Page 47 of Unhurried Hearts

He sweeps his tongue across my lips and strokes my cheek with his thumb. If I did have a blister or sore shoulders, I doubt I’d notice. I’m so focused on what lays ahead, on what will happen tonight. Chris has been an excellent companion and honest with me about everything. This is hard work, especially in the sections where we have to do a bit of climbing, but it’s not beyond my capabilities.

We weave through thinning trees, leaving the trail behind. I don’t see anything that looks like a camping spot, but I’ve been picturing provincial campsites and RV parks, not the backcountry. When Chris ditches his pack on the ground, I turn in a tight circle to look around.

“Here?” I squeak.

There’s slightly more space between the trees and most of the ground is covered with thick green moss and a light layer of crunchy leaves.

“This is home for the night.”

His voice is swallowed by the density of the forest. Like only whispers are allowed this far off the trail. As though this section of second-growth forest demands our reverence.

“Is camping allowed?”

“Not strictly speaking…” He pulls items from his pack, laying them out neatly on the ground. “But I’ve stayed out here a lot. There’s nobody around. We’ll leave everything as we found it.”

I follow suit, relieving myself of my own pack. Unzipping the main compartment, I pull out the bag of my clothing and toiletries, looking forward to getting out of the slightly sweaty base layers and cleaning up.

“Get out your tent and I’ll show you how to set it up.”

I bite my lip. Picturing the black fabric bundle I know full well is sitting on my bed at home.

I put on a show of rifling through the different compartments.

“Oh no. I think…I think I left it at home.”

His eyebrows rise. “Are you serious?”

“I-I don’t see it here. Crazy.”

He folds his arms across his chest which makes his arms look stupid good in his bulky sweatshirt.

“Didn’t I send you a detailed packing list?”

“Mmhmm.” I nod, voice high.

I flip over a rock with the toe of my boot.

He’s having a hard time managing the stern voice while a smirk tips up the corner of his mouth. “And didn’t you tell me you checked the list?”

When I look up, he’s standing so close.

“Is there some small chance that you may have forgotten it on purpose, Annie?”

I wring my hands together, forcing myself to look up into his eyes that, despite his serious tone, are glittering with humour. “There is a tiny possibility that is what happened, yes,” I squeak.

He surprises me by wrapping me in a bear hug that I melt into.

“I’d say sorry…but I’m not.”

His laughter vibrates against my ear. “You’re gonna be. Come over here.”

He walks to his pack and draws a smaller bag out with one hand. A minute later he unfurls a rectangle of fabric no bigger than a picnic table and drags it over to a somewhat flat and soft looking section of the forest floor.

“Is that thetent?”

It’s miniature. It looks like the kind of tent designed for small children. I’m pretty sure my Barbie had that tent in hot pink.

“Does it…does it feel bigger inside?”

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