to be surrounded by who and what you love.”

River’s attention, the accuracy of his words—it’s a bit close for comfort. “Isn’t that true for everyone?”

“Everyone?” He shakes his head. “No. But I suppose it’s true for most of us.”

Again, we’re both silent. River speaks first. “You should continue hiking with us.”

“But then I’d be going in the opposite direction. I’d be going backward.”

“So?” River huffs out a tiny, indignant laugh. “You were about to give up anyway.”