(1995) The Oath (68 page)

“You and Cap maybe.”

“Sing’s coming too.”

“It’s a guy thing. You and Cap. Admit it.”

“No, come on,
you
admit it. You need to stretch a little. Comfort can be a dangerous thing. You stick around home all the time where it’s safe and nothing ever changes, and before you know it, you get set in your ways and you quit learning, you quit changing, you don’t grow anymore.” He gestured toward the mountains before them, vast, towering, fading from sharp green to soft blue in the immense distance, with snow still visible on the rocky crags. “This will keep you growing. There are things out there you’ve never seen, never felt, things you need to experience. It’ll be worth the trouble.” He gave her a knowing glance. “Sometimes even the
trouble’s
worth the trouble.”

“Are you talking down to me?”

Now he was openly miffed. “I’m talking about
all
of us.”

“Right. All of us.” She gazed at the mountains, then down at her hiking outfit—rugged boots with high socks, khaki shorts with pockets for just about everything, and on her back a very slick and efficient backpack with a million zippers, cinches, and Velcro flaps, a sleeping bag, and a tiny, rolled-up tent that really did unroll and become big enough for two people to sleep in. Reed had already seen to it that they’d taken three—not one or two—short, “shake-down hikes” to test all this stuff: the fit of the clothes, the weight of the packs, the effectiveness of the hiking shoes, how fast they could set up the tent,
everything.
“Well, I’m not home and I’m not c-comfortable, so I think you can b-be satisfied.”

Reed looked pleased. “It’s a good start.”

She wanted to hit him.

He turned to the map again, and she tried to follow along. “So, all right. We take the Cave Lake Trail from here to the Lost Creek turnoff, then take that trail for another 8.6 miles, and we should have no trouble reaching the hunter’s cabin before nightfall. It’s right here, right on the creek. Randy Thompson’ll be there waiting for us.”

“With dinner?”

“If I know Randy, he’ll show us how to build the fire ourselves, without matches, and how to cook our own dinner from what we can find in the woods.”

“That’ll take forever.”

Reed cocked an eyebrow. “Randy can whip up a pine needle tea in under two minutes—and after this week, we’ll be able to do the same thing.”

Beck made a face. “Pine needle tea?”

Reed shrugged, undaunted, undimmed. “I understand it’s not too bad. We might even like it.”

“He’s not going to make us eat b-bugs and worms, is he?”

Reed wouldn’t give up that playful smile. “Mm, you might like those too.”

She drew a breath to make a snide comment—

“We’d better get going.” He folded up the map and tucked it away in one of his backpack’s many zippered compartments, then hefted the pack to his shoulders and put his arms through the straps.

She followed his cue, and Reed held the pack aloft as she wrestled and squirmed her way into the straps. The thing wasn’t as heavy as it looked—and then again, maybe it was.

Reed led the way across the gravel parking lot to the trailhead. Beck followed, looking back once to be sure she hadn’t left anything behind, besides her sanity. The SUV sat there all by itself, like a faithful dog sitting in the driveway watching his masters leave.

“You’re gonna roast in that jacket,” Reed observed.

Beck regarded her fringed buckskin jacket, a gift from her father— he was an outdoors nut too. She never wore it, but for this outing, it seemed appropriate. “S-so I want to be Daniel B-boone, all right?”

“You’ll be carrying it.”

“Just look out for yourself, Mr. Know-It-All.”

Reed kept walking, a spring in his step despite the load on his back. He was so pleased Beck was sure he had a screw loose. “Yeah, this is just what we need.”

What
I
need, you mean!
Part of her could have, peradventure, at a better time, admitted he was right, but right now she wasn’t in the mood to admit anything.

The moment came. Feeling like a Neil Armstrong, Beck followed her adventurous husband and took that One Small Step out of the parking lot and onto the trail. Other steps came after that, and she looked back twice before the deepening forest hid the familiar world from view.

Then, looking back no more, she pressed on, leaving one world for another.