They were quite the pair today, she noted ashe climbed in the driver’s side. She wore a pink cotton sundress,her hair neatly straightened and styled in an effort to perkherself up. As usual, he wore a low-slung pair of jeans with afitted, ragged t-shirt; this one had SEAL printed across it and hadclearly seen better days, as the jersey fabric was faded with a fewrips scattered around the stiff white letters.
Backing out of the garage, his hand rested onthe seat behind her. He wasn’t even touching her, wasn’t eventrying to make a move, and her skin prickled, longing for aphysical connection. He shifted into drive and the truck rumbleddown the driveway. Her shoulder suddenly felt cold at the loss ofthe almost-contact.
Turning up the hill, he tested the engine’smuster up the hill, it’s rumbling engine complaining, butcooperating.
“Don’t you think we ought to stay within cellphone range in case the truck breaks down?” Despite the recentimprovement in the truck’s functionality, she had her doubts itwould make it up the mountain roads. After all, this was the firstshe’d ever seen it leave the driveway.
Scoffing, Asher shook his head in feigneddisbelief. “This baby will do fine. Besides, I brought my toolboxjust in case. And I brought this great long, skinny arm that canreach into awkward places in the engine to retrieve things forme.”
“That’s a brilliant plan. Unless we need atow.”
Glancing over at her, he looked a littledefensive with his jaw set firmly. “Hey, Grandpa bought this truckright off the lot in the early 1970’s; over three hundred thousanduseful miles on it. It’s a worthy truck.”
Sophie could hear the fondness for the rustedpiece of machinery. “It’s a classic; I’m not questioning that. Youmust be a decent mechanic to have kept it running all this time.Did you learn that from your grandpa?”
“Yeah,” he answered wistfully, his headtilting and his eyes steady on the road.
“Denise or Paul’s dad?” She’d met Denise’sdad twice before he passed away. He was a jovial man with a rubrouscomplexion and a smattering of wiry gray hairs on the top of hishead, but he hadn’t quite seemed like he’d ever been the handysort.
“Paul’s. The second Sutherland ofSutherland’s Hardware, but a much better grandpa and mechanic thanshop owner.” His tone was pure pride.
“You were close?”
Asher kept one hand on the shifter and theother loosely on the wheel as they crossed a long bridge over arocky river, continuing to climb in altitude. “Yeah. Grandparetired early, as my dad was more than ready to take over. Plus,Grandpa preferred to play. So, while Dad worked seventy-hourweeks–mind you, that he didn’t have to work–Grandpa would come overand take me fishing, hiking, camping.”
“Pippa was fond of him, too. He and yourgrandma. He passed away, what, five, six years ago?” The truckwound round the bends of the hillside as they gradually increasedaltitude.
“Yeah. I was deployed, deep cover op, anddidn’t find out for two months. He and grandma were on a cruise inAlaska. He got sick while they were there and died of pneumonia afew weeks later. Refused to admit it was more than a simple virus.Pissed Grandma off so much, she followed him to the grave a fewmonths later. Stubborn ass.” The words sounded harsh, but the tonewas regretful, affectionate.
“I’m so sorry.” Sophie didn’t know how torespond. She’d lost so many, she ached to think of others goingthrough that same pain.
Before reality sunk in too deeply andirrevocably, in the form of Yvette’s disinterest and manipulation,she used to imagine what it would be like if she’d had agrandparent that could have taken her in when her mom died.Chocolate chip cookies after school, trips to the park or themovies, learning to sew, knit, fish, and camp. Life doesn’t alwayswork out the way it should.
He patted her knee and gave her leg asympathetic squeeze before moving his hand back to downshift forthe next turn. Slowing the truck, they pulled into an overgrownroad Sophie wouldn’t have otherwise noticed. Not seeming to carethat not much was left of the road, Asher drove them over thegrassy ruts, breaking branches of the shrubs and low hanging treesalong the way.
“Are we allowed to be down here?”
“Not exactly. It’s an old logging road, butit sold hands three or four times within a few months’ time, yearsago, so no one realized they never locked the gate. Those of us whonoticed didn’t exactly advertise it.”
After a quarter mile of bucking and bumpingin the springy old seats, they came to a small clearing withscattered stumps and patches of tall grass. No concerns abouttraffic, they parked in the middle of the path. Looking her up anddown, taking in her attire, he hesitated. “It’s a bit of walk; youokay in that?”
Sophie glanced at her outfit. The dress wasone of her favorites, pretty but practical. She’d worn light tennisshoes with it. “All good. We should have brought a picnic.”
They climbed out of the truck. Asher camearound to meet her and led the way. “Didn’t you just havelunch?”
“Yes. But now we’re out in nature so I feellike I need to bring supplies.” She grinned up at him. Hikinghadn’t exactly been Yvette’s thing, of course, but her mom hadloved to hike and would always bring a backpack full of snacks,even for brief jaunts in the park.
“Hang on.” Asher disappeared for a moment,returning with a branch of leaves and berries. He popped one of theorangey red berries in his mouth and handed her the tasty lookingbundle.
“I didn’t know raspberries grew wild aroundhere.” She took the offered branch and studied one of theberries.
“Salmonberries. They’re everywhere aroundhere this time of year. Try one.”
Popping one in her mouth, she was surprisedat the pleasant taste. A bit seedier and tarter than a raspberry,but very refreshing. “Thanks.” She munched a few more as theywalked.
Before long, they reached a babbling brookbathed in shade from the surrounding maples and alder. The placewas a surprising oasis, something one might find in a fairyland.Linking his hand with hers, Asher led her over and under a fewfallen trees until he found just the right one.
They stepped up onto a massive tree trunkthat had fallen across the creek. Maybe a foot and a half wide, itwas wide enough that she didn’t have to worry much about watchingher balance. The bark was already stripped off by time and weather,so she had no trouble walking across it. Asher stopped halfwayacross and sat down, his feet dangling over the side. Sophie satnext to him on the log, her feet facing upstream while his faceddown, a few inches of space between them. They watched the streampass below them, the surface of the water a good three feet beneaththeir shoes.
