6. Carrie

6

CARRIE

T he next day is Sunday, and Joyce regretfully informs me that Gus doesn’t work on Sundays. Not that it would matter because the damn part isn’t here anyway.

I call the rental company, and when it goes to voicemail, I jot down the after-hours emergency number.

It’s the same woman who answers, and her bored voice turns to irritation when I ask the same questions as yesterday and she gives me the same answers.

No, there are no replacement rental cars in the vicinity, and there are not likely to be until the Tuesday after next. She will reimburse me for the repairs and give me a full refund.

I hang up the phone feeling irritable. It’s not the woman’s fault. It’s the fault of this damn family, the scheming Joyce and her grumpy but hot grandson.

I rummage in my suitcase, which I refuse to unpack in the hope that that my car will miraculously be fixed and I can hightail it out of here without having to waste another moment on this mountain.

I push aside the cute red dress I bought for a date and the one pair of heels I own. Which aren’t really heels by city girl standards, but the small chunky heel at the back does enough to lift my butt and accentuate my somewhat chunky, but I prefer to think of them as strong, legs.

I bury it alongside the sexy underwear, which were definitely a waste of money, and the cute but uncomfortable bustier top that dresses up a pair of jeans and was my second date option if we went anywhere near a bar.

I had this idea that this might be the ticket to losing my v-card. I didn’t have time for dating while Mom was sick, and then I was caught up with grief and looking after Suzie and the baby. Then all of a sudden I’m twenty-four and still a virgin. It’s not that I’m waiting around for the right person. I just didn’t meet any person that I wanted to do it with. I thought maybe Cole could help me out with that.

I laugh out loud at my stupidity and how easily I was sucked into an online scam. If I’m this gullible when I’m twenty-four, I’d better not go anywhere near the internet when I’m fifty. I’ll be one of those women who send their life savings to help their online lover in some small unheard of nation.

Maybe that’s why Cole was so appealing. I mean, aside from the thick arm muscles and rough beard that initially caught my eye in the picture, which I now guess was taken by Joyce hiding in the woods and snapping him unawares while he was wood chopping with his shirt off. The thing that appealed to me about Cole once we got to emailing was the plight of a widowed single dad raising two girls on his own. I’m a sucker for an underdog, and I’m a sucker for anyone who needs help. Because Joyce is right: Those girls need a mother.

Not that Cole’s doing a bad job, but there’s some things a girl needs that only a woman can give. Joyce obviously fills that role in some respects, but the woman is in her seventies. Who’s going to guide them through dating and broken hearts and the inevitable high school cattiness that comes with being a teenager?

It’s my own bleeding heart that got me into this situation. I love helping people. That’s why I became a nurse. I told myself I was looking for an adventure, but maybe I was looking for someone else to save, someone who needs me.

I push the thought away; this isn’t the time to be hard on myself. I’m in this situation until my car can get fixed or until I annoy the rental woman so much that she finds me a new one.

There’s no point dwelling on what existential crises drove me to be here. I’m here, whether I like it or not, and I may as well make the most of it. If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it was the power of positive thinking.

I can almost hear her words, even as she lay in bed, too tired to get up. “Think about all the things in this situation you have to be grateful for.”

When I asked, wide-eyed, what she could possibly be grateful for, cancer-ridden and too tired from treatment to get out of bed, Mom smiled and pointed to a stack of paperbacks by the bed. “I have time to work through my ‘to be read’ pile.”

When she became too sick to read, she got the books on audio. I swear it was the need to get to the end of her ‘to be read’ pile that had her holding on for months longer than the doctors predicted. It gave Suzie enough time to get back from England to be with her. And seeing Mom put on her audio book every day despite her pain and lie peacefully enjoying other people’s stories even as her own came to an end, a serene smile on her thin lips, is something I’ll never forget.

If Mom can put a positive spin on ending her life bedridden and tired, then I can find the positives in being stranded in the mountains.

It’s with these thoughts in mind that I put on the sexy underwear, because I paid a king’s ransom for it and I’m going to make some use of it. The delicate lace against my skin makes me feel glamorous, and I pull a thin cotton dress over the top. It’s my favorite summer dress. The pale green hugs my curves, and the low-cut neckline puts my best assets on display.

I slip on sunscreen and a hat, fill up a water bottle, and head along one of the trails that starts just up the road from the cabin. It’s hard to stay frustrated when you’re surrounded by nature. The foliage is different from Wild Heart Mountain, and I carry bear spray just in case.

But the mountain trail has the same effect on my mood as it does back home. Calm settles on my chest as I focus on my breathing and the here and now.

The path meanders up a gentle slope with the trees providing shelter from the hot sun. The only sounds are birdsong and the crunch of my feet on the dry earth.

The path I take is a six mile round trip marked as medium level challenging, which is about where I’m at. I’ve packed a sandwich and a paperback and I plan to take my time, hoping I can find a quiet spot to spend the afternoon.

There’s a waterfall and swimming hole somewhere on the trail, and that will make a nice place to stop for lunch and to hang out and read for a while. If I spend the entire day in the woods, that’s less time sitting in the cabin staring at Cole’s front yard.

The first few kilometers are easy with a gentle slope heading into the hills. I stop at an area where the landscape opens up to a valley and take a selfie with the stunning vista as my background and send it to Suzie so she can see I’m still alive.

She might wonder why Cole isn’t in it, or in any of the pictures I’ve taken, so I turn my phone off in case she calls with questions I don’t want to answer. I’ve told her the signal is patchy to give me an excuse not to call her again and as to why I’m not sending hundreds of photos of me and Cole.

The next part of the trail turns into the mountain, and it’s a serious slope. I’m puffing by the time it flattens out and sweat trickles down the back of my neck. The rush of water reaches my ears, and I take a small side trail and follow the sound to the base of the waterfall.

Water cascades over a rocky outcrop and drops into a plunge pool at the base of the waterfall. Spray hits my legs and a cool mist fills the air.

A sign says that swimming is allowed but not diving.

I shrug off my backpack and take a long cool drink from my water bottle. My cotton dress sticks to my chest and I pull it off my skin, trying to get some air flowing over my overheated body.

If I’d bought my swimsuit with me, I’d jump in to cool off. Instead I pull off my hiking boots and dip a toe into the frothy water. It’s deliciously cool and inviting.

I glance around the trail behind me. I haven’t seen a single soul all morning. This doesn’t seem like a popular area of the mountain. Perhaps it’s too remote for the tourists.

It can’t hurt to have a quick dip. If anyone comes I’ll keep my shoulders under, and they’ll never know I’m in my underwear and not a swimsuit.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my dress over my head and toss it onto the rocks next to my backpack. Then I slip into the cool water.

Cold engulfs me, making me gasp, but it’s cold in a good way, the kind of cold that awakens your senses and makes you feel alive. I paddle over to the waterfall and duck under it, enjoying the sensation of water tumbling over my head.

I spend a few blissful moments paddling around the pool until the fresh mountain water gets too cold for me. I drag myself onto the rocks and realize I don’t have a towel with me to dry off.

The sun warms my wet skin and I sit back on my elbows, enjoying the feel of it on my body.

I’m regretting wearing my best underwear. The lace sticks to my breasts, and the thong panties aren’t made to get wet.

But no one has come past and it can’t hurt to let the sun warm me for a few minutes until I’m dry enough to put on my dress.

I lean back on my elbows and close my eyes.