They don’t appear to be the same.
I flop onto my bed and sigh. Thought for sure the one at Station 19 would match one the ones by Al’s truck. Another dead end. There’s got to be another way.
Something Wyn said pops in my head. About the place in Cherokee that sells custom boots.
After Googling it, I find out Mama Sue’s place isn’t open tomorrow so I make a plan to visit first thing Monday morning.
Maybe she can help.
Survival Skill #24
A fire is essential to wilderness survival, but it can also be the key to keeping positive and calm.
After a sleepless night, Wyn texts me first thing the next morning to inform me Al and Billy are still in custody and that Carl isn’t returning from his trip until later. Good news for me. But then if Al and Billy are still locked up, who was sneaking around Station 19? My head reels with twisted information, not knowing what is true or real anymore. Maybe Les was right about the woods messing with my brain. But being stuck indoors isn’t helping my mental state either.
No matter where I go, the walls seem to be closing in on me.
All day, I hide in my room until Mom finally heads into work. I try to piddle around the house for a while but eventually I just can’t take the boredom anymore. The woods are safe now that Al and Billy are behind bars, and it’s obvious nothing’s going to happen in Dad’s case until Carl gets back.
I need to escape the shrinking walls of my house and meet Mo at Bear Creek. Even if I’m a little early, I can just fish until Mo gets there.
If he even shows. I wouldn’t blame him for not coming, considering how I acted the other night.
I spend the whole afternoon fishing alone. The woods are alive and singing while the sun is warm and comforting. Once I’m done, I sit cross-legged on the embankment and wait for Mo as I watch the water roll by. The sun starts to droop behind the trees, spraying a yellowish glow across the water. A barred owl announces the day’s retreat, and the river babbles back. In the forest, night comes quicker than anywhere else.
My mind wanders. The popping noises, Al and Billy, the dead bear, the citation, and now, the station. It’s all connected. But how? I pluck a purple hepatica and weave a bracelet along with a matching head wreath. Braiding makes me realize how three equally separate things can easily be interwoven. It’s a matter of putting them together in the right way.
When it’s finished, I place the flower wreath on my head. “I now crown you, Grace, Idiot of the Forest.”
A voice behind me replies, “Every queen needs a king, no?”
I spin around and jerk the flowery crown off my head. No matter my effort, being cool isn’t coming so naturally to me lately.
Mo sits on top of a boulder, chewing a piece of grass. His eyes smile without requiring his face to follow. “Didn’t think you were coming.”
He was thinking about me? I shrug it off. “Why? Were you worried?”
“More disappointed. Figured I scared you off.”
I relish in his smooth accent as it washes over me. “I don’t get frightened off that easily.”
“So you say.” He tilts his head toward the river. “Fancy fishing?”
I pretend my nerves aren’t bouncing around inside like a spaz on a pogo stick. “Actually, I want to show you something. If that’s okay.”
Mo raises his eyebrows. “Sounds mysterious.”
“You’re not the only one who knows cool places around here.”
He throws his bag over one shoulder. “Didn’t know it was a contest.”
I nip at my cuticle. “Do you want to see it or not?”
He beams, causing my stomach to do a pirouette. I gnaw on my bottom lip as he glides toward me. He motions me to walk in front of him. “After you, blossom.”
The nickname makes me beam like a little girl. I walk past him, fighting the magnet threatening to pull us closer together. As I lead him through the vivid green forest along a rocky path, I can’t help but wonder if he’s looking at it right now. When I walk over a log, Mo presses his hand on the small of my back to steady me. The gesture sends my heart skating. The whole time, I pretend to be cool as an ice cube.
Eventually, I stop in front of a steep rocky wall and point up. “Think you can climb this?”
Mo shields his eyes and looks up at the ridge. “Does an Englishman drink tea?”
I motion to him. “Age before beauty.”
He doesn’t hesitate and quickly scales the face of the wall with ease. I crawl up behind him, gripping the tiny ledges with my fingertips. Right when I reach the edge, Mo holds out his hand.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I can do it.”
He smiles at me. “You know, it’s okay to accept help sometimes. Doesn’t mean you’re weak or anything.”
Man, this guy nails my psyche better than Dr. Head. “Fine. I’ll let you this one time, but only because you begged me.” I clasp his hand and allow myself to be swept up by him.
The flat ridge overlooks a deep canyon unobstructed by trees. The sky stretches out before us, creating a ceiling painted with the grey of a pending rain mixed with the pink of a long-setting sun. The stars peek through the blazing sky and a teasing wind flicks the back of my hair.
Mo’s voice is breathy. “Brilliant.”
I smile. “Told yah.”
I suddenly realize we are still holding hands. The moisture between our palms keeps my hand cool. It seems embarrassingly personal to share sweat. We stand close together. Wait, am I dreaming? I subtly pinch my thigh with my other hand and wince.
Nope, this is real all right.
As we clutch hands, the crimson sun dips slowly behind the green curtain of treetops. Bands of orange, red, and pink transform into a blueish gray as the fading light casts an odd-shaped shadow over the mountain narrows. Silhouettes of bats flutter and zing across the sky, feeding on unsuspecting insects.
The air turns a bit cooler. I don’t want to break our connection, but I do want to show him I can take care of myself.
I let my hand slip out of his. “I’ll start a fire.” I gather sticks together and tuck clumps of dry moss under the miniature twig teepee. Using my flint, I set off a few sparks until a small fire takes hold of the mound. Then I blow lightly until the flames dance out from under the twigs.
Mo moves closer. “Wow, a cute girl and a warm fire? Who could ask for more.”
My face heats up, and I’m not sure if it’s from the flames or the compliment. I poke at the fire with a branch. Sparks twitter in the air and flit off into the darkening night.
He leans back against a tree with his hands behind his head. “See, I’m fine letting a girl take care of me.”
“I bet you are.”
He exhales and relaxes his whole body. A silly smirk on his face. “How’d you find this place?”
I snap a few twigs in half and toss them onto the fire. “I come up here sometimes to clear my head.”
Mo pats the seat next to him. “To think about your dad?”
I twirl the bracelet on my wrist. “Among other things.”
“You want to talk about him?”
I sit next to him, not too close, and check him out in the orange light. Slivers of shadows flicker across his face. “Not really.”
He draws back the drape of hair hiding my face and tucks it behind my ear. “We haven’t really talked about him since you told me about everything. You still worried about those noises?”
“Yes. And I found a dead bear.”
Mo stares at the fire. “That’s bad? Don’t people hunt up here?”
“It’s not bear season. That makes it illegal.” My mind flashes to the last time I saw Simon ambling away from me. Never thought it would be the last time.“It was Simon. The bear I told you about the other day when we were fishing.”
His mouth arches downward. “Crumbs. Poor sod. I know he was special to you.”
“Yeah, well. I’m used to losing things.”
He leans in and squeezes
my hand. “Don’t say that, blossom. I’m here.”
I stare out at the night sky. “I thought those guys from the other day did it, but evidently they’re in custody.”
He tilts his head a bit, the light highlighting the crinkling lines curving around his eyes. “So they got arrested?”
I fill him in on my conversation with Les and how he brought the two guys in for questioning. “But don’t worry, I didn’t mention you.”
He rests his chin in his palm. “Did you tell your mum about everything?”
My body tenses at the question. Jabbing the logs with a stick, I focus my eyes on the fire. “No. She’s pretty much a total basket case right now anyway.”
“Can’t blame her really. But I’m sure she’d want to know what’s going on with you.”
“I’m fine on my own.” I steal another glance at him.
“Of course you are.” He smiles, sending a light feather drifting along the insides of my belly. His eyes dig into my soul, searching for the real story.
“What is your mom like?”
Mo shifts to the side a tad until our legs aren’t touching anymore and his shoulders slump so slightly that most people might not notice. But I do. “You mean, what was she like?”
I don’t know what to say. He hasn’t talked much about his family until now.
He closes his eyes then clears his throat. “My mum passed away a few years ago.” His voice sounds a bit detached. Flat. A little rehearsed.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Suddenly, I want to crawl into his arms and make him feel better. Instead, I lightly touch his elbow. Little zings of electricity buzz through my fingers. “I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I whisper.
He shakes his head and pats my hand. “Don’t be daft. You asked a simple question.” Sadness engulfs his dark eyes as he inhales a deep breath. “My mum died of cancer—” He abruptly stops, making me think the story’s gotten all tangled up in his throat. Eventually, he breathes in deep as if he’s just plunged into freezing water. “She was an American. My parents met when she went to school in England. Several years ago, after she was diagnosed with cancer, she wanted to come back and be with her family. So my dad got a job and moved my sister and I over here. Mum died less than a year later.”
“I’m sorry.”
He drops his head. “Me too.”
At the risk of appearing totally cheesy, I reach into my pocket and pull out the flower bracelet I made by the river. “Here, this is for you.”
Mo smirks. “I think I fancy the crown more.”
I laugh. “No way! You gotta work up to that one.”
He pats his pants. “I want to give you something too.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet pouch. He opens the drawstrings and pours a jagged light-green rock into his hand. “Here.” He places the stone in my palm and curls my fingers over it.
I study the jade stone, admiring its sparkle and smoothness. “What is it?”
“Alexandrite. Named after Alexander II. Stands for grace and purity. Supposedly, when a person carries this stone, they remember things aren’t always what they seem and are encouraged to seek the truth. I want you to have it. My mum gave it to me.”
I try to return it. “I can’t take this from you. It’s too special.”
He places two fingers over my lips and stops me from saying anything. “So are you.”
I can taste the salt on his fingertips. Part of me wants to melt into him. Like the chocolate in a freshly made s’more. The other part wants to hide deep into the mountains, away from the emotions he’s stirring up. I don’t know how or why, but this guy makes me want to lose control.
“Grace?” Mo lifts my chin and runs a finger down my neck. His eyes dart back and forth between mine. I can’t move because my body has become part of the rock I’m sitting on. He cups my face with his strong hands and stops an inch away from my lips. “May I kiss you?”
My first thought is, It’s about time! I search Mo’s eyes for a sign this might be a joke. They reveal nothing but kindness. I nod because I can’t really say anything for fear of ruining the moment. He loops his arms around my waist and pulls me closer.
Anticipation floods my senses and, suddenly, all I hear is the erratic rhythm of my own breath.
His lips attack mine with such force, mine forget to fight back.
Survival Skill #25
No matter the hemisphere, the positions of stars can provide directions.
A surge of warmth zips through my veins as if someone has shocked my body back to life after my heart has ceased beating. My hands shake and my knees wobble a little. Mo kisses my lips, one at a time. It’s the kiss I’ve always wondered if I’d ever receive. The kind where everything fits together perfectly like a little puzzle. No awkward moments or fumbling. And only once do I think of Wyn. How different this kiss is. Then the memory slips away into the abyss of my brain. Like Mo’s kiss erased everything going on in my head. Especially anything about Wyn.
I interwine my hands behind his neck as his mouth cradles my top lip. My heart cracks open and I feel a small part of myself let go. I’m not sure how much time passes but, eventually, he pulls away. I hover for a minute with my lips slightly puckered and eyes still closed. Hoping he’ll kiss me again.
Mo clears his throat. “You see that cluster of stars?”
Wait a minute! Is my brain on kissing while his is on star gazing? I can still feel the sensation of his lips on mine but pretend to be uber-interested in astronomy. “Which ones?”
“Over there. Northwest from the moon.”
“Says the cute compass.”
He points up. “Seriously, do you see it?”
I squint at the small polka dots decorating the black canvas stretched above us. “Yeah, I think so. What is it?”
“Scorpius. Some say Orion fled from the scorpion by swimming across the ocean to see his lover, Athena. Apollo, the son of Zeus, didn’t much care for Orion. So he tricked Athena. In a challenge, he dared her to shoot an arrow at a black shape in the water. Athena loved competition so she hit the target and unknowingly killed her one true love, Orion. Poor sod.”
“Poor Athena.”
Mo stares up at the sky. “Can you imagine? Being responsible for the death of someone you love?”
I think about Dad. “Sometimes I feel that way.”
Mo hugs me but doesn’t push me to reveal anymore. I assume he knows how hard that was for me to admit. I make a conscious effort not to pull away. “How do you know about stars?”
He clears his throat. “My dad was in the United Kingdom Special Forces. Spent a lot of time in the woods with him. The stars were his compass.”
“Does he love rocks too?”
Mo laughs unexpectedly. A puff of air tickles my forehead. “No, but he would listen to me go on about them for hours. When I was little, we spent a lot of time hiking in England’s Lake District. I’d collect rocks, and my dad always helped me cart them home so I could identify them.”
“Are you guys close?”
“Very.”
“How does he feel about you being out here? He must miss you.”
Mo doesn’t answer for a very long time. Once he finally speaks, his voice is scratchy. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss him right now.”
“Sure, no problem.” I rake my fingers through his hair.
He sweeps my bangs to one side and kisses my forehead. “We better get you back, blossom. It’s getting late.”
I don’t protest even though I’m disappointed the night is ending. The whole hike back, I clutch onto Mo. Even though his hand is strong and callused, his touch is soft and reassuring. In the humid weather, my face has frozen into a permanent, goofy grin.
“You look happy.”
I try to pull my face down and look less giddy. “Why do you say that?”
“The cheeky grin gives you away. Don’t worry, I
won’t tell anyone,” he says, his voice low and his accent mesmerizing. “Let’s meet again tomorrow.”
Even though I want to, I’ve already decided to head into Cherokee to find out more about the boot treads in those pictures. “I can’t. I have stuff to do.”
Mo tilts his head. “Anything I can help with?”
I shake my head. “I wish.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be at the same place. Late afternoon.” Mo leans in and grazes my mouth with his lips. He sees me grin again and points at my mouth. “There it is again. You’re smiling. What are you so chuffed about?”
My cheeks ache a little and I try to be serious. “Nothing.”
Everything.
Later, as Luci and I zigzag along the windy road, I replay the night in my head and lick my lips where Mo kissed me. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Now.
But as usual, questions begin chipping away at my happy thoughts.
What if this guy breaks my heart? What if he moves back to England?
I notice my speedometer and slow down a bit.
Maybe I’m going too fast. Then again, what if I’m holding back too much?
My toe of my shoe presses down the gas pedal and I fly home all the way home.
Survival Skill #26
Tracks, especially human prints, lose their sharp edges over time due to weather conditions.
First thing Monday morning, I get up and head out before Mom even wakes up. Mama Sue’s place is the only store within a hundred miles that makes custom hiking boots. So maybe she can help me figure out where these prints came from.
After cutting through the town of Cherokee, I turn off the main road and onto Hwy 1410. The crowds are already lining up outside Cherokee’s Bear Park, waiting to “experience nature up close and personal.”
Untraceable (The Nature of Grace Series) Page 15