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“You mean, when, specifically? Like, let’s choose a date?” That choice of word flustered her. “Not that it’s a date, I didn’t mean that.”
Oh great, now she’d embarrassed him. The patches of skin visible between his hat and his beard were turning pink. “I didn’t think you did.”
But no, that didn’t sit right either. “Not that there would be anything wrong with it being a date,” she said carefully.
“Right.” He nodded, then swiveled to look at her. “There wouldn’t?”
“I…no.” The look in those light-filled eyes turned her head. She didn’t know what to make of it, except…did he like her?
Also, did that make her sound like one of her fourth-graders?
He didn’t say anything more, and neither did she, and an awkward silence took over. Her heart sank as she realized something. Maybe she would want to go out with Galen, but not if he didn’t step up and ask her. And he might not ever do that, even if he wanted to, for reasons she couldn’t fathom.
She could ask him out. But that wasn’t the issue. If he didn’t have the desire or wherewithal to ask her, how would it ever go anywhere anyway?
The silence stretched on, more moments ticking past without him following up on her blatant hint that he should ask her on a date. Now she felt like an idiot. What made her even think he wanted to?
She finished her chili. “Should I clean out this cup?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
While he handled the cleanup, she shouldered her backpack again. Even with Galen’s hat and shirt, she shivered. “It’s definitely getting colder up here.”
“It is. We should get moving.” With a practiced, graceful motion, he settled his own backpack into place. In that short amount of time, he’d cleaned their cups, stashed everything in his pack, and attached the groundcloth to his pack with little bungees. He was really good at this hiking stuff.
He set a faster pace this time, which she didn’t mind at all because it kept her warm. About an hour later, they reached the high point of the LadyBird Trail, marked by a simple wooden sign. An arrow pointed onwards, to something called the Iron Maiden Trail. Another pointed back the way they’d come.
“Let’s skip the Iron Maiden trail, shall we?” she murmured.
“Good idea, unless you want to climb another three thousand feet in about a mile.”
He surveyed the terrain, then pointed to a path that led through some scrubby bushes. “There. That’s the spot they call LadyBird Rock. Wind’s out of the north, so it’ll pick up the ashes and take them out into the valley. Are you ready?”
When she nodded, he put down his pack and dug around for the plastic bag of ashes. He forged down the path, carrying the bag in one fist, as if it was a sack of potatoes. As she followed, she wondered if Rosalind had known she’d have to hire a guide to take care of this task.
Was this the ultimate act of matchmaking from beyond the grave? Come to think of it, had Granny put her up to it? She wouldn’t be surprised, especially since Rosalind and Granny had been pretty close, despite their fifteen-year age difference. Granny could have concocted this whole plan and gotten Rosalind to sign off on it without blinking an eye.
If so, she’d have to thank her grandmother. She’d never expected to enjoy a six-hour uphill hike as much as she had, and that was thanks to the intriguing man leading the way. The more she got to know him, the more he fascinated her. She was glad they’d decided to stay overnight so she could learn even more.
And maybe see him without his shirt on, too.
She sucked in a breath as she reached LadyBird Rock. The jutting granite cliff was surrounded by a magnificent panoramic view of mountain peaks and steep ravines. But that wasn’t the only thing that took her breath away. Near the edge of the cliff stood Galen, his feet planted firmly on the ground, legs braced apart, the plastic bag held high in the air. Wind buffeted his body, but he seemed oblivious to it. He was muttering something under his breath.
To the bag? To Rosalind? To the wilderness? She wasn’t sure.
She snapped a quick photo of the view before stepping next to him. “What were you just saying?”
“I was telling Rosalind that she chose a good spot to become airborne. She’ll be carried on fresh mountain air currents until she reaches a million resting places in this beautiful forest. It’s an honor to nurture this land.”
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, trying to reconcile the appearance-conscious Rosalind with a desire to become part of the wilderness. The high point of her week, aside from art sessions, had always been the arrival of the visiting stylist.
“Do you want to say anything before we release her?”
“Um, sure.”
He offered her the bag, but she waved him off. It was heavy and she didn’t want to fumble it.
She thought for a moment about the woman she’d mostly known as quiet and dreamy, even discounting the dementia. Galen waited, wearing a serious attentive expression. It didn’t seem to matter to him that he hadn’t even known Rosalind. He was here for this moment, and he was giving it his all.
