I can’t answer.
Not when that smile makes my heart boom behind my ribs, churning and straining even harder than the traction on this eighteen-wheeler.
Even so, I’m glad to smile back, and we settle into an easy, comfortable quiet for the rest of the drive.
We take the scenic route—though technically every route feels like the scenic one up here.
The road slopes down on one side to lush overgrown valleys full of trees older than my grandpa, clustered so dense together it’s like primordial forest. When an ancient tree falls in these parts, it never quite hits the ground. It just gets caught up in the branches of the trees around it and leans there while new things grow on it, grass and moss and vines, all the living things making their homes inside.
To the other side, the mountains rise in sheer cliffs and rough slopes.
Every now and then as we round a turn we get a breathtaking view of snowy peaks marching against a brilliant blue skyline so clear you’d think it was a technicolor painting.
Not something real.
The beauty continues as we crest a peak in the road that cuts through a mountain pass, looking down into the miniature valley that cups Glass Lake.
Now I can see how it got its name.
It’s as clear and smooth as glass, barely rippling, throwing back the reflection of day with a perfect blue sheen. It’s also so translucent you can see into the depths.
Looks a bit murky toward the center, though.
Too deep to make out more than muddy shadows beyond a certain point, the reflection of the sky becoming a mask that hides what’s underneath.
On the far end of the lake there’s a little rental place along the shore with a few pontoon boats bobbing in a small marina. Sort of disorienting when the water’s clarity makes the boats look like they’re floating on air—something I’ve only seen in places like French Polynesia before.
Felicity lets out an awed sound, looking through the windshield with wide eyes. “It’s gorgeous. I forgot just how beautiful it is up here.”
“You come here a lot?”
“...used to.” She hooks her index fingers together, tugging them like she’s trying to break out of an invisible finger trap. “Back when, you know, things were still good with my family. We’d come camping up here sometimes.”
“Fliss?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure you want to do this?” I make sure the brake’s locked, the truck idling, before I turn to face her, propping an arm against the back of the seat. “What if there’s nothing up here for you but bad memories?”
“Then I need to face them,” she says firmly with a touch of brave pride that makes admiration flare in my chest. “But if there’s nothing here, then you dragged this humongous crane up here for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. Got camping gear, fishing tackle, a cooler full of beer, and a pretty girl. Sounds like a nice weekend to me.” I thump the back window of the cab, where the crane’s just a blot of yellow in my peripheral vision. “The crane can stand night watch.”
Felicity lets out a soft laugh, but it’s a little nervous, too.
I promise myself I’ll make sure of one thing no matter what happens today.
Felicity Randall’s leaving here better than when she came.
It’s a little awkward maneuvering the truck down the steep slope into the valley, and then around the lake along some narrow dirt roads winding through the trees. I think if there hadn’t been loggers here before, their tracks worn deep, I’d have never gotten the truck through.
It’s even more awkward dealing with the guy at the boat rental place. He can’t stop staring at the crane while I’m just trying to get out of here with the fewest questions possible.
He just gawks out the window of his little booth, looking between me and Felicity, past us at the crane, then back at Felicity, who’s tucked close to me with her wool-lined jacket wrapped tight around her, arms hugged close against the glacial nip of mountain air.
I’m in short sleeves, of course.
To me, this is a balmy day.
“Uh,” the guy says. “Are y’all with a construction crew?”
“Nope.” I smile and offer him my debit card. “Just came here for some camping. Maybe a little fishing too.”
“You gonna scoop all the fish out with the crane? Shit, mister, we don’t got whales in this lake.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I counter cheerfully, and don’t offer a single other word.
After a few more seconds of expectant staring, the guy snorts, swipes the card, and hands it over, along with the key to unlock the boat’s controls. With him watching us, Felicity and I head down to the dock, scanning the numbers on the boats’ hulls to find ours.
“You good taking this out to the site?” I ask. “I’ll get the truck situated close by.”
“Sure,” she says. “Although I think that guy’s ready to call the rangers on us.”
“Any laws about transporting construction equipment out here?” I ask.
“Don’t think so.”
“If anyone asks, I work construction. This was the only vehicle I had for a sudden detour to camp on the way home from a job, and it just happened to be loaded at the time.” I laugh, and nod at the far side of the lake. There’s a small inlet there, where a spit of land thrusts out and isolates a small segment of the lake from view on this side. “Meet you over there?”
“Sure thing, Papa Bear.”
Before I can do anything but splutter, she flicks my arm with her fingertips, plucks the keys from my hand, and marches down the weathered boards of the dock. I watch her vault lightly into the pontoon boat without so much as rocking it.
This woman.
I’m left watching dumbfounded as she unmoors the pontoon boat with an expert hand and sends it puttering into the water, looking like she’s floating on air.
I don’t realize I have company till there’s the scuff of a foot on the dock, and I find Rental Guy staring after her, looking confused and flustered.
He starts to open his mouth.
I raise a hand.
“No more questions, man. Seriously. It’s not as deep as you think. Here.” I open my wallet and push a few crisp bills into his hand. “Extra safety deposit to cover any concerns you’ve got going through that head. Keep it.”
I leave him there, flabbergasted, chuckling to myself.
He’s gonna have some stories to tell his old lady when he gets home tonight, I’m guessing.
I’ve got a girl sailing away from me, though, and she’ll beat me to the campsite at this rate, so I clap the guy’s shoulder and head back to where we parked the truck.
By the time I get to the site I’d pointed out, I’m cursing. It’s a small miracle I haven’t tipped this damned thing over.
Rocky gravel, mud...maybe I was a little overconfident.
After a solid half hour, I manage to park the truck behind a cluster of fir trees not far from the tree line. Looks like a clear path to back the crane down the truck’s ramp to the shore if needed. Though in the loose, silty soil and lakeshore gravel, I’ll probably need some big rocks to wedge the thing in if we need it.
Felicity’s waiting for me when I haul my sweaty behind out of the cab with both our bags and a big duffel of camping gear slung to my back. Wrestling a truck shouldn’t be so exhausting.