“It’s nice they provide these big metal boxes to keep stuff dry.”
Chris stopped shuffling his gear and stared at her. Then at the metal box. Then back at her and laughed. “They are nice, but they’re not there for our convenience. They’re bear-proof containers. So bears don’t tear into our food and stuff.”
“There…are…bears here?” Could he hear the terror in her voice?
He glanced up and gave her a half grin, then grabbed the tent bag, unzipped it, and removed the poles. “Yep. Black bears. If we’re lucky, we’ll see some. Last time I stayed back here, a mama bear and her two cubs walked through the woods.” He pointed behind their tent through the trees and bushes.
“They won’t eat us?”
Chris laughed. “No, but they would eat our food if we left it out.” When she didn’t respond, he looked up again. He must have seen the worry there because he set down the poles he was assembling and came to the table.
Taking both of her hands in his, he said, “You don’t need to worry. The bears don’t want to be bothered. We’ll steer clear of them. If you make noise, bang some pots or something, it scares them right off.”
A bear big enough to maul her with one paw was afraid of a pot lid? It didn’t seem right, but Chris had done this many times, so she chose to trust him. She nodded. “Okay. How can I help you?”
He handed her three poles to assemble. “Just finish this.”
While she sprung the poles into place, Chris laid out a tarp, arranging it just so, then laid the flattened tent on top of it.
“Okay. Let me see those poles.”
Rebecca mostly watched as Chris assembled the tent. She held things steady as he secured the tent to the poles and then handed him stakes as he pounded them into the ground.
“Rebecca, can you hang onto these poles while I tie this?” Chris was holding up the two main poles where they crisscrossed over the tent.
She stepped in front of him onto the tarp, where their toes poked beneath the edge of the tent. Chris had about six inches on her, so when he handed off the poles, she had to stand on her tiptoes to keep hold of them. His body heat warmed her as he reached above her and laced the thin fabric ties. He smelled woodsy and fresh, not at all sweaty like she expected, given that he had just staked a half dozen guy-wires.
She felt rather than saw that the poles were fixed and rocked back onto her heels. When she turned, her face was nearly up against Chris’s chest. She looked up, and he looked down as his hands dropped to her sides. His gaze lowered to her lips, and she remembered their two kisses the night of Alan and Jamie’s wedding. She wouldn’t mind reliving those moments.
“Thanks. It’s nice to have help with this kind of stuff for a change.” Then he took a step back, allowing her to move away from the tent.
Chris eyed the mostly gray sky that threatened to empty itself on them. “Let’s see if we can get this canopy over the eating area, too.” He grabbed a canvas sack and walked toward the picnic table.
They repeated the process with the poles and had the canopy up but not staked when the heavens opened in a downpour. They scrambled underneath the cover, but the rain and the accompanying wind caused it to wobble. Rebecca grabbed a pole to steady it. The tree leaves repeatedly sagged with the weight of the heavy drops and then popped back up. The smell of the fresh rain rejuvenated her, making her smile.
“I’m going to have to finish this.” Chris snatched the remaining stakes from her hand, grabbed the mallet, and ducked out into the rain. He had one corner secured before he set down the stakes and mallet, whipped off his shirt in one motion, and tossed it to her under the canopy.
It made sense. Why get his shirt soaking wet? This way he could dry his back and chest with a towel and have something warm and semi-dry to put on. She just wasn’t prepared for it.
She realized then how little time she had spent in the company of men other than her father and brother-in-law. Chris didn’t bear the six-pack abs of a ripped body builder, the kind that graced the covers of romance novels, but he was masculine, muscled, and she couldn’t pull her gaze from him as he worked. He didn’t work out at a gym as far as she knew; he lived—biked, hiked, helped care for his parents’ yard, and played flag football and whatever other sport was in season with Alan and some other guys. Had she been caught looking, she would have been embarrassed but not guilty. He was almost an innocent curiosity to her, albeit a very attractive one.
In a few minutes, he had finished and darted back under the cover saying something to her.
She blinked and forced herself out of her reverie. “What?”
“The towel?”
“Oh, here.” She handed him the towel and forced her attention elsewhere as he dried his hair and arms. “It’s not a very big towel.”
“No, but it does the job.” He ran it over his hair one last time and shrugged. “And at least it’s warm out.”
Rebecca smiled. Yes, her cheeks did feel a little heated.
The rain eased.
“Just a passing shower, I hope,” Chris said. “When it stops, we can go to the camp store down at the entrance and get some supplies.”
“Whatever you say. I’m the newbie.”
After fifteen minutes, the rain stopped and the sun came out. They drove out of the campground and to the store near Big Meadows, aptly named, she thought. That’s all it was—a big, big meadow. When she looked carefully, she noticed more deer nibbling their way around a copse of small trees.
Chris grabbed a basket in the store, and he picked up an extra camp towel, a small whisk broom, and enough food for dinner and breakfast. She left him to finish his shopping while she browsed the tee shirts and typical tourist trap items—Christmas ornaments, magnets, shot glasses, and back scratchers. She meandered into the children’s section and perused a variety of bug catchers and magnifying glasses. She selected one of the small bug holders and took it to the cashier.
“Found something you like?” Chris had a bag in each hand.
She held up her own small bag.
“Bug holder. There are lightning bugs down here, aren’t there?”
“Yep.”
“I kind of never got over catching them.” She shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. She couldn’t resist catching as many fireflies as she could every opportunity she got. Silly, but true.
***
Chris planned a day hike for the afternoon. Rebecca knew that he slowed his pace for her, but he didn’t seem to mind; they took their time and enjoyed the natural beauty that surrounded them. Chris knew all about the cabin foundations they passed, what kind of trees lined the trail, and even where to find some elusive little salamanders that lived only inside the park. He acted as a personal park guide for her.
Despite their leisurely pace, Rebecca was dog-tired by the time they got back to the campground. When Chris told her he’d handle dinner, she sunk into the hammock with relief. She must have been more tired than she thought, because an hour and a half later, Chris leaned into the hammock, nudged her arm, and summoned her to dinner.
She hadn’t counted on more than hot dogs and beans, but Chris had grilled steaks, baked potatoes in the fire, and cooked corn on the cob, too. Between mouthfuls of hot, buttery potato she praised his cooking.
“Thank you. I’m sure I’m not as good a cook as you are a baker. Those peanut butter bars were out of this world. I do think everything tastes better over a campfire though.”
“So, do you cook in a kitchen, too, or just over a fire?”
“Uh, let’s just say my indoor cuisine is limited to things I can boil and microwave.”
Rebecca leaned away from the picnic table and patted her full belly. “I’m stuffed. What’s for dessert?”
Chris laughed. “You remind me of Alan. He used to eat about three nibbles of his dinner when we were kids, say he was full, but then tell my mom there was still room in the ‘dessert part.’ And, I do have a bag of marshmallows.”
“Ooh, marshmallows. I
can do dessert. You point me in the direction of the marshmallows and the long fork-thingies, and then go put your feet up by the fire.”
“The marshmallows are in the bear box, and the ‘fork thingies’ are on top of it.” Chris must have been beat, too, because he went right to his camp chair, unlaced his boots and propped his feet on an old log to the side of the fire pit.
Rebecca came back with the forks and marshmallows and tore open the bag so she could place a couple of marshmallows on each tine. “So, do you like your marshmallows burnt, toasty with a gooey inside, or lightly browned?” She ticked each option off on her fingers.
When he didn’t answer right away, she looked over. Chris’s hands were behind his head, which he had leaned back as far as he could, and his eyes were closed. “I could go for something hot and luscious.”
That had to be a double entendre—one she chose to ignore. He confirmed her suspicions when he sat up and smiled.
“Toasted and gooey sounds perfect.”
She shot him a crooked grin. She wished she had a witty retort, but instead her stomach, which she thought had been filled to the max with steak and potatoes, made room for a swarm of butterflies as well. “Excellent choice.”
After a few minutes of holding the sweet treats over the hottest part of the fire, Rebecca lifted the fork to examine their toasty perfection before offering one to Chris. When he didn’t move from his seat, she took them over to him, slid the gooey, delicious mess off the metal stick and proffered it with her fingers. It smelled so good she couldn’t wait to taste her own. Instead of taking it from her fingers, Chris took her hand and guided it to his mouth. Rebecca froze. Chris’s lips touched her fingers, but thankfully he didn’t do anything suggestive with them.
“No sense getting my fingers sticky, too.” His eyes glimmered like they had last week when he had tickled her. He was playing with her again. “Mmmm. Superb.” He licked his lips and watched as Rebecca enjoyed her own marshmallow.
***
Chris moved his seat closer and poked at the fire. “Why don’t you go to the restroom and brush your teeth and stuff before it gets too late? I’ll sit here with the fire.”
“Okay.”
Rebecca grabbed her things from the bear box. The heavy door clanged shut as she turned and headed up the trail. Chris remembered the soft blush of Rebecca’s cheeks and the self-conscious way she smiled when he teased her. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far with the marshmallows. He was just trying to play with her.
He stared at the fire a few minutes longer before he noticed the flashes in his peripheral vision. Lightning bugs. He scurried over to the picnic table and took Rebecca’s bug container out of the bag. Releasing its Velcro strap, he popped it open and ripped off the tag.
The bugs lit in the dark spots at the edges of the campsite and alongside the larger trees. It was cute that Rebecca still liked to chase the little bugs. In truth, he did, too. He spent the next twenty minutes carefully scooping up as many as he could and filling her little container. Not bad: about fifteen bugs flashed behind the vinyl netting. He set the container in the middle of the table and slid the empty lantern box in front of it so he could surprise her with it.
As he took a seat, he noticed a group hauling their stuff down the trail to the empty campsite nearest theirs. A grown man chasing lightning bugs with nary a child in sight? Embarrassing.
The arrival of new neighbors disappointed but didn’t surprise him. It was a weekend, after all, and these were desirable sites. He would miss the peace and the privacy though. He watched for ten minutes or so as five college-aged guys tried to set up their tents using only the light generated by one Coleman lamp. They shouted directions at one another punctuated by insults and raucous laughter. He hoped they wouldn’t be loud once they got settled.
A few minutes later, Rebecca came half-running down the trail, her headlamp bobbing as she went. “Where’s my bug container? The lightning bugs are everywhere.”
“It’s there on the table.” He pointed in the general direction of her bug holder. He smiled and waited for her to discover his surprise.
She circled the table once before she spotted it. Her chin dropped and her eyes widened as she picked it up by the small handle, looking first at the flashing bugs and then at him. “You’ve been busy.”
He grinned. “I guess you’re not the only one who hasn’t outgrown catching them.”
She smiled. “I’ll see how many more I can add.” She chased the flashing bugs around the fringes of the campsite while Chris grabbed his things and headed to the restroom. Camping with Rebecca was turning out to be more fun than he’d ever dreamed.
Darkness and quiet had settled over the campsite during the fifteen minutes he had been gone. Their new neighbors had apparently set up and then left. A soft glow from the campfire lit the area around the fire pit, and Chris took the big stick he kept by the campfire and pushed around the ashes until the glow subsided and only a little smoke rose from the heated coals.
He returned his things to the bear box, and as he stepped toward the tent, a light shone through the ceiling.
“Chris?” Rebecca’s voice sounded tentative.
“It’s just me.” He slipped off his boots outside the tent, unzipped the door, and stepped inside.
Rebecca smiled, then bit her lower lip as she sat on top of her bag with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m glad you’re back.”
Had the loud guys setting up their stuff given her a hard time? “Did something happen?”
“No. It got dark. And quiet. And lonely. And I’ve never been out in the woods alone at night before.”
Oh. Just a little scared. He had been camping since he could walk, and he hadn’t thought how it might be frightening to Rebecca. He zipped the door closed and sat on his sleeping bag. He’d play the role of her protector if that’s what she wanted.
“There are no locks on this thing.” She looked from one side of the tent to the other where Chris had unzipped the windows to let in the cool evening air.
“No, but we won’t need them. It’s safe. I promise you.”
“But anybody could walk up and—”
Before she could dream up some kind of Blair Witch Project scenario, he said, “No one has any reason to be back here.”
“But you said the Appalachian Trail runs—” She gestured in the opposite direction of the trail, but Chris didn’t correct her.
“Rebecca, no one’s going to bother us.”
“What about bears? Did we leave out any trash?”
“I put it in the dumpster on my way to the restroom. All our food is locked up in the bear box, and we didn’t bring anything like that in the tent.”
“What about. . .us? Don’t we smell like food to bears?”
“We bagged all our toiletries, and you didn’t use any perfume or lotion tonight, did you?’
She shook her head. He had told her to leave all that stuff at home.
“Then there’s no need to worry.” She must have been suffering some serious anxiety while he was gone.
“But what about if I’m…well, if it’s that time…” Her cheeks were getting pink.
Chris wrinkled his brow and tried to figure out why she was being so reticent. “What time?”
She let out a breath and allowed her head to fall down against her knees. When she spoke it was no louder than the whisper of the wind through the trees.
“What if I’m menstruating?”
He hadn’t seen that one coming. “Uh, the bears won’t mind.” Awkward.
She peeked out from under her folded arms. “But I heard bears were attracted to . . .”
He knew what people said, and he had Googled it once. “No, not black bears, and that’s what’s here in the park. The research only shows that polar bears may be attracted to…to that scent.”
“You’re sure?”
She really was scared. He wanted to gath
er her up in his arms and offer to hold her all night long. “Yes, I’m sure.”
After studying his face a few more seconds she dropped her knees and readjusted herself in her bag. “Okay. You’re the expert. If you say we’re safe, I’m going to trust you.”
“Thank you.” He switched off his head lamp before breaking into a smile and sliding down into his bag. Rebecca turned her light off, too, and as he lay on his back, he peered through the skylight panel at the top of the tent. There was no moonlight, and the stars shone brilliantly.
A loud screech rang out in the distance and grew louder as it passed directly over their heads.
Rebecca shot up from her bag. “Chris, what was that?”
Talk about bad timing. If she weren’t scared she would probably realize how cool that had been. “An owl. Probably a barred owl.” As if on cue, a faint hoot sounded in the direction the owl had flown.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you sleep a little closer to me?”
He knew she couldn’t see his expression, but he smiled. He hoped she couldn’t hear it in his voice. “How close?” He dragged his bag and sleeping pad with him as he scooched across the tent floor towards Rebecca.
“Next to me.”
He repositioned his sleeping pad, bag, and pillow alongside hers, lying on his stomach while she remained on her back.
“Still scared?”
“Just a little. I’m not used to this.”
Raising himself onto his elbows, he leaned over her and tenderly kissed her taut lips once and then again before scooting back down into his bag.
“I thought you promised no fooling around.” She was smiling. He was sure of it; he could hear it in her voice. The kiss he had given her was reserved and controlled. She could not construe that as threatening.
“Kissing’s not fooling around. At least not that kind of kissing.”
He had been desperate to kiss her earlier when they were setting up the tent but had resisted. She had turned toward him and was tucked perfectly against his chest. His heart rate had sped up and his hands had ached to pull her to him and kiss her like crazy, but he wouldn’t break his promise to her. He wanted her to trust him.
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