Page 9 of Spark
“Oh okay, thank you,” I say, nodding resignedly. “I just got here yesterday night. I left early this morning to hike the trail, and I could have sworn that I had some hot dogs left, but I must have left them at the last campground I was at.” I roll my eyes like an airhead, laughing lightly. “I’m Verity, by the way.”
“Wilma,” the older lady says. “I swear my Harold would forget his head if it wasn’t attached. The number of things we’ve had to replace because he forgets to pack them is just crazy.”
“I’m usually pretty organized, but because I’m traveling through Montana, I’m only carrying the essentials. But I thinkI must have left my bag of food out to put at the top of my backpack, then forgotten it. It’s my own fault.” The lie I’ve told over and over again spills effortlessly from my tongue, tasting like ash, but it’s so familiar now, I’m almost starting to believe it myself.
“My Wilma always packs far too much. Would you like to join us for dinner? It’s only campfire stew, but it’s tasty,” an older-looking man that I’m assuming is Harold says, stepping out of their RV with a pot in his hands.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” I say.
“I invited you, that’s not intruding,” the man says.
“Harold’s campfire stew is the only thing he can cook, and if you don’t eat with us, we’ll be eating it for a week,” Wilma laughs. “Sit and join us, we love to meet new people. It’s why we come to campgrounds instead of the fancy RV parks.”
“Well, thank you. If you’re sure,” I say, stepping toward the empty chair she’s patting beside her.
“So where are you from, Verity?” Wilma asks as I sit down beside her and take the glass of sweet tea Harold offers me.
My stomach is full, and I’m clutching a Tupperware full of leftover stew as I look over my shoulder and wave goodbye to Wilma and Harold. I feel a little bad about taking more food from them, but Harold really had made a huge pot of stew, and after I sat down, they invited the people pitched beside them to join us too.
Tired and sluggish, I weave my way across the campground, stopping to use the bathroom before I head back to the trail, refusing to think about how dark, silent, and creepy the woods are at night.
My eyes are already half closed by the time I make it back to my tent, not bothering to get changed, before I crawl into my sleeping bag and fall asleep.
FIVE
WARRICK
The sun is just starting to rise as I slip out of bed and head down to my garage to work out. I don’t know why I’m up so early…no, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m up so early. It’s because I’m eager to get back to the trailhead to see if Verity is there. If she isn’t, I plan to wait for her at the ranger’s office tomorrow morning so I can follow her to wherever she’s stationed so I have a chance to talk to her again.
I met Clayton at the bar last night, and even though I tried to turn the conversation to the beautiful volunteer, he was determined to get laid and spent most of the time I was there flirting with the tourists until one of them invited him back to her hotel.
After that, I’d driven home and slipped into bed, falling easily to sleep, my dreams filled with visions of Verity.
According to Clayton, the volunteers pick up their free food and water at the office at eight a.m. and get assigned their jobs for the day. Which is why I’m sitting in my car at eight forty-five a.m. waiting for her to arrive.
Instead of arriving in a car or even on a bike, she’s on foot when I spot her walking toward the parking lot. A surge of annoyance at her walking on the road fills me. Has she walkedhere all the way from town? The trailhead isn’t in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a good thirty-minute walk from the ranger’s station. The roads are narrow and winding, and my team and I have attended far too many car accidents along this stretch of road, where motorists haven’t anticipated the curves or overshot the bends and ended up in a ditch, or worse.
My hand reaches for the door handle, ready to demand she not walk anywhere ever again, but I manage to stop myself before I do something stupid. Even though I want to, I can’t order around a girl I don’t know, no matter how important she already feels to me.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I exhale slowly, watching as she enters the parking lot and drops her backpack to the ground by a huge boulder. The need to go to her is almost overwhelming, but I stop myself from barreling over to her like a bull in a china shop and instead force myself to relax.
Once I’m calm and confident I can speak to her without demanding that she do as I say, I open my car door and slip out. Lifting my backpack from the back seat, I fill it with some bottles of water and my ball cap, then make a big show of securing it on my shoulders as I wait for her to turn in my direction.
“Hey, you were here yesterday,” I say, keeping my tone light, like seeing her again is just a happy coincidence and not exactly what I’d planned. The moment she turns in my direction, I realize her face is still partially hidden by her cap.
“Oh, yeah, I was,” she says, her voice just as sweet as I remember it.
“Verity, right?” I ask, taking two steps toward her.
“Yep, that’s me,” she says, dropping her chin as she pulls paper maps from her backpack.
“I’m Warrick,” I tell her.
“Are you hiking the trail again, or are you headed somewhere different today?” she asks, not looking at me.
“I haven’t decided yet. What would you recommend?” I ask, trying to make her look at me, as my fingers twitch with the desire to rip the ball cap from her head so I can see her face.
“Oh, well, there’s a nice hike that goes from a little further up the mountain. You could drive up to the parking lot, or the route is outlined on the map I gave you yesterday if you still have it,” she says.
