Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

River

TRIPP LAKE TRAIL LIES just outside town. Clark drives us there, with me providing directions. We struggle to find an open parking spot during a lovely Saturday in spring, eventually snagging a space on the main road.

The noise of the road hushes the moment the trees envelope us. We step onto a trail of beaten dirt made lumpy by the tree roots crisscrossing it. I’m wearing a backpack and leading the way, with Clark a step behind and following silently.

He hasn’t had much to say since accepting my invitation, as though he immediately regretted it. I’ll admit, his assent came as a surprise, especially after I already got that date last night. I’m trying not to push, not to ask for too much, but having him here with me is like a shot of caffeine. It has me all jittery and buzzing. There’s so much I’d like to do with him if I could convince him to stay, but if this hike is the end of it, I’ll accept that.

I take him down the trail as it cuts straight into the forest before curling to one side. The lake lies only a couple miles away on a fairly flat trail, but the trees cluster so thickly around us that we won’t see the water until we’re all but standing in it.

I breathe deeply, letting the mellow scent of the freshly unfurled leaves fill my chest. Earth crunches softly under my feet, even that noise muted thanks to the forest. Small creatures scurry through the underbrush; birds flit from branch to branch, eager for a treat. The rest of the world grows increasingly distant with every step we take. I can only hope it all disappears as much for Clark as it does for me. There’s something I want to show him, but I also simply want him to experience the forest alongside me. I want to get him out of the world he’s used to and into one where the stuff that occupies him Monday to Friday doesn’t exist.

The path takes a sharper turn. The trees clear as we walk slightly upward. Then the lake that gave this little town its name sprawls before us.

Tripp Lake is a blue jewel among all the green around it. The sun glitters on the still surface. A large boulder juts out of the center of the lake, a fallen tree spearing out of the water. People litter the shoreline, setting down towels before splashing into the water. A distant kayak paddles toward the far shore. Birds swoop overhead, keen eyes prowling for an unattended sandwich.

“Whoa.”

Clark stumbles and nearly bumps into me as he takes in the lake.

“That’s what they named this place for, huh?” he says.

“That’s it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

I smile. “That’s not even the best part. Come on.”

Confusion tightens his expression, but he follows as I head along the shoreline. After a short distance, a break appears between the trees. It’s far from the well-maintained path we followed to reach the lake itself. This path was beaten down by feet, mostly my feet. The foliage crawls over it, forcing us to lift our knees high to pick our way through it. We duck under branches and swat aside overeager plants reaching into our path. Then, finally, the way opens up, revealing a small clearing.

A tree dominates the clearing, its huge roots like bumpy veins pulsing out of the earth itself. Its expansive branches push away everything around it, creating an open space under its boughs. It’s here that I take Clark, setting my backpack on the ground when we near the massive trunk.

“We can still see the lake from here,” I say, pointing back the way we came.

He turns to look. The path tipped slightly upward, just enough that from here we can glimpse the lake through all the foliage obscuring it.

“Plus, no one ever comes back here,” I add.

“That’s definitely a plus.”

I thought it might be for someone like him. Even as an extrovert, I appreciate the serenity and quiet of this hidden spot.

While Clark is soaking up the view, I dig into the backpack I brought and extract a hammock. The big, thick branches are perfect for hanging it. In a few minutes, it dangles in front of the tree, allowing us to sit while taking in the lake back on the main path.

I climb into the hammock first, then urge Clark to follow me. He climbs in awkwardly. The thin fabric sinks under our combined weight, forcing us to sit hip to hip. I slide my arm around Clark’s waist, encouraging him to lean into gravity, and me.

“This is my favorite place,” I say after a few minutes of silence. It feels more appropriate to whisper like I’m in a library. The sanctity of the forest demands it. “I like to come here to read, do yoga, meditate, whatever. It’s nice to be with myself in a place like this, but … it’s even nicer to be here with you.”

Clark stiffens beside me, but relaxes a moment later. His knee-jerk resistance takes a deliberate effort to undo.

“It’s nice,” he says mildly.

I let him have his shields and deflections. He’s opened up a lot to me already; there’s no sense pushing it. Instead, I crack the door open and let him decide whether to walk through or not, just as I have this entire time.

“I’ve never actually taken anyone to this place,” I say.

He tears his eyes away from the distant lake to look at me instead. “You haven’t?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a boyfriend … or something?”

“Never. No one. I always kept this place for myself.”

The silence thickens between us. Clark’s inhale warns me a moment before he manages to speak.

“Why me?”

“Isn’t it enough that I like you?”

Clark snorts. “No. Not really. Do you know me well enough to like me this much? We met at a yoga class, then did things we definitely weren’t supposed to during a retreat. Now we’re here. That’s not exactly a firm foundation for deciding you want to trust someone with something like this.”

“Maybe I have a good feeling about you,” I say. “Sure, things didn’t go the way they’re supposed to. We didn’t do anything the ‘normal’ way, but why should other people get to decide what’s normal for us? Why should they get to say our relationship is good or bad?”

“Relationship?”

Shit. I realize my slip too late. The word came out without thought, and now it might damn me.

I scramble to backpedal. “There are all kinds of relationships in life. I just mean whatever we are to each other — friends, lovers, strangers — we get to make that decision. Nobody else. So it doesn’t matter if it isn’t normal. That isn’t anyone else’s call to make. Maybe it’s normal for us.”

Clark falls silent, and I lean back in the hammock so it takes our weight. Clark sinks against me, and for a bit we sit there swinging our feet, the fabric supporting our backs as we listen to the breeze and observe the lake. I know he’s thinking the entire time, however peaceful our surroundings. His mind never stops, and what I said probably gave him a lot to churn over.

What I want, what I foolishly wish, is that if I simply wait long enough he’ll say it back. He’ll say he wants me too. But the moment stretches, and Clark says nothing, and my stomach twists around a queasy knot of anxiety.

For some reason, I push on regardless.

“I’ve really enjoyed this,” I say. “Last night, the retreat, but especially this morning, especially things like this. I hope you like it too?” The last bit comes out as more of a question than a statement, my worries cracking my voice.

Still, Clark says nothing.

“I feel like I’m only starting to get to know you,” I say, “but I’d like to know more. I’d like to show you more about my life too. All you know is that I teach yoga.”

“You told me about your family,” Clark says.

“True. Not much to tell though.”

He glances in my direction, but he’s unreadable. Does it bother him that I’m not close with them? Should I have held back and pretended my parents aren’t disappointed in me? No, I couldn’t have done that. He’s too important to me for me to pretend. I want him to see me, all of me, even the parts that aren’t very pretty.

Yet the longer I speak, the more I show him, the more he pulls away.

“Is something wrong?” I try. “Clark, you’re shutting down, and I don’t know why. What did I do?”

He sighs, but his exasperation seems to be more for himself than me. “You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking what? You can tell me, you know.”

He hesitates, and I can almost hear the crunch as he chews over his words until they’re pulp.

“I… Look, I’ve enjoyed this too,” he says. “I have. Truly. But —”

The word falls on my heart like an anvil.

“Don’t you think we’re too different?”

“We’re different, but not too different,” I say. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Not in and of itself, but be realistic, River. I’m so much older than you. I live in Seattle. You’re a young, hot, fun yoga teacher who finds hidden spots in the woods to hang up your hammock. I’m an office worker who hasn’t been to a party in a decade. Our lives are light years apart.”

“So? We still have fun together, don’t we? Last night, did it matter that our lives are different? Did it matter that you’re older than me? It didn’t seem like it did when we were at the bar.”

Or afterward , I don’t add.

It’s definitely not worth bringing up that our ages seem to have no bearing whatsoever in the bedroom. If anything, Clark wilts at my merest suggestion, eager to be told what to do, eager to let go of all his tight control and place himself in my hands when we’re alone. This reeks of an excuse, and a hollow one at that.

Clark wriggles free of my arm and climbs out of the hammock. I almost follow, but he faces me, his expression grim.

“I’m sorry if I misled you,” he says. “I … I think I should head home.”

My heart drops. We were having such a great day. What suddenly changed?

“Hold on,” I say. “What is this really about? Is it your dad?”

Clark shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yes? I have no idea. It’s just… I’m all mixed up, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with my dad. I don’t know if I’m messing up. I don’t know anything. I keep saying yes to you and I’m scared it’s going to get both of us hurt, and I think I should take a breath before that happens.”

He moves to leave, and I leap up to catch him by the wrist.

“Don’t run,” I plead.

Clark’s eyes are apologetic, but he doesn’t back down.

“We can talk more another time,” he offers. “Okay?”

No, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all. I don’t understand what’s happening, how everything turned on me so quickly, and I hate it. I also have no choice but to release him, however. I can’t make him stay. He has to choose this, but I don’t know if anything will ever make him pick me over his comfortable work routine.

For now, all I can do is let him go and hope he returns.