Just Three Dates

by David Burnett

  “Turn it on.”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t want you to go to sleep.”

  Mark pushed the button a second time.

  “We’re back now,” the announcer said, “bringing you the songs of John Denver on this beautiful, cool October morning. Coming up next, one of his most well-known tunes, “‘Take Me Home Country Roads.’”

  Mark turned the volume down and kept his eyes frozen on the road ahead.

  Karen munched on her cinnamon roll as she listened to John Denver. He had sung Lucia’s song too.

  When Vicky had refused to talk about Lucia, Karen had asked Brad Thomas, one of Mark’s close friends. “Just a friend,” was all he would say.

  Another friend, Michael Watson had told her the same thing. Finally, she had telephoned Mark’s sister, Emily.

  “Emily, I have a question about Mark.”

  “About Mark? Ask away. I know everything—his first date, his first kiss, his first crush, his first…”

  “Who is Lucia?”

  “She’s none of the above,” Emily had snapped.

  Karen had waited for her to continue. After several moments of silence, she had asked again. “Who is Lucia?”

  “Lucia is…was…a friend of Mark’s. Who told you about Lucia?”

  “No one will tell me anything about her.”

  Karen had described Mark’s reaction to the song at the reception. “He named a song for her. She’s more than a casual friend. My friend Vicky told me Lucia broke Mark’s heart. Who is she?”

  “Look. There is really not much to tell. Mark met her when he was studying in England. She followed him home. Yes, she broke his heart.” Emily had sighed. “I’ll tell you all about my brother, but I don’t feel as if I should be repeating secondhand stories about his former girlfriend. So, if you want to know more about her, you will need to ask Mark.” Emily had stopped talking and Karen had thought she had hung up.

  “Em, are you still there?”

  “You can also ask my mother, and she’ll talk your ear off, telling you what little she knows and a truckload of what she thinks. If you do talk to Mom, though, just ask about ‘the little tramp.’ That’s one of the nicer things she calls Lucia.”

  Now, as Karen opened her mouth to ask Mark, he steered the car onto an exit ramp. The golden arches glowed on a building near the top.

  “I need more coffee,” he said. How about you?”

  ***

  At ten o’clock, Mark pulled into the parking area at the trailhead.

  “That’s one long trip.” Karen climbed out of the car and stretched her back and her legs. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky.

  “I told you I generally spend the night. You see why.” Mark pulled a backpack from the trunk and found space for Karen’s sandwiches. “Let’s see. Lunch, two bottles of water…All set.”

  “It feels warmer now, so I’m not going to fool with my sweatshirt. I’ll overheat and have to carry it. We’ll be back before it turns cold, won’t we?”

  “We should be back at the car before dark.”

  Karen slipped off her sweatshirt and her fleece pants, revealing a long-sleeved tee with a panda, the Stevens College mascot, and hiking shorts. She retied the laces on her hiking shoes.

  “These laces are horrible. They won’t stay tied no matter how well I knot them. I’ll be walking along, look down, and find them trailing along the ground. I’ve tripped a couple of times when I’ve stepped on one, but I can never remember to replace them.”

  “Double-knot them.”

  She shook her head. “I did that once and it was nearly impossible to take the shoes off…They’ll be all right…Here.” Karen handed him one of the hiking poles. “Ever used one before?”

  “A couple of times, and they’re a big help. Thank you for bringing them.”

  Mark slipped the backpack over his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  A tall sign beside the trailhead bore a map of the trails that ran up the mountain. They stopped to inspect it.

  Three paths were outlined on the map. The first trail wound around the base of the mountain. The second led to the south side, providing a view of the valley and the town through which they had passed a few minutes earlier. The third path led to the summit.

  “We’re already pretty high, so we should have good views on any of the trails,” Mark told her.

  Karen studied the map. “The summit for sure.”

  “You’re certain?” He glanced at her. “We’ll truly be hiking all day.”

  Karen nodded. “Think I can’t do it?”

  “We don’t need to finally decide until we reach here.” Mark placed a finger on a point about a quarter of the way toward the summit. “Two of the paths run together until this point.”

  “You don’t think the helpless little woman can make the summit?” Karen asked, placing her hands on her hips and tipping her head back so she could look down at him.

  “I never said a word.” Mark held up both hands, proclaiming his innocence.

  “How about a bet?” She paused, watching the expression on Mark’s face as he slowly shook his head, declining her proposal.

  “Dinner tonight says I’ll be dancing on the summit when you arrive,” she said.

  “I don’t think so.” He seemed about to laugh.

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  “No…”

  “To a woman,” she taunted.

  Mark rolled his eyes.

  “Chicken.”

  “Okay, if you insist.” Mark shrugged. “I see a rib eye in my future.”

  “Dream on.”

  “To the summit.” He pointed toward the trail.

  For the first hundred yards or so, the trail ran flat. Wood poles lined the path on each side, the ground was smooth, and the path appeared to have been raked clean of debris. The air smelled of Christmas, and Karen turned around twice, searching for the source before she realized they were passing through a grove of fir trees.

  As they made the first curve, losing sight of the parking area, the path angled up and the ground became uneven and rough. A hundred yards later, the trail split, with the path on the right appearing to descend toward the valley while the one on the left climbed steeply. Karen headed toward the left.

  “This way.” Mark stopped her. He pointed to the metallic badges attached to a tree on the right. “The red tags mark the trail to the summit. The blue ones are the low route and the yellow markers will take you behind the mountain.”

  “But the red and yellow paths are going down.”

  Mark nodded. “For now.”

  As they rounded the next curve, the trail began to climb again. Karen dug her pole into the soft earth, pulling herself along in a few difficult spots, but she kept up with Mark. After half an hour, they reached a small level spot and found a rough, wood bench standing beside the trail.

  “Let’s stop a minute.”

  “I’m fine,” Karen insisted as she took a deep breath and placed a hand on her chest to feel her heart pounding.

  “I’m not.” Mark motioned toward the bench. “It’s nice when trails have the comforts of home. We won’t see these farther along.”

  Five minutes later, they were climbing again.

  As the sun rose and the temperature climbed, Karen began to perspire. Mark slipped off his sweatshirt, and Karen saw a white rugby shirt with assorted mathematical symbols and Greek letters scattered across the back and “MIT” inscribed in dark blue letters on the front. She smiled as she spotted the symbol for phi. Mark stuffed the sweatshirt into his pack.

  “You doing all right?” he asked.

  “No problem.” Karen took a deep breath. Each of Mark’s strides was equal to two of her steps and she was almost running to keep up.

  “Look to your right. It’s our first good view of the valley.”

  Karen turned. Leaves of deep red and sparkling gold competed for space on the branches of the tree
s, covering the slope like a fluffy, thick afghan. Lines of dark evergreens, pine, and fir ran along a hill to the north and covered a low ridge across the valley. At the base of the mountain, the surface of a small lake reflected the colors of the trees, overlaying them on the blue from the cloudless sky. Karen shivered as she gazed at the deep, blue water, imagining how cold it would be to even dip a single toe into it. She stared for almost a full minute.

  “Absolutely gorgeous,” she whispered.

  Mark nodded. “The air is clear today and seems as if you can see forever. Usually, you find a haze hanging over the slopes.”

  After another twenty minutes, they reached the point where the paths diverged.

  “Should we take the high road, or should we take the low road?” Mark asked.

  “And I’ll be in Scotland before ye?” Karen laughed as she attempted a Scottish accent, hoping to sound like a character from Braveheart, rather than one from some “B” movie. “I butchered the accent, didn’t I?”

  When Mark didn’t reply, she explained. “It’s a song. ‘Loch Lomond.’” She began to sing, “‘You take the high road…’”

  He frowned.

  Surely her singing wasn’t that bad. “Is something wrong?”

  “No…Which way?”

  “The high road?” She was teasing him, trying to elicit a smile. None came.

  “Something is wrong. What did I say?”

  “Nothing. It’s just not one of my favorite songs. In the version I know, as the song ends, we discover that the man and woman never see each other again, not in this life at any rate. The man goes off to fight for Prince Charlie and dies in battle.”

  “Oh. I’ve never heard it sung that way, I suppose.”

  “Most people haven’t.”

  He paused, staring out at the valley.

  “It’s beautiful, you know…Loch Lomond. The first day we were there, the lake was completely socked in, fog so thick you would hardly guess there was water in front of you. I have a photograph on my desk at home, a boat, just barely visible in the mist, almost like a ghost.”

  Karen almost asked whether Lucia had been with him, but Mark pointed above her head.

  “Bald eagle,” he said.

  “Wow. I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo,” she exclaimed.

  The bird floated lazily above the mountain, and they watched as it turned and soared across the valley, reaching the other side before wheeling about and returning, settling on a tall tree a hundred yards above them, turning its head in every direction, as if surveying its kingdom.

  “Beautiful,” Karen whispered. They stood still for several moments, watching the bird.

  “Ready?”

  “Let me tie my laces.” Karen knelt and tied both sets, giving extra hard tugs.

  “That should do it. Let’s go.”

  Mark stepped away, following the red tags toward the summit. Karen struggled to stay with him, but fell farther and farther behind. After a few minutes, he slowed and stopped to wait for her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as she caught up.

  “Just a second.” She bent over, breathing hard. “You can really move when you want to.”

  He smiled. “I usually hike alone and I forgot you were with me.”

  “I’m glad I’ve made such an impression on you,” she teased.

  “I was remembering a weekend when we were hiking in the mountains of Scotland. We were at Glen Coe, near Inverness. Beautiful country…” Mark gazed off into the distance and sighed. “I’m sorry…I won’t walk away from you again.”

  The sun was overhead as they approached a ledge jutting out over the valley, not far below the summit. The trail bypassed it, but a short, steep path forked to the right. Mark vaulted up the path, reaching the ledge easily.

  “Let’s stop for lunch,” he called over his shoulder. He dropped his backpack under a tree on the far side and fished inside for their lunch.

  Karen followed him. As she neared the ledge, she planted her walking pole and pulled on it to boost herself the final two steps. As she did, the soft, spongy soil began to collapse and the pole slipped free. She raised it above her head, ramming it back into place. She yanked hard, stretching her leg up. As she felt solid ground, the pole popped out. Dirt sprayed into the air. Her body teetered, and she toppled back. Planting her right boot, she pushed, but her foot landed on a loose shoelace and she tripped.

  She shrieked as she lost her footing, tumbling backwards, hitting the path.

  “Karen,” Mark screamed as he jumped from the ledge, rushing down the path after her.

  She jabbed the walking pole into the ground to stop her slide, but it slipped from her hand as she skidded down the trail on her back. She curled into a ball, tucked her legs against her chest, and covered her face and head. She heard her shirt ripping as it caught on a broken limb and she screamed in pain as the branch slashed her skin from her waist to her shoulder. A couple of feet later she jerked to a stop, resting against a tree. As Mark reached her, she staggered to her feet, the remains of her shirt clutched across her chest.

  “Karen, are you all right?”

  “My back, my back. Oh, that hurts. It hurts. My whole body hurts.”

  “Where are you hurt? Show me.” He reached for her.

  “No,” she snapped. “My back. My back is cut.” She grimaced, tripping as she took a step, almost falling. “Oh, I hurt.”

  Mark put out his hand to her, but she pushed it away, staggering up the trail toward the clearing, stopping after a few feet to lean against a tree. “I feel like I was hit by a train,” she wailed.

  She began to cry, and, wrapping his arms around her, Mark held her body next to his. Finally, she began to sniff, and she wiped her eyes.

  “I must have tensed every muscle in my body, and my back feels as if someone ran a knife down it. How bad is it?”

  Mark looked at her shoulder and frowned.

  Besides her shirt being ripped in two, an intense stinging sensation ran in a long line diagonally across her back, from her left hip to her shoulder. Blood was trickling down her neck.

  “I think it looks worse that it is,” he said. “It doesn’t look deep, just a scratch, but it’s bleeding badly near your shoulder. I’ll need to clean it up to tell for sure. Let me help you to the clearing.”

  Mark half-carried her up the path to the clearing. As they reached the ledge, he lowered her to the ground.

  “Sit down and let me see your back.”

  He gently brushed pine needles and twigs from her skin. “That’s one awful looking cut, and it’s bleeding badly. Give me your shirt.”

  “No,” she snapped, clutching the torn shirt to her body.

  “I need to stop the bleeding and the shirt is already torn in half.” He gently slipped it out of her hands and she wrapped her arms across her chest. He pressed the shirt against the cut near her shoulder.

  “Ow.” She jerked her shoulder away, but Mark caught her.

  “I know it hurts, but we have to stop the bleeding.”

  Karen clenched her fist and winched each time he pushed against her.

  “I’m so sorry. I really am, but there’s no other way. Just another minute.”

  “A minute?” she whimpered. “I’ll hold you to that…Ow,” she cried, her body twitching as he pressed on the gash again.

  A couple of minutes later, he put the bloody shirt aside “I think we’ve got it.” He retrieved his backpack and withdrew a first-aid kit and a bottle of water.

  “Here’s something for pain.” He handed her two tablets. “I need to clean the cut.” He poured water across her back before handing the bottle to her so she could swallow the pills.

  Mark gently wiped away the dirt and the blood, and Karen bit her lips together to keep from crying out.

  “The scratch isn’t too bad, but the cut on your shoulder…” He shook his head as he poured antiseptic onto a small cloth. “This will sting. Ready?”

  Karen nodded.

 
“Ow. Ow. Oh that hurts.”

  “I know. Just for a few seconds.”

  He worked for several minutes, bandaging the cut.

  “Okay. That should take care of things. You’ll be all right.”

  “All right?” she cried. “I’m quite certain I can hardly walk. My shirt is ripped in two. I’ve nothing to wear. I…I can’t walk down the mountain like this.”

  Mark picked up his pack. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m half-naked. How will I be fine? How am I getting down the mountain without being seen?”

  “Relax. My report is that you jog down King Street half-naked. I’m the only one here who knows you…” He started toward a small tree on the other side of the ledge. “Let’s eat lunch.”

  “You think this is funny,” she snapped.

  “Take it easy. I don’t think it’s funny.” He covered his mouth. “You should see yourself.” He started to laugh.

  “It’s not funny.” Karen flung a small stick at him. “You’re mean. Go away. Leave me alone.” A small stone sailed across the clearing, striking him on the shoulder. As she threw it she lost her balance and fell backward, screaming in pain as her back smashed against the stone ledge.

  Mark rushed to help her up.

  “Don’t touch me,” Karen snapped as she turned away. “What am I going to do?”

  Mark stripped his t-shirt off and placed it on the ground next to her. “I was teasing you. Put this on.”

  He turned to walk back to the tree and Karen grabbed the shirt, slipping it over her head.

  The shirt hung far below her waist and the short sleeves reached below her elbows.

  She hobbled after him. “Not current fashion, I think, but it’ll do.”

  He smiled. “You look fine.”

  Karen wiped her eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry I acted like a baby.” She eased herself to the ground. “What are you going to wear?”

  He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his sweatshirt. “I’d have given you this one, but the arms might drag the ground.”

  “I’m not that short.”

  Mark shrugged. “We can switch if you’d like.” His eyes twinkled. “But I’m not turning my back.”

  “I’m fine.” Karen stretched. “And maybe I’ll feel better after we eat. And after these pain pills kick in.”