Page 21 of Snow Creek

It was a familiar refrain. She was on her phone a lot. More so with Dante’s new obsession taking center stage.

Maybe they weren’t right for each other after all?

She glanced away from her nonfunctioning Samsung and thought it over. Dante was handsome. Kind. Had a good job.What more could she want?

The terrain grew rougher, steeper and the roadway narrowed.

“I feel like I’m in a NutriBullet,” she finally said.

“Yeah. Shocks are shitty on this car.”

That’s true, she thought.His car is shitty. That’s a solid strike against him.

“Let’s pull over,” she said.

“Nah. Can’t here, but up ahead I see a wider spot.”

A minute later, they stopped next to a slash pile of stumps and other refuse from the forest. It had been there such a long time that a Douglas fir seedling managed to get a foothold and rose like a Christmas tree topper from the wood rubble.

“I got to take a leak,” Dante said, on his way to the other side of the road.

I need to figure out where this relationship is going, Maddie thought as she perched on a sun-bleached log.

Dante stood in the familiar stance, legs planted apart, rinsing the road dust from a natural hedge of Himalayan blackberry bushes. The razor-wire-like brambles were laden with ripening fruit. The aroma of sun-warmed blackberries is many Pacific Northwesterner’s idea of summertime heaven.

“Hey, we should pick some berries.”

“Not over there,” Maddie shot back, making a disgusted face. “You’re gross, Dante.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean right here.” When he dropped his knees a little to zip up and looked down past the blackberries, a glint of silver struck his eyes. He craned his neck to see better.

“Maddie,” he said, turning to face her, “there’s a pickup truck down there. Let’s go check it out.”

It wasn’t Bigfoot, but it was something more interesting than just standing around waiting for something to happen, so Maddie agreed.

“Maybe someone junked it here when the logging stopped?” she offered.

“Sounds reasonable,” he said, as they slid down the ravine.

As they got closer, Dante could make out the tailgate.

“It’s a GMC,” he said. “This truck’s only a few years old.”

He started pulling off branches.

“Someone ditched it here,” she said.

“Wonder why? Better than my POS of a car.”

“No argument there, Dante.”

They walked around the vehicle. It was blackened by fire and the windows were broken out. Driver’s door hung open. In the truck bed, a mishmash of carpet and paint cans.

“Remodeler’s truck?” Maddie suggested, flicking away a yellow jacket.

Dante assessed the contents and gave her a quick nod.

“Stolen,” she said.

---