“Not really.” It was my turn to switch gears. I didn’t want to discuss me or what I’d encountered. I didn’t want to share that smooth, round object I’d found with anyone. “So, have you seen any movies lately?”
He took the abrupt turn in conversation in stride. “Not in the theater. I rented a bunch of old James Bond movies the other day. Have you seen them?”
I shook my head no. “Were they any good?” I asked, making a concerted effort to keep this new topic going.
It was all the invitation Geoff needed. He started a long monologue comparing the newer Bond movies with the 60’s classics. I did my best to feign interest while I finished my dinner.
After, while Dad and Mr. D worked on getting the fire going, I grabbed my chance to run to the bathrooms.
Mom eyed me critically. “Make sure you wash your hair.”
She and Mrs. D lounged by the smoldering fire pit, sipping wine from red plastic cups, laughing and talking as they waited for the men to transform the smoking pile of logs into a roaring fire. They had nothing in common but their husbands’ jobs and their love of antiques. It was enough.
I ignored her comment. “I’ll only be a few minutes. I just want to rinse off my legs.” And wash my hair. And shave. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of hearing this.
I grabbed my duffel bag from the car and walked the short distance to the bathrooms, shining the flashlight on the gravel road to illuminate the way. In the mountains, away from the glowing city lights, the blackness of the night was all-consuming. I glanced up at the sky, at the blanket of stars above me, tiny, white, fairy lights that winked at me as I walked. The bathrooms were brightly lit, a beacon of fluorescence in the darkness. Moths danced about, beating their powdery wings as they circled the building’s exterior lights, confused and befuddled. I felt sorry for them.
A man dressed in fleece pants and a sweatshirt left the men’s room, his hair slick from showering. He smiled a hello and waited for a brief moment by the women’s entrance until his wife—or girlfriend—emerged in matching attire. They waved before heading in the opposite direction, carrying their wet towels and toiletry bags.
My hand had almost reached the door handle when someone else emerged from the men’s room, a teenager dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, his jet-black hair dry and tousled. He looked up when he saw me and smiled, a heart-stopping, dazzling smile that froze me in my tracks.
“Hi.”
Was he talking to me? I glanced behind me.
“Yes, I’m talking to you.” His voice was laced with amusement. He leaned against the building, next to the women’s door, positioning himself in the shadows. “ You here with your folks? Down by the fire over there?” He nodded his head in the direction of our campsite.
I turned to look. A blazing campfire sent orange sparks into the sky like miniature fireworks.
“Yeah.” I stood there, feeling foolish. I didn’t know what else to say. “We’re here for the weekend. Um, are you here with your family, too?”
He nodded. “We’ve got a spot over there,” he said, waving his hand vaguely in the opposite direction. “I’m Noel. What’s your name?”
He studied me from the shadows, waiting for me to respond, and I shifted uncomfortably under his watchful gaze. I felt vulnerable, slightly exposed, as if he already knew who I was.
“Valerie.” I hated the sound of it, an old-fashioned, ugly name, not glamorous at all like his. Noel, knoll…it was a fluid name that rolled gently off my tongue as I whispered it to myself.
“Valerie,” he repeated. “A good name. Strong.” Spoken in his soft, almost lilting voice, it did sound good.
“I saw you earlier today,” he said. “In the woods.” He stepped out of the shadowy light then and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing in the light, he was gorgeous. More gorgeous than any boy I’d ever seen. His black hair blended with the midnight sky, a stunning contrast to his smooth, ivory skin. His steel-blue eyes bored into me and I felt a strong, almost magnetic pull towards him. Instinctively, I stepped back. The stone in my pocket grew icy as it pressed against me. I shivered from the unexpected cold.
“Were you hiking by yourself?” Noel leaned towards me.
I nodded and took another step back. A sixth sense I hadn’t known existed kicked into gear, especially when I noticed how his gaze seemed to linger at my thigh, right where my pocket was.
“You shouldn’t hike alone,” he told me.
He shifted back against the wall, back into the shadows. “See anything interesting on your walk?” His tone was conversational, but I sensed what he was after.
“Not really,” I lied, hating myself for doing it. But this was a matter of self-preservation. I turned away from the bathroom. “Um, I need to get back.”
“Aren’t you going in?” He nodded in the direction of the door.
I shook my head. “No. I…I changed my mind. See ya.” He made no move to stop me.
I fought the urge to run back to our camp site, to the illusion of safety my parents and the Donnellys provided. It wasn’t just nervousness that nipped at my heels, sending me back down the gravel road. I fingered the stone in my pocket. It pulsated once again between hot and cold. A fresh surge of possessiveness gripped me and I knew I had to protect it, to guard it, to keep it safe. Even from the boy I’d just met. Perhaps especially from him.
Chapter 3
“Valerie. Join us for breakfast.” Mom’s jarring command roused me.
Groaning, I lifted my blanket off my head. It couldn’t be morning already. I stretched, trying to wake up, and winced at the ache in my legs.
By the time I’d untangled myself from my sleeping bag and unzipped the tent opening, my dad and Mr. D were already seated, breakfast plates and steaming cups of coffee in hand. I surveyed the picnic table—eggs and bacon. I lined up behind Geoff, mumbling a response to his cheerful “Good morning.”
Mom served us. She was the picture-perfect domestic goddess as she spooned runny eggs onto Geoff’s plate, her floral apron protecting her black sweater and cream-colored corduroys. Her thick hair was secured with a wide, black headband and her face was already made up. I thought of my own haphazard ponytail and the dirty sweats I still wore.
She delicately picked up three pieces of charred bacon with her fingertips. “Sorry,” she said as she deposited these on to his plate. One piece landed on the eggs and floated in the yellow goo. “I forgot to pack the tongs. My hands are clean, I promise.”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
He sat down at the table. Our parents had already claimed the chairs surrounding the fire pit. The weather was more seasonable today and Dad had started a morning campfire to ward off the chill. The logs crackled and smoke spiraled high into the blue morning sky.
“Bad night?” Geoff asked as I sat down next to him. I wondered how he could tell.
“That’s an understatement.”
After returning from the bathroom, my night had continued its downward slide. I’d claimed fatigue and retired immediately to the tent, but the conversation around the campfire and my own nagging thoughts kept me awake. I’d finally dozed off only to be startled awake by Dad’s rumbling snores. Without earplugs to block the noise, I huddled under my sleeping bag, wrestling with the jet-engine sounds my dad emitted along with my mind’s continuous replay of the day’s events. And then I’d glanced at the stone I’d found. It glowed brilliantly in my sleeping bag like a miniature full moon. Thoughts about what it could be and where it came from consumed me and sleep had eluded me for much of the night.
I slurped a forkful of eggs. My thoughts drifted from the stone to the boy from the bathroom. Noel said he’d seen me hiking. His words echoing in my mind: I saw you earlier today. In the woods. But there was no mention of my fall, of the clearing, of me sifting through the leaves, searching for and finding the stone. I remembered the crunching sound of leaves as I’d walked toward the grove of trees. I was certain I would ha
ve heard something if he’d stumbled upon me there, that I would have sensed another person’s presence. He might have seen me earlier, before I’d stumbled off the trail, but why did his eyes drift to my pocket when he’d talked to me? Maybe I was being paranoid, seeing something that wasn’t there. Still, there was something about my encounter with him that left me uneasy.
Geoff interrupted my thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope. I’m just tired.” I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. I crunched noisily, wishing I could spit out the charred pieces. I took a sip of orange juice instead, hoping to drown the bitter aftertaste.
Geoff chuckled. “Every year I forget how loud your dad is.”
“Did he keep you up?” Our tents were at least fifteen feet apart.
He shook his head. “Nah. I woke up once and heard him. I don’t know how your mom sleeps through that.”
“Two words—ear plugs.”
We laughed together, a rarity for us, and settled into an almost comfortable silence as we finished our breakfasts.
“I’m gonna grab a shower.” Geoff stood. “Wanna walk up with me?”
I ran my hand through my tangled hair and smoothed my tongue over my slightly fuzzy teeth. I definitely needed a trip to the bathroom. The opportunity to go with someone, to not have to face Noel alone again, was tempting. Even if my companion was only Geoff.
I nodded. “I’ll grab my stuff.” I threw my plate, including the remaining inedible bacon, into the fire.
Noel was not waiting in the shadows of the brick building, lurking behind a bathroom stall as I’d feared. There were, however, plenty of other people bustling about; a mom combing the tangles out of her toddler’s brown curls and an older woman stationed at the sink, carefully applying liquid eyeliner to her already powdered face. She reminded me of my own mother, absurdly made up for a weekend of camping.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” I called to Geoff after I’d cased the bathroom. I took my time showering and let the hot water sluice over my body, washing away the dirt and grime. I shampooed my hair and lathered soap on my legs, gliding the razor across my skin with quick, clumsy strokes as I tried to avoid the scratches and sore spots.
I dressed and brushed my teeth in the now-empty bathroom before stepping back into the bright sunshine. A figure was leaning against the wall, waiting, and my pulse quickened for a moment.
“Shower feel good?” Geoff asked. He pushed off the wall with his foot.
“You didn’t have to wait.”
“I know.”
He fell into step with me as we headed back to our tents. The couple from the previous night was at their site, tearing down their tent, loading sleeping bags and coolers into the back of their car. The man recognized me and waved hello. I waved back.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Geoff asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. You?”
“Dad wants to play some hoops. I’ll probably do that for a while. You planning on going into town with your mom?”
Mom and Mrs. D were readying themselves for a day of antiquing in Front Royal. The tiny town teemed with antique shops, white clapboard houses and tiny brick buildings stuffed full of Colonial furniture and handmade quilts and delicate, china tea sets. Geoff’s mom had invited me along but I’d declined. Antiques were definitely not my thing.
“Nope.” We’d reached our site and I threw my toiletries back into the car. “I’ll probably just hang out. Maybe read or something.”
“You’re welcome to come with me and Dad,” Geoff offered. “Maybe your dad would come, too? We could have a little two-on-two?”
I glanced at my dad. Parked in a camp chair, he talked into his Bluetooth as he scribbled notes on the legal pad propped in his lap. “Nah, that’s OK. I have a book I’ve been waiting to read.”
“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a basketball from the back of his dad’s silver Lexus and called, “C’mon, Dad…let’s go!”
I spent the rest of the morning sitting by the campfire with Dad, both of us with our separate diversions. I tried to lose myself in my book the same way he immersed himself in his case files, but my fingers kept straying to my pocket, absently rubbing the stone when they should have been turning the pages.
Geoff and his dad returned as I was making lunch. Geoff produced a bag of chips and a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies to go along with the peanut-butter sandwiches I’d slapped together. While we ate, he and his dad bickered good-naturedly over who had won their scrimmage.
Mr. D finished the last bite of his sandwich. “You think you two could hunt up some more firewood?” he asked. His face, ruddy to begin with, was still red from exertion. Like Geoff, he was tall and thin and sported the same protruding ears. “I don’t think we have enough to keep it going into tonight.”
I bit into my second cookie. “I guess.” I didn’t relish the thought of venturing back into the woods.
“Come on, Valerie.” Geoff drained his water bottle and stood up.
I gathered the remains of our lunch and threw the plates and napkins, one by one, into the fire pit.
“You ready?” he asked.
I wasn’t.
Chapter 4
We followed the same trail I’d taken the day before but I moved slower this time, casting my eyes downward as I half-heartedly looked for twigs and branches. Geoff found an armful in a matter of minutes.
“I’m gonna run these back to camp,” he said. “Wait for me.”
I panicked. “Wait. Don’t leave!”
“I’ll be right back.”
I fought the urge to follow him down the trail. I swallowed my apprehension and tried not to fixate on the fact that I was completely alone. Being by myself yesterday had not bothered me, but today it did. The last place I wanted to be was hanging out on a deserted hiking trail, especially with my overactive imagination broadcasting images of Noel searching for me, his beautiful face marred by a vicious sneer as he stalked me from behind the shadows of the wood. There was no rational reason for these thoughts, just that nagging sense that warned me—like the previous night at the bathrooms—that something wasn’t right. I tried to push the images from my mind.
I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. Two minutes ticked by. Then five. I debated whether or not I should follow Geoff. What if something had happened to him? Maybe he’d gotten distracted by something. Forgotten I was waiting. Or worse, maybe Noel had intercepted him, had done something to prevent him from coming back. Maybe he was hiking up the trail now in pursuit of me.
I shook my head as if to physically remove the images on continuous-loop in my mind. I was being ridiculous. I peered down the path, hoping to catch a glimpse of Geoff’s Angels cap or red sweatshirt. Something moved off to the right and I turned sharply. A flash of white disappeared behind a copse of spindly ash trees.
“Geoff?” I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
There was silence.
He wouldn’t be in the forest, I reminded myself. I tried to calm my racing heart. It was probably a deer. Tentatively, I looked again, but saw nothing.
“Hey.”
I stifled a scream. Geoff had reappeared next to me. I cuffed his arm.
“You scared me to death!”
He grinned. “Sorry,” he said. “Mom called while I was back. Your mom found some mirror she wants. She doesn’t want it delivered so she’s going to drive it home tonight. My dad is heading into town to pick up my mom.”
So Mom had found an excuse to skip out on the last night of camping. Surprise, surprise.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s keep going.”
I followed him reluctantly. I was relieved he was back but I wanted to be done. We picked up a few more branches, breaking off the smaller twigs to create more uniform pieces to carry. Geoff had brought along a canvas tote this time and we loaded this with our finds.
“I think we have enough.”
“Are you kidding? This won’t even last an hou
r.” He gestured to the half-full carrier. “What are you so worried about? You just hiked this trail yesterday, right?”
I didn’t answer. What could I say? Oh, I was walking in the woods and found this really odd, glowing stone that radiates hot and cold and I think this gorgeous boy I saw at the bathroom knows about it and wants it because he said he saw me hiking. I’m sure that would garner a long, puzzled stare. And, from Geoff, most likely a long, involved conversation. I didn’t want either.
“Hey, look over there.” Geoff pointed off the path to a large, uprooted tree. Its thick trunk rested on the forest floor, its branches splayed drunkenly. A mother lode of fire wood awaited us, its dried, deadened branches perfect for burning.
Geoff navigated the brambles and vines blocking access. “I’m gonna grab a few of these.”
“Are you sure we can take those?”
He called back, “Any downed or dead wood is fair game.”
I stayed where I was and watched as he circled the fallen tree, inspecting the branches he deemed best before breaking them off and loading them into the tote. The sun had finally worked its magic and I pushed up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, hoping the slight breeze would cool me off. I would have to change shirts when I got back.
“Hiking alone again?”
I whirled around.
Noel smiled at me. “Hi, Valerie.” He wore the same jeans as last night but had changed shirts, sporting a black tee that mirrored the exact shade of his hair.
He stepped closer. “Looking for something?”
“I’m not alone.” My voice trembled, from apprehension or awe. Probably both.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re right. I’m here.”
“I’m with a friend. He’s over there,” I pointed into the forest. “Collecting firewood.” And then I raised my voice and said, “Geoff!”
Geoff squinted into the sunlight, shielding his eyes with one hand. “What?” The tote was full.
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