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“Rosalind Stanley, you were a heck of a woman with a beautiful and kind heart. Thank you for honoring me with this request. I feel fortunate that I got to know you at the end of your life, and I wish I’d known you much earlier. Thank you for your wonderful watercolors and all the other beauty you brought to the world. I can’t say that I know why you wanted your ashes scattered at this particular spot, but it’s a brilliant choice. This place is glorious and you will always be part of it now. You didn’t mention anything about your religion in your last wishes, so I hope you don’t mind if I share my version of a prayer. ‘May the longtime sun shine upon you. May all love surround you. May the light within you guide your way on.’ Amen.”
“Amen,” Galen echoed.
She nodded to him and he stepped even closer to the edge, giving her the urge to grab onto his shirt to keep him from getting blown off by the rising wind. He turned so the wind hit him full in the face, held the bag to the side, and undid the twist tie that fastened it.
She had to admit that the swirling billows of ash—which looked nothing like ashes from a fireplace—were a stunning sight. The wind played with them like a rhythmic gymnast performing with ribbons. Even with the sun hidden behind drifting clouds, the stream of ashes caught glints of reflected light.
“So beautiful,” she sighed when nothing was left but a shimmer. “Now I understand why she wanted this.”
Galen was frowning down at the cliff face. “There might be another reason.”
“What are you talking about.”
He pointed, but she couldn’t see from where she stood. Gingerly, she stepped closer, not objecting when he linked their arms in a forearm safety hold. Peering down, she spotted faded red letters painted onto the rock. Her first reaction was anger that someone had defaced this wild natural treasure. But then she read the letters. EK and RS. There was a symbol in between them, but she couldn’t make it out. Maybe a plus sign? Maybe something else?
Oh Rosalind. There was definitely some kind of story that had unfurled here at LadyBird Rock. She’d have to interrogate her grandmother when she got back to Lake Bittersweet.
eleven
Brenda insisted on taking a photo of the letters on the cliff, which meant Galen had to hold onto her ankles while she lay flat on her stomach and crawled to the edge.
He didn’t like it one bit, except for the holding her ankles part. First of all, it always pissed him off when humans left their mark on a landscape. Second, the weather was worsening fast. They needed to get out of here and either find that cabin or race down the mountain.
But holding Brenda’s ankles made up for all of that. Even through her thick socks and hiking pants, he savored the knob of her ankle bone, the tensile firmness of her Achilles tendon. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the sexiest part of a woman’s body. He didn’t care. It was part of Brenda’s body, and that made it riveting, in his eyes.
When she was done, he helped her scramble away from the edge. They got to their feet and she brushed off debris from the front of her jacket. “Rosalind must have been quite tall in her younger days.”
Galen was getting antsy. “We need to make a decision.” He pointed to the dark clouds flowing around the next peak over. “That’s headed our way. If the temperature drops enough, it’ll be snow. Feel that wind?”
In the time she’d been taking the photo, it had picked up another two knots.
“It’s going to howl tonight. If we head down the mountain, it’ll be at our backs, so we’ll have that going for us.”
“I thought we already decided to stay in that cabin.”
“We did, but that’s before I saw those clouds. If it snows, we might be hiking back down in very different conditions. If we try to beat the storm, we can make it back tonight.”
“Well, what do you recommend?”
He appreciated the fact that she deferred to his judgment without any argument. Out here, he was the expert, but some clients seemed to think that “the customer is always right” principle extended to life or death survival situations.
“It’s a long hike and we’re tired.” They both knew he used “we” out of courtesy. “If we hadn’t just hiked six hours, I’d say we should take our chances and go back. But since we have, I recommend we hole up in the cabin and wait for that storm to pass.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Without any more discussion, they heaved their packs back on their shoulders. At the last minute, Brenda paused and blew a kiss in the direction of the cliff. “Goodbye, Rosalind. Rest in peace,” she said softly
Her sweetness made his heart ache. She was such a gentle person, although also stronger than she’d seemed at first. To complete that entire twelve-mile hike without a single whine or groan…that impressed him. Even now, with the wind picking up, she didn’t complain. When a branch whipped across her face, making her shriek and jump back, she only laughed at her overreaction.
“I’ve always been afraid of jack-in-the-boxes,” she said breathlessly. “That branch had the same kind of energy. Sorry about that.”
He did the best he could to block the wind with his own body, but the way the trail twisted and turned, it wasn’t always possible. By the time they reached the cabin, their eyes were watering and it was a struggle to make any headway against the fierce wind, which was blowing about thirty miles per hour, with gusts up to forty-five. He judged the temperature to be about thirty-six degrees. If it dropped just a few more degrees, who knew what they might encounter in the morning.
He was relieved to find that the cabin still had a roof and four walls. He pushed the door open and noticed that the wood was rotting away from the hinges. Inside, it looked dry. It would do for the night.
Motioning for Brenda to stay where she was, he decided to take a thorough look inside before allowing her in. Even though there were no signs of human activity, he couldn’t take a chance that someone might be squatting here.
He set down his backpack and dug around for his headlamp. Even though it was barely four in the afternoon, the heavy clouds made everything dark and ominous. Early dusk on a stormy night. The more light they had, the better.
