After blowing my nose, I ask, “Where are you and what are you doing?”
Not expecting a reply, I continue on. There is a faint trail through the underbrush, indicating this path has been used enough to prevent regrowth. I’m not as familiar with this area of the park because my work is concentrated around the visitor center. From memory, I know the official trails, but obviously not all the offshoots and spurs.
Water plops from the branches and birdsong filters through the air, but there’s no sign of Odin or Patsy. From my estimate, I’ve been walking for at least ten minutes. I should’ve checked the time before I set out. I also should’ve let someone know I was coming out here. Something happens to me, no one will know where to look.
Great, now I’m imagining getting lost in my own park. Happens all the time to visitors. Easy to get disoriented and think you’re hiking in one direction when you’re actually going in the opposite. Up and down aren’t straight shots with the boulders and streams criss-crossing these mountains.
Stay on the trail is the number one rule, and I’ve broken it.
The path I’m following leaves the trees and takes me to a meadow that’s more of a field. Glancing down, I realize there aren’t any footprints in the mud ahead of me or behind me, only mine.
Uneasy in the fading light, I decide to turn back. Honestly, what am I going to do if I find Odin? Confront him? Arrest him? Put him in handcuffs and …
My mind takes the image and begins conjuring all sorts of scenarios. Odin on his knees. Odin handcuffed to a bed, specifically my bed. Whoa. Apparently, I have a vivid imagination when it comes to the farmer.
Laughing at how quickly my thoughts escalated, I end up coughing.
“You sound sick,” a familiar voice says from a few yards behind me.
It makes me jump and clutch my chest, even though I’m out here looking for him.
“How’d you get over there?” I ask as I whirl around. Odin is standing between me and the way home.
He’s wearing a felt hat with a wide brim like he’s a young wizard on an epic quest, a younger, hotter version of Gandalf. He’s friggin’ Gandalf the Blond.
His posture is nonchalant like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s completely infuriating. Patsy lifts her head and her pink snout twitches as she sniffs the air. The two of them are a pair … of something. I can’t think of the right word right now, but they’re something.
With a lazy smile, he responds, “Walked.”
“What are you doing out here?” Sniffling, I cross my arms and wish my nose would stop running.
A big splat of water falls on his floppy hat, darkening the dull green felt. One drop turns into dozens and then hundreds as the clouds decide this is the perfect moment to release more rain.
Because of course what this day needs is for me to get soaked.
He tips his head back to stare at the sky before letting his gaze land on me. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you lost?”
Affronted by his question, I scoff. “Are you?”
Too late, I realize I basically sound like one of the middle school kids I encounter so often. At least I didn’t say I know you are, but what am I?
Thank God for small mercies.
“Not sure about you, but I’m going to get out of this weather.” He clicks his tongue, and Patsy lifts her head from where she was sniffing the ground. “Care to walk back to the lot with us?”
“Why are you being nice?” I ask, not moving.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” He cocks his head and peers at me from under his hat brim.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat my earlier question.
“Enjoying the great outdoors before the rain came back.” He points to the sky. “Or I was.”
His hat is even darker than it was a few minutes ago. Streaks and spots of water cover his gray jacket.
A crack of thunder makes both Patsy and me jump.
“Probably smart for us not to be standing in this field.” He turns to go, not waiting to see if I follow.
Of course I do, because there’s only one way to get back to the main trail.
Back in the woods, the rain softly drips from the branches onto us, the moss, and soft earth. It’s quieter here too. Patsy’s snorts and my congested breaths are the only sounds other than the occasional snap of a twig or boot scraping over stone. It’s almost peaceful—or would be—if I could forget the reason I’m out here.
The walk back seems to take longer than I remember, and the going is mostly uphill. Unable to keep up, I slowly fall behind the two of them. Normally I have no issues with inclines. I’m fit as a fiddle, whatever that means.
Realizing I’m parched, I wish I’d thought to bring my water bottle. If only I’d known I would spontaneously decide to go on a long hike. I’m also exhausted. Resting for a minute sounds like the best possible idea, so I find a log and take a seat.
My butt lands on the rough bark, and I groan like an old lady. “Oof.”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I search for a fresh tissue as my nose begins to tingle with an impending sneeze. When it arrives, I swear it comes from my toes.
“Gesundheit.” Odin steps closer and hands me a tissue.
“Thanks,” I mutter and accept his gift without tilting my head back to look at him. “I’m fine.” After I answer, I realize he didn’t ask me if I was getting sick. “I have allergies.”
“All this rain brings out the mold spores.” He sways back on his feet.
“Um, sure.” I have no idea what I’m allergic to. Never been tested.
“Should probably get you home.”
“Or I could sit here until some dwarves find me and take me to their cottage.”
He dips his chin but remains quiet.
“You know, like Snow White?” I explain.
“I’m familiar with the fairy tale,” he says flatly.
Every word from him is slow, measured, like the effort of speaking to me is taxing on him in some way.
Since he’s not pulling his weight on his side of this sparkling conversation, I continue down the path of my previous thoughts. “Then again, I’m not very good at domestic duties and the dwarves would probably kick me to the curb when I burned their supper.”
He chuckles. “You should really get out of the rain.”
I press the toe of my boot into the mud. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Are you going to stay here all day?” He squats down so our eyes finally meet.
“Maybe.”
“Stubborn much?” He laughs.
“I was tired. I sat down to rest.” Feeling a pout coming on, I cross my arms.
With a small but earnest smile, he says, “I can see that.”
Patsy lets out a louder harrumph and nuzzles the ground near the fallen log. She paws at the soft earth and then digs her nose into the mud.
“What is she doing?” I lean to one side, trying to see what has caught her interest.
“Hold still.” Odin’s voice has switched from amused concern to direct and a bit bossy.
Still crouching, he leans forward, closer and closer until I can feel his breath gently brush across my skin.
Oh my dear sweet lord.
He’s going to kiss me.